#you won’t even remember that you wanted to! you won’t remember that you need to!

[delugyu]

beomgyu teaching you how to jerk him off (pls i’m ovulating i need to be put down)

hey twin i’m ovulating too! can u tell by how depraved this is

(wc: 2k / warnings: virgin!reader, corruption kink, big dick!beomgyu, handjob)

beomgyu’s head might explode. quite possibly his dick too. you’re sitting in front of him on his bed, wide-eyed and innocent but so eager to help him with something so dirty. he has to calm down before he blows his load too fast and makes himself look like the virgin here.

“you sure you’re okay with this?” beomgyu asks, checking in one more time before he lets you put your hands on him. you nod with sparkling eyes and a cheerfulness that doesn’t match the situation at hand. he can’t deny how much your eagerness turns him on, though. beomgyu never thought he had a thing for virgins, but fuck, you’re doing something to him.

you sit cross-legged, hands held in your lap as you await instruction. it makes beomgyu’s cock throb, and his head is reeling with all the images of things he wants to do with you. he keeps himself grounded as best as he can, trying to remember that you’re here to learn, not to fulfill fantasies of his own.

“what do i do first?” you ask, looking at his pants. it makes him laugh. he grabs your chin to redirect your attention back to his face, smiling fondly when he sees a hint of embarrassment in your eyes.

“you should always start with kissing,” beomgyu says, tugging you towards him until you’re sitting in his lap. the surprise on your face is pretty cute. “it really sets the mood.”

“okay,” you say, but do nothing. beomgyu tries to hold back his laughter, but he just can’t. it’s so funny to watch you get so shy. you pout, then pull your face in to peck his cheek. he runs a hand up your thigh, endeared by your action.

“a real kiss,” he says. it really doesn’t seem like you’re going to make the move, so he decides to make it easier for you. he cups your face and brings you close, capturing your lips in a kiss that starts out much sweeter than what the moment would suggest.

your lips are soft and fit well against his own, and beomgyu finds himself feeling so lucky that you’d ask him of all people to help you with something like this. it makes him happy that you trust him this much. he bites your lip ever so slightly to get you gasping, letting his tongue slip between your parted lips to deepen the kiss.

he doesn’t want to overwhelm you, so he holds himself back from getting too intense. he’ll settle with this slow, sensual kiss, at least until you get confident enough to take more. your little noises are admittedly very hot, and beomgyu knows you must feel his cock twitching beneath you.

you pull away to catch your breath, and your eyes fall on the string of saliva connecting your lips. beomgyu smiles and licks his lips as if he’ll catch any lingering tastes of you. you hesitantly bring your face back to his, and he closes his eyes and parts his lips expectantly, but your mouth meets his jaw instead. you don’t place a peck there like you did to his cheek—you suck on his skin like you would his lips, pulling away after a few seconds to blink up at him.

beomgyu’s stomach is doing cartwheels. he can’t help but find everything you do attractive, even when it’s done with such uncertainty and inexperience. your mouth continues latching onto his skin and sucking, trailing down his neck. he’s sure that you won’t leave any marks—you’re not really sucking that hard, but it’s enough to have him losing his mind. he groans when your hips involuntarily push forward. he wonders how wet you must be right now if you’re already having trouble controlling your body.

“can i touch you now?” you ask, fingers dipping into the hem of his pants. god, beomgyu’s head is spinning. you must be some kind of succubus sent to taint his soul. if you are, it’s fucking working. he’s obsessed and all he’s felt so far is your lips.

he nods and leans back a bit. “yeah, take those off.” you pull down his pants and boxers both in one go, and he watches with a grin when your eyes widen at his cock springing out.

“you’re really big,” you muse, still staring at his dick. beomgyu bites his lip as he watches you wrap a hand around his shaft, not able to close your hand all the way because of his girth. you look up at him, unsure what to do next. beomgyu has to reel himself in, remembering that he should be teaching you right now.

“you should spit in your hand to lube it up. dry handjobs don’t feel that good,” he advises. he holds his breath as he watches you bring your hand to your mouth, a glob of spit falling past your lips and into your palm. he shuts his eyes tight to keep himself together, trying not to cum from just the sight of you doing something so dirty.

your hand falls back to his cock and gives it a few jerks to lubricate it. beomgyu bites his tongue to hold back a moan, but he can’t stop his hips from bucking up into your fist. your eyes meet his again, curious and bright. he wants to kiss you again, but he has to remember that this isn’t about him.

“is this good?” you ask, working your saliva-slicked hand over his cock. if you only knew how hard beomgyu was holding back right now—even through your clumsy handjob, something about you is making beomgyu lose his mind.

“y-yeah. you can try squeezing a little tighter, maybe,” he says, and he cringes at how uncomposed he sounds. the moment you take his advice and wrap your fist tighter around him, he throws his head back and groans. it seems to encourage you, and you start moving a little faster.

fuck, he can’t cum yet. he’s trying to think of anything else, something to keep him from bursting at the seams, but the feeling of your hand wrapped around him is so overwhelming. you look so focused, like you’re taking notes of his reactions and repeating anything that makes him keen. you’re fucking ruining him, god.

“how do i make you cum?” you ask, and the question itself is nearly enough to do it. he’s catching his breath and looking at you through hooded eyes, taking in your eager little hand tugging at his cock and the way you look so determined to get him off. a part of him wants to lay you down and get you all worked up; it’s not fair for him to be suffering alone like this.

“you can—ah, fuck—twist your hand when you come up,” he suggests, and his eyes roll back when you try it out. your movements are getting more confident now, and beomgyu can’t contain his moans anymore. his mouth hangs open, panting pathetically as he feels his orgasm creeping up on him.

you surprise him when you lean your head down to spit onto his cock, lubricating it even more and allowing you to move faster. you really are a little demon. he wants to bend you over and fuck himself into your cunt, wants to have you leaking arousal and crying out for him. he wants you to be moaning and shaking and begging him for release, but instead it’s him on the receiving end of that. he’s going crazy.

“fuck! i’m gonna cum, keep doing that,” he urges as his hips fuck into your fist. you don’t stop him, letting him chase his orgasm until he’s spilling all over his cock and your hand. he’s groaning as he watches his seed spill onto you, imagining what it would be like to cum on your face or your tits instead. shit, what are you doing to him?

“was i good?” your eyes shine with hope as you wait for beomgyu’s answer, and he chooses to respond with a messy kiss to your lips. you’re not here to let him make you cum, but god, he wants to so bad. his brain is flooded with the image of you squirming beneath him, of defiling you and taking your virginity. he wants to dip his hand beneath your pants and feel how wet you are.

you push at his chest to separate from his kiss, eyes darting across his face curiously. this is killing him. he already feels his dick stirring back to life.

“i can show you something too, if you want,” beomgyu offers, still panting from his orgasm.

“like what? you already came.” he attaches his mouth to your neck and sucks desperately, so needy for you to stay here with him. he’s not done with you yet, you can’t leave him without giving him a taste of you. “gyu?” your voice is laced with confusion, your eyes are too when beomgyu looks up at you as he marks your chest. thank god you wore that slutty little low-cut top.

“maybe i could touch you?” he suggests, hand massaging your thigh.

“but that wouldn’t be teaching me anything,” you say, tilting your head. he kisses you again, so endeared and turned on by your innocence. he coaxes your mouth open and shoves his tongue inside, licking into your mouth and holding your face still. he wants to leave you dripping and needy, to tease you until you’re begging him for more.

he guides you down against the mattress, never disconnecting from your lips, eating up your moans and whines. his hands descend down your sides slowly, stopping when they reach your hips. he’s dying to take off your pants and dive into your cunt.

he pulls back to look at you. your lips are puffy and red, and your hair’s all disheveled around you. your eyes are glassy, and your chest heaves with how hard you’re breathing. he might cum again just from the sight.

“do you want me to touch you?” he asks, hoping you’ll say yes. if you even start to nod, beomgyu wouldn’t hesitate to tear your pants off. he needs this more than he’s ever needed anything else in his life.

you sit up suddenly, which makes beomgyu pull away in confusion. “i should go,” you say, picking up your phone from his nightstand.

“what? why?” did he do something wrong? he doesn’t want to make you uncomfortable, but he could have sworn you looked just as into it as he was.

“i have to see taehyun tonight,” you say meekly.

“oh. right.” you’re seeing taehyun. that’s why you had him teach you any of this, after all. he got too caught up in the moment.

you stand up and stare at him, swaying awkwardly in place. beomgyu thinks briefly about convincing you to stay.

“thank you,” you say, not even looking him in the eye. beomgyu’s hands itch to pull you back onto the bed. he wants to hold you down and keep you from leaving. he’d kiss you speechless until taehyun’s not even a thought in your mind anymore.

“yeah,” he says, feigning nonchalance with a simple nod. you’re walking out now, and he has to ignore the voice in his head telling him to run after you.

he collapses against his bed when he hears his door close. taehyun’s his friend, but beomgyu really hates him right now. he can’t think about you and taehyun together without seething. beomgyu doesn’t know where this is coming from—sure, he had a little crush on you some time ago, but he thought that left as soon as you two started hanging out more.

he just hopes that whatever you’re doing with taehyun isn’t better than what you did with him. he’ll be damned if he finds out that taehyun laid his hands on you tonight. he prays and prays that you miraculously stop finding interest in taehyun and leave him before anything happens between you.

what does he want then? for you to come back to him, crying about how bad you need him?

…yeah, that kind of is what he wants, honestly.

[gloomwitchwrites]

Hiiiiii, stumbled across your blog when trying to find COD fics to gush over and yours are SO FUCKIN GOOD. I love how you write the TF 141 guys!!

My personal fave is Simon and I thought the SFW ABC’s HC were so cute! I’m wondering if you’d be interested in writing a NSFW ABS’s for him as well!

Don’t rush it or feel pressured to do it tho. Thank you pookie ❤️

Oh my goodness! I remember the SFW Alphabet I did for Simon. That was forever ago, back when I first broke 1k followers. Compare that to now with over 6k and if feels like ancient history.

I am more than happy to do a NSFW Alphabet for Simon!

Word Count: 1.1k

NSFW Alphabet Template

A = Aftercare

Aftercare all depends on the relationship. If it’s a quick fuck or a casual thing, Ghost isn’t really all that interested in providing aftercare. He might allow a brief cuddle, or some stiff conversation, but he’s more interested in getting his dick wet. But if Ghost is in a steady, serious relationship, then aftercare is important to him. Not that he knows what he’s doing. Aftercare is not his jam, but if he cares about you, he will make sure you have it.

B = Body part

Ghost loves his hands. He loves that he can kill with them yet bring pleasure as well.

C = Cum

Ghost has a terrible breeding kink. Watching his cum ooze out of his partner makes him fucking feral. Not only does the sight of it turn him on, but he’ll verbalize how good his cum looks dripping out of you.

D = Dirty secret

During his final year of secondary school, Simon got into some serious trouble, and nearly ended up expelled. It wasn’t his fault though, and he felt scorned. So, to retaliate, he fucked the principal’s daughter (a classmate of Simon’s) on the man’s desk. Took her virginity while the principal was in a meeting and the two of them should have been in class.

E = Experience

Ghost is experienced with sex but not experienced with love. He can fuck you all goddamn day and turn your limbs to jelly. But the intimacy part is difficult for him.

F = Favorite position

Face down, ass up. Not him, of course, but his partner. For Ghost, it’s dominating and rough and fulfills every primal urge he has.

G = Goofy

More serious than goofy in the moment. Doesn’t mean that Ghost lacks a sense of humor. The guy can crack a joke, but if he is a bit silly in bed, the humor is dry and might go over your head. Ghost prefers to be completely invested in the moment, and his level of silliness isn’t something he’s thinking about. Now, if something happens during the act that’s actually funny, he will laugh and won’t shame himself or you for it.

H = Hair

Doesn’t care about hair but hygiene. Body hair doesn’t scare him nor does a decent bush. Didn’t shave your legs/armpit/bikini line/face/etc.? Ghost could give a shit. If you’re willing and consenting, and he’s willing and consenting, body hair doesn’t even factor into it.

I = Intimacy

Ghost is terrible at intimacy. Sorry y’all, but he is. Doesn’t matter if it’s a quick fuck or a committed relationship. This man will literally approach you and be like “you want to fuck?” and expect a very clear yes or no answer to the question. But hey, at least he’s clear when it comes to communication.

J = Jack off

Ghost is a rigorous masturbator. The every day kind of masturbator. While he prefers his privacy, nothing is sexier to him than when you’ve been a bad boy/girl/one and Ghost decides what you need is a bit of punishment. He’ll restrain you and make you watch as he jerks off, giving himself pleasure while giving you nothing. Not until you’re a begging, whimpering mess.

K = Kink

Breeding, primal, semi-public, CNC, breath play, BDSM

L = Location

Cramped, enclosed spaces. In the car, against a wall, on the sofa, in the shower. Basically, anywhere where Ghost can feel big. He enjoys having a sense of largeness about him, that he’s trapping you under him. That you cannot escape him when he’s fucking you.

M = Motivation

This man is constantly down to fuck. Sure, talking dirty is fun, but what he really wants is clear communication first. Tell him you want to fuck him, and tell him plainly, and then the two of you can do whatever. A clear, “fuck me, Simon” sets him OFF.

N = No

Simon leans heavy on consent. His hard “no” is no clear “yes.” If you cannot communicate that you clearly want him, he’s immediately turned off. That also includes how he sets up a CNC with you.

O = Oral

Gives and receives equally. He doesn’t necessarily prefer one over the other. But when he does receive, he is vocal. Ghost wants you to know that he appreciates you going down on him, but also how much he enjoys it. When it comes to giving, Ghost is sloppy…but in a good way.

P = Pace

Ghost mixes it up depending on position. If he’s looking to draw it out, he’s going to go slow just because he wants to watch you squirm and wiggle. But otherwise, he’s all rough edges, wants to hold you down and fuck you until you’re both senseless and dazed. Even in his roughness, he won’t hurt you, but he might leave some marks behind.

Q = Quickie

Loves a good quickie. Just say the word and Ghost will bend you over or put you on top of the nearest surface and go for it.

R = Risk

As long as Ghost has your enthusiastic consent, he’s down for anything. If there is anything new you want to try, he’s open to do it, but is also good about setting boundaries especially if this new thing might possibly harm you or himself. A risk taker, but understands that the risks might outweigh the benefits.

S = Stamina

This man has the stamina of a fucking horse. He can go for miles if he paces himself. Ghost isn’t the kind of guy to tap out after one round. Sure, he might need a few minutes to breathe, but he’ll be ready to go against shortly after.

T = Toys

While he doesn’t personally own a plethora of toys, Ghost isn’t afraid of using them. His favorite ones are the kinds that vibrate…especially if he can use them on you and have complete authority over the controls. Expect to be edged and have your orgasm denied constantly.

U = Unfair

Ghost isn’t a tease unless he thinks you’ve earned it as a punishment.

V = Volume

Ghost is vocal but he’s not loud about it. If he’s going to drop praises, he’s going to say it like he’s passing on a secret. You don’t find this man yelling his pleasure to the ceiling. He’s all soft grunts and groans. But you? You can be as vocal and loud as you need to be.

W = Wild card

Ghost is a visual creature. He enjoys simply watching you. Watching you get dressed and undressed. Watching you shower. Watching you get ready for bed or ready for the day. He loves looking at you wearing something sexy or nothing at all. He stares.

X = X-ray

Under those clothes, Ghost has a decent bush. Keeps it lightly trimmed but a bit wild. Absolutely a good mix of length and girth. Just above average size. He fits…snuggly.

Y = Yearning

When it comes to a committed relationship, Ghost yearns for you all the time. He is always ready, and always eager if you are. He thinks about you constantly.

Z = Zzz

If it’s just casual sex, Ghost is falling asleep immediately. The man is a rock. Lights out. But if this is a committed relationship, Ghost will stay awake long enough to get you the aftercare you deserve before promptly passing the fuck out. Sorry, but he snores.

main masterlist

[thedemonscrawler]

ITS BEEN 84 YEARS BUT HEY FINAL PART

There is no gradual change from isn't to is. 

No slow return to awareness, an impossible dream flaking away like dust in the face of reality– just being, and the fading horror that a moment ago, he wasn't. 

“--thought you said he wasn't in bad shape?!”

“I said he was in bad shape, he just wasn't dying! Look, just shut up and grab–”

Everything hurts.

He's damaged, processor struggling under the weight of countless errors, threatening to tip him over into a much more tangible state of unresponsiveness. There's a high keening sound that vibrates in his battered chest, resonates with his burning throat.

“--you got the–”

“--es, now move, before–”

Voices. An echo playing against itself, back and forth. Twins, perhaps? But none of the twins he knows sound alike, not like this, and it muddles his understanding even further.

Hands force themselves under his broken body, scraping against the cold surface underneath, and–

–and this already happened, didn’t it? How did it turn out the first time? 

He can’t remember. Everything hurts, and there’s a dark, sucking hole where his memory should be, oozing unease and tension. The keening cuts off, replaced by a staccato burst of static. He should twist away, he should escape, except his limbs won’t cooperate and his chest is full of smothering heat and–

-and there are arms around him. Holding him close to a chest in shades of light and dark. Something brushes the fractured remains of his rays, and from the shape of it, he thinks it might be another disk-shaped head tucking over his own.

Quiet muttering, and he stills just to be able to hear it better, because he’s certain there was something novel in that rasping voice. Following the sounds up and down, until a few resolve themselves into words.

“‘m sorry.” 

The hands holding him tighten their grip ever so slightly, because I’m sorry and you’re safe this time and I promise. Concepts that flit through his shattered mind, leaving impressions more than meaning… yet gradually, the tension eases from his frame, bleeding away drop by drop.

He remembers safety, and warmth. The sting of betrayal fades under awkward apologies, leaving behind no more than a dull ache. He cannot remember what happened, but he knows that he was somewhere else, and this hold means that he was found. Brought home.

Home?

Jarring movements cease. Behind a haze of overexposed static he is aware of movement, shadows and sounds. Something touches his arm, the fragmented casing barely registering the pressure. 

“Hey there, buddy. You remember me, right?”

A person, probably; casing split between light and dark, a crest of pale rays. He cannot tell any more than that, and trying to look makes his head hurt worse.

“--’s okay. We're gonna fix you up, so just–” 

It hurts. Focusing, thinking, being. The arms cradling his body are keeping him safe, but they cannot keep the hurt at bay, and his meager energy is steadily depleting.

“--shutting down.”

“I mean, can you blame–”

Darkness and static stillness eat away at him. The temporary death visited upon a machine, systems going offline as they ran out of power, leaving the body at the complete mercy of whoever might deign to turn it back on. A risk he’s only rarely taken in his long life, yet this time there’s no choice in it.

Does he want to wake up? Does he want to be? 

The head tucked over his own presses closer, rasped words barely audible over his own systems. He misses most of them, but the sense of It’s okay sinks in past the static.

Safety. Warmth. 

Everything stops.

—

“We need to have a serious talk about what you consider ‘catastrophic damage’.” 

“Look, I’m a programmer, not an engineer.”

“No, you’re a mess built out of scavenged arcade machines. I think your judgment is a little skewed.”

Eclipse swipes at the oil-stained rag that impacts his crescent face, balling it up and tossing it back at Solar. It goes wide and hits the floor instead, prompting a snort from the other mech. 

“Judgment and depth perception. I’ve seen old ladies make better throws than that.”

Eclipse rolls his eyes and turns his attention to the frame laid out in the chair. The harsh light of the repair cylinder exposes every bit of damage, and as much as he hates to admit it, Solar might have a point. Still…

“I was right, though.” A black and crimson hand reaches out to gently rest on the shattered chest casing, feeling the slight vibration of repaired fans. 

And Solar just shakes his head, dim eyes flickering briefly. Mild humor laces his tired voice. “Yeah, you were right. Kinda wish you’d remembered anyway, though. Could have saved me a lot of stress.”

“You actually did it.”

The low, breathless voice has Eclipse looking over his shoulder, where Moon stands in the doorway to the cylinder. Unease prickles up and down Eclipse’s metal spine. 

It was fine, it wasn’t like they’d kept this a secret, they hadn’t done anything wrong.

“I am a miracle worker, you know,” he replies with forced nonchalance. Moon doesn’t seem to hear him. All of the lunar animatronic’s attention is on the figure stretched out in the chair, and only when Eclipse steps forward to break his line of sight does he finally look up. 

“It’s too late to do anything about it,” adds Solar. Eclipse doesn’t miss the way Moon winces, how his gaze slides away like his best friend is made of butter. 

“I wasn’t–! I won’t…” Moon sighs and shakes his head. “The Computer picked up a massive spike in magic, so I was just checking to see how you guys were doing. That’s all. I didn’t expect you to be… done?”

“Well, he’s gotten the patch job, but I wouldn’t call things ‘done’.” Quite as if he doesn’t notice the thick, awkward atmosphere, Solar walks around the chair, to the cart loaded down with recently removed parts. “We focused on getting the essentials going, rather than anything cosmetic, so that’s why he still looks like a mess. As soon as his battery is charged enough we’re going to wake him up and see how he’s doing mentally.”

“You should stick around, say hello.” It’s petty, and rude, but Eclipse is too tired to fight off the impulse to sink nonfunctioning teeth into an obvious weakness. “He might not remember what happened.”

Moon stiffens at Eclipse’s tone, but a brief glance at the figure in the chair has his shoulders slumping. “No, that’s…that’s alright. I think I’ll head back upstairs and tell everyone that they should expect to see him around soon.” Deliberately not looking at any Eclipse, Moon turns on his heel. 

“Moon?”

The lunar animatronic freezes. One eye peeps back over his shoulder, just enough to look at Solar. “Yeah?”

“You’re going to have to face this eventually.” Solar’s voice is flat, with a rarely-heard edge that makes Moon flinch. Without another word he slinks off, shoulders bowed under Solar’s golden gaze.

Quiet fills the vacuum left behind by Moon’s departure, until Eclipse breaks it with an almost normal tone of voice. “You know, I thought I’d enjoy the drama a little more.”

Solar barks out a laugh. “Maybe you’re going through some character growth– or you’ve got a virus. Actually, nevermind, it’s probably that. I can scan you after we wake him up, if you want.”

There isn't another rag to throw, so Eclipse settles for making a Daycare-inappropriate gesture, which Solar returns with interest.

“Let's just get this over with, before anyone else shows up.” His usual drawl neatly covers up the uneasy feeling crawling through his circuits as Eclipse glances at the door, then down at the chair. It was beyond too late for questions or doubts–  the only thing left was to face the consequences. 

Solar flicks his fingers in a little salute and approaches the prone form. He does something around its head, and Eclipse finds himself holding his ‘breath’ as recently replaced fans start up, rattling in their housings and nearly covering the whine of a processor. Red and blue optics flicker before coming fully online, their dim glow pointed at the ceiling. 

The tangled knot of guilt and shame that had lived in his circuits for the past couple of months loosens, all at once. Without really thinking about it, he waves a crimson-tipped hand. “Hey.”

A long moment of silence, broken by uncertain chirps from Ruin’s barely functional vocalizer. “H-hello.”

“...alright, enough with the riveting banter.” Solar waves off Eclipse’s offended snarl, stepping up to the foot of the chair. Ruin regards him with the same blank uncertainty that he’d shown the ceiling, even when Solar offers a hand to pull him up to a more upright position. “There we go. Hey, you’re with us, right?”

More silence, and Eclipse can see the same worry beginning to creep through his wires reflected in Solar’s copper rays angling back. Before either of them can get too worked up, there’s another little static sound, and Ruin accepts the offered hand. 

“I– yes, I believe that I am.” His endoskeleton creaks as he moves, bits of casing joining what already litters the floor. “Or perhaps I’m not, and it is you who are with me? Because– and do correct me if I’m wrong– you’re dead, Solar.”

“Yeah, funny how that kind of thing doesn’t stick around here.” 

“I-I see.” Red and blue optics drop to skeletal hands. “Yes, I do remember now. Moon had a plan, of sorts, didn’t he? A life for a life.” Those hands clench into tight fists, joints squealing softly.

Eclipse’s own claws bite into his palms as the shame begins creeping up on him again. “Yeah.”

“There was a cell, and then there was a different cell, and that twisted imitation of an animatronic. And then…” the words break into more static, the rough idea of a laugh. “Moon got what he wanted. I don’t begrudge him, you know. It makes perfect sense. What does not, however, is this.” 

He looks up at Eclipse, bewildered and lost. “Why am I alive?”

Eclipse had been expecting the question, because it’s the same one he’d been asking himself for months. All through the search for a way to alter a dimensional signature, scouring the computers to find an imprint of Ruin’s code, dealing with awkward questions and cold looks from the others. 

Why go through the trouble of bringing back Ruin, of all people? Who would want to see the amalgamate AI alive again?

(The fleeting impression of trust, of safety found in undeserving arms. He was familiar with betrayal, but this time… this time it hadn’t been on purpose.)

Eclipse is the only one that can answer, in his own way. With a sneer and a snarl, golden rays pinning back.

“You brought me back from the dead. Twice, actually.” He crosses his arms and looks down at Ruin. “Do you really think I'd let you get out of dealing with all of this crap? Nuh-uh, nope– if I have to be alive, so do you.” 

Mismatched eyes flicker briefly, searching Eclipse’s fixed expression for something. Falsehood, a trick. When nothing is found, soft static chirps begin sounding from the damaged bot’s chest, resolving themselves into hiccuping sobs as Ruin drops his face into his hands. 

“Of– of course!” He forces out. “Of course, t-that…yes, t-that’s fair. That’s fair.”

Eclipse’s stiff pose loosens slightly, and after a warning glance at Solar to not say anything, he sits down on the edge of the chair. Immediately there are damaged arms wrapping around his torso, a shattered face pressed into his chest.

Eclipse ignores the thin scratches being carved into his paint, the few bits of loose casing falling away from a broken body. He rests his hand on Ruin’s back, moving it in tiny circles. If his voice is unusually quiet, threatening to crack in the middle, he ignores that, too. 

“You’re okay now. You’re home.”

Lil gift for @thedemonscrawler inspired by their sams fic Beggars Can't be Choosers (butters i'm dying /pos)

(Speedpaint under cut)

[dannitarot]

What you need to hear

This short reading will tell you what you need to hear right now. Choose the photo you’re most drawn to. Some of you may feel drawn to more than one pile.

Pile 1-> 2-> 3->4

Pile 1

You can manifest your desires. You have the ability to create the life you want. Make your desires clear and wish wisely. Some of you may doubt your ability to attract what you want. Have faith that it’ll all work out. You’re being reminded to protect your vision by not sharing it with everyone, especially people who won’t believe in you even if they may have pure intentions. Some of you have toxic relationships with friends in particular and need to cut them off. It’s OK to be alone sometimes. You need to take time to yourself to reflect on what you really want for your life in the present and for the future.

Pile 2

Whatever you’re going through, just remember that this too shall pass. Your spirit guides are assisting you through this. They are with you. You could love music and probably listen to music all the time ,singing/humming or playing an instrument(s). Listening to music could lift your spirits and make you feel better. If you have interest in learning a new instrument, now is a good time to start. I see that you will reach a goal or manifest something you really want in the wintertime. Since it’s still winter here in my hemisphere , I feel for a lot of you that it will be by the end of this winter or by next winter for the rest of you. You need to take time to heal. Don’t rush the process. Things will get better. Think positive. What you focus on grows.

Pile 3

Your spirit guides are helping you manifest your desires so wish wisely. You could have been neglecting yourself or your needs. You’re being reminded to look within. Your inner world reflects your outer world. Work on your self concept. You could start with affirmations.

Pile 4

Pay attention to the signs around you. The higher powers speak to us through signs in our environment. You could be feeling motivated to start something and you’re being encouraged to do so. If you need help, ask for it. This new endeavour for you could require group effort. For a lot of you this is could be a business.

THANKS FOR READING 🤍!

[cupcakeinat0r]

Another Valentine's w/ Dadbod!Miguel

It’s that time of year again; A day you so dreaded turned into one of your favorite days of the year: Valentine’s. 

And even though you insist on telling each other you ‘won’t be getting each other anything’ because ‘all you need is each other’, both parties buy gifts anyway (and let’s face it; his were always pricier. The man’s a scientist.) 

Like the year prior, you cooked him breakfast in bed wearing something that was very much short-lived and ended up on the floor, ripped, before he even got to the toast. 

Having taken off from work, especially for the holiday, the both of you then rest in bed, the midday sun cascading across the bedroom floor. Just like last year, he’ll big spoon you, the plush of his stomach against your back and rumbling along with his rich chuckles. Just like last year, you two will snicker in bed, because he’s just murmured in your ear how he’ll need to renew that gym membership if you keep cooking for him like this; how his New Year’s resolutions are impossible with you around. But then he’ll immediately thank you, not for just loving him through food, but for being his rock; he would’ve never eaten this good before you. He would intertwine his fingers with yours under the sheets, the size difference in them endearing. Just like last year. 

After an accidental nap, Miguel groggily mutters in your ear how he’s gotten reservations somewhere nice and that he’s been wanting to take you. Here’s the kicker: it was in 30 minutes. 

“What?!” you jump out of bed and instantly retreat to your closet. Easy for him to stay calm, all he had to do was comb back those black curls of his, dress those muscles, and be ready to go. 

Miguel waits for you in the bedroom, announcing the time you have left through the bathroom door. When he hears your haste voice through the wall, he smiles to himself. 

His eyes wander, and maybe too far, because he finds a notebook. Curious and mindlessly looking for something to do while you finish getting ready, he goes to it and reads through it. It’s fine since there’s no secrets between you; you go into each other's things all the time. 

It doesn’t take too much reading to realize it’s a journal; your journal.  He remembers you mentioning wanting to start for this new year. A little part of him knows he shouldn’t… but the curiosity was killing him. He looks back at the door for a moment, ensuring you’re still occupied.

He turns to the book and resumes reading, but it’s not as wholesome as the first few entries.

His face falls, a certain, familiar wave of heat passing through him as he reads your handwriting. 

This entry was all about him. 

You two had just made love, and you raved about how romantic and tender it was, going into details of how sweetly he treated you. And you also praised the rougher side of Miguel; how he took control in bed, how his strength kept you in a trance, and that body…

You went on to list the many things you wanted Miguel to do to you. Bashfully written secrets of love kept away, in hopes that maybe, through manifestation, they’ll come true, rather than being upfront and telling him what you want. How you wanted to experiment with taking the control for a night, maybe making the entire performance be about his pleasures for a change. To kiss up his thighs and the little pudge of his stomach, until he was rock solid, placing kisses there as well until he was too worked up to resist begging. How you want to experiment with food and maybe use his entire torso as a plate for your enjoyment. 

‘Whipped cream off his chest and tummy… GAWD. I need a moment. Goodnight.’ was how the entry was sealed.

There was also mentions of wanted to be choked by him, tied, and other various things that Miguel would otherwise be shocked coming from you.

Miguel stares down at the notebook baffled. He knew you loved his body the way it was… but he guess he just didn’t realize how much. 

“Okay, baby, I’m ready. You got the-” a perplexed Miguel turns around to you, your notebook in his hand, and you immediately want to crawl in a hole.

“Miguel,” your voice shakes with shame, bracing yourself for an unbearably embarrassing response, ”How much of that did you read?”

Miguel’s lips curl into a wicked smile. 

“Whipped cream?” his brow quirks.

“Oh… so that much, huh?” he sheepishly nod. You’re stuck where you stand.

Miguel walks with purpose and ease until he’s right in front of you, his frame demanding the lift of your head and guilty gaze.

“Mamita, there’s no need to be hiding this stuff from me.” the tone of his voice is nothing but nurturing and reassuring.

You smile softly up at him, grateful that he at least isn’t disgusted by your twisted mind. Desperate to change the subject, you look at the time, “We can talk later, but aren’t gonna be late?” You ask in hopes he’ll take the bait.

“Late to where?”

Miguel’s hands find the flesh of your hips, giving them a light squeeze, pulling you closer to the plush of his muscles. The small yet dominant gesture making your heart flutter,

“We’re staying right in this room.” 

And he made alllllll your dreams come true in one night. 

Happy Valentine's Day <3 xoxo

[dindjarindiaries]

Pulling Punches

character: Din Djarin (The Mandalorian)

prompt: "Look, I know I probably should have backed off and I apologize." "No, honestly it was kind of hot." "What?"

main masterlist • prompt masterlist

You sighed and set your hands on your hips, leaning close enough so that your muttered words could only be shared between the two of you. “Din, honestly. I’ll be fine in there.” You gestured with your head to the cantina’s threshold. “Just stay out here and watch my back. Okay?”

Din shifted his weight between his feet and flexed one of his gloved hands. The other rose to adjust his vambrace. With a heavy exhale of defeat and a swing of his helmet, he relented. “Fine.” His visor found you again. “Just—.”

“Be careful.” You huffed and gave his armored shoulder a playful punch. “I know. I can handle myself.” You turned towards the door and spoke to him over your shoulder. “I’ll be back in a few.”

With that, you strode forward. The door slid open for you, and you felt Din’s gaze lingering on your back until the closing door made it impossible for him to see you any longer.

You rolled your eyes. Honestly, for a man who had yet to even mention the idea of being with you romantically, he was so unnecessarily protective.

The cantina on this world was crowded that night, practically shoulder-to-shoulder as you wove your way towards the actual bar. You were soon close enough to spot the familiar blue skin of the Twi’lek bartender, and after raising your hand and keeping your eye on them, you caught their attention. The Twi’lek woman smiled and waved you forward.

“Sorry.” You smiled sheepishly as you stepped up to greet the bartender. “I know I’m a bit late.”

The Twi’lek raised an unimpressed brow, despite the glint of fondness in her gaze. “‘A bit’? It was two full rotations.”

You shrugged. “Kark happens.” You subtly scanned your surroundings and lowered your voice. “Do you still have it?”

The Twi’lek hummed a positive note as she finished pouring a drink. “It’s in the back.” She picked up the glass in her hand and nodded. “I’ll go grab it.”

Your face softened in gratitude, even as your fists tightened on top of the bar. You wouldn’t feel much better until the datacard was in your hands.

Just as you watched the blue Twi’lek disappear into a back room, the man on your left started to speak to you. “Never seen you here before.”

You huffed and cut your gaze at him. “Moved off world a few cycles ago.”

“Makes sense.” He shuffled closer to you. “I’d remember a face like yours.”

You let out a low chuckle and glanced over at him, amused. “Oh, yeah?”

The man hummed his agreement and gave you an obvious once-over. “What brings you back here?”

You offered him a shrug. “Just visiting an old friend.” You gestured with your head to where the bartender had gone.

“Well…” The man’s hand slid closer to yours on the bar top. “I’m glad you did.”

Your eyes narrowed as you looked him straight in the eye. “I’m not staying long.”

His brow rose slowly. “I won’t need long.”

You frowned and pulled your hand closer to yourself. “Okay, then let me make myself clear: I don’t want whatever you’re trying to offer me.”

The man chuckled. “Playing hard to get? Really?”

You crossed your arms, but kept your hands pulled tight into fists, ready to punch if you had to. “I’m not ‘playing’ at all.”

The man lifted his hand as if he was about to set it on your shoulder. “Then let me help you—.”

Whatever else he was saying was lost in the shuffle of someone stepping in between the two of you so quickly that you nearly jumped into the person on your right. The flash of silver was all you needed to see to identify who it was that had grabbed the man’s wrist so hard that you audibly heard it crack.

The man gasped in both pain and surprise, but Din didn’t release his wrist, not even as he spoke. “Lay a single hand on them, and I’ll cut it off.”

The man sputtered before he tried to snatch his wrist away from Din. “Alright, alright! Relax.”

“This is me relaxed.” Din still didn’t relinquish his grip. “You don’t want to see me when I’m not. Do I make myself clear?”

The man huffed indignantly. “Yeah, yeah! Whatever. Just let me go!”

You observed the attention you were suddenly getting and sighed. You pinched the bridge of your nose and closed your eyes. “Let him go, Din.”

Din hesitated, but you soon heard movement as he dropped the man’s hand. You reopened your eyes to see the man cradling his bruising wrist and glaring between both you and Din. His words were directed towards you when he spoke again. “You could at least fight your own battles.”

You were ready to do exactly that, but Din beat you to it. He slammed his elbow into the back of the man’s head, forcing his front half to fold over the bar top, and then punched the man’s gut to make him fall back a few steps. Din’s final hit was an uppercut that had the man knocked out in seconds.

The man hit the floor, and the cantina froze for a single moment in time as Din flexed both his hands and spoke to the limp body underneath him. “They don’t have to.”

You should’ve been mortified by his actions, and part of you was, but mostly… you were hit with a rush of warmth that brought a fond smile to your lips. Din was always protective, sure, but this was something different. This was a fight to protect your honor.

Like he had said, a battle you could have fought on your own, but you didn’t have to, because he wanted to do it for you.

Din then shook his helmet as if pulling himself out of a trance and turned around to face you. He took a step closer, as if he was about to start speaking, but your attention was pulled away by the bartender returning.

“Here.” The Twi’lek woman handed you the datacard, and you thanked her quietly. Her gaze fell to the man on the floor, and her brow raised as she let out a relived exhale. “Oh, finally. Someone took care of that guy.”

You frowned in confusion. “What?”

The bartender nodded at the body. “Guy’s been harassing our patrons for weeks.”

“Oh.” You looked down at the man and kicked his limp foot with your boot. “Good riddance.”

The Twi’lek huffed in agreement and only briefly looked between you and Din. She smiled and nodded towards the door. “Be safe out there.”

“And you be safe in here.”

With those words and a small smile of your own, you turned towards the door and started making your way out. It was admittedly easier, though, with Din at your side, as he had no trouble pushing people out of the way for both of you.

As soon as you were making your way back to the ship, Din began to speak. “Look.”

He let out a soft breath as his visor glanced over at you.

“I know I probably should have backed off.” He looked down at the fist he’d punched with and flexed it. “I apologize.”

You hummed, pretending to consider his apology. “No. Honestly…” You shrugged. “It was kind of hot.”

Din’s helmet whipped towards you so fast that you’re surprised he didn’t actually trip a step. “What?”

You laughed, shaking your head as you bumped your side against his. “I’m being serious!”

Din’s helmet tilted at you. “But you’re laughing.”

“Because it’s funny.”

Din sighed. “What’s funny?”

You nodded at him. “You being so shocked that I find you attractive.”

Din stiffened in clear embarrassment as he focused on the way ahead. “Are we really doing this here?”

You pretended to be disappointed. “So, you’re saying you didn’t do what you did because you find me attractive?”

Din’s helmet turned towards you again. “I never said that.”

Your teasing smile was impossible to fight. “Then you do think I’m attractive?”

Din suddenly stopped in his tracks, letting out an exhale heavy enough to make you hold back a laugh. He took you by the arm and pulled you aside to keep you out of the way as he responded.

“Clearly. How many more people do I have to punch to make that obvious?”

You blinked at him before you burst out laughing again. "Din, there has to be a better way for you to tell me how you feel."

Din shrugged. "I was raised a fighter."

You raised an eyebrow at him. "Not a lover?"

"Jury's still out."

You snorted in amusement. Din, however, was quick to shift gears, his hand lowering from your arm to your back as his visor gave your surroundings a cautious glance.

"Now, can I please get you back to the ship safely, and then we can discuss this more properly?" He tilted his helmet at you. "Or, in your case, laugh about it."

You gave your eyes a playful roll, though the smile on your lips told a different story. "Fine." You nodded towards the way ahead. "Just try not to punch anyone else."

Din huffed and gave your back a gentle tap. "No promises."

Given what additional insight you had now regarding Din's motivations, you found your smile widening as you stayed close to his side, at last fully grateful to be within his protective reach.

[munsonsmixtapes]

Congrats on 1 year of posting!!! You deserve all the love you’re so incredibly talented 💕💕

This was so hard to pick but here is my request:

🦇+😘+11

Thank you so much, friend!

cw: hurt/comfort

The diner is crowded as you try your hardest to keep up with your section. There’s a lot on your mind already so having to remember what order goes where as everything that happened the night before replays in your brain is getting a little tricky. You’re still not sure what to make of it and not having the time to sort out your thoughts is not helping.

You set a plate in front of one of the customers as the bell dings above the door, signaling that another customer has entered. You make the mistake of looking up to see who it is and a gasp falls from your lips as your eyes lock on the dark brown eyes you know so well.

You immediately turn away and hurry towards the kitchen to fetch the other orders that are waiting in the window. Eddie is hot on your heels and you can hear his shoes hitting the tile loudly as he tries to catch up with you.

You don’t want to talk to him, though. You don’t even want to see him right now, especially since you’ve got your hands full, literally. You turn and there he is, standing right where you need to get to, completely blocking your path.

“Eddie,” you say with a warning tone, but he just crosses his arms over my chest. “You’ve already shown up to my job and now you won’t let me work?”

“You didn’t answer my calls.” He’s offended and you feel like he has every right to be considering the circumstances. You screwed everything up and now you’re paying for it.

“I’ve been busy.” That’s not technically a lie but you’ve had plenty of time to answer him when the phone has rung. You just don’t want to talk about that night, especially not when you’re on the clock and you think he’s gone too far now by showing up at your place of work.

“Yeah, busy ignoring me.”

“I’m not ignoring you, Eddie. Now will you please just get out of my way?” You’re getting even more angry now, feeling your blood practically boiling as he stands there, preventing you from doing your job and being an ass while he does it.

“Oh, okay,” he steps to the side and lets you through only to follow closely behind you again as you’re handing out more plates to your customers. “Then let’s just ignore what you said to me the other night.”

“Yes, let’s.” That’s what you’ve been trying to do since it happened and he just won’t let it go.

“You told me that you loved me.” That’s it. That’s your breaking point. You serve the last plate then point towards the door, anger building up inside you like you’re a pot that’s boiling over.

“Outside.” Eddie sighs and heads towards the door and you follow, marching behind him, not even giving a second glance to the annoyed customers on your way out.

As soon as you’re out of the diner, you cross your arms over your chest as a way to warm yourself up because of the gust of wind that’s crossing the parking lot. Eddie seems toasty in his nice jacket that you want nothing more than to wrap yourself up in.

He’s lighting up a cigarette so you know he’s angry, trying his hardest to light up, but the flame keeps going out from the wind. He needs something to take the edge off because no contact from you has been driving him absolutely crazy.

He can’t believe that you just left after telling him that you loved him. You just panicked and ran, not even giving him a chance to respond. Don’t you see how unfair that it is? It’s hurting him, almost as if you reached into his chest and pulled out his heart.

He’s wondering if you even meant it since you’ve been going out of your way to ignore him. If it was just something said because of how you were feeling and not even because you meant it. Because those three words hold so much meaning and he doesn’t even want to accept them if you only said them on a whim because of how good he made you feel.

“You wanted to talk so talk,” you demand, rubbing your hands up and down your arms.

“I’ve done all my talking so it’s all on you.” Fuck. You don’t even smoke but that cigarette sounds so inviting. Anything to keep your mouth occupied so you don’t have to actually say anything to him. You don’t want to tell him the truth, for your arrangement to change permanently and you just can’t bear the thought of losing him.

“Did you even mean it?” His voice is small now and all you want is to wrap him up in your arms and tell him the truth.

“Did I mean it when I said I loved you when I orgasmed?” You did, you really did and you don’t know why you can’t just get yourself to say it. If he didn’t love you back then why else would he be so upset that you’ve been ignoring him?

“Did you?” Oh, he’s infuriated now, just wanting you to spit your answer out right now before he loses his goddamn mind.

“Of course I did!” You yell back and his big eyes widen at your outburst but it’s quickly replaced with a wide grin that he can’t seem to wipe off of his face. “I’ve loved you for a while now but was afraid to tell you. And now I don’t know where we stand. Everything’s gonna change-“

Your rant is cut off by Eddie pulling you into his arms and pressing his lips to yours. You gasp into his mouth but eventually melt into him, wrapping your arms around his neck as his rest on your waist.

You’ve kissed before but it’s never been like this. It’s filled with something that’s so much more than the need to get each other into bed. It’s filled with love and you’re smiling into it as he pulls away reluctantly.

“I love you too. Now get back in there before you get fired. I’ll see you at home okay?” You pull away from him and turn on your heel, feeling his eyes on you as you walk away, trying your hardest to not giggle as you head inside, your thoughts filling with Eddie for a completely different reason.

[kendrysaneela]

Let’s go through the events of Severance from Helena’s POV cause it’s wild from Helena’s POV as well as Helly’s. (I’m just going by memory so I may miss a few things or mix up the timeline a bit) I am not moralizing any of Helena’s actions cause this is just from her POV.

You get (presumably) coerced into splitting your consciousness in half by your abusive father to serve the cult you were raised in.

You then get the brain surgery and then you wake up in a hallway. Millchick says it’s cause you need time to adjust. But it’s okay because sometimes this just happens you’re not trying to leave.

Then you keep ending up on the other side of the door! Millchick comforts you and tells you about how grateful he is that you’re here and you’re happy to get any approval at all even if it is from your family’s cult. Maybe you’ll get some approval from your father.

Then you run through the door MORE! You’re pretty sure at this point that Millchick is lying to you when he says your innie is realizing she does want to be there but you run back through anyway.

Your innie asks to resign you reject that resignation (whether that was Helena’s decision or the board’s is not yet something we know)

Then on a later day you wake up in the elevator and your hair is all messed up your wrist is bandaged up and your makeup is running and you feel just such DEEP exhaustion but you don’t know why

Then you show up on another day and you’re in an elevator with a cd from a camcorder in your hands you watch it and your innie is asking to resign again. But this time she’s threatening your fingers??

So you record a video back (whether those were Helena’s words or words placed in front of her to say by the board yet to be seen)

THEN you wake up in an elevator GASPING for air not knowing what’s happening. I guess your innie tried to KlLL you??

The you’re forced to go back so when you do you crouch in the corner of the elevator in panic before you turn into your innie

THEN later you’re getting ready to do a speech about how great Severance is (you certainly haven’t had a good time but the board demands you do this so you’re gonna have to fake it)

Then all of a sudden you wake up being pulled off stage by Cobel you don’t even remember getting on the stage!

And you’re told that your innie took you over and said a bunch of bad stuff about Severance onstage so after your father insults you for a while you then you’re forced to read an embarrassing script in front of the whole country or the whole world talking about how you drank too much and thought it was a funny joke at the time.

THEN. You’re looking over footage of Helly who is your other consciousness and you see her kissing Mark. You see her being more free and more loved than you ever have. So you rewind that kiss over and over again.

You’re told you have to go back down there to the severed floor but it’s okay you can pretend to be Helly you don’t actually have to be her. And you actually are having a good time? You are having fun with them you’re feeling free youre feeling loved for the first time in your life, you’re making jokes about your family’s ridiculous lore it’s awesome. You’re trying to soak in the love they all have for Helly because you’ve never felt love and you don’t understand you can’t steal love because you’ve never had love before. You come clean with one of the innies about your self hatred.

Then one of the innies finds out you’re Helena and tries to DROWN YOU. To get back your other consciousness that lives in your body your innie who they love more than you. You thought they liked you but now you’re realizing that they just liked you cause they thought you were Helly you’re still stuck in a loveless life now. And now as a bonus you’re having an identity crisis about how Helly is essentially who you could’ve been if you weren’t weighed down by your family’s name.

Then you’re thinking “I definitely won’t have to go back now obviously I’ll tell my father” then you’re told that no you are going back down and you’re going back as Helly to the place where all of this happened because “The Board appreciates your sacrifice” and no one thinks the trauma you’ve faced so far is actually a big deal not even your father he won’t even talk to you about it. So you go back down against your will to the innie floor again and let the consciousness take you over again.

[velieditss]

Valentine’s Day

✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: :･ﾟ✧ ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: :･ﾟ✧ ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: :･ﾟ✧

♡ ✧ Valentine’s Headcanons ✧ ♡

I know I'm a day late, but late is better than never

✧･ﾟ Aemond ･ﾟ✧

He doesn’t see himself as a romantic man. He doesn’t expect anyone to sigh over him, nor does he believe in sentimental gestures. But if you ever happened to mention—almost absentmindedly—that you like a certain book, a particular piece of jewellery, or a specific dessert, he will remember. And days later, you’ll find it in your room or among your belongings, with no note, no explanation. He won’t tell you it was him. He doesn’t seek recognition. Simply knowing that you have something that makes you happy is enough.

─ ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──── ♡ ─── ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──

✧･ﾟ Gwayne ･ﾟ✧

If you give him a gift, no matter how small, he will carry it with him always. A handkerchief embroidered with care, a simple thread bracelet, a trinket of little value… To him, it is a treasure. And if anyone dares to mock him, he won’t even flinch. He will simply smile calmly before replying, “Only true men can bear the weight of love.”

─ ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──── ♡ ─── ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──

✧･ﾟ Davos ･ﾟ✧

Flowery words aren’t his style. He has no patience for long letters or poetic confessions. His words are simple, direct, impossible to misinterpret. One day, without warning, he will look you straight in the eye and say, “I like you. I want to be with you. Tell me what I need to do.” And then he will wait, with the quiet certainty of a man who has made up his mind.

─ ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──── ♡ ─── ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──

✧･ﾟ Aegon ･ﾟ✧

He never understood why people celebrate love only one day a year. If he is in love, he shows it every day. You wake up to gifts on your bed, to spontaneous parties thrown in your honour, to his laughter declaring that the world should celebrate your existence just as much as he does. There are no limits to his extravagance, nor to his desire to see you happy.

─ ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──── ♡ ─── ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──

✧･ﾟ Daeron ･ﾟ✧

Valentine’s Day isn’t enough for him. He learns to play an instrument in secret, practising until his fingers ache, just so that on that special day, you can hear a melody composed solely for you. And when he plays it, there will be pride in his gaze, because every note carries a piece of his heart.

─ ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──── ♡ ─── ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──

✧･ﾟ Cregan ･ﾟ✧

He’ll teach you to hunt… but will do all the work himself. If you ever express an interest, he’ll take you with him, but in the end, he’ll ensure you don’t have to lift a finger. "This isn’t your place," he’ll say, though in truth, he simply wants to shield you from any discomfort.

─ ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──── ♡ ─── ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──

✧･ﾟ Jace ･ﾟ✧

When the time comes to give you a gift, he is restless. He makes sure everything is perfect, that it is something you will truly love. He might rehearse his words in front of a mirror or second-guess himself a hundred times before handing it over. Because to him, it isn’t just a gift. It’s his way of showing how much you mean to him.

─ ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──── ♡ ─── ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──

✧･ﾟ Luke ･ﾟ✧

He wants to surprise you, so he decides to bake a cake for Valentine’s Day. But something goes wrong. Perhaps too much flour, or not enough sugar. Perhaps the kitchen ends up in complete chaos. But even so, he presents it to you with a beaming smile, proud of his effort, hoping that at the very least, the thought behind it will make you happy.

Masterlist

[luna-azzurra]

Do you have any writing tips for writing twin characters? I was thinking about writing them in a 50/50 way. An equal amount of similarities and differences But I don't know if that's a good idea.

Even if they were raised the same way, they’re still two different people. Give them unique quirks, different reactions to the same situation, and personal goals that aren’t just about being a twin.

Example: One twin might be super organized, making lists for everything. The other remembers things but in a messy, scattered way and never writes anything down.

Twins often share habits or instincts, but it’s more interesting if it happens subtly, rather than being a forced 50/50 divide.

Example: They both hum the same song while thinking, without realizing it. Or they both hate mushrooms, but for completely different reasons.

And it’s easy to fall into the “one is serious, one is chaotic” trope. But real twins can be similar in some ways while still clashing hard on certain things. Maybe both are competitive, but one wants to prove something to the world, while the other only cares about winning against their twin.

Remember: Twins have a unique bond, it’s closer than siblings but also full of rivalry, history, and inside jokes. Show those layers. Maybe one finishes the other’s sentence, not because of a psychic twin thing, but because they’ve had the same argument a hundred times and already know how it ends. Or maybe they text each other constantly, but in person, they act like they’re too cool to care.

Plus when they fight, don’t just make it dramatic, make it personal. No one knows how to push your buttons like someone who has known you their whole life. A twin doesn’t just say “You’re wrong” in an argument. They say, “You’re doing that thing where you pretend not to care so you won’t be disappointed.”

Twins have history, use it.

Hope this helps, let me know if you need more! 💫

[overnightheartbeats]

His lips were coated in something sweet, her heart thumping with anticipation as he pulled her close. A happy, dazed hum escaped her as his lips reassured her and worked a magic that effectively brought her mind back to them. Even if they still talked about her, her worry and shame regarding her roommate was no more. Her right hand resting on the nape of his neck softly brushed his hair, smiling at his words. He really didn’t know just how much comfort he brought her, something to share with him. “I get that. Well, you won’t be in her space anymore. We won’t be. I meant what I said earlier, I’m moving out. Choosing, yeah that’d..be something.” Was it insane to tell him that her heart said him, no hesitation. It seemed too early to share such huge feelings, it had to be. But, when had that ever stopped her? “It’d be you though, for the record.”

In between saying yes, her laughter followed his. His eyelashes fanning against her cheek tickled, but she loved the feeling. “Yup, these eyes precisely. Oh, first day you saw me? I’d have been a goner.” She was already intrigued by him at that party, this would’ve just ensured she walked over much sooner. “Between pretty eyes and your bottle opening trick, I would’ve stuck to you from the moment you arrived.” Though, she remembered she had seen him around sometime before that. Leaning in to catch every single kiss he provided, she brushed his damp hair from his face. It was bizarre to think of how he had her heart dancing. How far deep was she. If he asked her to jump, she’d only ask how high. Oh, she was falling expeditiously. Just us, how nice that sounded from his lips.

Her hand had traveled down from his face to rest on his chest. Her dopey smile could not be hidden, meeting his family should be frightening. And, that’d eventually settle in, but for now, her excitement kept everything else at bay. The fact that he even wanted to introduce her meant he was serious. It wasn’t just her. Laurel was quick to shake her head to dispel the idea that she felt it was too fast. It didn’t matter to her, she loved it. “I want to meet your family, I want to do it all with you.” It was vague, but laurel was effectively letting him know, she was all in with him. “I like you too, so much, and yes let’s do it!” Her happiness was everywhere you looked, bursting at the seams. Bright eyes, her lips curved into a wide smile and her face a rosy color as if her feelings for him settled into her features, in full display for him. She was going to make a joke about the house he envisioned when he mentioned wanting to be honest. That was the other shoe dropping, wasn’t it? Oh, it was that. “You are really sweet being honest with me, and you’re in luck. We’re like…secretly in sync. I know I’m not the marriage type. So, I think that’s something we won’t have to worry about.” No one else knew that, he was the first person she told. But, that was a thing for later. “I’ll happily take loyal partner over the other stuff.”

“I’ll take all the stories you’re willing to share with me, though I’ll also ask your family,” she warned him with a grin before leaning in and pressing a soft kiss to his lips. Every opportunity to learn about him, she’d take.

It was a quiet afternoon, the diner had a few guests but the booth they favored was open, as if waiting for them. The whole way there, Laurel didn’t let go of his hand. Exclusivity really did have its perks, and she was on cloud nine over it. “So, Chicago trip, how long would it be? I’ll need to tell my dad.” Which reminded her, she’d need to plan a trip for him to meet her family. “Also, I’m good sharing a milkshake today, but I think I’m starving enough for my own fries. What do you think?”

He kissed her like the memory of Jenny was going to blur into the background. His hands at her face pulling her close, taking his time to slowly explore her mouth like they hadn't been acquainted yet. "Hmm, no I think we both bring each other comfort." Was he trying to be funny? Maybe. "I could never. Aside from the fact that I don't like to butt into other people's business. It just wasn't my place. I wasn't going to make you choose either. It's not her or me. I just don't want to be in her space."

He laughed and then fanned his eyelashes against his cheeks and bit his bottom lip. "These eyes? Right here? If I knew it was all it would take I'd have fanned them right at you the first day I saw you." he nodded and laughed as his face nuzzled hers and gave her a few more kisses. "Just us," he reaffirmed. He was pretty sure this was what it felt like to fall in love.

"I want you to meet my family. I know it's a little soon and if you feel like it's too fast, just tell me. I was actually going to do this at dinner but," he sighed and smiled. "I would like us to be exclusive. I can't see anyone else making me feel like you do. And it's not just because we have a sexual relationship either. It's not that at all. But, I really like you and do see you as more than just a college experience. I see the house and living the good life. Lots of laughter. But, I just want to be honest. Marriage isn't something I see for myself but I'll be the most loyal partner you'll ever have."

He rolled his eyes and shook his head. "The good and the bad stories maybe the ugly ones." Giving her one last kiss he got up and pulled her by the chin. "Let's go,"

[talesinthelostwoods]

It’s Summer (Break) Time!

A soft breeze, the soothing sound of the cicadas’ chirping, a clear blue sky and the gentle touch of the waves…well, we’re not magical experts for sure, but these seem like the nice ingredients to a summer vacation! We only need your contribution to complete the incantation, so…

Welcome to our summer themed Twisted Wonderland zine!

༄ The project

It’s Summer (Break) Time!  is a free digital fan-project centered on the celebration of summer. Whether it is about going on a hike in a quiet mountain, or diving into the sea, we want to hear about… no, not your holidays, but our favorite boys' summer holidays!

Just a few rules before starting:

misogyny, homophobia, racism and other discriminatory behaviours will not be tolerated. If one has to be caught in these behaviours, they will be expelled from the zine. Remember to be kind.

as stated before, this is a free digital zine centered on the summer season. You can depict our boys as you want: going for a walk in the gentle summer evening, playing in the sea, going on a summer studying camp (yes Riddle we’re looking at you)… the important thing is that the work will be summer themed! So add bonfires, long walks, the sea, hike in the mountains, sunny days or sudden downpours, everything that screams summer for you is welcomed here!

the zine will be 13+.

original characters are not allowed. This is a zine centered on our main cast (NRC) plus the faculty members. Grim and Yuu are allowed. 

X reader works are not allowed. 

you must be 18+ before applying. The zine will be SFW. However, as mods we prefer to work with adults like us! No big feelings.

both romantic and platonic content is allowed. Every ship is allowed, so feel free to depict the couples you love the most without any worries. If you feel like you’re not ready to engage with people’s ship preferences, please refrain from applying. We would love to create a safe space free of judgement. The only exception is incest, so please refrain from making work with incest in it.

AUs are not allowed.

༄ Applications

for writers: writers will have to link 2 of their best works; Ao3, Tumblr and Google Drive links are okay. One of them must be about Twisted Wonderland. One of them must be a finished piece. The works must be a maximum of 2500 words each. WIPs are allowed only if longer than 500 words, and they must not exceed the 2500 word limit;

for artists: artists will have to link 2 of their best works. Tumblr, Twitter and Google Drive links are okay. One of the two works must be about Twisted Wonderland. One of them must be a finished colored piece with background. WIPs are allowed.

If using Google Drive, be sure that the link is working or we won’t consider your application! 

༄ Working in the zine

As this is our first project, we will only pick 10 writers and 10 artists. Note that even if we don't reach these numbers, the project will still go on.

for writers: writers will have to work on 1 or 2 pieces, 700-2500 words, in English. Two pieces can be submitted for the zine, but only 1 is mandatory. WIPs are not allowed, as the work(s) submitted must be a finished piece;

for artists: artists will have to work on 1 or 2 full pieces, colored and with background, in A5 format. Rough sketches and uncolored pieces are not allowed. As for writers, artists can submit two pieces, but only 1 is mandatory.

If you desire so, it is possible to make collaborations between artists and writers!

༄ Schedule

Applications opening: from 12pm 17th February to 12pm 26th February CET (UTC+1)

Confirmation e-mails: from 28th February to 7th March 

Check-in #1: from 10th April to 13th April

Check-in #2: from 15th May to 18th May

Final submission: from 9th June to 15th June

Zine publication: 21st June

For any question, please feel free to contact us!

[premiumbitch]

♡ BRATZ THEMED GLAM ♡ MANIFESTATION PACK

This is for the lovely people who want to manifest stuff about themselves, this pack is a bratz theme ⸜(｡˃ ᵕ ˂ )⸝♡ enjoy!

✧ 𝐘𝐨𝐮’𝐫𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐝𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐦 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐲’𝐥𝐥 𝐧𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐰𝐚𝐤𝐞 𝐮𝐩 𝐟𝐫𝐨𝐦 ✧ 𝑇𝑜𝑜 𝑝𝑒𝑟𝑓𝑒𝑐𝑡, 𝑡𝑜𝑜 𝑢𝑛𝑟𝑒𝑎𝑙, 𝑡𝑜𝑜 𝑓𝑎𝑟 𝑎𝑏𝑜𝑣𝑒.

They think they’ve seen you before—in a magazine, on a billboard, in some impossible fantasy they don’t even remember having. You don’t just exist, you float. Everything about you—the glossy hair, the sculpted features, the way you carry yourself like the world is yours—feels like a perfectly curated dream. And yet, here you are.

✧ 𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐥𝐢𝐯𝐞 𝐢𝐧 𝐚 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐥𝐝 𝐨𝐟 𝐠𝐥𝐨𝐬𝐬 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐞 ✧ 𝐶ℎ𝑖𝑓𝑓𝑜𝑛, 𝑝𝑒𝑎𝑟𝑙𝑠, 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑠𝑐𝑒𝑛𝑡 𝑜𝑓 𝑣𝑎𝑛𝑖𝑙𝑙𝑎 𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝑠𝑒𝑐𝑟𝑒𝑡𝑠."

You don’t just wear outfits, you wear moments. The clink of diamond bracelets, the shimmer of lip gloss under the club lights, the soft rustle of silk as you turn your head, already bored of the conversation. You move like you have somewhere better to be—because you do.

✧ 𝐘𝐨𝐮’𝐫𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐜𝐫𝐮𝐬𝐡 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐲’𝐥𝐥 𝐧𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐠𝐞𝐭 𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐫 ✧ 𝐴 𝑓𝑎𝑛𝑡𝑎𝑠𝑦 𝑡ℎ𝑒𝑦’𝑟𝑒 𝑛𝑜𝑡 𝑠𝑢𝑟𝑒 𝑡ℎ𝑒𝑦 𝑒𝑣𝑒𝑛 𝑑𝑒𝑠𝑒𝑟𝑣𝑒𝑑 𝑡𝑜 𝑒𝑥𝑝𝑒𝑟𝑖𝑒𝑛𝑐𝑒.

You’ve got them hooked before they even realize it. One look, one laugh, and they’re lost. They’ll go home thinking about you, replaying every moment, wondering if they imagined the way you glanced at them. They’ll try to move on, but no one else quite compares. You know it. They know it.

✧ 𝐘𝐨𝐮’𝐫𝐞 𝐚 𝐝𝐨𝐥𝐥, 𝐛𝐮𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮’𝐫𝐞 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐭𝐨 𝐛𝐞 𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐲𝐞𝐝 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 ✧ 𝐴 𝑝𝑟𝑖𝑛𝑐𝑒𝑠𝑠, 𝑎 𝑓𝑎𝑛𝑡𝑎𝑠𝑦, 𝑎 𝑛𝑎𝑚𝑒 𝑡ℎ𝑎𝑡 𝑙𝑖𝑛𝑔𝑒𝑟𝑠 𝑜𝑛 𝑡ℎ𝑒𝑖𝑟 𝑙𝑖𝑝𝑠 𝑤ℎ𝑒𝑛 𝑡ℎ𝑒𝑦 𝑡ℎ𝑖𝑛𝑘 𝑛𝑜 𝑜𝑛𝑒’𝑠 𝑙𝑖𝑠𝑡𝑒𝑛𝑖𝑛𝑔.

They want you. They want to know you. They want to be you. But you? You’re already onto the next thing, the next place, the next moment. And they’ll stay exactly where you left them—staring after you, wondering what it would’ve been like if they had just been a little closer.

✧ 𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐥𝐢𝐯𝐞 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐚 𝐬𝐡𝐨𝐰𝐠𝐢𝐫𝐥, 𝐛𝐮𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐲 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐚 𝐜𝐡𝐞𝐬𝐬𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫 ✧ 𝑆𝑡𝑎𝑟𝑟𝑦 𝑒𝑦𝑒𝑠, 𝑟𝑒𝑑 𝑙𝑎𝑐𝑞𝑢𝑒𝑟𝑒𝑑 𝑛𝑎𝑖𝑙𝑠, 𝑒𝑣𝑒𝑟𝑦 𝑚𝑜𝑣𝑒 𝑎 𝑠𝑡𝑒𝑝 𝑎ℎ𝑒𝑎𝑑.

You don’t need to chase—everything falls into place exactly the way you want it. People fumble their words around you, scrambling for your attention like it’s gold. You give them just enough to keep them hoping, but never enough to satisfy. Because where’s the fun in that?

✧ 𝐘𝐨𝐮’𝐫𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐢𝐥𝐥𝐮𝐬𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐲’𝐥𝐥 𝐧𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐞𝐬𝐜𝐚𝐩𝐞 ✧ 𝑆𝑜𝑓𝑡 𝑠𝑚𝑖𝑙𝑒𝑠, 𝑠ℎ𝑎𝑟𝑝 𝑡𝑜𝑛𝑔𝑢𝑒, 𝑙𝑒𝑎𝑣𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑡𝑟𝑎𝑖𝑙𝑠 𝑜𝑓 𝑢𝑛𝑓𝑖𝑛𝑖𝑠ℎ𝑒𝑑 𝑓𝑎𝑛𝑡𝑎𝑠𝑖𝑒𝑠.

They’ll spend their whole lives trying to forget you. But they won’t. Because girls like you? You don’t fade. You don’t disappear. You exist in the corners of their memories, in the spaces between their breaths, in the quiet ache of "what if?"

✧ 𝐘𝐨𝐮’𝐫𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐲 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐲 𝐭𝐞𝐥𝐥 𝐭𝐨 𝐬𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐰𝐡𝐨 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐧𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐮𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐧𝐝 ✧ 𝑇ℎ𝑒 𝑜𝑛𝑒 𝑡ℎ𝑎𝑡 𝑠𝑡𝑎𝑟𝑡𝑠 𝑤𝑖𝑡ℎ "𝑇ℎ𝑒𝑟𝑒 𝑤𝑎𝑠 𝑡ℎ𝑖𝑠 𝑔𝑖𝑟𝑙..." 𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝑛𝑒𝑣𝑒𝑟 𝑟𝑒𝑎𝑙𝑙𝑦 𝑒𝑛𝑑𝑠.

They’ll describe the way you looked at them—like you saw straight through them. The way your perfume lingered in the air long after you’d walked away. The way your laugh felt like a melody they couldn’t place, a song stuck in their head with no name.

✧ 𝐁𝐮𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮’𝐫𝐞 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐢𝐫𝐬 𝐭𝐨 𝐤𝐞𝐞𝐩 ✧ 𝐹𝑖𝑔𝑢𝑟𝑒𝑠 𝑖𝑛 𝑠𝑡𝑜𝑟𝑒 𝑑𝑖𝑠𝑝𝑙𝑎𝑦𝑠, 𝑏𝑒𝑎𝑢𝑡𝑖𝑓𝑢𝑙 𝑡ℎ𝑖𝑛𝑔𝑠 𝑡ℎ𝑎𝑡 𝑠ℎ𝑖𝑛𝑒 𝑏𝑟𝑖𝑔ℎ𝑡𝑒𝑠𝑡 𝑏𝑒ℎ𝑖𝑛𝑑 𝑔𝑙𝑎𝑠𝑠.

They can reach, they can want, but you’ll always be just out of grasp. Because you were never made to be owned. You’re the girl who slips through their fingers like silk, who leaves behind only the faintest trace of strawberry gloss and unattainable dreams.

✧ 𝐘𝐨𝐮’𝐫𝐞 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐣𝐮𝐬𝐭 𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐭𝐭𝐲—𝐲𝐨𝐮’𝐫𝐞 𝐛𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐡𝐭𝐚𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠 ✧ 𝑇ℎ𝑒 𝑘𝑖𝑛𝑑 𝑜𝑓 𝑏𝑒𝑎𝑢𝑡𝑦 𝑡ℎ𝑎𝑡 𝑚𝑎𝑘𝑒𝑠 ℎ𝑒𝑎𝑟𝑡𝑠 𝑠𝑡𝑜𝑝, 𝑡ℎ𝑎𝑡 𝑠𝑒𝑛𝑑𝑠 𝑎 𝑠ℎ𝑖𝑣𝑒𝑟 𝑑𝑜𝑤𝑛 𝑠𝑝𝑖𝑛𝑒𝑠.

Your eyes hold constellations, gleaming under the glow of club lights and candle flames. Your lips, plump and glossed, part like a whispered secret—sugar-coated with a sharp edge. And your skin? Flawless. Lit from within, like a diamond catching the sun at just the right angle.

✧ 𝐘𝐨𝐮’𝐫𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐯𝐢𝐬𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐲’𝐫𝐞 𝐚𝐟𝐫𝐚𝐢𝐝 𝐭𝐨 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐜𝐡 𝐟𝐨𝐫 ✧ 𝑆𝑜 𝑝𝑒𝑟𝑓𝑒𝑐𝑡, 𝑠𝑜 𝑢𝑛𝑟𝑒𝑎𝑐ℎ𝑎𝑏𝑙𝑒, 𝑡ℎ𝑒𝑦’𝑟𝑒 𝑠𝑐𝑎𝑟𝑒𝑑 𝑦𝑜𝑢’𝑙𝑙 𝑠ℎ𝑎𝑡𝑡𝑒𝑟.

They look at you the way art is meant to be admired—from a distance, afraid of ruining something so immaculate. But you? You don’t belong behind glass. You’re not just something to be looked at. You move, you breathe, you make the world turn with a single flick of your wrist.

✧ 𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐝𝐨𝐧’𝐭 𝐰𝐚𝐥𝐤—𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐝𝐞 ✧ 𝐵𝑎𝑟𝑒𝑙𝑦 𝑡𝑜𝑢𝑐ℎ𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑔𝑟𝑜𝑢𝑛𝑑, 𝑙𝑖𝑘𝑒 𝑎 𝑑𝑎𝑛𝑐𝑒, 𝑙𝑖𝑘𝑒 𝑚𝑢𝑠𝑖𝑐, 𝑙𝑖𝑘𝑒 𝑚𝑎𝑔𝑖𝑐.

Everything about you drips in opulence, from the rhinestone-studded heels that click against marble floors to the way silk hugs your body like it was made for no one else. You’re a vision—one they’ll never forget, one they’ll chase in every crowded room, hoping for another glimpse.

✧ 𝐘𝐨𝐮’𝐫𝐞 𝐚 𝐝𝐨𝐥𝐥, 𝐛𝐮𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮’𝐫𝐞 𝐚𝐥𝐢𝐯𝐞 ✧ 𝐴 𝑑𝑟𝑒𝑎𝑚 𝑡ℎ𝑎𝑡 𝑏𝑙𝑖𝑛𝑘𝑠, 𝑠𝑚𝑖𝑟𝑘𝑠, 𝑙𝑒𝑎𝑣𝑒𝑠 ℎ𝑒𝑎𝑟𝑡𝑏𝑟𝑒𝑎𝑘 𝑖𝑛 ℎ𝑒𝑟 𝑤𝑎𝑘𝑒.

You’re not just the girl they see—you’re the girl they remember. The one that lingers in their minds long after the lights dim and the music fades. A beauty that isn’t just seen, but felt.

✧ 𝐀 𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐦𝐩𝐬𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐢𝐬𝐧’𝐭 𝐞𝐧𝐨𝐮𝐠𝐡 ✧ 𝑇ℎ𝑒𝑦’𝑙𝑙 𝑤𝑎𝑛𝑡 𝑡𝑜 𝑠𝑒𝑒 𝑦𝑜𝑢 𝑎𝑔𝑎𝑖𝑛, 𝑡𝑜 𝑙𝑖𝑛𝑔𝑒𝑟 𝑖𝑛 𝑦𝑜𝑢𝑟 𝑎𝑢𝑟𝑎, 𝑡𝑜 𝑓𝑖𝑛𝑑 𝑎 𝑟𝑒𝑎𝑠𝑜𝑛 𝑡𝑜 𝑠𝑡𝑎𝑦.

Your presence is magnetic, pulling them in without a single word. They’ll remember how you smelled—like jasmine and vanilla, soft yet intoxicating. They’ll recall the way your skin glowed, dewy and ethereal, as if the moon itself kissed you.

✧ 𝐘𝐨𝐮’𝐫𝐞 𝐚 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐤 𝐨𝐟 𝐚𝐫𝐭 ✧ 𝑁𝑜𝑡 𝑚𝑒𝑟𝑒𝑙𝑦 𝑎 𝑏𝑒𝑎𝑢𝑡𝑦 𝑡𝑜 𝑏𝑒 𝑎𝑑𝑚𝑖𝑟𝑒𝑑, 𝑏𝑢𝑡 𝑎 𝑚𝑦𝑠𝑡𝑒𝑟𝑦 𝑡𝑜 𝑏𝑒 𝑑𝑒𝑐𝑖𝑝ℎ𝑒𝑟𝑒𝑑.

Like a masterpiece in a dimly lit gallery, you don’t beg for attention—you command it. People don’t just look at you, they study you. They try to memorize the way your lashes cast shadows against your cheeks, the way your fingers trace the rim of your glass with effortless grace.

✧ 𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐯𝐞 𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐢𝐥𝐬 ��𝐟 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐨𝐬 ✧ 𝑁𝑜𝑡 𝑏𝑒𝑐𝑎𝑢𝑠𝑒 𝑦𝑜𝑢 𝑡𝑟𝑦, 𝑏𝑢𝑡 𝑏𝑒𝑐𝑎𝑢𝑠𝑒 𝑦𝑜𝑢 𝑒𝑥𝑖𝑠𝑡.

You don’t just enter a room—you shift its energy. The air changes, electrified, as eyes follow your every movement. It’s not just your beauty; it’s the way you make them feel. Mesmerized. Weak. Restless. They’ll leave with your name lingering on their lips like a forbidden prayer.

✧ 𝐘𝐨𝐮'𝐫𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐠𝐢𝐫𝐥 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐲 𝐰𝐡𝐢𝐬𝐩𝐞𝐫 𝐚𝐛𝐨𝐮𝐭 ✧ 𝑇ℎ𝑒 𝑜𝑛𝑒 𝑤ℎ𝑜 𝑠𝑙𝑖𝑝𝑠 𝑖𝑛𝑡𝑜 𝑎 𝑟𝑜𝑜𝑚 𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝑠𝑢𝑑𝑑𝑒𝑛𝑙𝑦, 𝑛𝑜𝑡ℎ𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑒𝑙𝑠𝑒 𝑚𝑎𝑡𝑡𝑒𝑟𝑠.

They don’t just admire you—they study you, memorize you, try to capture your essence in stolen glances and breathless silence. They wonder what it’s like to trace their fingers along the constellation of beauty marks on your skin, to know the secret behind your smile, to exist in your orbit just long enough to burn.

✧ 𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐚 𝐟𝐢𝐧𝐞𝐥𝐲 𝐜𝐫𝐚𝐟𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐞𝐥𝐮𝐬𝐢𝐨𝐧 ✧ 𝑀𝑦𝑠𝑡𝑒𝑟𝑦 𝑖𝑠 𝑦𝑜𝑢𝑟 𝑏𝑒𝑠𝑡 𝑎𝑠𝑠𝑒𝑡—𝑡ℎ𝑒𝑦 𝑤𝑖𝑙𝑙 𝑛𝑒𝑣𝑒𝑟 𝑞𝑢𝑖𝑡𝑒 𝑓𝑖𝑔𝑢𝑟𝑒 𝑦𝑜𝑢 𝑜𝑢𝑡, 𝑏𝑢𝑡 𝑡ℎ𝑒𝑦’𝑙𝑙 𝑑𝑖𝑒 𝑡𝑟𝑦𝑖𝑛𝑔.

You are soft but sharp, delicate but dangerous, silk wrapped around steel. You tilt your head just so, and suddenly, the whole world holds its breath. You wear your beauty like a weapon—never in excess, never obvious, but always deadly.

✧ 𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐥𝐨𝐨𝐤 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐩𝐨𝐞𝐭𝐫𝐲, 𝐛𝐮𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐟𝐞𝐞𝐥 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐰𝐚𝐫 ✧ 𝐵𝑒𝑎𝑢𝑡𝑦 𝑖𝑠𝑛’𝑡 𝑗𝑢𝑠𝑡 𝑎 𝑙𝑜𝑜𝑘—𝑖𝑡’𝑠 𝑎 𝑓𝑒𝑒𝑙𝑖𝑛𝑔.

They’ll think about you in the quiet moments, in the spaces between their thoughts, in the mirror as they adjust their tie or fix their hair. They’ll wonder if you’re thinking about them, too. (You aren’t, but you’ll let them believe it.)

✧ 𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐝𝐨𝐧’𝐭 𝐧𝐞𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐨 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐬𝐞—𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐝𝐫𝐚𝐰 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐦 𝐢𝐧 ✧ 𝑇ℎ𝑒 𝑏𝑒𝑠𝑡 𝑠𝑒𝑑𝑢𝑐𝑡𝑖𝑜�� 𝑖𝑠 𝑎𝑛 𝑎𝑟𝑡—𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝑦𝑜𝑢’𝑟𝑒 𝑖𝑡𝑠 𝑚𝑎𝑠𝑡𝑒𝑟𝑝𝑖𝑒𝑐𝑒.

You move with a quiet confidence, a grace that cannot be learned—only possessed. You do not beg for attention; you command it with a glance, with the flick of your hair, with the arch of a perfectly sculpted brow.

✧ 𝐀𝐧𝐝 𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞’𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠… 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐤𝐧𝐨𝐰 𝐢𝐭 ✧ 𝑌𝑜𝑢 𝑘𝑛𝑜𝑤 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑝𝑜𝑤𝑒𝑟 𝑦𝑜𝑢 ℎ𝑜𝑙𝑑. 𝑌𝑜𝑢 𝑘𝑛𝑜𝑤 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑒𝑓𝑓𝑒𝑐𝑡 𝑦𝑜𝑢 ℎ𝑎𝑣𝑒. 𝑌𝑜𝑢 𝑤𝑒𝑎𝑟 𝑖𝑡 𝑙𝑖𝑘𝑒 𝑎 𝑡𝑖𝑎𝑟𝑎, 𝑠𝑜𝑓𝑡 𝑏𝑢𝑡 𝑢𝑛𝑏𝑟𝑒𝑎𝑘𝑎𝑏𝑙𝑒.

✗⚬ﾒ𝟶

[chippedshake]

My gift for @an-akward-ace as part of the gift exchange :))

@outsiders-gift-exchanges

“Mama?” Darry asks as he creeps out of the hallway and into the living room. Mama’s on the couch, feet tucked underneath her, book in her hands. She looks up and worry crawls onto her face. 

“Darry? What’s wrong?”

He walks up to the couch tentatively and sits down next to her. “Am I a bad person?”

“What?” Mama closes her book and puts it on the couch armrest. “Why would you think that?”

“Sometimes— sometimes I think I don’t…” He looks at her guiltily for a moment before looking away. “Sometimes I think Ponyboy doesn’t love me.”

“Honey,” Mama murmurs, putting her hand on Darry’s shoulder, “Why would you say that?”

“I don’t—” Darry looks down again. “I don’t know. When I told him to go away because I wanted to play with Mark and Andrew he started crying and wouldn’t talk to me for a week. An’ he gets way more mad at me than at Soda but I’m a lot less annoying than Soda.”

Mama runs her hand through Darry’s hair and he curls up against her, just young enough to not be embarrassed. “Oh, Darry, that don’t mean he don’t love you. It just means he gets cranky sometimes. Maybe y’all mess up sometimes, but that don’t mean nothin’. Everyone does.” 

She pauses for a moment. 

“You ever notice that sometimes we’re all real quiet at dinner and Pa an’ me won’t look at each other?” Darry nods slowly. “Love ain’t perfect, and it ain’t about wantin’ to be with someone all the time, or never gettin’ mad. Only place you’ll see that is in the movies.”

Darry nods again, but doesn’t answer. 

“Say— weren’t you reading Ponyboy a story before he went to sleep?”

Darry looks up at her and nods. “We’ve read it a bunch before but he never wants ta read anything else.”

“Does anyone else ever read it to him?”

“The story?” Mama nods. “No. Says he only likes how I read it. But it’s just ‘cause I do more voices than you.”

“How ‘bout walking home from school? Pa could go pick him up in the car, wouldn’t that be faster?”

“Yeah…” Darry’s not quite sure where this is going. “But that way he knows what the city’s like and doesn’t get lost when he’s older and stuff.”

“Right. What about how Ponyboy asked for a football for his birthday even though he’d been talking about that colouring book for months? What about how he won’t go to sleep without a ‘Darry hug’ because he says it’s better than other hugs?”

Darry doesn’t know what to say so he looks down at his hands. 

“Love ain’t perfect, honey. You don’t always wanna be with someone and sometimes you’re gonna get mad and, Dar,—” He looks up at her “ — that’s fine. Love’s in the little things that add up, and yeah, sometimes something’s gonna subtract some, but that don’t take away from all of what you’ve built.” 

…

Darry steps into the house with a loud sigh. 

No one’s around to hear it. 

He can’t be bothered to take his boots off, no matter how much he dreads having to clean the house afterwards, because it’s just grabbing the grocery list and taking off again. 

Just grabbing the gro— oh, shit. Where is it? 

A groan starts poking its way out of Darry’s chest. 

Why him? Why now? Why at the end of the work day, when the only thing keeping him standing is the thought of a bath once he gets back? 

He looks around the same place again, hoping the bright yellow sticky note somehow flew under his radar. 

It didn’t. 

In a couple cabinets, on the floor, inside drawers— by the time Darry’s looked through the whole kitchen, he’s shuffled around so much the floor’s covered with dirt. Because his shoes are still on. Because it was supposed to be quick. Because the list was supposed to be right there and it’s actually a tiny thing and he can probably remember everything anyways but the list needed to be there and he doesn’t have the stupid list and he just want to sleep but he need to make dinner and where the fuck is that list—

“Oh, hey, Darry!” Soda walks in and holds the door for Steve, who comes in behind him. Both their arms are full of groceries. 

Everything that was on the list. 

“Thought we’d get ahead on groceries since your shift’s longer’n normal today.”

Steve doesn’t add anything, but grunts in Darry’s general direction, so he gathers it’s a form of greeting.

“Oh,” Darry says, trying to keep his voice calm and hide the fact that he was about to break down because of something as stupid as not finding a sticky note. “How much was it?”

“Don’t worry ‘bout it,” Steve says, setting his bag down at the kitchen table. “Old man kicked me out again last week. S’on him.”

…

“Hey, Darry?” Darry stops and turns around from where he was heading towards the kitchen. 

“Yeah, Pone?” 

“Can you stand there for a second and put your hands behind your back?”

Darry stares at him, confused, before doing as he asks. 

“And tilt your head a bit to the right— wait, no, my right, your left.”

A couple moments go by. Ponyboy’s scribbling something in his notebook, looking up at Darry and back down quickly.  

“Can I move now?”

“Just one more second…” He erases something, draws it again, and holds his notebook up next to Darry. “Okay, thanks.”

Darry heads towards him. “Can I see it?”

Ponyboy covers his notebook hurriedly. “When it’s finished.”

“Okay, okay.” Darry holds his hands up in mock innocence.

…

Darry tries not to worry too much about Ponyboy. Their parents were never very controlling, and generally any of them could leave for hours without facing too much questioning. 

He tries not to, but the problem is that Ponyboy never thinks, no matter how much Darry tries to get him to. He’d mouth off to a Soc because he just didn’t notice they had a knife, or walk home all alone at night without realising he was holding a neon sign that said “jump me”. Honestly, even being run over because he didn’t bother to look both ways is an option at this point. 

“We didn’t get into any trouble,” Johnny says. Darry blinks at him. Pony and Johnny have just come back from the drive-in — they went alone this week — and Ponyboy’s gone to his room to get something to show Johnny, who’s wandered into the kitchen to talk to Darry. 

The last time the two of them talked alone must be at least a year ago. 

“Weren’t even any Socs nearby. All in their cars.”

And without another word, Johnny walks out of the kitchen as Ponyboy comes storming back into the living room.

…

“Kicked out again?”

“Got mad at me for bein’ away too much and decided to kick me out.”

“Huh.”

“I saw y’all didn't have any tomatoes so I picked some up on the way. Got a discount, too.”

“Yeah?”

Steve wiggles his fingers. “Five finger discount.”

…

Darrel Shaynne Curtis is defying all the laws of physics and biology because he is utterly dead inside and yet somehow still walking. If he has to take another step his joints will fall apart like rusty gears on an old clock. 

And for some reason his house has to be full of fucking people. 

People he loves, but people nonetheless. 

Annoying people. Loud people. People who apparently do not know the definition of shutting the fuck up. 

No amount of affection for the gang can stop Darry from crossing the line into homicidal if one more person screams across the room for something completely unnecessary. 

“Hey, Superman.” Dally says with a light smirk as he sinks into the couch next to Darry. 

Darry looks up and nods. 

“How ya doin’?” Now here’s the part where Darry’s supposed to say “meh” or “as good as I can be, I guess” or something along those lines. Or he should at least shrug. 

All of that requires energy, though, energy that Darry does not have, so he just hums. 

“Yeah, I get that.” 

Dally stays next to him, quiet and thoughtful for a moment. 

“Hey, y’all wanna go to the drag races?” 

Dally’s question is met with a chorus of whoops that make Darry’s head throb, and in a matter of minutes, the whole gang’s out the door.  

Dallas walks out the door, then strays back in just before the door closes. He turns the lights off and Darry sighs in relief, the pressure finally gone from his eyes. 

He stops again just before stepping out the door and turns back towards Darry.  

“There’s still some cake left in the freezer, I saved ya a couple slices of bread, and Two-Bit left a bit of peanut butter in the jar.”

Darry musters a soft “thanks”, and Dally nods. 

The door closes with a soft click.

…

“Darry!” Darry raises his eyebrows. He’s just closed the door behind him, work boots still on, and Ponyboy’s running towards him with a grin on his face. 

“Why’re you so happy to see me?”

“I finished it!” Darry blinks at him once. Twice.

“What’d you finish?”

“The drawing!”

Ponyboy holds out his notebook, and right there, in the middle of the page, is Darry. He’s made the kitchen doorway vaguely in the background, but it’s in black and white while Darry is in colour. 

And it’s— well, it’s impressive to say the least. Darry knew that Ponyboy liked to draw — always had his notebook out when he got bored of talking to people, sketching something he wouldn’t let anyone see —, but he didn’t know he could draw well. He always assumed it was like when he used to draw as a kid, only he didn’t want to show them anymore.

“This is…” Darry can’t seem to finish the sentence. He looks up and meets Pony’s eyes. “You made it?” Ponyboy nods, excited. “I— Can you show me whenever you draw stuff? In the future?”

Ponyboy’s eyes seem to almost glow. “Yeah, sure.” 

…

“Ponyboy’s gonna tell you he fell down the stairs today, but Justin Lawson pushed him.” Johnny hesitates for a second. “Second one in the phone book, the first one’s a priest.”

“Right. Thanks.” 

…

“How’d ya know I wanted to be alone?”

Dallas cocks an eyebrow. “You ain’t the first.”

…

“Hey, Superman,” Two-Bit says with a grin as he pointedly closes the door behind him. 

“Hey, Two.” The smile that comes with the greeting is second nature, but Darry’s not entirely sure whether that’s from genuine happiness or getting used to pretending he’s okay. 

“How’s it goin’?” He pulls out a chair and sits down in it backwards, arms resting on the backrest. 

Darry sighs with a sarcastic smile, gesturing at the pile of bills in front of him. 

“It that time again?”

“Was that time last week.”

Two-Bit whistles low. “You got enough?”

“Hope so.”

“Well, if you ain’t… I don’t got money I can give you. Sure someone’s got some, though.” He starts looking around, as if he would find someone to jump for money inside the Curtises' house.

“It’s fine, Two. Don’t worry about it.” Maybe Darry’s smile is wearing a bit thin or the exhaustion is clear on his face, because Two-Bit drops it. 

“Alright.” He looks down, dejected, before lighting up again and looking at Darry, all excited again. “Guess what I found at the store today?”

Darry just raises his eyebrows — a form of rebellion, at this point, considering how the whole gang’s started copying Two-Bit and raising just the one — and tilts his head. 

Two-Bit pulls a plastic bag out from behind his chair — how it got there, don’t ask Darry — and grins at Darry. “Lookit what I got.”

It’s a bag of Lay’s, something Darry and Two-Bit had worked together to swipe dozens of times to fuel Darry’s unhealthy obsession, only —

“They make ‘em in barbecue now. Figured we might as well try ‘em out.”

“Yeah?” Darry grins, and this time it’s genuine. 

Before he can get another word out, Two-Bit’s fist comes flying down onto the bag and makes a sound so loud that if he weren’t watching it happen, Darry’d think a gun had fired.  

At least five chips have gone flying, slamming against the wall, and Darry just knows it’s going to be an absolute pain to clean up. 

Then he makes eye contact with Two-Bit and they burst into uncontrollable, stupid laughter. It’s only once they sober up after a couple minutes that Darry realises just how long it’s been since he’s laughed like that. 

…

“What’re you drawing?”

Ponyboy moves aside to show him it. 

“Oh.”

“Don’t wanna forget him.”

…

“I was talkin’ ta Susie the other day an’ she told me there’s this girl in her class that’ll draw ya stuff if ya pay her, and she cost me extra ‘cause she was scared of her mama findin’ out, but tell me this ain’t worth every penny!”

…

“I hate you!” Ponyboy screams as he storms off into his room. Darry just stares after him, frozen in place.

He doesn’t mean it he doesn’t mean it he doesn’t mean it—

But what if he does?

Love’s in the little things, the little things that add up—

But this feels too big, it’s too much to be just a little setback. Because the little things add up but they also subtract and if you put enough of them together—

There’s a soft knock on the door. Darry sits up from where he’d been in starfish position.

“Yeah?”

The door slowly creaks open. A small figure stands behind it.

“Darry?” Ponyboy stands in the doorway, grabbing onto the frame and avoiding eye contact.

“Yeah?”

“Can I come in?” 

Darry crosses his legs and sits up straighter, fully waking up. “Yeah, sure, baby.”

Ponyboy walks in and sits on the edge of Darry’s bed, looking down at the sheets instead of at him. 

“I’m sorry,” he says softly, tugging at the ends of his hair. It’s getting too long, but he refuses to cut the bleach out of it and Darry doesn’t have it in him to force him to. 

“It’s fine,” Darry says on instinct.

“No, it— it really ain’t. We’re not supposed to fight anymore. We’re not supposed to holler at each other and go to sleep mad. But we do it anyway, and it’s like nothing’s changed since—” He can’t finish the sentence, but he doesn’t really need to. 

“Ponyboy…” Darry trails off. What is there to say? Mama would know what to do, she would know what to say so Ponyboy knew that there was a part of Darry’s soul intrinsically tied to his, following him around no matter how far he wandered. 

But Darry doesn’t know how to talk; he hardly knows how to feel. 

Ponyboy looks away from him and stays quiet for a couple moments, playing with the loose strings on Darry’s sheets. 

“Darry?” He looks up.

“Yeah, honey?”

“Can I tell you a secret?”

Darry frowns. “‘Course.”

“And you promise you won’t be mad?” 

“Yeah.”

Ponyboy looks up to catch sight of Darry before his eyes dart away again. 

“Sometimes I— Sometimes I’m scared you don’t love me.” He lets the sentence hang for a couple seconds, lets it fester in the air and seep through Darry’s skin. “I ain’t sayin’ you don’t wanna keep me or that ya don’t care, but I just— I don’t know. Are ya doin’ it all ‘cause you think you should?”

He looks up again — furtive, small, scared — and looks back down at the sheets.  

“God, Pony,” Darry says softly, “‘Course I love ya. Just ‘cause we fight don’t mean nothing.” Ponyboy still won’t meet his eyes. With every second that goes by, the crack in Darry’s heart grows a bit wider. “C’mere.” He pats the spot beside him. 

Ponyboy looks up in surprise. He gets up tentatively and walks over to the other side of the bed, where Darry’s sitting. The moment he’s sat down, Darry wraps an arm around his shoulders and pulls Ponyboy towards him. Ponyboy tenses, and for a moment Darry’s sure he’s made a mistake, that this wasn’t what he needed, before he slowly relaxes, his face burrows into Darry’s shoulder — Jesus he’s tall now, he used to barely reach his chest — and he hugs Darry back like he needs it for the first time in… far too long. 

“Love ain’t always pretty, Pony,” Darry whispers into his hair, “It ain’t always perfect and happy and nice, but it’s there. S’why there’s always Pepsi in the fridge and why I always ask where you’re goin’ when you start runnin’ out the door and why Soda and me listen to you talk about your books.” Ponyboy laughs softly, muffled by Darry’s shoulder, and Darry smiles — proud, fond, relieved. “Love ain’t in some big moment, it’s in the little things, so sometimes it can be easy to miss. But it’s there, I promise.” Darry forces himself to pull Ponyboy away from him and take him by the shoulders so they can meet eyes. “It’ll always be there, alright?”

Did I get it right, Mama?

[mermaidgirl30]

✨Fall Into the Dark With Me Part 3: Forever and Always✨

Dark Arts Professor! Joel Miller x Herbology Professor Fem! reader

Part 1

A/N: I wasn’t planning on another part, but a sweet ask came in and gave me some inspiration for another part. This one is so so soft and sweet 🥰 Happy Valentine’s Day from your favorite Slytherin and Hufflepuff lovers 🩷

Chapter Summary: You reminisce on your wedding day and your honeymoon. But that’s not the only thing you’re smiling about. You’re glowing because you’re carrying Joel’s child.

Rating: 18+ only

Word Count: 2.5k

Chapter Tags: So much fluff, Joel in love, soft! Joel, Professor! Joel, Slytherin! Joel, Hufflepuff! reader, wedding night, reader is pregnant, flashbacks of smut

Dividers by @saradika-graphics

You sway back and forth in the garden, tending to your fragrant lilies and fresh strawberries while the sunshine warms your bare arms, your summer dress flying in the breeze. You’re a little distracted today, a little nostalgic thinking back on your wedding night that was just four months ago. But really it seems like it was just last week. 

   A smile slips over your mouth; dreamy eyes stare into the distance where a water stream floats through an open valley, ending in a sea of green trees. Biting your bottom lip, you smile as you remember the moonlit wedding. Floating lanterns lit up the trees. Fireflies danced all around your flowing white dress. The one with the sheer sleeves and the bodice that glittered with crystals sewn into the silky fabric. 

   Time seemed to stop when you saw Joel at the end of the aisle—his hand lacing through his slicked back hair, a midnight black tuxedo hugging his broad body, a white bow tie to top off the sleek outfit. And in his hand sat a white lily. But not just a normal lily. No. It was the rarest flower you’ve ever seen. The one you showed him in your flower book. You didn’t know it actually still existed, but there it was, glittering under the moonlight, just waiting there for you. And when you got up to the altar, he laced it through your braid, told you how you were the rarest flower in all the land, so you deserved a flower that was as special as you. 

   And of course you cried. Gods, you cried when he took your hands in his and confessed his love all over again. He didn’t even need a paper; he just knew exactly what he wanted to say to you. And it was the most beautiful speech you ever heard in your life. 

   “My love. The moment I saw you across the Great Hall, I just knew you were the one. I fell in love the moment I laid eyes on you. I remember you waltzing in with a book about lilies under your arm and an empty flowerpot in the other.” He had to stop for a minute because he was chuckling under his breath, but it didn’t take him long to continue. “You stole my breath away the moment you pulled me by the hand in your classroom and walked me through how to properly handle a Venomous Tentacula. And even though most people are scared of them, you weren’t one bit. You handled it so gently and talked so sweet to it. I’ve never seen quite anything like it in my life.”

   More tears spilled from your eyes, but he just kept going, squeezing your hand all through it. “You captured my heart with how kind, caring, and gentle you are with everything. Plants, animals, children, me.” He shook his head with a smile and continued on. “But it wasn’t just your heart I fell in love with. It was your entire soul. The way you’d leave me flowers outside my classroom. The way you planted a garden in my heart. The way you continuously loved me, even through the days I relentlessly teased you and gave you hell. You never gave up on a not so easy Slytherin like me. You showed me what it’s like to be kind. You showed me how to love unconditionally. And baby, I jus’ can’t wait to spend the rest of my life lovin’ you the way you deserve. I want to give you the entire world. And I promise you this. There’s never a day I won’t stop lovin’ you. It’s you and me forever, baby. Jus’ a sly Slytherin with his kind Hufflepuff wife. You’re my whole world.” 

   And then he tugged you close after the two of you said your I do’s, his lips consuming you as fireflies danced around your tight embrace. It was like a dream, and he made it the dreamiest wedding you could’ve ever imagined. Even went as far as planning most of it with you. He never slipped, never strayed on any of the decisions. He was there through it all, your hand in his. 

   And then there was the honeymoon in Croatia. That blissful, two week filled vacation of just you and him. Endless love making in the sheets, his body between yours, slow strokes of his hands, relentless snapping of his hips, his mouth between your thighs, lapping you up till you climaxed twice before his cock was buried between your slick folds. You both barely made it out of the room. Instead of endless sightseeing and boat rides on the crystal clear water, you traded it for long soaks in the bath, his broad body flush against yours, his mouth magnetized to yours till all you could smell, breathe, think was Joel. 

   Joel, Joel, Joel. 

   He’s all you’re ever able to say. He’s just so… perfect. The perfect husband, lover, father…

   Father. Yes. A slow smile slips over your mouth, makes you blush as you wrap your arms around your middle, sucking your bottom lip between your teeth as you think about the near future. Joel’s going to be a father again, with your child. He just doesn’t know it yet. But today is the day you tell him. Today is the moment you’ve been waiting for. 

   Hiding this has been hard, extremely hard. You’ve been dying to tell him. You just wanted it to be the perfect moment. He’s been gone the last few weeks taking Sarah and Ellie on a late summer trip before they have to go back to school. He begged you to go hiking with them, practically got down on his knees and pleaded for you to go. Said he couldn’t stand being away from you for one night. But hiking and camping was no place for a pregnant woman of now almost four months. So you stayed here, but not alone. Joel’s mother came and stayed with you, making sure the baby was healthy and that you were taken care of. Now it’s time to tell Joel the good news. Hiding your stomach the past few nights had been hard, but you can’t hide any longer. You’re starting to show, so it’s time. It’s time to announce he’s going to be a daddy again. 

   Just as you get lost in the view of the sunlit garden, Joel sneaks up behind you and wraps his arms around you, peppering kisses all along the side of your jawline. “How’s my beautiful wife today?” he asks in a soft tone, dragging his lips slowly down your neck.

   You giggle at the showering of love. Turning toward him, you lock your arms around his neck and lean in, crashing your lips over his for a few blissful seconds. When you pull back, you smile up at him. “Perfectly happy, my love. Now that you’re back home.”

   “I missed you so much, sweetheart. Missed getting to hold my girl at night. Missed the taste of your lips,” he drawls, tugging you in for another heart-stopping kiss. One that makes the ground shake beneath you, makes the ocean tides lap against the shorelines a little harder, makes the sun shine a little brighter. 

   “We missed you too,” you reply quietly, hoping he catches the we. 

   He pinches his brows together, tilts his head to the side, his eyes swimming with questions. “We?”

   You smile, nod up at him. 

   This is it. This is the perfect moment. The moment that’ll change everything. And you think the baby knows that, too. 

   Taking one of his hands in yours, you slowly guide it to your stomach and flatten his palm over the small bump that’s now showing under your summer dress. And just then, the baby makes its presence known with a little flutter of a kick. 

   Joel jumps back, his arm falling back to his side with wide eyes. He’s absolutely stunned. He blinks once, twice, then steps forward in a hurry and places both his hands across the length of your stomach, searching for that little flutter he just felt seconds ago. And just like that, the baby kicks once more, just for Joel. 

   Lifting his big eyes, his mouth drops open in awe. “Are you…”

   You nod, smiling up at him with love written all over your eyes. “I’m pregnant, Joel.” 

   His brown eyes swell with tears, his vision probably hazy as he tucks a loose strand of hair behind your ear, letting his palm brush against your cheek affectionately. “We’re gonna have a baby?”

   Placing your hand over his, you nod. “We’re having a baby. You’re going to be a father to three now,” you smile with tears welling in your eyes. 

   It only takes him a second to pick you up off the ground, spinning you around while he shouts into the air, “This is the happiest day of my life! My beautiful wife is pregnant with my child! I’m gonna be a father!” 

   You giggle as he spins you; your heart about to burst at the seams with happiness. “Joel, put me down! Your wife is a little motion sick right now.”

   “Sorry, sorry,” he apologizes, setting you back on your feet where the earth isn’t spinning anymore. He cups your cheeks between his palms and stares at you with love in his big brown eyes, his heart all over his rolled up sleeves. “You’re gonna be such a good mother, sweetheart. I’m so fuckin’ happy.”

   Stealing a quick kiss from your lips, you lace your fingers through his tousled curls and melt into a big smile. “And you are going to be the best father. I’m so excited, Joel.”

   Tugging you into his chest, he wraps his arms around you and kisses the crown of your head. “What do you think the baby’s gonna be? A boy, a girl?”

   You toss the question back and forth in your head, undecided. “I’m not sure. Guess we’ll have to wait to find out,” you hum out, closing your eyes as possibilities flit through your mind. You have this weird feeling like you know exactly the gender of your baby, and you hope you’re right. 

   “I hope it’s a girl,” he whispers in your ear. And you can’t help but smile at that because he’s such a good girl dad. You’d give anything to see him holding your baby girl in his arms, rocking her to sleep, sending her to bed with forehead kisses and words of affirmation. 

   Somehow, you just have this feeling that that’s what’s coming. A little girl wrapped in a pink blanket, being welcomed by the most handsome, gentle Slytherin you know. Would she be tough, witty like her father, or would she inherit your love of flowers and magical creatures? Maybe she’ll be both. Smart, sweet, a gentle Hufflepuff maybe? Either way, she’ll be perfect. She’ll be a miracle in this world just waiting to bloom. 

   You spend the rest of the day with your hand laced through his, planning the baby’s room, telling Sarah and Ellie they’re going to be big sisters. And it’s all so perfect. It’s all wonderful—this new journey you’re about to embark on. And you’re ready. With Joel, you can conquer anything. 

   Gods. You’re just so fucking happy. Nothing could make this more perfect than life already is.

   Later that night, when you’re wrapped in Joel’s strong arms under the silky sheets, you toss and turn, your dreams so vivid and real. But this isn’t just any dream. You’re having visions, real visions. Sometimes this happens, you just can’t control them. They’re a gift passed down by generations of your family, a special kind of magic you still haven’t perfected. 

   Your eyelids flutter back and forth while the vision takes hold inside your head. A bright light flashes in the distance, gold dust sparkling all around the sky. But when you look into the light, you freeze at what you see in front of you. A little girl running through the green grass, chasing after Joel. She’s got bouncy brunette curls, big brown eyes that remind you of Joel’s, rosy cheeks, and the cutest laugh you’ve ever heard. He scoops her up and throws her in the air, quickly catching her as she giggles into a fit of laughter, Joel’s laugh echoing through the air. You see it so clearly. That’s your little girl. She’s the spitting image of Joel, and she’s so fucking beautiful and bright and glowing. She’s got a special kind of gift—one you’re not sure yet. But there’s one thing you do know. That little girl is yours and Joel’s, and she’s going to be so, so loved. 

   You’re suddenly thrown out of the vision, your eyes snapping open just as Joel groans and wakes up, pushing his fingers affectionately through your hair. “You okay, baby? Have a bad dream?”

   Tears well in your eyes, and you shake your head, not quite able to catch your breath. You’re too stunned, too emotional from seeing what the future holds. 

   “Hey, you alright? Why are you crying?” he asks with concern lathered in his tone. Carefully, he catches a falling tear with the pad of his thumb and caresses your cheek. 

   You wrap your hand around his wrist and look up at him, happy tears filling your eyes. “It’s a girl, Joel.”

   His eyes go wide as his mouth drops open. “Are you sure?”

   You nod, biting your bottom lip. “I had one of my visions just now. And I saw… I saw you playing with her in the garden. She looked just like you, Joel. She’s so beautiful. And she loves you so much…” Without being able to contain yourself, you bury your face into his neck, let him scoop you up as he kisses the top of your head, holds you just a little tighter. 

   “Oh, my darlin’ girl. I already love her so fuckin’ much, jus’ like I love you. My beautiful, pregnant wife. You make me so fuckin’ happy, I hope you know that.”

   You nuzzle into his warmth, breathe in the woodsy scent of his musk and let out a smile. “Not as happy as you make me, my love. You’re such a good father, a good husband. The best part of every day,” you confess with love threaded through every syllable you speak. 

   “C’mere, sweetheart.” He cups your chin and lifts your mouth to his, dripping his love all over you in slow, affectionate kisses. You melt into his body, get tangled up with him in the sheets, drown in his very essence as he peppers light kisses over your growing stomach. 

   You think you could watch him like this forever. He already loves her so much, just like he loves you. You can’t wait to see him bloom into a new father, can’t wait to see him raise your child beside you. Forever partners in crime. That troublemaker Slytherin with a warm, gentle Hufflepuff. But he’s just as soft and gentle as you now. He’s everything you ever wanted. And now, he’s going to be the father of your child. 

   You can’t wait to spend forever with your one and only lover. And you can’t wait to bring a gentle soul into the world. Your sweet little girl. You just can’t wait to meet her. Can’t wait to do your entire life with your perfect little family.

[evermoreness]

moonlight and mending | remus lupin

pairing: remus lupin x reader

summary: since it's your seventh year at hogwarts, you have to choose a path for a future job, and you chose to be a healer and help madam pomfrey. you just didn't know remus lupin was a regular patient.

obs: i am thinking about turning this into a series, if you want to, please let me know

masterlist

The hospital wing was quiet, bathed in the soft glow of the morning light filtering through the tall windows. You were already up, sleeves rolled to your elbows as you organized a tray of healing potions. You had been helping Madam Pomfrey for a while now, and despite the occasional sleepless night, you loved every second of it.

This was where you belonged.

Every student at Hogwarts had to choose their paths on future jobs by the seventh year. Some would go with the professors to learn a specific path, like aurors or politics and others would go with Hagrid (if they had interest in magical creatures). It was fun.

You would not spend all your days at the hospital wing, since there were other students helping around Madam Pomfrey. But sometimes you would ignore this fact and just stay around for more hours than needed.

You had just finished restocking the dittany when Madam Pomfrey entered, her expression tight with concern.

“Another patient?” you asked, reaching for a clean cloth and a basin of warm water.

She nodded, already moving toward one of the empty beds. “Yes, and he’s in rough shape. A regular of mine, unfortunately.”

Before you could ask what she meant, the doors swung open, and Madam Pomfrey levitated a limp figure onto the bed.

Your breath caught in your throat.

Remus Lupin.

He looked terrible—his school robes were torn, his face pale and slick with sweat. Bruises and scratches covered his arms, and there was a deep gash along his collarbone, seeping blood onto the sheets. His hair was messier than usual, strands sticking to his forehead.

You had seen Remus around, always in the company of his friends, always with a soft smile and warm eyes. He was quieter than the other Marauders, more reserved. But this—this was a side of him you had never seen before.

“Will he be alright?” you asked, stepping closer.

Madam Pomfrey sighed. “He always is.”

She glanced at you, her sharp eyes softening slightly. “I’ll leave you to clean his wounds. Be gentle with him.”

You nodded, rolling up your sleeves further as she walked away.

Gently, you dipped the cloth into the warm water and pressed it against a cut on his cheek, dabbing away the dried blood. He stirred, a soft groan escaping his lips.

“Remus?” you said gently. “Can you hear me?”

He let out a breathy sound before his amber eyes fluttered open. They were hazy with exhaustion, unfocused at first, but as he blinked, they found yours.

“You’re awake,” you said with a small smile, hoping to reassure him.

His brows furrowed slightly. “Where…?”

“The hospital wing,” you answered, still carefully cleaning the wound on his cheek. “Madam Pomfrey brought you in.”

His eyes flickered with something unreadable before he huffed a weak chuckle. “Must be bad if I don’t even remember getting here.”

“You look like you got into a fight with a troll,” you teased lightly.

He smiled faintly. “Did I win?”

“Hard to say. The troll might be in better condition.”

That earned a soft laugh from him, though it ended in a wince.

“Stay still,” you scolded gently. “I need to clean these properly, and that won’t happen if you keep moving.”

“Alright,” he muttered with a small smile, but he did as you said.

You continued working in silence, carefully dabbing at the scratches along his arms. His body tensed slightly under your touch, but he didn’t complain.

Then, your gaze landed on the wound on his chest—a nasty gash running diagonally across his ribs, partially covered by his torn shirt. You hesitated before clearing your throat.

“Um… I need to get to the wound on your chest,” you said, a little hesitant. “Can you…?”

His tired eyes widened slightly as he realized what you meant. “Oh. Right.”

There was an awkward pause before he weakly reached for the buttons of his shirt, his fingers trembling slightly.

You quickly stopped him, your hands gently brushing his. “Here, let me.”

He stiffened under your touch but didn’t protest as you carefully undid the buttons of his bloodstained shirt. As you pushed the fabric aside, your breath hitched.

His torso was littered with scars, old and new, crisscrossing his skin like a map of past battles. The fresh wound along his ribs was deep, still oozing.

You swallowed hard, trying to push aside the questions burning in your mind. What had done this to him?

Instead of asking, you dipped the cloth in the warm water again and gently pressed it to the wound.

He hissed through his teeth.

“Sorry,” you murmured. “I know it stings.”

“It’s alright,” he said through gritted teeth. “You’re gentler than Pomfrey, at least.”

You smiled softly. “She believes in tough love.”

“That’s one way to put it,” he muttered, his voice slightly strained.

Wanting to distract him, you asked, “So, what do you usually do when you’re not getting yourself nearly killed?”

His lips twitched. “Read, mostly.”

You knew that the best way to distract the patients was by talking to them, about anything, so they could think about something else besides the pain.

“I could’ve guessed that,” you said with a small laugh. “Any favorites?”

He relaxed slightly at the question. “I like Defense Against the Dark Arts. And anything to do with magical creatures.”

“Magical creatures, huh?” You carefully applied the healing salve to his wound. “You don’t seem like the type to go wrestling with a dragon.”

He huffed a quiet laugh. “No, definitely not. But I like learning about them.”

You smiled, tying off the last bandage. “Well, you’re all patched up. Try not to move too much.”

Remus let out a long breath, his eyelids growing heavy. “You’re… really kind,” he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper.

You brushed a stray strand of hair from his forehead. “Get some rest, Remus.”

His eyes lingered on you for a moment longer before they finally closed.

And as you sat beside him, watching over him as he slept, you couldn’t shake the feeling that there was something more to Remus Lupin—something hidden beneath the scars and the quiet smiles.

You just didn’t know what it was yet.

The morning was long.

You didn't have any classes this morning, despite still being Tuesday.

You figured it was best to stay by his side.

At least, until lunch, because after that you would have some charms classes.

You sat beside Remus, watching over him as the hours crept by, the hospital wing bathed in moonlight and quiet. His breathing was shallow, his forehead damp with sweat. A fever had settled in not long after he had fallen asleep, and you had spent the past few hours placing cool cloths on his forehead, ensuring he didn’t overheat.

Madam Pomfrey had come in once to check on him, nodded approvingly at your dedication, and left you to it.

You didn’t mind.

There was something about watching over him—something that made you feel… protective. Maybe it was the way he had looked at you before drifting off, like he wasn’t used to someone being this kind to him.

Or maybe it was just that he seemed to carry too much weight for someone so young.

You sighed, dipping the cloth in cool water again and pressing it lightly to his forehead. He shifted slightly in his sleep, brow furrowing, but he didn’t wake.

A soft murmur left his lips—too quiet for you to catch.

You leaned closer. “Remus?”

He didn’t respond, just turned his head slightly, a faint crease between his brows. His fingers twitched where they rested by his side.

“Nightmare?” you whispered, watching his expression.

You wanted to reach for his hand, to soothe him, but you hesitated. Instead, you gently ran your fingers through his damp hair, hoping the touch might calm whatever dream he was trapped in.

Slowly, his features relaxed again.

You let out a breath you hadn’t realized you were holding.

And so, you sat there, watching over him, making sure he didn’t shift too much in his sleep or try to tear off the bandages in unconscious discomfort.

You kept taking care of the other students there, it was almost lunch time when your eyes glanced toward Remus—only to find his amber eyes already on you.

You came closer, staying by his side on the bed. “You’re awake.”

His lips curled slightly. “Yeah, unfortunately” His voice was rough with sleep.

You gave him a small smile. “How do you feel?”

He hesitated, as if he was actually assessing himself. “Like I got into a fight with a brick wall and lost.”

You smiled. “Well, you look better than some hours ago”

His brows lifted slightly. “Was I that bad?”

You gave him a look. “You had a fever, you were shifting in your sleep, and I had to stop you from undoing your own bandages twice.”

His eyes widened slightly. “I… did that?”

You nodded. “You don’t remember?”

“Not at all.” He looked both embarrassed and surprised. His gaze flickered toward the bowl of water and the pile of damp cloths beside it. “You stayed all morning?”

You shrugged, trying to play it off. “It’s part of the job.”

He studied you for a moment before shaking his head. “No. Madam Pomfrey would’ve done it if it was just ‘part of the job.’ You chose to stay.”

You hesitated. “…I didn’t want you to be alone.”

His breath hitched slightly. For a moment, he didn’t say anything, just looked at you as if trying to figure out how to respond.

Then, softly, “Thank you.”

Your heart warmed. “You don’t have to thank me.”

“I do,” he said, holding your gaze. “No one’s ever… done that for me before.”

The weight of his words settled between you.

You frowned slightly. “What about James? Sirius?”

“They’re great,” he said immediately, but then he hesitated. “…They don’t see this part of me. I don’t let them.”

Something in his voice made your chest tighten.

Carefully, you reached out, brushing your fingers over the bandage on his arm. “You don’t have to hide when you’re hurt, especially not from me or what else i won't know how to help.”

His breath caught, and for a long moment, he just stared at you, as if he wasn’t quite sure what to say.

Finally, he smiled—small, but real. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

You returned the smile. “Good. Now, do you think you can eat something, or do I need to force-feed you porridge?”

He chuckled. “I’ll eat. If only to avoid that fate.”

You grinned. “I’ll go get you something.”

As you walked away, you could still feel his gaze on you.

Remus was still staring at the doorway where you had disappeared when you returned, carrying a breakfast tray in both hands.

“Alright, hospital food isn’t exactly a feast, but it’s warm, and you need it,” you said as you placed the tray on his bedside table.

Remus sat up a little, wincing as he adjusted his position. He looked down at the tray—porridge, toast, and a steaming cup of tea.

You noticed his hesitation and raised an eyebrow. “Don’t tell me you’re picky.”

He smirked faintly. “No, just… hospital food isn’t usually something to look forward to.”

You rolled your eyes. “Just try a little bit, alright?”

With an amused chuckle, he picked up the spoon and took a tentative bite of the porridge. It wasn’t terrible, which was the best compliment he could give it.

As he ate, you had already moved on, fussing over the other students in the ward.

“Drink more water, Gabe, you’ll feel better faster.”

“Maggie, you’re supposed to rest, not reread your Transfiguration notes.”

“Barty, don’t poke at your stitches, I swear to Merlin—”

Remus found himself watching you, a faint smile playing on his lips.

You were different.

It wasn’t just that you were kind—you loved this. He could see it in the way you moved, the way you spoke to everyone, the way you cared. It was like second nature to you, tending to people, making sure they were comfortable.

And yet… you were also a normal student. That much was obvious.

It hit him suddenly—he’d seen you around before. Not just in passing, but in the places he liked best. The library, tucked away in the quietest corners, flipping through thick medical textbooks and advanced Potions guides. The Astronomy Tower, where the view was the clearest. The courtyard, always with a book in your hands.

You weren’t just here. You were everywhere.

How did you balance it all?

Remus was still lost in thought when a hand appeared in front of his face.

He blinked and looked up.

You were standing there, a familiar-looking chocolate bar in your hand.

“Madam Pomfrey sent this,” you said with a smile. “She said it would help you feel better.”

Something warm settled in his chest.

He took the chocolate from you, running his fingers over the wrapper before glancing up at you. “She actually let you give it to me instead of forcing it on me herself?”

“She’s busy,” you said, shrugging. “But I think she knows I’d make you eat it either way.”

Remus chuckled, unwrapping the chocolate and breaking off a piece. As soon as it melted on his tongue, he sighed.

“Better?” you asked, tilting your head.

“Much,” he admitted.

You smiled in satisfaction before sitting on the edge of his bed. “So… I have a question.”

He raised an eyebrow. “Oh?”

You leaned in slightly, lowering your voice like you were sharing a secret. “How do you do it?”

Remus blinked. “Do what?”

“Everything,” you said, gesturing vaguely. “I mean, you’re top of the class, always reading, and somehow, you still have time to get into whatever mischief your friends drag you into.”

Remus smirked. “I could ask you the same thing.”

You rolled your eyes. “I’m serious.”

He considered you for a moment before shrugging. “I guess… I don’t really think about it. I just do what I need to do.”

You hummed thoughtfully. “Yeah. That sounds about right.”

There was a comfortable silence between you.

Then, Remus glanced down at the chocolate in his hand. “You know… I’ve never had someone take care of me like this before.”

You tilted your head, curious. “Not even your friends?”

He hesitated. “They try. But I don’t let them.”

“Why not?”

His fingers tightened slightly around the wrapper. “Because… I don’t want them to worry.”

You frowned. “That’s a terrible reason.”

He huffed a soft laugh. “Maybe.”

You would say something else, but some other patient called. You smiled before turning around and going around to help others.

Hours later, the hospital wing was quieter. Most of the students had left, and Remus, finally feeling somewhat human again, was sitting on the edge of his bed, stretching his sore limbs.

You stood in front of him, holding a neatly folded set of fresh Hogwarts robes.

“Well, you look better,” you observed. “Still a bit pale, though.”

“I’m always pale,” he said dryly, though he smirked.

“Fair point,” you said, handing him the uniform. “Come on, get changed. You can’t walk around looking like you just wrestled a hippogriff.”

He raised an eyebrow. “You say that as if it’s a bad thing.”

You smiled, rolling your eyes playfully. “Just change, Lupin.”

He chuckled but stood, wincing slightly as he moved. You turned around, giving him privacy as he carefully removed the old ripped uniform he was using from earlier, and pulled on his new uniform. His movements were slow, careful not to aggravate his still-healing injuries.

After a few moments, he let out a small sigh. “Alright. You can turn around.”

You turned, scanning him critically before nodding in approval. “Much better.”

“You sound like Madam Pomfrey,” he said, amused.

You gasped in mock horror. “Take that back!”

“Never.”

You huffed but smiled, grabbing your bag from the chair. You had already changed into your uniform earlier, ready to head to class. “Come on, I’ll walk with you.”

Remus blinked in surprise. “You don’t have to—”

“I know,” you said, giving him a pointed look. “But I want to.”

His lips parted slightly, but no argument came.

He liked your company.

So, instead of protesting, he simply nodded. “Alright then. Lead the way, healer”

You rolled your eyes at the nickname but walked beside him as you both left the hospital wing.

The corridors were bustling with students heading to their next classes. You and Remus walked side by side, keeping a comfortable pace.

“So,” you started, adjusting the strap of your bag, “what’s your favorite class?”

Remus hummed. “That’s an easy one—Defense Against the Dark Arts.”

You grinned. “I should’ve guessed. You do always get top marks in it.”

He shrugged. “It’s practical. Useful.”

“Okay, but what about for fun?” you asked, tilting your head. “Not just what’s useful—what do you enjoy?”

He hesitated, then said, “I like Charms.”

You brightened. “Me too! It’s so satisfying when you finally get a spell just right.”

“Exactly,” he said, nodding. “And you?”

“Besides Charms? I love Potions,” you said. “It’s precise, methodical… and it helps with Healing. I like that.”

Remus smiled. “That makes sense. You’re really good at it.”

You looked at him, surprised. “You noticed?”

He rubbed the back of his neck. “Well… yeah. I mean, you’re always top of the class, and I have seen you brewing in the library before.”

You chuckled. “Guilty. I like experimenting.”

“What’s the best potion you’ve made?”

You thought for a moment. “Probably a modified Wiggenweld Potion. I adjusted it to work faster without causing side effects.”

Remus raised his eyebrows, impressed. “That’s incredible.”

You shrugged, but his praise made you warm inside.

“What about books?” you asked. “I know you’re a reader.”

He smirked. “What gave it away?”

You laughed. “Oh, I don’t know. Maybe the fact that I always see you in the library with your nose buried in a book?”

He chuckled. “Fair enough. I like anything about magical creatures, honestly.”

You nodded. “I can see that. You seem like the type to befriend a werewolf or something.”

Remus nearly tripped.

You didn’t notice, continuing, “I love medical books, obviously. But for fun? I like Muggle literature.”

He recovered quickly, forcing himself to focus. “Muggle literature?”

“Yeah,” you said, grinning. “There’s this Muggle author—Stephen King. Have you heard of him?”

Remus’s eyes lit up. “I have! The shining is brilliant.”

Your jaw dropped. “You’ve read it?”

He smirked. “I grew up in a half-Muggle household. My mum had loads of Muggle books.”

“Oh, I love that,” you said excitedly. “Okay, tell me—what do you think of Jack Torrance?”

Remus chuckled. “Misunderstood, the man was literally being controlled by evil spirits”

You gasped dramatically. “Correct answer. I knew I liked you, Lupin.”

Remus blinked, caught off guard, but you just laughed, nudging him playfully.

He laughed too, shaking his head. He couldn’t remember the last time he felt this light.

Before he knew it, you had reached your classroom.

You stopped at the door, turning to face him. “Well, this is me.”

He nodded, suddenly wishing you had a further walk.

“Thanks for walking with me,” you said with a smile. “And take care of yourself, okay?”

Something about the way you said it made his chest tighten.

He nodded. “You too.”

With a final smile, you turned and disappeared into the classroom.

Remus stood there for a moment before shaking his head with a quiet chuckle.

Then, with thoughts of you still swirling in his mind, he dragged himself to his own class, already looking forward to the next time he saw you.

Getting closer.

The days passed, and somehow, without either of you truly realizing it, you and Remus had begun to gravitate toward each other.

It wasn’t a conscious decision—at least, that’s what Remus told himself.

At first, it was small things.

You’d see each other in the library, sitting a few tables apart, until one of you would move closer—always under the excuse of needing a book the other was using.

You’d pass each other in the halls, exchanging small smiles, sometimes stopping for a brief chat about classes, assignments, or whatever book you were reading that week.

Remus, always more reserved, didn’t say much in the beginning. He would listen as you talked, and surprisingly, he never got tired of hearing you speak. You had this way of filling the silence without overwhelming it.

And what fascinated him the most?

You never got bored of him.

Most people—besides his closest friends—didn’t have the patience for his quiet nature, for his habit of getting lost in thought, for the way he preferred books over crowds. But you never seemed to mind.

If anything, you enjoyed talking to him.

And Remus liked listening to you.

Slowly but surely, Remus began seeking you out.

If he saw you in the Great Hall, he’d wave you over. If you passed each other in the corridors, he’d slow his steps so you could walk together. If he spotted you alone in the common room, he’d sit beside you, pulling out a book without a word.

And you? You found yourself looking for him, too.

One evening, you sat at your usual table in the library, a thick Potions book open in front of you. You were muttering ingredients under your breath, trying to memorize an antidote recipe, when a familiar figure slid into the seat across from you.

“You talk to your books a lot,” Remus observed, setting his own book down.

You looked up, smirking. “And yet, you still sit with me. What does that say about you?”

He chuckled. “That I’m patient?”

“Or that you secretly enjoy my rambling.”

He shrugged, a small smirk tugging at his lips. “Maybe.”

You grinned, flipping a page. “What are you reading?”

“Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them,” he said, holding up the book.

You raised an eyebrow. “Planning on running off to become a Magizoologist?”

“Not quite,” he said, amused. “I just like creatures.”

You hummed, tilting your head. “If you could be any magical creature, what would you be?”

He hesitated for a second. “A werewolf.”

You blinked, surprised. “A werewolf?”

He nodded slowly, studying your face. “Yeah. They’re misunderstood. People assume they’re just mindless monsters, but… they’re not.”

You frowned slightly, considering his words. “You’re right. They don’t choose to be that way.”

Remus swallowed hard, watching you carefully. “You don’t think they’re evil?”

You shook your head. “Of course not. I think… I think most of them are probably just scared. And lonely.”

Something in Remus’s chest ached. He had never heard anyone say that before.

“You’re… different,” he said softly.

You gave him a curious look. “Different how?”

He shook his head, a small smile tugging at his lips. “You just… are.”

You rolled your eyes playfully. “That’s a very vague answer, Lupin.”

He chuckled. “It’s the best you’re getting.”

You sighed dramatically. “Fine. But I’ll figure it out eventually.”

“I’m sure you will.”

You eyed him suspiciously but let it go. “Well, I’d be a phoenix.”

Remus raised an eyebrow. “Why?”

“They heal people,” you said simply. “And they always come back.”

He stared at you for a moment, something unreadable in his expression. Then, quietly, “That suits you.”

You blinked, caught off guard by the softness in his voice.

For a brief second, neither of you spoke.

Then, he cleared his throat, turning his attention back to his book. “You were mumbling potion ingredients earlier. Studying for something?”

You exhaled, shaking off the strange warmth in your chest. “Yes. Madam Pomfrey’s quizzing me tomorrow, and I cannot mix up the bezoar antidotes again.”

Remus smirked. “Do you want me to test you?”

Your eyes lit up. “Would you?”

He nodded, and for the next hour, he quizzed you, throwing in the occasional joke just to make you laugh.

The Marauders.

Of course, being friends with Remus meant that you were friends with the Marauders now.

One evening, you sat cross-legged on the Gryffindor common room floor, surrounded by parchment and books. Remus sat beside you, his own notes scattered around. Across from you, James Potter and Sirius Black were sprawled on the couch, watching you both with lazy amusement. Peter Pettigrew sat on the armrest, nibbling on a biscuit.

“So, let me get this straight,” James said, stretching his arms behind his head. “You spend your free time—voluntarily, I might add—working in the hospital wing?”

You looked up from your parchment, raising an eyebrow. “Yes.”

“And you enjoy it?”

“Yes.”

James exchanged a look with Sirius, who smirked. “Merlin’s beard, Moony, you’ve found your twin.”

Remus rolled his eyes. “Because enjoying something that requires effort is such a crime?”

“No, but we just assumed no one else was as much of a workaholic as you,” Sirius teased.

You snorted. “I love what I do, thank you very much.”

Peter perked up. “Does that mean you’re good at Potions?”

“She’s brilliant,” Remus answered before you could, flipping a page in his book.

Sirius grinned. “Oh, that’s good to know.”

You narrowed your eyes at him. “Why?”

James leaned forward, an eager look in his eyes. “Because we need a potioneer for our next prank.”

You stared at him. “You want me to help you prank people?”

“Yes,” Sirius said smoothly, “because you’re cool.”

Remus made a sound like he was choking on his own breath. “Cool?”

James ignored him. “Think about it. You brew us something—nothing harmful, just a little mischief—and we execute it.”

You tilted your head, considering. “Would this be used on everyone or just specific people?”

“Filch,” Peter answered immediately. “And Snivellus.”

You hummed. “No harm, no permanent damage?”

James put a hand over his heart. “On my honor.”

You smirked. “I could make an odorless dye potion that only reacts to moonlight.”

Sirius gasped in delight. “That’s genius.”

“Imagine Snape walking around, thinking nothing’s wrong, and then—BAM—his face turns green under the full moon,” James cackled.

You smiled sweetly. “You’ll owe me chocolate.”

Sirius clapped his hands together. “Deal.”

Remus sighed, looking at you with an exasperated but amused expression. “You do realize you’re enabling them?”

“Oh, I know,” you said innocently. “But it’s fun.”

James grinned. “She’s one of us now, Moony.”

Remus looked at you, then at them, then sighed again, rubbing his temple. “Merlin help us all.”