cosmicsmoony

[cosmicsmoony]

alright i'll say it!! pillow princess remus lupin. that man has zero muscle tissue, no stamina and a bratty attitude in bed. his partner is doing all the work.

[cosmicsmoony]

[cosmicsmoony]

Our house is a very, very fine house,

With two cats in the yard,

One insists on curling up in the folds of Regulus’ cashmere blanket like it was bought just for her, while the other follows Remus from room to room like a small, devoted shadow. They rarely argue, except over who gets to pick the dinner music, but it never really matters; they always end up dancing in the kitchen anyway. Regulus’ laughter echoes through the room as he watches Remus try to move with his too-long limbs, clutching the cat to his chest when she nudges his feet, her tiny black paw held gently in his large hand as he twirls her in some odd, affectionate version of ballroom dancing. It hurts Regulus a little, years of perfect lessons, of standing straight and moving just right, but this kind of dancing, with laughter and soft chaos, feels better than anything he was ever taught. There are always half-finished cups of tea left on bookshelves, paint smudges drying on the old wood floors, and a green mug in the shape of a frog that Regulus swears isn’t his, and yet only uses that one to drink his morning tea. (it is, Remus bought it when he saw Regulus looking at it with a lopsided smile on one of their first dates).

Life used to be so hard, Regulus had forgotten what it meant to be looked at softly, to be let in gently, to be loved with the kind of patience that doesn’t flinch when the past knocks at the door. But Remus never locks it. He just opens the door, pulls him in by the wrist, kisses the storm and the seeping cold out of his bones. He never knew he can just put his head on someone's lap and close his eyes for five minutes as the soft afternoon light filters through the window, but Remus' gentle hand carding through his hair so so softly never fails to remind him of what love is.

Now everthing is easy because of you.

Because of sleepy mornings and oversized sweaters. Because of the way Remus reads aloud when Regulus is painting, his glasses slipping down his nose despite his grumbling whenever Regulus teases him about “looking forty at twenty-eight,” his feet snug in lumpy, misshapen socks Hope helped him knit for Christmas. Because Regulus makes Remus his favorite coffee every Sunday morning, even while complaining about the beans. Because the hallway walls are lined with polaroids, and the fridge always has a note that says, "Don’t forget, I love you. P.S. Take your vitamins, love!!" Because Remus will come home with a bouquet of flowers and a shy smile on his face every five days and Regulus will take the wilting ones out of the green vase on their coffee table while his husband lights the fire to warm their living room.

Their house is filled with the softest kind of magic, not the kind you cast, but the kind you choose, again and again, with each morning and every quiet night.

Together.

[cosmicsmoony]

one day you're drinking out of every single bottle of vodka on sight. on another, you're baking a ridiculously huge batch of cookies. what a life

[cosmicsmoony]

guys mission accomplished cause tell me WHY i woke up sick and i'm not even hangover. just sick.

there's something about taking an everything shower, cracking open an energy drink and starting to do your makeup on a friday night. the joys of being young and hot 🤪

[cosmicsmoony]

time to be gay and do some crime, loves.

there's something about taking an everything shower, cracking open an energy drink and starting to do your makeup on a friday night. the joys of being young and hot 🤪

[cosmicsmoony]

there's something about taking an everything shower, cracking open an energy drink and starting to do your makeup on a friday night. the joys of being young and hot 🤪

[cosmicsmoony]

that's what i mean when i say be gay do crime btw

lilylene flirt w men at bars so theyd buy them drinks, get smashed by said drinks, ditch the men, set smth on fire, vandalise a wall with their lipsticks, and then have clumsy drunk sex together

[cosmicsmoony]

today a girl in my extension project was so shocked about the fact that i also kiss girls what am i doing wrong chat

[cosmicsmoony]

guys when i get minutely better something comes up and puts me in the ground again. it's great, life sucks sm

[cosmicsmoony]

as soon as remus gets into the door, and before he can shout his jokey "honey, i'm hooooome", he knows something is up with his husband's day. don't get him wrong, the whole house smells delicious and shostakovich's tenth symphony is blasting through the speakers. but that also means that a lot of stress baking and rage classical music is coming out of regulus.

tiptoeing around as not to disturb, remus gets to their kitchen and has to put both of his hands in front of his mouth to not make a not very manly sound from the adorable view in front of him. regulus is already out of his work clothes, hair washed and combed high in his head (yep. signs of a stress bath too), and a fucking strawberry apron covering his waist.

he doesn't see remus so he sure takes advantage for a few minutes to look. at his husband's long fingers wrapped around a spatula. at his hips slightly tilted to the side. at his strong jaw being flexed even if his face is neutral. at the delicious curve of his neck to his spine. and he can't resist closing the distance between them to wrap his hands around regulus' tiny waist through the apron.

"how about you tell me about these murder plans of yours, love? i'll put the kettle on." remus whispers in his husband's ear, tilting his neck so he can look into his eyes right after. regulus has a bit of flour smeared on his right cheek, but his smile is a half dangerous – half adoring. oh, his boy knows him so well.

[cosmicsmoony]

Moonchaser who start wearing each other's charms. Everyone watches as day after day, James' usual stack of golden jewelery starts having more and more moon charms, some of the piercings on her ear, the chains around her neck and the hair pins she stole from Effie's drawers. Remus who was not a big jewelry girl, a watch around her wrist being her only accessory for years, wears her first necklace, something James got for them, a sun and moon charms each of them get to wear for the other, and then it starts from there, waist chains, belly button piercing, bracelets, they all have some of her girlfriend's light in them, her finger tracing the charms and smiling for the look of adoration Jamie gives her everytime she glimpses a new one. So it only makes sense that when they wear moon and sun on their ring fingers as they walk down the aisle years after.

I want to wear her initials on a chain around my neck, chain around my neck, not because she owns me, but because she really knows me

[cosmicsmoony]

some men just need to be impregnated, and remus lupin is one of them

[cosmicsmoony]

Regulus had been suspicious from the start.

Remus was usually the reasonable one between them when it came to packing, the one who calmly reorganized Regulus' last-minute chaos and always surrendered a corner of his carry-on for whatever excessive luxury his boyfriend insisted he needed for the trip, his silk scarf, extra shoes, a hair mask he swore he couldn’t live without. But this time?

“No,” Remus had said firmly, zipping up his sleek black carry-on with finality, standing guard like a dragon before its hoard. “Mine’s full.”

Regulus had blinked. “You always have space.”

“Not this time. Sweaters. Coats. You’ll thank me.”

It was the way he said it, with a nervous sort of edge, as if he’d rehearsed the excuse. And Regulus, ever the bloodhound for secrets, narrowed his eyes.

But the mystery didn’t last much longer. Not after the airport. Not after the gate sign that read OSL - Oslo.

And certainly not after they landed in Tromsø and Regulus looked out at the snow-glazed city stretching beneath them, the air so sharp it nearly sliced into his lungs, and realized where they were.

“You absolute bastard,” Regulus whispered, stunned, blinking into the white. “You brought me to Norway.”

Remus only grinned, a dimple forming under his flushed cheek. “Happy birthday, love.”

They slept in the next morning, tangled under thick covers with the early winter light trying its best to coax them awake through the blackout curtains. Regulus stirred first, his breath fogging the cold air from the cracked window Remus insisted on keeping ajar for “freshness.” They ate lunch wrapped in matching wool scarves, wandering into a tucked-away café where the tea came in mismatched cups and the salmon was the kind that melted on the tongue.

Then, just as the sky began to tip from soft grey to the inky blue of oncoming night, Remus turned to him with a strange glint in his eye.

“I booked us something tonight.”

Regulus narrowed his eyes. “You’re being very cryptic lately.”

They get there and it’s the prettiest thing he has ever seen, a glass globe glowing softly against the snowy dark, inside a constellation of flickering candlelight. Fuzzy cushions and thick blankets were spread out with care, the interior warm and scented faintly of lavender and cinnamon. Regulus lets out a small breath, already half in awe, half in disbelief that this is real.

They sit, knees brushing, and Remus pulls a thermos of warm tea from the mystery backpack, pouring it into the waiting glasses. Regulus takes his gratefully, warming his fingers around it.

And then, when he turns to say something—thank you, I love you, I can’t believe you—he notices them. So many boxes, all different shapes and sizes, arranged in the space between them. Each is carefully wrapped and numbered from 1 to 25.

Remus gives him a sheepish, almost shy smile.

“Twenty-five gifts for your twenty-five years, my love.”

His breath catches.

He opens the first box with trembling fingers. Inside lies a tiny silver rattle pendant on a chain. His eyes dart up to Remus.

“Your birth year,” Remus says gently. “Engraved inside with the date and hour. Just… the start of everything.”

Box four makes him pause. He runs his thumb over the smooth plastic of the cassette and the clunky buttons of the old player before picking up the labeled mixtape.

“You made this?”

“I found all the songs Sirius said your mum played when you were little,” Remus replies, a little grin playing on his lips. “Some French lullabies too. You said she used to sing you to sleep with them.”

Box five is a breathless moment. Regulus unwraps it slowly, reverently, and reveals an original edition of Le Petit Prince, worn but clearly cared for.

His lips part. “This is... this is the exact edition I had.”

“I know,” Remus says softly. “It took forever to find one in that condition. I added a few notes. Just thoughts. I always imagined you underlining bits when you were little.”

He opens box eight and finds a delicate little book filled with pressed wildflowers, each page labeled in Remus’ writing.

“Those are the ones that grew the year you turned eight,” he says. “Sirius told me you used to pick them and hide them in old dictionaries. Said you liked flowers more than football.”

Regulus chokes out a laugh, already blinking back tears.

Box twelve is unexpected, a badge made of ribbon, stitched by hand, reading Spelling Bee Champion.

“You didn’t…”

“I did,” Remus teases, eyes warm. “Because even if the win wasn’t real, the effort was. You told me once you got so close, and then tripped on ‘chevaux’. You’ve never forgotten it.”

Box twenty makes his hands still completely. It’s heavier, and when he opens it, it’s a notebook, one of Remus’, clearly. He recognizes the handwriting instantly. Inside are letters, all dated, all unsent.

“They’re from the year we met,” Remus murmurs, watching him closely. “I wrote them when I was falling in love with you, and too scared to tell you.”

Regulus can’t speak. He just presses his hand over his heart and tries to breathe past the overwhelming feeling cracking open inside him.

Then box twenty-two: a velvet pouch. Inside it, a single smooth gray stone, cool against his palm.

“I picked it up that day we went to the sea, remember?” Remus says. “You skipped it across the waves like it meant nothing. I kept this one.”

Regulus presses his lips together and lets out a shaky breath, the tears now spilling freely down his cheeks. He looks at the final box. Number 25. The last.

He opens it to reveal a wooden box, simple and carefully made, and when he lifts the lid, a ring glints against soft velvet.

Remus reaches for his hand.

“I had my dad help me make it. Because I wanted something that would last, just like this.”

He swallows, his voice rough but steady.

“I want your 25th and your 98th. Will you marry me?”

Regulus cries as he nods, the only answer his heart has ever known.

“Yes,” he whispered. “Yes, yes, you ridiculous, perfect man.”

Above them, the sky flared into greens and violets. Inside, they held each other like a promise made solid, two bodies warm against the glass, wrapped in candlelight and the oldest kind of magic.

[cosmicsmoony]

and honestly ballet is not even the worst. just saw a video of me TAP DANCING. omg. absolutely bonkers i had so much fun.

i've tried to erase the existence of all my videos dancing ballet from the internet but every once in a while some pop up from an ex colleague or a teacher and i'm just-. wow. i was able to move like that. crazy crazy insane bizarre.

[cosmicsmoony]

i've tried to erase the existence of all my videos dancing ballet from the internet but every once in a while some pop up from an ex colleague or a teacher and i'm just-. wow. i was able to move like that. crazy crazy insane bizarre.

[cosmicsmoony]

happy friday loves. i am, unfortunately, still alive. but hey! smoke eye makeup, see through black tights and a mini dress. be gay and do some fucking crime 🫶🏼