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n0-0neeee · 4 months ago

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wrath of the sea god

♱⋅── rafayel x reader

♱⋅── about: Rafayel is a creature worthy of worship. Something born from the deep sea, something incomprehensible, something that should scare you. And yet his siren song only lulls you in closer, and you fear it may be too late to even think about running away. (deep sea monster!rafayel)

♱⋅── word count: 5.9k

♱⋅── warnings: mdni, smut, inhuman raf, possessiveness, overstimulation, worship, breeding kink, tw yandere, tw drowning, tw teratophilia, tw thalassophobia

art credit to @/hcneyvae on x, dividers by @cafekitsune

psst, if you want more monster!raf read this next

What does it mean, to drown in something?

To watch the surface break above you, disrupted by the last bubbles of oxygen leaving your lungs, like a lover’s final kiss. To feel the vicious urge to fight, to struggle, to scream even as you feel your final dregs of strength escape, leaving you cold and gnawing and alone. To not feel fear, because even as your vision goes dark the melody is still there, the voice still singing, cradling you gently as you draw blood. To know, perhaps, that drowning was the only way this story could have ended.

What does it mean, when I kiss you and finally feel like I can breathe again, even if you were the reason I sank in the first place?

Rafayel has been nothing if not the perfect boyfriend. Clingy, annoying, hopelessly devoted, but perfect for you nonetheless.

Three months into your relationship, and you’ve begun to notice things that are only just slightly… Off.

For one, Rafayel runs terrifyingly cold, and the baths he gives himself twice a day are even colder than he is, and when he teasingly splashes you with it you scream, complaining he’s soaking in the arctic or the depths of the ocean’s abyss.

But the approach of summer means more baths, more moisturizers, and more of poor Rafayel always complaining about how it’s too hot, too dry. His skin gets bumpy, rough, textured patches growing on the sides of his neck, his arms, down his ribs too. Like something coming to the surface, something cracking through the flesh.

The list of anomalies goes on.

His joints bend just a little too much, his fingers curving at unnatural angles when he moves quickly or reaches for something. His spine rolls more like an eel or a shark than a human’s, like a creature still adjusting to having bones, something he brushes off as old habits from dance or ice skating. Whenever you take flash photos his eyes come out hollow, even the faintest glimmer makes them shimmer like something not meant for the surface.

It’s becoming more common to catch Rafayel slipping now, uncanny moments where he fumbles and slows down, repeating certain movements or habits, as though remembering them. Reminding himself of them.

You’re lounging on the couch in his studio, your legs kicked up onto his lap as Rafayel holds a book in one hand, the other caressing your ankle with the gentle rub of his thumb. Something prickles against the back of your neck and you look up over your phone, expecting to see Rafayel still engrossed in his reading. Instead, he’s staring down at you. Watching you, unblinking, for so long that your skin begins to crawl.

At first, you don’t really mind— willingly lost in the warmth of his gaze, the way it seems to hold so much unspoken devotion, the way his pupils dilate viciously when you finally meet his gaze. But then minutes pass. He doesn’t shift, doesn’t fidget, doesn’t break eye contact.

"Raf," you say, laughing a little, trying to shake the unease creeping up your spine. "You're staring."

His lips quirk, just slightly. "Am I? Can’t help it, cutie."

You hum, expecting him to look away. He doesn’t. Instead, he tilts his head, something you’ve always considered adorable, the way his full lips pout and innocent doe eyes seem to plead up into yours, studying you with an intensity that makes your chest tighten.

Then you realize what’s wrong.

"Blink," you whisper, suddenly uncertain if he's forgotten how.

He does, slow and deliberate, like he’s remembering only because you told him. And when his eyes open again, they shine, hollow and flat, reflecting the dim light of the room like something that doesn’t belong in the light.

“Shit!”

This is the last time you cut steak with a dull knife.

It’s nothing severe, but you must have nicked a vein in your thumb, because the damn countertop is splattered with blood, a thick stream of it nearly at your wrist as you run for a paper towel.

Rafayel was supposed to be by the stove, tending to the vegetables busy sauteing, but when you move to rip a sheet from the dowel, you find yourself bumping into him headfirst. How did he manage to cross the kitchen so fast?

His gaze flicks to your hand, brows furrowed. You follow it, noticing the vibrant red already soaking through all the layers of makeshift gauze. Maybe you cut yourself deeper than you though.

"It’s nothing, Rafayel," you say, knowing how worked-up he can get when you injure yourself, fully expecting a dramatic lecture later.

Turning, you step to throw away the bloody napkins when his fingers close around your wrist too fast. Too tight. Rafayel’s pupils dilate, nearly turning his entire eye black as his body physically follows the trail of blood down your wrist, lips parting just slightly as if—

As if he’s tasting the scent of your blood on his tongue.

"Rafayel," you call to him again, voice shaking. Why is your voice shaking?

He blinks, slow, as if waking from something deep. His grip loosens, but his fingers linger, his thumb dragging just barely across your pulse against the inside of your wrist before he exhales a quiet, low sound from deep in his chest. Something between a sigh and a growl.

“You really should be more careful, miss hunter. You could get hurt next time.”

Neither of you notice the slight acrid smell of something burning in the background.

The next time it happens late at night.

After spending the weekend lazing in each other's company, the two of you decided to end the day with a movie, drifting from various positions on the couch to curling up against Rafayel’s chest, the soft glow of the TV flickering across the room. The credits are rolling, low music humming beneath the sound of his steady, rhythmic breathing. He’s cold, almost unnaturally so, compared to the sticky, sweltering summer night air, but you can only be thankful for that fact as his chill and the gentle rise and fall of his chest lull you into something hazy, that liminal space where thoughts slip too easily from your grasp.

When suddenly, it just stops. Rafayel’s body goes still beneath your touch.

No breath. No movement.

Just complete and utter stillness.

It doesn’t register at first, not fully. Still feigning sleep, you fight to keep your own exhales even, purposefully holding your breath to get your heart to calm from its erratic skip, the hairs on your arms prickling, some primal part of you sensing it before your mind catches up. Wrong.

You shift slightly, pretending to be lost in a dream, just enough to press closer to his chest, to feel the gentle rhythm of where his lungs should be. Wrong.

But nothing comes. Rafayel’s chest does not rise, his heartbeat does not echo against your cheek. The only movement is the gentle circling of his fingers against the tender flesh of your ribs, tracing the curve of bone. Other than that, he is completely, utterly motionless beneath you, the kind of eerie stillness that isn’t possible for a human. A stillness reserved for hunters, for predators. Wrong.

Something is wrong.

Your pulse kicks, a sharp, violent thud-thud-thud against your ribs, under the tips of Rafayel’s fingers, and in that instant—

Rafayel breathes again.

A slow, deep inhale as if rousing from sleep. His arm tightens around your waist, fingers slipping under your shirt as he shifts beneath you, stretching out his long limbs with an exaggerated yawn like nothing happened at all.

“You still awake?” His voice is drowsy, laced with warmth, so natural you almost believe it.

You nod, pressing closer, trying to shake the creeping chill settling in your bones. Maybe you imagined it. Maybe you were too tired, caught somewhere between dreaming and waking, your mind playing tricks on you. You were simply tired from the long week. Simply haunted by nightmares that no longer exist.

But you feel it. The way Rafayel’s fingers idly stroke over your side, slow and soothing, almost seeking out your own heartbeat as close as he could get to it. The way he breathes too deliberately now, a flawless imitation of what he thinks you expect to hear. A rhythm that’s just a little too shallow, a little too perfect.

Then, there’s something prodding and coaxing into your brain, and instantly, the feeling of calm returns. But your pulse does not slow, because the thought has already settled in the back of your mind, something cold and certain.

He didn’t start breathing again for his sake.

He did it for yours.

Rafayel must have been sculpted by divine hands. A Greek statue given breath, something carved from impossibly white marble and polished by time itself.

His is a kind of beauty that isn’t soft or gentle, but arresting, almost violently so. One that makes your breath hitch every time he turns to face you, all sharp cheekbones and full lips, somewhere devastatingly between beautiful and handsome, possessing every muscled curve of a swimmer’s body honed by centuries in the depths. It isn’t just his face, his form, his effortless strength. It’s the way he moves. Angelic and otherworldly— graceful, powerful, always with the effortless magnificence of the ocean itself.

And, of course, his voice.

He hums under his breath sometimes, a habit he seems to be letting slip the longer the two of you are together, barely audible in the quiet hours when you’re cooking or painting or lounging together. At first you mistook it for an old record or the echoing sound of the ocean from the open balcony doors, and when you ask him about if Rafayel simply laughs it off, the sound addicting enough that soon you’re laughing too.

But on late nights after sex you hear him humming again, something absentminded and indulgent, like the sound exists only for his own amusement. And for yours.

Oh, but when Rafayel sings, it’s something else entirely. It’s after an opera the first time you heard it, and any memory of the show prior is dissolved into a monotonous drivel at the music Rafayel makes. You swear you felt it in your ribs, melody settling beneath your skin, an ancient song that spoke to your soul in ways that left you dizzy and aching and yearning for something you couldn’t name.

It left you hungry.

And still, Rafayel’s paintings hurt the most.

Each one nearly brought to life with each brushstroke, enough that you swear you can hear the crash of waves or the sharp sting of sea-salt, each one that brings a deep, unknowable sorrow and guilt to your core. Each one hurts to look at a little more than the last.

There’s one painting in particular that hangs in his studio, larger than the rest. A towering, floor-to-ceiling masterpiece of muted blues and violent reds, brushstrokes slashing across the canvas with all the power of a storm at sea.

At first, you think it’s simply a shipwreck.

Then you’re lured in closer.

Bodies tangled in the waves, limbs limp and reaching. Some still clutching weapons, some are already swallowed by the dark. But every single figure seems perfectly content, relaxed, embracing death as they are lulled—just like you just like you—to the sirens below.

They are not the innocent beauties of fairy tales. They are terrible, glorious, vicious beings. Something between human and god, their bodies half-submerged, lips parted in a song you cannot hear but can still feel, something clawing at your heart, begging you to listen. Begging you to come closer.

And Rafayel is among them.

It takes you a moment to recognize him, but once you do, you cannot unsee it. The slant of his jaw, the sharp curve of his cheekbone, his lips curled not in hunger, not in rage, but in something unreadable. Something almost mournful.

"Do you like it, cutie?" His voice startles you.

You turn, pulse jumping, but Rafayel’s only watching you with that same lopsided smile, arms crossed loosely over his chest. He looks like part of a masterpiece himself, bare shoulders kissed by the low light, the soft glow catching on his collarbones, his throat, his hands.

"They were hunted." Not a question.

A laugh. Short, humorless. "Of course they were, don’t you know Lemurians cry pearls?"

Your fingers tighten at your sides, but nothing you could think of saying seemed appropriate. After all, what did you possibly have to offer a mourning god?

You look back at the painting. "And worshipped?"

Rafayel’s gaze lingers on the canvas for a long moment before sliding back to you, eyes failing to reflect the light of the sun as he tucks himself into your embrace, pulling you close. You swallow hard, body naturally yielding to relax into his embrace. You’re not prey, and yet, something in you screams at you to run.

"Is there a difference?"

You don’t answer.

You think of the way he moves, the way he sings, the way your breath catches every time he looks at you, the way you could drown in the depths of his eyes, the cloudless blue like the ocean at dawn, stained with a red more vibrant than blood. Like a shipwreck. Like a massacre.

“Would you worship me, cutie?” Rafayel purrs against the shell of your ear, nipping the tender flesh. Your knees buckle, and you’re already kneeling before him, looking up at those same eyes as he smiles at your answer.

You already do.

You’ve been noticing gaps in your memory.

Not big ones. Nothing you can really say for certain, just little things, things you used to chalk up to your goldfish memory. Forgetting why you stood up. Losing track of time mid-conversation. Finding yourself already doing something before you even register why.

And it always—always—happens when Rafayel is speaking to you.

It’s never forceful. Never obvious. But there’s always a soft hum in his voice, a subtle pull in the melody beneath his words.

You don’t even remember when he began doing it, and that might be what frightens you most.

You’ve always been weak for Rafayel, giving in as soon as he pouts and complains about how he might die of neglect, how he just needs you so badly, and how, oh, won’t you do this for him? There’s no command. No sharp pull at your mind, no unnatural force prying into your thoughts. Just his voice, smooth and honeyed, curling around your resolve like the tide creeping onto the shore. Gentle. Patient. And before you even notice, you're waist-deep, sinking into something you can’t quite name.

"Let’s go to the beach," Rafayel suggests, fingers lazily tracing patterns against your thigh.

You frown down at him, in the midst of filling out a hunter’s report when he snatches your computer away, replacing it with his own head plopping down in your lap.

You glance at the clock, it’s already six pm. Late, not to mention the drive is an hour away. And you have a mission early in the morning.

"I can’t," you say.

He hums, thoughtful. "Mm. No, of course not." He turns his head, pulling your sleep shirt up just enough to kiss your stomach, lips cool against your skin, grazing your hip as he speaks. "But," a pause. A slow, indulgent breath. "Wouldn’t it be nice? Just us. Moonlight on the waves. I could take you out past the shallows, show you things no other human has ever seen."

You close your eyes. You can picture it too easily. The salt in the air, the sound of the tide pulling you both forward. His hands on you, weightless in the water, his voice a hum against your throat. A melody entering your brain.

"It’s a Tuesday," you murmur, weaker now.

Rafayel begins sitting up, pressing a kiss to your shoulder. "So what?" Another to your jaw, "Work is so boring, you don’t need it anymore. Not when you’re with me." You feel him smile, sucking a mark right against your pulse. "It’ll be worth it, promise."

You should say no.

You should.

You should shut out the idea of indulging him, of the welcoming feel of sand beneath your toes and the gentle curl of the tide. And how nice the fading sunlight feels on your skin. Because you’re already standing at the shoreline, waves licking at your ankles, the city far, far behind you. Rafayel’s fingers laced with yours, his smile easy, teasing as he pulls you forward.

You don’t remember driving here.

Your pulse stutters. "Rafayel."

He turns to you, eyes dark, unreadable, his mouth curving into a wide smile, a sweet gummy one that has too many teeth. Rows upon rows, like a shark’s, gone by the time you blink. "Yes, my muse?"

You swallow hard. The words tangle on your tongue, and you forget, just for a moment, why you were about to say them.

But the worst is when he begs.

Because it doesn’t feel unnatural, it doesn’t feel wrong.

Because it feels good.

You don’t realize how much you’re giving him until your body won't stop trembling, until you’re wrecked and obedient, until he’s cooing praise against your skin like you’re something precious.

“Can’t–” you sob, barely getting the word out. “Can’t cum again. Please, Raf, Raf, please don’t.”

Your hands scramble for his head, still buried between your thighs, tugging violently against those sweat-slick strands of hair as you all but scream as he whines into your cunt in protest.

You’ve lost track of how many times he’s made you come, lost track of how long you’ve been beneath him, beneath his touch, beneath the spell of his voice. Time means nothing, just a rhythm of sensation and need.

All that you can feel is the hot layer of sweat making the sheets stick to the sharp arch in your back, the painful overstimulation of your clit as Rafayel moves to suckle against it once more, lapping greedily as you kick and push at his shoulders with a cry. You can’t take it, not again, not when you’re already raw and aching and falling apart.

"Just one more time, cutie," he begs, relenting just long enough to kiss your marked-up thigh. "Please? Look s’cute like this, taste even sweeter."

Rafayel’s pale skin glows faintly where his lips brush yours, a ripple of bioluminescence that pulses in time with your heartbeat. The dull blue light blooming along his veins, casting soft, eerie shadows across the sheets, a reminder of the alien beauty woven into his flesh and blood.

You’re sobbing, shaking your head as the entire room spins around you even without the extra stimulation. But Rafayel simply unlaces your poor trembling hands from his hair, unfurling your fists and kissing your palm before intertwining your fingers together, pinning them to the bed as he leans in closer. His hands are cold, an icy restraint to your feverish skin, and you shiver, goosebumps prickling along your arms.

"Last time, promise."

You don’t believe him. You shouldn’t.

But Rafayel’s voice is addictive, liquid gold, sinking into your skin, forcing you to relax against him just enough for his mouth to reacquaint itself with your swollen clit, immediately making you scream again as your hips mindlessly buck, writhing to get away, to find mercy from his touch as you fight to hold onto the last scraps of your fraying resolve.

“Don’t.” His voice is a purr, a low warning against your flesh as his hand tightens, pressing your wrists together, bruising. “Don’t run from me. Don’t make me chase you.”

Your body stills, responding to his command before you can even process what he's said. Surrendering as he hooks your ankles around his neck, forcing you up onto your shoulders as his tongue delves back into your cunt, curling inside you, savoring every spasm, every quiver. It’s a slow, indulgent kiss, his tongue is colder than his lips, drooling and messy as he brings you closer and closer to the edge for the nth time.

"You’d never leave me right?" His voice once again sings like a promise against your skin. "You can’t. You wouldn’t, she’s too sweet for that—" His nose grinds against your clit and you moan, seizing. "Always so needy, always taking me so well. Practically made to worship me."

You're babbling nonsense now, incoherent. Rafayel coos, kissing you through it, one hand never letting go of yours as the other greedily gropes up the plush of your ass, your breasts, and he watches with rapt fascination as you arch for him. He rolls your nipple between his fingers, and wonders absentmindedly how it is you humans produce milk. How he could get you to do that for him.

A deep trill vibrates through him at the thought, more felt than heard, a sound that curls around your ribs and settles there.

“You know that you’re mine, don’t you?” he breathes, voice dipping lower, “Mine. Made for me. Nothing else in this world could satisfy you like I do. You’ll never need another god.”

Rafayel’s words slip into you, twisting through your mind, settling like truth in your core. And just like that you shudder, body tensing, and you’re cumming again, hard.

Squirting across Rafayel’s awaiting mouth and jaw as you scream his name like a prayer, cum dripping down his heaving chest. Rafayel moans, lapping at the mess, and you feel his devotion in the way his entire body trembles as he consumes you, as he claims you, his offering, his sacrifice. His beloved bride.

His fingers subconsciously trace your empty ring finger. Worshiping it, memorizing it.

You don’t even realize you’re still nodding as his fingers loosen their grip on your thighs, finally setting you back down on the bed as a pleased little sound spills from his lips. His tongue drags up your limp body, lazy and lingering, kissing every inch of you, bringing your hand up to kiss your ring finger as well.

Nuzzling his face between your breasts, Rafayel looks up at you, eyes glowing, too bright, too colorful, too gorgeously inhuman.

When sensation finally returns to your legs, the haze of pleasure fading and your breath evening out, you’re revolted by the feeling of something releasing its hold on your mind. Shuddering, you press a hand to your temple, trying to shake off the eerie feeling of something slipping out of your head.

Rafayel watches you, tilting his head, his fingers brushing lightly down your arm as he pushes himself up on his elbows. Grabbing your chin, he swallows any questions you might have asked, kissing you with the same reverence he did your clit and every inch of your body before, the taste of you still on his tongue. When he pulls away, his expression is soft, almost tender, even as his hand curls back around your ankle, a possessive shackle.

“You’ll never need another god,” he repeats, the words sinking into your bones, echoing in your mind. His fingers tighten, just enough to make your breath hitch. “Because you’re mine.”

And yet, you’re the one who can’t seem to breathe without him.

You suppose it should scare you, knowing Rafayel isn’t human. Even if you have yet to understand what a Lemurian really is or wants, what Rafayel’s true form really looks like, what or who truly resides in him.

You suppose it should scare you that despite not knowing any of this, you listen to his every whim regardless.

The ocean is calm tonight, with the full moon hanging directly overhead and her silver providing the only light over rolling waves. You’re floating on your back, eyes closed, weightless in the gentle pull of the tide, safe knowing Rafayel couldn’t be far away. He never is.

At least, you can only assume that’s still the case. Since the ocean itself is dark enough that it blends in with the horizon, dark enough that you wouldn’t be able to see your own toes should you stop floating, the only sounds are the gentle crashing of waves on the distant shore.

Rafayel was untraceable in the water, his powerful twenty-foot-something Lemurian form outpacing yours as soon as he hit the water, cutting through the black waves with a grace that should be impossible for a creature of that size. That was nearly an hour ago, and only an occasional singing that seemed to both surround you and come from deep within the ocean served as reminders that your lover was never far away.

There it is again, that distant sorrowful song, and you try and hum along, not realizing how far from shore you’ve drifted.

Something brushes your ankle.

Jolting upright, you spit out a bit of salt water from your scare, scanning the horizon as you tread water. Rafayel is nowhere in sight.

Of course you don't even realize he's been circling you, tail cutting above the waves before twisting around your kicking legs. Laughter echoes into the night, sweet and addicting, enough to have your body relax involuntarily into the cold rock of the waves. Enough to send every other sea creature swimming away in terror.

Then, warmth. Hands, familiar and steady, slide up your bare ribs. There wasn’t even so much as a splash as Rafayel swims closer, arms pulling you in tight, nuzzling deep into the crook of your neck as you feel the entire length of his tail tighten like a coil around your body. He could drown you before you'd even remember to scream.

Rafayel kisses up your neck, savoring the taste of sea salt, arousal, and fear against the broad, cold length of his tongue. It feels rougher than usual.

“Need you, cutie.” A trill, something deep and low, vibrating in his chest as his entire body tightens its grip around you. Grinding up against you. “Need you s’bad.”

His voice is a low, syrupy murmur, words dripping into your ear with the same fluid grace as his body winding around yours. You shudder, pulse thrumming as the coil of his tail tightens, the powerful muscle shifting against your skin, keeping you perfectly in place. The realization should terrify you. Perhaps it should terrify you more that it doesn’t.

But Rafayel’s still nipping at the delicate skin of your neck and jaw as that soft, mournful hum resonates from his chest. The sound vibrates through your bones, familiar and soothing, seeping into your mind as easily as seawater through the crevices of a sinking ship.

You shiver, the sensation of his touch and the water deliciously cold against the heat pooling in your belly.

“Missed you,” he murmurs, turning you so you straddle only a fraction of his enormous tail, clinging to his shoulders and the scales that now rest there. “Hate that you can’t swim with me, can’t see my home.” There’s a teasing lilt to his voice, the same playful lightness you’ve heard a thousand times. But beneath it lies a deep, aching hunger that has his clawed fingers pressing into your ribs, hard enough to draw blood.

“I-It’s not exactly possible,” you stammer, voice shaking, breathless, the world narrowing to the feel of his enormous body wrapped around yours, the prodding of something slimy and thick between your legs, the soft vibration of his hum still echoing inside your head. “I can’t breathe underwater like you, Rafayel.”

He pouts at that, tail flexing, shifting, and you feel two other appendages begin to caress your thighs, gently snaking around them. Not that you could see what exactly they were, not with how impossibly dark the ocean is, left completely to his mercy.

“Poor little human,” Rafayel coos, feigning sympathy as his hands begin to wander, cupping and squeezing roughly at your breasts. A constant fascination he excuses for the fact that fish don’t produce milk and thus have no need for such… interesting appendages. “Your silly human body isn’t much fun. Too fragile. I can fix that.”

His words send a chill through you, something prickling at your spine—but then his lips are on yours, firm and insistent, stealing the breath from your lungs as his fingers tangle in your hair. His inhumanly long tongue invades your mouth, rough and tasting of salt and sea, and you melt, hands clawing into his shoulders as he swallows your moan, fucking his tongue down your throat.

His tail shifts again, something sharp nicking your inner thigh as you gasp into the kiss, only allowing Rafayel to press in closer, deeper, grinding against your core.

Your body reacts on instinct, earning another low trill, hips rolling to meet the pressure, Rafayel’s hands still busy pleasuring your chest as something else forces your legs wider, guiding his cock to grind against you once, twice, fighting the tense ring of muscle as you quiver.

“Please, cutie. Please let me in, my sweet darling. Please, please,” he’s rambling, begging so sweetly into your lips as you feel the jagged cut of his teeth trace down your neck, collarbone, grazing your nipple, licking up the drops of blood as your flesh splits as easily as rotten fruit on the edge of a knife. “So good to me. Always so good to me.”

You barely recognize the moan that leaves your throat—something needy, desperate. And at that sound Rafayel shudders, something else writhing against your pussy as it suddenly pushes in, thrusting and sucking gently at your entrance before following a rhythm he knows will make you fall apart.

“Rafayel, wait, cold. It’s cold—”

“Shh, you’ll warm it up.”

You can only moan in response, clinging onto Rafayel like a lifeline as the ocean surges around the both of you, your limbs trembling and useless as one of Rafayel’s hands goes to circle your clit, matching the tempo of his thrusts as you come undone with a silent scream.

“Say it again for me,” he whispers, reverence dripping from every syllable. His eyes—too blue, too bright—burn into yours, possessive, adoring, hungry. And when he looks at you like that, how could you ever refuse? “You’re mine, aren’t you?”

Your heart stutters. There’s a pull, something deep and heavy, sinking into your chest. The hum returns, curling around your thoughts, coaxing you to say the words, to give him what he wants. What you both want.

“Yes,” you whisper, the word slipping past your lips before you even realize it. “Yours.”

Rafayel’s pupils narrow into slits, and his mouth crashes against yours, hungry and savage. His tail tightens, grinding against you with purpose now, every slow roll of his hips sending another shockwave of pleasure through you, something else beginning to press up against you as well as the first intrusion begins to retreat from your poor overstimulated pussy.

“Do you trust me?” he asks, teeth scraping against your pulse, marking delicate skin of your throat. Something under the water coils tighter, pulling you closer, keeping you where you belong.

No.

“Yes.”

His laughter is the last thing you hear, soft and sweet, washing away every other thought before the roar of the ocean swallows you whole.

The cold is instant, biting, sinking into your bones as the saltwater tears into your nose and mouth. Panic claws up your throat as your chest seizes, lungs heaving uselessly, instinctively, drawing in nothing but seawater.

Instinct demands you thrash, but Rafayel is there, hugging around you like a devoted lover, like a predator with his kill. He drags you down deeper, enraptured, scales scraping against your skin as his body locks you against him, pressing you against the seafloor as the two of you hit the bottom, soft sand floating under your back.

How easy would it be, to leave you full of his brood and writhing, before dragging you to some island far, far away.

He’s dazed at the thought, still inside you, still thrusting, still playing with your body as if you aren’t suffocating, as if the way you kick and claw at his back, nails tearing into flesh and fins, is only a sign of pleasure. You feel him shudder, and it isn’t just from the tight, helpless way you squeeze around him.

It’s your eyes that Rafayel can’t seem to look away from. They’re wide, wild, locked on his face with desperate, pleading terror. Adoration. Fear. Love.

So human, so fragile, and all you can focus on is him, the rest of the ocean blurring into a black abyss.

Rafayel adores it, finally being the epicenter of your attention.

A low, pleased rumble vibrates through his chest, pupils blown wide, swallowing the blue of his eyes until they’re black and endless, reflecting your horrified face right back at you.

All the screaming has left you dizzy, and Rafayel moans, pushing deeper, grinding his enormous tail against your overstimulated clit as your throat convulses around a silent moan as you watch the bubbles leave your throat.

Smiling, Rafayel’s lips curl, exposing sharp, jagged teeth, feeling each shudder, each pitiful, heaving spasm as your lungs beg for oxygen. He wonders how they must feel, those delicate sacks of air tightening, twisting inside you.

Pressing his palm against your chest, right over your heart, Rafayel feels the stuttering beat as it races then begins to falter, slowing to a delicate pulse under his touch.

He could watch you like this forever.

Your nails rake down his arms, leaving raw, bloody scratches as the world begins to go dark. He shudders, his cock twitching inside you at the sting, the way you keep fighting even as your movements grow sluggish, your limbs growing heavy. Your chest heaves one last time, and then your eyes leave Rafayel’s, rolling back as your lips part in a silent prayer.

No. No, don't look away from him.

It makes Rafayel frown, wanting your gaze focused on him alone, wanting your attention back. He wants it forever. His tail coils, possessive, hugging you tight with all the devotion of a human lover as he finally, finally leans in, pressing his mouth to yours.

His hands come down to caress your jaw, fangs nicking your lips as he forces them apart, kissing air back into your lungs.

And you breathe in again, sobbing into the kiss, body trembling, clinging to Rafayel like he’s your lifeline. You do what he knew you would. You kiss him back. Desperate, dazed, pushing closer as though you don't realize there's no where else you could go, the deep, endless dark of the ocean yawning hungrily above you both.

He's close, so close now. Body nearly aglow with that eerie, deep-sea light, casting shadows onto your body as you welcome him even now, desperate for warmth, for safety, for him.

“Mine,” Rafayel sings against your lips in a language you cannot understand. Savoring the way you still arch up to kiss him again and again, desperate for his air and his touch despite it all. Despite knowing what he is. Despite knowing what he wants. “My mate.”

When he finally cums he feels it breach your womb, he feels you swell with it, feels it stick with how eagerly your body welcomes him, his perfect little human.

And for the first time, you truly wonder if you were meant to survive loving something like him.

#love and deepspace rafayel #rafayel love and deepspace #rafayel x reader #rafayel smut #lads rafayel #rafayel x you #love and deepspace #lnds rafayel #love and deepspace x reader #love and deepspace smut #lnds smut #lnds x reader #rafayel x mc #lnds

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n0-0neeee · 4 months ago

Note

💜💜💜

https://www.tiktok.com/t/ZTLBnwGM5/

Hi there again! I saw this tiktok and it immediately made me think of the boys. Do you think you could write something with Sirius or Remus coming home drunk and just being completely drunken lover boys and just r trying to hold back their laughs but also blushing and completely over taken by adoration of their boy. Hahah any way hope you have an amazing day!

omg babes this is so funny and cute. and I clearly didn't read your request carefully enough because you asked for Sirius or Remus but I gave you both 🫢 terribly sorry, please do forgive me. side note: I'm so pissed because I was going to tag this one poly!marauders fic that had the same premise and James comes home going "I hope she does wake up I missed her so much I think I'm going to throw up" all in the same breath and Sirius just abandons him and Moony in the kitchen to snuggle their girl and I can't find it! I actually scoured all my faves master lists to try to find it for you and I can't 😭 update!: a few followers did some sleuthing and found it, it's this fic by @luveline!!

poly!wolfstar x fem!reader when the boys come home drunk [and in love]

CW: mentions of drinking and drunkeness

You woke to the feeling of the bed dipping gently once, and then much less gently a second time.

“Pads, for fuck’s- Hi dovey.” Remus began hissing at Sirius before you opened your eyes to see him lying before you.

“Oh! Is she up now?” Sirius said approximately three decibels louder than necessary as he threw his heavy arm over your waist and roughly pulled you into his chest.

“Missed you s’much.” He slurred as he shoved his face into your neck.

“Mm, was boy’s night fun?” You asked through a stretch, sleep causing your words to tumble inelegantly out of your mouth.

“No.” Sirius harrumphed quickly as Remus moved a clumsy yet gentle hand to the side of your face.

“It was fun.” He conceded, earning him an indignant “was not” from your neck.

“Why didn’t you have fun, Sirius?”

Sirius scoffed as if you had asked a particularly ridiculous question. “Uhm, because my best girl wasn’t there?” He muttered into your hair, pulling you impossibly further into his chest.

“You’re gonna squash her, Sirius.” Remus admonished.

“Fine. Roll over babydoll.” Sirius ordered, pulling his arms away only to paw at your shoulder in an attempt to encourage you onto your other side.

You weren’t awake enough for this.

“Siri.” You whined petulantly. “What time is it?”

“Almost three.” Remus answered readily.

“Roll over.” Sirius asked again.

“Why?”

“‘Cause I wanna see your- your beautiful face.” Even through his slurring and hiccups, he still managed to be an incorrigible flirt.

“No, leave her. I’m looking at her right now.” Remus argued. You had to smother a laugh at how un-Remus-like he sounded when drunk, and made a mental note to tell him in the morning how petulant he was just to be rewarded with that beautiful blush you knew he’d wear.

“Tough; you’ll just have to look at me.” Sirius countered.

“I had to look at you all night!”

“Had to? Just what is- is that s’posed to mean, Moons?”

“Sirius, knock it - ouch!” Remus reached over you to return a mean pinch to Sirius’ side, causing an all out war to break out between the two.

“Fuckin’ hell.” You muttered as you extricated yourself from the bed. You barely made it down the hall before you heard a painful sounding thump and footsteps chasing you.

“Dovey! Wait!” Remus called, a little more out of breath than the few feet from your bedroom really called for. “You can’t go into the kitchen.”

You felt your face scrunch up in confusion. “Why not?”

“Because Remus broke a glass!” Sirius called, limping over from the bedroom.

“Squealer.” Remus muttered at Sirius as he teetered slightly into the wall beside him. “M’sorry dove. I dropped it in the- in the sink and will clean it tomorrow when, uhm…”

“When the world’s not so spinny anymore.” Sirius finished for him, nodding sagely at his own decree.

“You didn’t hurt yourself, did you?” You asked, looking carefully at his hands for any signs of blood.

“That’s so nice of you to ask.” He whispered in awe, allowing you to manipulate his hands in yours.

“Don’t act so surprised, Moony.” Sirius slurred. “She’s literally the nicest girl in the world.”

“She really is.” Remus agreed.

You blushed furiously and continued into the kitchen, mindful of any potential broken glass on the floor - though you were happy to note that it did appear all damage was contained within the sink - to grab three bottles of water from the fridge.

“I actually love her so much.” You heard Sirius whisper to Remus from around the corner.

“Me too.” Remus whispered back.

“I am so in love it’s actually a little bit embarrassing.”

“Me too.” Remus agreed again.

“Do you think she loves us as much?”

“Impossible.”

“Yeah I don’t think so either.”

“Well that’s not fair.” You interrupted as you rounded the corner again. “No one asked for my input.”

“Sorry, dollface. It’s just, I’m so far gone for you and Remus here is a certified simp so I already know it’s im- impossible for you to love us nearly as much.”

“It’s not a competition, Siri.” You admonished lovingly, handing him a bottle of water before passing one to Remus.

“You got these for us?” Remus whispered, sounding alarmingly close to tears. You chuckled at him and touched his cheek.

“‘Course I did, handsome.”

He shook his head as he stared at you in awe. “No; I definitely love you the most.”

“You do not!” Sirius argued quickly.

“It’s not a competition!” You reiterated.

“Fine.” They chorused as they followed you obediently to the bedroom.

“But if it was, I’d win.” Sirius proclaimed as he fell face first into the mattress.

Remus snorted before chugging almost half the bottle of water and dribbling some onto his sleep shirt.

“Did you break the glass trying to get a drink, bubs?” You asked him as you took the water bottle from him to recap it and he fought to catch his breath.

“Yeah.” He admitted looking terribly shamefaced. “I gave up on having water after that.”

You smiled and kissed his forehead before climbing into bed to situate yourself between the two boys.

You pressed your back into Remus in order to face Sirius who was already out cold and snoring lightly.

“You should’ve seen him tonight.” Remus started through a yawn. “Some girl tried hitting on him and he started screaming and asked me to ‘take him home to the most beautiful girl’.”

You held your hand to your mouth afraid that your beaming smile would somehow wake up Sirius for being entirely too bright.

“Yeah? What’d you do?”

You could tell Remus was nearly asleep when he finally answered you, sleep dragging out the syllables as he whispered them into your hair.

“I brought him home to you.”

#poly!wolfstar #poly!wolfstar x reader #remus lupin #sirius black #female reader #x reader #reader insert #sirius black x reader #remus lupin x reader

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n0-0neeee · 4 months ago

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💜💜💜

Cuddly wife, happy life.

Zayne was never the type to let others invade his space---but you changed that. Never been the cuddly type at first but you're an exception.

Imagine, he's in a zoom meeting with other doctors to discuss about their important meeting. And when he was instructed to open his cam---his colleagues was met by their head doctor having his wife snuggle against his chest while she sleeps.

His cardigan over your body and you snuggle at his scent. Zayne has a stoic look on his face as he holds you on his arms while you clung to him. His hand gently soothing your hair, careful not to wake you up.

All of his colleagues in the call watches in disbelief and awe---surprised to see the gloomy and serious Dr. Zayne be so soft to his wife. A rare sight.

"Dr. Zayne-"

"Continue your discussion."

They might need to get used of seeing that in a few zoom meetings.

masterlist

#lads #love and deepspace #love and deepspace x reader #love and deepspace zayne #lads zayne #lads x reader #zayne x mc #zayne x reader #zayne #zayne love and deepspace

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n0-0neeee · 4 months ago

Text

💜💜💜

𝚐𝚘𝚘𝚍 𝚖𝚘𝚛𝚗𝚒𝚗𝚐

⟢ poly!marauders x reader ⊹ 1.5k ⟢ your boys all have their own way of kissing you goodbye in the morning (ft. how each of the boys take their coffee) ⟢ warnings/tags: reader wears makeup, fluff

── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

Monday mornings are the worst. The adjustment from carefree weekends to the beginning of a long work week is never easy, but at least you have your boyfriends to ease the blow.

You’ve always been an early riser. Not because you are particularly a morning person, but because you need ample time to adjust from your deep sleep state to full alertness.

Although, you’re never the first to rise; that’s always James. As soon as the sun is up, it seems that so is he. Sometimes, he even beats the sun to it.

He does have the earliest start time out of all of you— him being a professional rugby player who’s due at practice as early as seven in the morning— but even if he didn't, you’re sure he would be up anyway. His morning regimen is even longer than yours, but aside from that, he is a true morning person.

He's good at keeping quiet, though. At least until the rest of the house is awake. You don’t even hear him pad into the kitchen as you’re stuck in a trance-like state, watching your drip coffee maker slowly fill the glass jug with the steamy, black beverage. It’s been five minutes and the steady drip of coffee is hypnotizing to your sleepy mind.

It’s only when James’ arms snake around your waist that you notice his presence; and you’re not startled at all as James nuzzles his nose into the side of your neck. You’ve come to expect him around this time, it being nearly time for him to leave for the day.

“G’morning, love,” he murmurs into your skin, pressing a tender kiss there.

Your hands slip away from the granite countertop where they were waiting and come to rest over his hands that join over your stomach.

“Good morning, Jamie,” you whisper softly, letting your eyes flutter closed as you feel his warmth behind you.

The two of you stay like that for a few minutes while you let the coffee machine finish its task. James has always been the touchiest of all the boys, and it almost seems like he can’t start his day properly without a lasting embrace before he leaves.

When the coffee machine fizzles to a stop, James begins to ease away from you with a sigh, kissing your cheek on his departure.

“Smells good,” James comments, rummaging through the cabinets to retrieve his travel mug and a porcelain one for you.

You watch fondly as he pours your coffee first and fixes it the way you like it. He slides the mug down the counter and you gingerly take it into your hands. It’s still too hot to drink but the warm porcelain is always a treat for your skin.

James prepares his own cup next, complete with milk and plenty of sugar. He has always liked the sweeter things in life, although he doesn’t always indulge himself. But his coffee is the one thing he’ll never skimp sugar on.

With his coffee in one hand, he takes you by your waist in his other, pulling you a step closer to him.

“I better go,” he says, a small pout displayed on his lips at the thought of leaving you.

You nod understandingly and tilt your head up, giving him the access he needs to press his lips to yours. His goodbye kisses are always tender and lingering, him taking his time to savor the moment.

When he does finally pull away, he gives your waist a warning squeeze before the feeling of his lips on yours becomes a memory. Before he completely withdraws, he brushes your noses together, mumbling, “Miss you already.”

“See you soon,” you reassure him. “I love you.”

“I love you too,” he says, eyes twinkling with warmth as he makes his departure.

A content sigh leaves your lips as you pull a mug that matches your own from the cabinet. After filling it to the brim with black coffee, you take it and yours to the table.

You take a sip of your coffee as you settle into your chair, humming happily and thinking of James fondly for making you the perfect cup.

It’s only a few minutes later when Remus joins you, settling into the seat next to you.

“Good morning, darling.”

“Morning, Rem,” you say, smiling happily as you watch him take his seat.

Remus returns your smile, taking the mug from the table with gratitude as he thanks you before taking a long sip of the dark beverage.

Remus always likes to spend a little time with you in the morning before he leaves for work, which sparked this tradition of enjoying your coffee together. Sometimes you have a conversation, but Mondays mornings are usually spent in a comfortable silence. Still, Remus makes his presence known with a hand on your thigh under the table, tracing circles into your skin with his thumb.

When you and Remus finish your coffees, you take the mugs to be rinsed in the sink. At the same time, Sirius bounds into the kitchen with purpose— always the last to rise even though he has to be the second out the door.

“Good morning, my loves,” he says, his voice ringing out with the exuberance of midday, despite the early hour.

You and Remus greet him as he beelines for the coffee pot. His own travel mug is swiftly retrieved and he doesn’t waste any time before pouring the last of the coffee into his cup.

Every morning, Sirius always tries a sip of the coffee the way Remus likes it as if one day his perspective will be changed. But it always ends with him wrinkling his nose and curbing the bitterness with more milk than there was originally coffee in his cup.

He takes another sip and hums, “Much better.”

Remus chuckles at Sirius’ antics, never understanding why he doesn’t just make the coffee he likes in the first place. His laughter draws Sirius’ attention, and you watch as he approaches Remus with haste.

Sirius rounds the table to settle behind his boyfriend, wrapping his arms around his shoulders as he bends down and begins leaving sloppy kisses to his neck and jawline.

“Something funny?” he asks between kisses.

"No," Remus denies, turning his head to catch one of Sirius' kisses with his lips. "Course not," he adds, his words slightly mumbled before Sirius moves a hand to the back of his head, deepening the kiss.

You lean against the sink, watching the interaction between your boyfriends adoringly. Sirius' eyes flutter open, feeling your eyes on them. He smirks into the kiss with Remus as your eyes meet, savoring the moment for a little longer before he breaks it.

After he ruffles Remus' hair in parting, he saunters over to your with a hungry look in his eyes. His hands come down on your sides firmly when he reaches you, pulling you in until you're standing hip to hip. Sirius is touchy too, but in a different way than James.

"Thanks for brewing the coffee, beautiful," he says coolly, a certain level of charm always present in his voice as if he's still trying to impress you after all this time.

He expresses his gratitude by capturing your lips in an intimate kiss. His hands slide around your body, settling on your lower back for leverage as he pushes you impossibly closer. Sirius' mouth moves against yours hungrily, his hands roaming your body still, traveling lower.

You're breathless when he pulls away. "It's seven in the morning," you comment, winded.

Sirius smirks and presses a final peck to your puffy lips.

“A bit past, actually. Which means I’m late,” he says, feigning concern as he glances at the clock over the stove.

He pats your backside before slinking away, retrieving his coffee and wasting no time to make his exit.

“I love you both!” he calls as he makes his way out of the kitchen, and you and Remus shout your affections back in response as he disappears from view.

The remaining two of you slip back into your own morning routines, finishing getting ready for the work day.

Remus leaves before you too, but first he settles against the edge your vanity to watch you put the finishing touches on your makeup.

When you put your tube of mascara down, Remus gently takes your hand and lifts it to his mouth. He presses a sweet kiss to your knuckles.

“I’ll see you tonight, dove,” he remarks, bending down to kiss the top of your head. He places your hand in your lap to opt for cradling the side of your head, stroking your hair fondly.

“Bye,” you whisper, looking up at him with equal affection.

His face hovers near yours. “I love you,” he says in between pressing kisses to each of your cheeks.

“I love you too.”

With that Remus presses a final peck to your lips and leaves for work.

You’re not too far behind him, locking up the house a mere ten minutes later.

When you arrive at work, beaming and energized, one of your coworkers makes their usual comments.

“You’re awfully cheery. You do know today’s Monday?”

But how could you not be, with the ghost of your boyfriends’ recent affections lingering on your lips.

── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

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n0-0neeee · 5 months ago

Text

💜💜💜

𝐦𝐚𝐲 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐛𝐞 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞

word count: 11.8k

summary: After the war is successfully won, Remus is left with one last battle to face: The Ministry’s order to all werewolves and survivors to attend a support group in order to effectively be accepted into regular workplaces. You face a similar dilemma, being forced to attend the group in order to not lose your precious spot in the Quidditch league. You find each other somewhere in between.

tags: scars mention but with no detailed description. some violence. hurt/comfort themes all around, along with some fluff. fem!reader, reader has hair long enough to be played with. smoking and cigarettes are big plot points. found family. background jilypad, harry is a menace. minimal y/n use. nobody dies, post-war fic.

a/n: hi helloo!! well, here is my next work… i’m really excited about this one. terribly sorry for the 11k words, i got a bit carried away the more i proofread. again, likes and reblogs are greatly appreciated. enjoy! xx

...

“Fuck.”

Remus stepped out to face the humid day, the consequence of his harsh movements immediately made itself known in the pain of his joints. His hand trembled as he placed the cigarette between his lips, somewhere behind him steps interrupted his silence.

“You alright, Moons?” Asked James, taking a tentative step towards his friend. Remus nodded, taking his time to savour the smoke in his lungs. “‘M sorry about what happened—”

“It’s hardly your fault.” He shook his head, and James sighed. “I just… I just don’t think it’s very fair.”

“I know,” He passed the cigarette to James, who accepted it readily, his own anxiety barely contained. “Don’t know what Dumbledore was thinking.”

“I don’t think this is directly his doing, either.” Said Remus, eyes lingering a beat too long on the scars peeking through the sleeve of his jacket. James passed him the cigarette. “If anything, the support group is probably the best solution he could come up with.”

“Surely you’re not thinking of attending, Remus?”

“And what am I supposed to do, James? Be a stay at home nobody taking care of your son while you go on about your day? ‘Cause no one will give me a job because of this–” He closed his eyes, horrified at the edge of his own voice and mortified at the tears threatening to leave his eyes. He threw the cigarette to the ground and stepped on it, eyes now lost in nothing. “‘Sides… You heard the man, it’s non-negotiable.”

“Well, I could pull in a few–”

“It’s fine, Prongs.” James frowned, but let it go. Remus sighed and pushed his hands inside his pockets, fingers itching to pull another cigarette out of the box. “I’m not too miffed about it, really. It’s just… The idea of airing my… my lycanthropy to people I don’t know has me feeling a little uncomfortable. But I’ll survive. What’s the worst that could happen?”

What he almost did not survive, however, was the electric shock he felt coursing through his veins when he spotted you outside Janus Thickey Ward, fingers anxiously picking at the skin of your lips and pacing around the corridor.

Now it’s important to point out that Remus, in all his half-blood upbringing, never once he considered himself religious, but in that moment he prayed to every saint he could remember that it was all a coincidence, or at least a misunderstanding. How could you, a well-known and incredible witch, stand before him– a nervous wreck, minutes before the so-called Werewolves and Survivors Support Group meeting he had been dreading all week, when not so long ago you were on the cover of Witch Weekly?

“Ah, Mr. Lupin,” Said the healer as she stepped out the door, you looked up, fear deeply rooted in the frown of your eyebrows. “How kind of you to join us, come, come! We’re about to begin our session.” She ushered him in, and Remus found himself unable to tear his gaze away from you as he stepped into the room.

Remus immediately moved to take the closest seat to the door, but he was horrified to find all the chairs neatly arranged with signs with different names. He sighed, reached inside his jacket’s inner pocket for a cigarette and sat on the tiny chair labeled as Remus J. Lupin. His amber eyes scanned the room and the people quietly chatting around, each of them with visible scars to match his very own, people he recognized from packs he visited during his own missions. But you remained a mystery to him as you walked to your chair, next to his, and plucked the cigarette out of his lips.

“We’re in a hospital,” You said, your tone bored and a complete opposite to the state he found you in minutes before. “Have some respect.”

“Yeah, well,” He shrugged but pocketed the cigarette for later. “None of these people mind, I assure you, they already go through hell and back, every month, mind you.”

You eyed him curiously and opened your mouth, but whatever words you were about to speak were interrupted as the healer walked towards the center of the room. He inhaled deeply and laid back in his chair, ready to get through the session with the most patience he could muster.

“Good evening, everyone. I’m Healer Figg and I will be in charge of moderating this support group, therefore you must report to me upon arrival in order to keep track of the attendees. The names provided will not be published nor shared without your permission unless you are in a position where you could endanger yourself or your fellow companions.” She said, making a point of looking at everyone in the room. Remus swallowed hard. “Now, who wants to begin?”

And well, Remus desperately wanted to say he genuinely enjoyed the session, but that would’ve been a complete lie, especially when he spent most of it wishing it was over. Every now and then, he dared to look over at you, your expression blank but your fingers a clear sign of your anxiety as you toyed with your hair. Sometimes you would feel his lingering eyes on you and meet his gaze, your own eyes desperately trying to hide the mixture of emotions inside your chest.

“And what about you? What’s your name, love?” Asked the healer, and you looked up to find her addressing the question to you. You mumbled your name, a slight edge to your voice as murmurs echoed around the room. “What brings you here, y/n?”

“Do I have to?” You asked, trying to get impossibly smaller in your chair. The healer smiled, as if she was accustomed to those responses.

“If you want to be signed off, yes, you have to.”

You closed your eyes, as if her answer physically pained you. Remus supposed it did, him being familiar with the after moon aches that came with his own condition, you probably weren’t so far off.

“Um, well, I was uh… my family was attacked by a,” You paused, scanning the room. “By a werewolf.” The room remained silent as you tried to gather your thoughts. “I’m the only survivor.”

“Oh, sorry to hear that, love.” Healer Figg said, and scribbled something in her pad before looking back up at you. You, for your part, seemed grateful for the pause to collect yourself. “Is this why you’re here? To find some sense of community?”

You frowned, “Um, no…? Not, really. I, uh, I play for the Holyhead Harpies, the league said I must attend these meetings or they’ll remove me from the primary team.” A shaky breath left your lips, but you recovered quickly, visibly more relaxed as you added, “See, otherwise Partridge would fill my spot and that wouldn’t do anyone any good, crazy woman, that one.” At that, Remus couldn’t help himself from snorting at your statement.

Healer Figg turned to him, eyes curious. “Is something the matter, Mr. Lupin?”

“What? No, no.” He shook his head immediately, hoping his disruption wouldn’t encourage the healer to ask him any questions. “Terribly sorry.” He mumbled, properly chastised.

You smirked, and turned to the healer, who looked down at her pocket watch and clapped loudly. “Oh, it seems we overstayed our welcome here, a retired globins meeting will take place shortly in this room, so we must wrap this up. Thank you for coming.” Remus blinked, suddenly aware of everyone around him standing up, you included. “Refreshments are free for everyone to take. I’ll see you next week.”

He made to turn to you, an apology frizzling in his tongue but he frowned as he watched you walk out the room without looking back. Remus frowned and tried to follow you, however, his fellow werewolves circled him with numerous questions about his work on the Order of the Phoenix, all grateful for his help towards the werewolves rights movement. His eyes lingered a beat longer on the door and surprised himself when he realized he looked forward to the next meeting.

—

You stared hard at the flame at the end of your cigarette, your fingers shaking slightly a result of the cold weather and your tiresome tendency of forgetting your gloves. A habit you unconsciously picked up since the attack, still used to how your own mother would meet you at the door to properly help you bundle up for the low temperatures, walking away with a faint kiss mark on your cheek, before you lost her to– You shook your head, willing your head to think about something else, something less disturbing.

Few members you recognized from the previous session walked past you, waving and giving you courteous nods as they themselves mentally prepared for the meeting. You gave yourself a couple of more minutes before entering.

When the captain of your team walked to you with the news, sadness in her own eyes barely contained, you had half the mind to quit the team for good. The trauma of the attack still lingering in your body as she explained the reasons behind the league’s decision, and she begged you to consider it. You weren’t stupid, you knew the possibility of losing you was as much of a tragedy to the team than it was to you, but the idea of speaking out about what happened in front of unknown people who had managed to survive their very own attacks with much worse consequences, made you queasy in your stomach. You supposed you had it better than them, therefore you had less reasons to make a fuss about the whole ordeal, when they had full moons to dread and transformations to suffer; suddenly your new acquired taste for medium rare, almost raw meat being the only consequence of your own attack seemed a pointless thing to cry about.

“Hey,” You turned, only to find Remus Lupin’s tall figure walking to you. He seemed far more relaxed than last week, very much like you. Both filled with acceptance towards the situation. “Can I have one?”

You wordlessly passed him your carton, he nodded as he opened it and grabbed your lighter from inside as well. A bemused smile tugged at the corners of his lips at the green and gold embellishments in the lighter, the Holyhead Harpies logo front and center, you bit your lip and looked away trying to hide your smile.

“Sorry about the other day,” He said between an exhale of smoke. You turned to him again. “Didn’t mean to laugh at your… your situation.”

“It’s quite alright, I knew you weren’t.” You smiled. Remus nodded and opened his mouth to speak, but you beat him to it. “You play Quidditch, Mr. Lupin?”

Remus supposed he had that one coming. “Call me Remus, please.” He stretched his free hand out and you shook it, your soft palm against his own scarred skin. You said your name quietly and he had no qualms in hiding his own smile. “Oh, I know. But not because I’m a Quidditch fan myself.”

“Well, isn’t that a shame.” You stepped on your cigarette, your boot making a faint sound against the concrete. “Thought Potter had brain washed you by now.”

“Ah, yes. Well, he thinks I’m a lost case when it comes to Quidditch so,” You chuckled quietly, remembering James Potter and his intensity whenever you encountered him at the pitch. “Lily won’t believe me I’m talking to you, though. She’s a big fan.”

He enjoyed the way you blushed at his compliment, “Oh, that’s nice. Tell her I said hi?” You said as you walked to the entrance, he stared at your back as you disappeared into the building.

Remus smiled to himself, blowing the smoke out one last time before putting out his own cigarette. An optimistic feeling lingering inside his chest as he walked inside, maybe this support group idea wasn’t so bad, the more he thought about your tiny smile and faint blush, the more he was looking forward to the next session.

—

“Harry, please,” Remus begged, the tiny wooden spoon in his hand mid air as the baby shook his head mutely. “You had this just the other day, and you loved it!”

“No.” He said, apparently loving that word when it wasn’t used against him. “Bad Moony!”

“Bad Moony?!” He asked, aghast. James laughed from his spot on the couch. “James, what have you done to your child? Just yesterday he couldn’t leave me alone!”

“James.” Chided Lily as she walked into the kitchen, assessing her own son and the tall man miserably trying to feed him. She placed her hands on her hips, “Could you stop terrorizing Remus, for once in your life? Here, love,” She made to them and Remus stood up readily, passing her the spoon.

“Terrorizing?!” James echoed, entering the kitchen with faux offense. “It’s hardly my fault Harry decided to antagonize everyone today. If anything it’s Remus' fault for not learning to pick his battles.”

“Prongs, be nice, I met your hero last night.”

“Oh?” Lily turned, her attention divided between the conversation and feeding her son, who, for his part, knew better than to disobey his mother and happily ate her offerings. “Who might this hero be?”

Remus frowned at Harry before turning to his friends. “Remember y/n, from school?”

“What?” James exclaimed, suddenly in front of Remus. The bespectacled boy grabbed him by the shoulders, hazel eyes big with surprise. “From the Holyhead Harpies? Where? Why have you held this information from me? Moony, what the f–”

“James.” Lily chided again, now busying herself cleaning baby Harry’s face. Remus sent her a pleading look. “Besides, if Remus wants to keep his late night rendezvous with this pretty girl to himself, it’s his own decision.”

“Thank you.” Remus nodded, meeting James’ eyes with a satisfactory smirk. Then turned back to the redhead. “Hold on, rendezvous is not the word I’d use. It was just a coincidence.”

“Was it?” Lily asked, irking an eyebrow. “My mistake, then. Your face is saying a completely different thing, though.”

James seemed to catch his wife’s meaning immediately and smirked salaciously at his friend. Remus groaned and dropped his head to his hands. There was shuffling around and little Harry’s babbling making background noise as Lily walked to change his now food-stained clothes.

“Wait, where did you meet her last night?” James asked after a long silence. “I thought you had– Oh.”

Remus suddenly felt like this was a conversation none of them had any right in participating. He looked away, eyes lost in the way Lily cooed quietly at Harry as she changed his clothes. A heavy feeling in his chest he suspected was merely guilt, surely he wouldn’t want anyone to go on about his business with other people. Especially when the topic was still raw from the war that had just ended.

James reached over and patted his shoulder consolingly. “Don’t worry, I won’t say anything.”

“Say anything about what?” Asked Sirius, having just walked in time to listen to their hushed conversation. “What are you two babbling about? Remus, what happened to best friends?”

“Your own fault for going only God knows where.” Remus retorted with a shake of his head, grateful for the change of topic.

“I’ll have you know I was away buying healing potions for you, dearest Moons.” He said, presenting him with a heavy, brown bag. Remus sighed. “And before you say anything, I absolutely do guarantee you that I don’t mind buying these at all. You’re not the only one with battle scars, alright?”

“Hardly.” James snorted, “Love, getting into a row with a random dog does not count as battle. That’s you being a complete plonker.”

Sirius gasped, “We’ll see if this plonker is free tomorrow morning to watch over Harry when you and my gorgeous Lilyflower leave for work.”

“Watch over your own son, you mean?” Remus asked, but James beat him to it.

“Remus can watch Harry, don’t ya, Moons?”

He laughed loudly and stood up, “No can do, Jamie. I have important matters to attend to.”

“Are said matters a new code for a certain lovely Quidditch player, perhaps?” Asked Lily as she walked in with Harry on her hip, who stretched his arms out as soon as he spotted his father.

“Scandalous!” Gasped Sirius as he held Harry to his side. Remus groaned, not at all planning to participate again in the same conversation. “And who this lovely Quidditch player might be?”

“Alright, I’m leaving.” He nodded shortly, and turned around. Harry shrieked happily as the man kissed his head lovingly. “Bye, Harry.”

“No kiss for us, Moony?” Lily asked jokingly, wiggling her eyebrows at him. Remus groaned, betrayed that his own best friend would join in on the banter against him. “Or are you reserving those for—”

“A menace. The three of you.” He said, and walked to the door. “Keep this up and I’ll take Harry from you, this is your first warning!”

—

“What else was I supposed to do?!” Remus asked, his own smile barely contained as he heard you laughing next to him. “I was going crazy, it seemed appropriate at the time!”

“Alright, I’ll give you that,” You allowed, straightening your posture where you laid next to him against a wall. Remus blushed faintly when your arms brushed his when you brought the cigarette to your lips. “But surely you could’ve picked a better song… Changes? Really?”

“Oh, I’ll have you know it would be the best song to die to. Anything from Bowie really,” He considered it, then added, “Or Pink Floyd.”

“Okay, Pink Floyd I can accept.” You nodded, meeting his gaze with a soft smile. Remus suddenly thought that you looked very lovely under the low street lights. “Didn’t realize you were such a music snob... Well, I suppose it makes sense, keeping to yourself all the time at school.”

And well, Remus couldn’t really blame himself for the way his heart almost leaped out of his chest at your comment, the insinuation that you had noticed him back then. He hoped you wouldn’t notice his blush, or the loud way his heart was beating against his ribcage. You blew out the smoke from the corner of your lips, you had painted them a pretty shade of red he admitted to love, but there was something about your eyes, lost in nothing during the session and now next to him, you seemed… sad.

“And that’s enough about me.” He cleared his throat, moving to lay over his shoulder against the wall so he could fully face you. You looked over at him with surprise. “Tell me about you.”

“About me?” You asked incredulously, as if Remus wanting to know about you never crossed your mind. He nodded, eyes soft as he studied you. “Um, well… I don’t know, what do you want to know?”

“Anything.” He shrugged, smiling at you as you frowned, your eyebrows scrunching adorably. “Or at least tell me something I wouldn’t find in that bloody magazine.”

You smiled, visibly relaxed at the olive branch he offered you. “Read much about me?” Now it was Remus’ turn to smile sheepishly at you.

“You know what I mean.”

“Okay…” You looked up and brought your free hand to pick at the skin of your lips, a deep rooted habit of yours, he noticed. “Oh, I know. When I was little, the first time I showed signs of magic,” You began, meeting his gaze with a tentative look, something in his eyes motivated you to grow momentum as you continued, “I was outside playing with Sylvie, our family cat, and I don’t remember correctly but my mam said something about her not listening to me that made me so angry that I sent her flying… quite literally.” You laughed, a melancholic glint in your eyes as you placed the cigarette in your lips.

Remus watched in awe at the red lipstick stains on the filter, but he recovered quickly when you looked at him, “Hold on… You sent your cat…? Flying?” He barked a laugh, surprising both of you.

You laughed, nodding. “Pretty much, yes. She was alright, in case you’re worried. We found her a couple of hours later, she was stuck on a tree.”

Remus smiled, “And did Sylvie ever forgive you for that? I’m sure you scared the wits out of her.”

“Nah, that bloody thing wasn’t scared of anything.” You shook your head, your chuckles taking a sad note. Remus frowned. “She quite literally threw herself at Greyback and his pack when he came pounding at our door, fearless creature, that one.”

Remus felt the air getting sucked out of his lungs at your words. You exhaled deeply and chanced a glance at him, your eyes wide and fearful.

“I… I’m sorry.” You whispered, harshly throwing your cigarette down to put it out. Remus followed your movements in silence. “Don’t know why I–”

“It’s okay. No need to be sorry, certainly not on behalf of that… that,” He sighed deeply, not courageous enough to finish his sentence, instead, he cleared his throat. “Back there, when you said you said you reckoned Voldemort targeted you…”

You studied him quickly, a slight purse to your lips as you considered your words. “I’m muggleborn, so...” You shrugged, as if that simple fact would make the tragedy obvious, or remotely acceptable.

“Oh.” You sent him a sideways smile, a small trembling thing. Remus wanted to reach out and… What? Do what? He wasn’t sure, but you seemed desperate to change the topic, or leave. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s alright, hardly your fault.” You straightened your posture, fingers anxiously fixating on a patch of skin in your lips. Remus bit his own lips as he considered you, and desperately thought on another topic, anything to stop you from leaving. “See you soon, then?” You offered.

“Yeah,” He breathed out, nodding quickly. A candle of hope lighting up inside his chest. You smiled at him, a similar hopeful look in your eyes. “Yes, of course.”

“Bye, Remus.”

Remus watched you go, a frown in his face. He sighed and laid back on the wall, feeling rather good about the exchange despite the sour turn of events. He had hoped to ask for your number at some point after the session, heart aching to get to know you better, but he supposed it could’ve ended much worse. Eventually you both had to address the elephant in the room, but he could wait, he was willing to wait an eternity if it meant to keep you a bit longer in his life.

He sighed deeply, reaching out for another cigarette before parting to his own flat. The lighter you brought him heavy on his pocket. You had handed it to him with a mischievous smile, so you stop taking mine, you said while handing it to him when you both noticed yours had ran out of fluid. Remus smiled around the cigarette and brought the lighter to his lips, but his eyes stopped on the messily handwriting on it. Your number.

—

As the days passed, you weren’t ashamed to admit the giddiness that possessed you when you returned to your flat from practice, fingers itching for the telephone to talk to Remus. Both of you made a routine to end your days with long conversations that easily lasted all night, asking questions that you both usually would hold back from but were feeling confident enough with the help of the distance and the telephone.

“Harry, stop,” Hissed Remus through the other line, you smiled. Muffled sounds came from his side, no doubt wrestling with his godson for the telephone. “Sorry. He’s in a mood.”

“It’s okay. He seems like a firecracker, that one.” You pointed, fingers toying with the telephone cord. “Again, can’t really blame him when he has James Potter and Sirius Black genes. Next time you see Lily please offer her my most sincere condolences.” Remus laughed, cradling the phone between his ear and shoulder.

“I will do that, definitely. Add mine as well, while I’m at it.” He mumbled, and laid back and away from Harry’s hand trying to grab the phone from him, he balanced the baby on his lap and used a hand to raise it away from him. “Harry, no. Moony is on a call with a very pretty girl, do you want to play with your toys? A nap maybe?” He whispered, and you smiled against your own phone. Surely not meant to hear the last bit.

You turned to the clock in your kitchen, reading the time and inhaled deeply, mustering all the courage you could manage.

“Need help with him?” You offered quietly, hoping to not be heard over Harry’s shrieking.

There was no response from the other side and you felt both relieved and disappointed, you scolded yourself for thinking that way.

Then, “You don’t mind?”

“Not at all, I’m not very well versed in babysitting but I’m sure two is better than one.” You said, your grip on the phone tightened as you stared at your socked feet. “I don’t mean to impose, I just…”

“It’s alright.” Remus breathed out, sounding equally nervous to how you felt. You let your hopefulness linger a bit longer. “Ever been to Godric’s Hollow?”

You smiled, and just like that, as soon as he provided you instructions for apparition and gave you a very heartfelt goodbye, you rushed to your room and changed your clothes. Fingers tingling with excitement as you locked your own apartment and made to apparate right to Godric’s Hollow. The Potter cottage sat at the very heart of the village, a pretty looking house decorated with well-tended flowers and warmth radiating from every angle you looked at it. A home that drowned in love despite it almost being a cause of tragedy in the wizarding community.

Remus smiled at you as he opened the door, tiny Harry clinging to his side as both studied you. His light brown hair was tousled, standing on all sides in a clear show of his distress, but his amber eyes looked at you so, so softly you almost melted right there despite the snow surrounding you. You waved shyly, and he seemed to snap out of his trance.

“Hi,” He breathed out. “I’m glad you could make it.”

“Hi,” You echoed with a chuckle. Harry blinked at you, his green eyes, a carbon copy of Lily’s, scanning you curiously. “I brought biscuits.” And just like that, you proved yourself worthy to Harry. “Can I come in?”

“Yes, of course.” He nodded, stepping aside to let you in. You were immediately welcomed by the faint smell of hazelwood and baby powder. “Here, let me take that.” He tried to help you, but his arms were full.

“It’s okay,” You laughed, feeling rather comforted that Remus himself didn’t know what to do.

You took out your coat, arms raising to untangle the scarf from your neck. Remus’ eyes involuntarily roved over your form, stopping on the scars peeking through your abdomen, he immediately scolded himself when you looked up to meet his gaze, blind to his reaction. Harry took your lack of layers as an opportunity to reach his arms out, his eyes now fixated on the biscuits you held in your hand.

“Oh,” You said as the baby basically launched himself into your arms. Remus chuckled and took the bag from your hand and you properly fixed your hold around Harry. “Hello, little one. I’m y/n.” His response came in a happy shriek followed by incoherent babbling, you smiled. “Well, it’s very much my pleasure to help you take care of Moony. Is he giving you a hard time?” You said and Remus let out a startled chuckle.

His heart did a funny little dance when his family nickname came out of your lips. “Oi, stop talking about me like I’m not here.” He said, words taking a sweet quality.

“Sorry, sorry,” You smiled up at him and he guided you towards the sitting room. “Well, isn’t this a cozy home?” Harry babbled excitedly, fisting your jumper. “Oh, you did this? You got good taste, Harry.”

Remus felt his heart bursting inside his chest, so he walked to the kitchen to put the kettle on, desperately trying to distract himself before he could lose all his strength to not walk up to you and kiss you silly. He smiled to himself as he listened to you whispering here and there to Harry.

“Tea, dove?” He called out.

“Oh, sure.” You said, voice muffled as the toddler placed his hands on your cheeks. Remus felt like he was very much on the same wavelength. You laughed. “Is he always this touchy, or just his mood like you said?”

Remus walked in with two cups in his hands, “It’s usually the pretty girls that have him acting like this.” He laughed at you wrestling with baby Harry, who tried to bring your hair to his mouth. “I can hardly blame him–Harry, stop that.” He chided, placing them on the coffee table to reach over and take the baby from your lap.

“It’s really okay, Remus.” You said, smiling up at him as you studied him with the baby in his arms. You very much wanted to kiss him, your heart still reeling from being called pretty. Twice. “He’s probably going to tire himself off soon, didn’t you say it’s past his bedtime?” You reached over for your cup, trying very hard to hide your blush.

“Yes, indeed it is.” Remus leveled Harry in front of him, the baby simply giggled and grabbed his face, very much like he did to you before. You laughed over the rim of your cup. “He just enjoys antagonizing me, don’t you, Harry? He’s very much like Sirius on that front.”

“I’m sure he’ll crash out soon,” And as the words slipped past your lips, Harry paused his ministrations to Remus’ face to let out a big yawn. Both you and Remus smiled triumphantly. “See?” You whispered.

“I’ll go put him down quickly.” Said Remus very quietly, lowering Harry to his chest, you nodded mutely, eyes in a daze as you admired them both. The domesticity of it all. “Make yourself comfortable, I’ll be back in a second,” He looked down at Harry, then added, “Hopefully.”

You watched him climb up the stairs no doubt to Harry’s nursery and sighed deeply, eyes scanning the room with something akin to longing. The walls were filled with photographs in every space, all the way to the ceiling; most of them were solo shots of Harry, him laughing, crawling and one even bawling his eyes out, the image shaky as if the person taking it was debating between consoling the baby or capturing the moment. The rest you recognized from school, Lily and James and their first kiss after a match, you remembered that moment, then James and Sirius kissing mid-air, each on their broom, a scarlet crowd behind them, or them celebrating graduation day. The biggest one, though, was the one from their wedding, the one you vaguely remembered seeing one morning on the Daily Prophet. Lily looked beyond beautiful, her crimson, long hair in contrast with the white dress. James and Sirius both sported almost matching tuxedos, a lily of the valley arrangement for their boutonnières. The three with wide smiles that could be seen from earth, you were sure.

The photograph that caught your eye, though, was the one of Remus and Lily on the dance floor from her wedding day, a candid shot of them lost in the moment, laughing away despite the growing tensions. He looked very handsome as he twirled Lily around, you immediately noticed, your heart skipping a beat as your eyes rovered over the photo. You moved your head to look over to the next one, but a large hand covered it from you.

Remus laughed at your startled face. “Oh, don’t,” You blinked again, but recovered quickly and frowned at him. “What?”

“You think I was admiring you?” You asked, a surprised chuckle left his lips and you stopped fighting against your own smile. “I’ll have you know Lily immediately caught my eye, I see where ickle Harry got his looks from.”

He walked over to stand next to you, both of you admiring the photographs in silence. “I’ll tell Sirius you said that, enjoy your time here cause I just know he won’t let you come in the future.” A giggle escaped you, startling him as he turned to you. He desperately wished to drown in the sound of your quiet, girly giggling. “Thank you for coming.”

“No problem,” You smiled up at him, his eyes unconsciously fixating on a spot on the corner of your lips. “You’re so good with him, really patient, too.”

“Yeah, well,” He brought a hand to his nape, shy in his movements. “I had plenty of practice with James and Sirius.” His eyes softened as he looked back at you, the corner of his lips tugging slightly. “But again, all I needed to calm those down was to threaten them to burn their shared T. Rex autographed record, so…”

“I assume Harry doesn’t own a T. Rex autographed record for you to threaten, then?”

“Well, no,” He conceded, following you back to sit on the couch. Really close, you noticed immediately with a smile on your face. “But he does have a Quidditch star as a babysitter so he might have some advantage there.”

You snorted. “Please tell me you did not just compare me to Marc Bolan.”

Remus found himself scooting a bit closer to you under the pretense of grabbing his own cup, if you noticed, you didn’t show, but your smile was blinding. Your sudden closeness brought out a nervous, happy giggle out of you. You slid your finger around the rim of your cup, Remus’ eyes followed your movements in a daze.

He cleared his throat, suddenly aware of the silence between you, “If James is to be believed, you might as well be the league’s very own Bolan,” You blinked, clearly not expecting that response from him. “And uh, well, I remember some matches from school too, you’re really good, dove.”

“Remus…”

“What? It’s not like I’m lying, I’ve got people to back me up.” You shook your head, very much like you didn’t believe him. Remus suddenly had the desperate urge to knock some sense into you. “Oi, I’m serious.”

“I know you are,” You smiled at him, a tiny forced thing, like you were trying to convince yourself as well. “It’s just… Sometimes I feel like everyone makes me sound like this incredible player, when in reality I’m just…” You sighed, like finishing the sentence physically hurt you, you raised your hand to your lips.

Remus decided to take a risk, and he reached over to take your hand from your lips before you could pick at your skin. Then, “Is it because of… of you being…”

“I’m not a werewolf, Remus.” You frowned, but you didn’t move your hand from his hold. However, Remus did flinch like your touch suddenly burnt him. “I’m sorry.”

“You’re… not? Then why…?”

You sighed, like this was a conversation you had been dreading. Remus supposed you did, he did too. Then, “The league, they… they said I had to attend the meetings or they would be forced to release a statement. And I don’t–”

“You don’t want people to assume you’re a werewolf?” Asked Remus, a slight edge to his voice that made you frown. “Are you ashamed?”

“What? No, I– Remus. I just don’t want people to know, okay? It’s not because I’m ashamed, or have some negative feelings towards werewolves or… or– Why do I have to explain myself to you, anyway?” You exhaled abruptly, then met his gaze. “Would you want people to know about your lycanthropy, Remus?”

“Absolutely not.” He said quickly, without thinking, too.

People being aware of his condition had always been one of his deepest fears, one he carried throughout his school years and even after graduating Hogwarts; when tensions and rumors of a war started to surface, many people turning their backs on each other and ‘lesser’ creatures that didn’t fit the pureblood ideologies. He supposed it was a very valid fear, but having you asking him that question felt like a slap across his face. A wake up call of what he had been dreading since that meeting with the Order and Dumbledore laid down the conditions for him.

“Then why would I want people to know about what happened with my family? So everyone in the Ministry can have their own ‘I knew it’ moment? I think werewolves already have enough on their plate for me to add more fuel to the fire.” You said between nervous sips of your tea, Remus’ own tea already being a sad, cold thing. “Especially when it’s not that big of a deal.”

“Not a big– You almost died, y/n.” He said, desperate to make you see his point, a point Remus himself wasn’t sure what was. “How could you say it’s not a big deal?”

“Well, I’m here, aren’t I? And I’m not about to turn my family into a sob story for the Daily Prophet just because I didn’t attend the bloody support group.” You sighed, and this time you reached over to take his hand. “Remus, I like you, okay? I truly do, but you need to stop seeing yourself like this lesser, undeserving person–”

“How could I not?” He snapped, making you frown deeper at his tone. He cleared his throat. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to… I just— How can you think that way about werewolves, so.. so benevolent, when we killed your family? Attacked you without reason?”

“Us? Without reason? They were sent to do it, none of the werewolves in Voldemort’s barracks had a say on anything. Yes, they might have had some reason or they probably were conditioned to think like the rest of them… But I don’t go around using my… my case to tell people all werewolves are the cruel monsters they’re painted to be. Not all of them anyway.” You searched for his eyes, hoping he would understand your point. When it was clear he wouldn’t meet your gaze, you dropped his hand in favor of holding his face. Remus’ lips parted in surprise. “You need to stop putting yourself under the same category as them. You’re not them, Remus. Neither are the people in our group. Greyback and their people… They’re the ones in the wrong, the ones that want to harm their fellows by feeding into the harmful stereotypes.”

Remus let out a breath, like he had been holding it for a long time, his eyes never once leaving yours as you both stared at each other, a promise in your gazes. Your eyebrows pinched slightly, and he had the sudden thought that maybe you weren’t done, or worse, had changed your mind mid rant. He shyly reached over to place his hand on the side of your head, long finger gently combing the baby hairs of your temple behind your ear.

“I’m sorry…” He whispered, afraid that speaking up would scare you away from cradling his face in your hands. Remus thought he could get lost in your touch. “I didn’t mean to jump to conclusions, or get so… defensive.”

“I think… I think some defensiveness is alright.” You allowed, your features relaxing as you whispered back. “But it’s really alright, Remus. We must’ve had to have this conversation at some point, though now and with a baby quite literally sleeping above us wasn’t the scenario I had in mind.”

Remus took your attempt at a lighthearted joke as a sign to change the topic, “Have many scenarios with me, then, dove?” He asked with a tiny smirk, you dropped your hands from his face.

“You’re truly insufferable, Moon— Wait, is that why your friends call you Moony?”

His hand moved from your cheek to the nape of your neck, his thumb sweeping your baby hairs up and down in a way that brought goosebumps to your skin. Remus smiled like that had been his plan all along.

“Don’t call me Moony,” He said suddenly, and you blinked in surprise. He was quick to fix your train of thought, “Every time you call me Moony I really, really want to kiss you. If you do it again, I fear I won’t be able to hold back.”

This brought a shy smile to your face, but as quickly as it came, it turned into a smirk. “Terribly sorry, then, Moony.”

He let out a startled laugh, and brought his other hand to your cheek, a silent permission to proceed with his intention. You, for your part, seemed in a daze as you breathlessly roved your eyes over his face, hands around the crook of his elbows as you scooted closer. Remus watched in awe as your eyes fixated on his lips with something akin to yearning, and self-restraint be damned, he gently pulled you towards him and pressed his lips over yours.

Now it’s important to say he desperately made a plan of kissing you silly all night as soon as he tasted your lips and the faint notes of bergamot from your tea, he decided to never let go of you, to kiss you until the skin of your lips were the least of your concerns, had it not been by the door being opened wide open in a swift, loud motion. Sirius gasped dramatically at the sight before him, James and Lily in toe with similar reactions, you and Remus sprung away almost immediately at the commotion.

“Oh– Moony!” He said, a hand to his chest as if he had been the one caught. “In my own home? In my own couch that I bought? How fucking dare you! I’m kicking you out, you ingrate.”

“Hi.” You said shyly.

“I don’t even live here.” Remus said simultaneously.

“Well, aren’t you the loveliest sight?” Said Lily as she walked to you, ignoring her husband’s antics. You stood up almost on reflex to accept her hug, your movements awkward. “How are you, honey?”

“I’m doing alright.” You said, your hand instantly finding a patch of skin to pick in your lips. Remus’ eyes followed the movement.

“She ought to be alright, based on what we just walked into.” James pointed, walking to you both, Remus nudged him rather loudly. “Hi, James Potter, big fan.”

You smiled bemusedly and searched for Remus’ eyes. “I thought that was Lily?”

“Yeah, right, as if Lils could even differentiate a quaffle from a bludger.” Sirius joked, then stretched his hand out to you, as if you both hadn’t shared the majority of your classes at school. “Sirius.”

You chuckled, grateful for the distraction to compose yourself. “I know.” You said, but shook his hand nonetheless. “But it’s nice seeing you lot again.”

“And what brings you here this beautiful evening, y/n?” Lily asked, making herself comfortable on a wingback chair next to the couch. The blue color of the chair a high contrast to her green dress.

Both James and Sirius seemed in a daze as they ogled Lily, you cleared your throat awkwardly, “Well, I…” You turned to Remus with wide eyes.

“She came here to help me with the menace that is your son.” Completed Remus, “Not that you wouldn’t know, seeing you made him that way.”

“Well, good for Harry,” Said Sirius as he draped himself over Lily, she accommodated herself to hug his middle. “Someone has to keep you on your toes.”

“It really was no problem,” You interrupted, knowing well they could banter the entire night had none of you butted in. “He basically fell asleep after I got here.”

“Oh?” James said, turning to Remus, who groaned and threw his head back. The bespectacled boy reached over Remus to address you, “You mean Remus or Harry?”

“So this git has been kissing you all night? Using my son as bait?” Sirius asked in faux indignation, though his fingers calmly toyed with Lily’s hair. “Remus you cheeky bastard.”

“Can everyone please stop attacking me?”

“No can do, Moony. It’s hardly an attack when we’re telling the truth, you’re a real git and a pretty cheeky one too sometimes.”

Remus looked at you imploringly, “Dove, need me to walk you home?”

“Add educated to the list, too.” Said Lily in between giggles. You smiled. “Maybe you’re not so bad, Remus, isn’t he, y/n?”

“He’s quite alright.” You said breezily, desperately trying to hide away the blush in your cheeks. You turned to Remus, “You don’t mind?”

“Not at all.” He shook his head and walked to the door. Pointedly flipping his friends off. “Here,”

You grabbed your coat from his hand. “Oh, thank you.”

“‘Not at all’ he says! When just the other day he properly groaned at me for asking if he could peel me an apple!” James said with a smile as he watched Remus help you bundle up for the cold. “You know, Pads, maybe he is an ingrate.”

“I told you, but you never listen.” Supplied Sirius, both men offering you and Remus an out.

Lily loosened her hold around Sirius to send you a tiny wave which you returned enthusiastically before stepping out the door. Had it not been that it was still reeling from your kiss, Remus’ heart would’ve probably combursted right then and there at your silly interactions with his own friends. He felt a really warm, sweet feeling settling in his chest when he realized you fit perfectly in their little family, eagerly following along in their banter against him. Remus hoped the sight would be something to last him for the rest of his life.

—

The stress and uncertainty from the other night, a full moon, where you waited for Remus to let you know it had been alright and managed to return home without problem seemed difficult to wear off, the lingering anxiety settling in your body like it planned to stay there for a while. You tried to ignore the heavy feeling in the middle of your chest as you walked towards the pitch, hands distractedly fixing your gloves and gear as the coach threw pointers no doubt to the players already in the field. Calista, the team captain, immediately flew down to meet you on the floor as soon as she spotted you, her face pale and an alarmed look on her eyes.

“Morning,” You said, watching her walk towards you with tentative steps, she seemed in a state of restlessness as her gaze traveled over your surroundings. “What’s gotten into you?”

“I don’t know who talked to them,” She replied instead, and you frowned. When she realized you genuinely had no idea, she presented you with a rumpled page from the Daily Prophet. “I’m so sorry, I know you didn’t want people to know.”

Your eyes skimmed hurriedly over the page, the knot in your stomach you had previously deemed a stomach ache turned into a full blown hollow feeling that consumed you whole. Calista reached to pat your shoulder consolingly, and it seemed that’s all you needed to shake you off your shock.

“How could they—”

“Well, isn’t this our lovely star,” Came a voice you recognized well, you turned to find Partridge herself walking over to you with a smirk on her face. “Is your furry little fella alright? Heard last night was quite the moon.”

“He’s not– What the fuck, Partridge?” You managed to say, your blood slowly boiled to the point of seeing red. It seemed that was the reaction your problematic teammate had been aiming for. “You did this?” You lifted the page to her eyes, by the look of her eyes you immediately knew she recognized it before you could present it to her.

“I owed Skeeter a favor,” She shrugged, taking her gloves off nonchalantly. You did the same, but with completely different intentions. “What? Was it supposed to be a secret?”

“You knew damn well,” You spat, angrily throwing your gloves and the page away. Partridge’s facade changed as she studied your stance, but she recovered quickly.

“Well, I thought you had stopped worrying about it, seeing that you so thoroughly enjoy associating yourself with the likes of your people and half-breed monsters in broad daylight.”

You reeled back, as if she had actually punched you in the face but you schooled your face almost immediately. “Well, of course, I see you nearly everyday, don’t I?”

She marched to you in anger, but you stayed still in your place. “You little bitch, don’t think for a second you will keep your spot in the league after this. Why, you stupid mudblood.”

You laughed bitterly, “You think I’m scared of you, Partridge? Or losing my spot? Unlike you, I’m a bloody good player, any team will scout me as soon as I drop the Harpies.” With a sudden feeling of satisfaction, you noticed her clenching her fists. You added, “Also… Mudblood? Really? Wait– Is this why you’re so miffed with me? Because a muggleborn is a better Quidditch player than you? Well, you got another thing coming–”

You felt the sting before your eyes could even follow the movement of her hand, slapping you across the face with a strong hand. Calista gasped loud enough to catch the coach’s attention, she stepped forward to push Partridge away from you but you raised a hand.

“You show me every day how pathetic you truly are. That’s all you got? Cause I’d really like to give you a real demonstration.” You smiled, a wicked thing that had your teammate leaning back with surprise and Calista swallowing anxiously.

“Now let’s not–”

Well, you truly would’ve loved to say that had been the end of it, that the coach had reached you both in time to end the upcoming brawl. But none of that had happened, all thanks to your quick seeker reflexes and pent-up anger, you had Partridge on the floor in a quick second. She screamed but managed to throw punches as you, despite your ire-charged reaction, decided to only give her a scare. You had to give it to her, she had a rather appropriate right hook that you had the misfortune of intercepting while you were pulled away. Calista and the rest of the team paused as they studied you, you brought your hand to your left eye, feeling suddenly rather dizzy and a little nauseous.

“What the devil is happening here?!” Yelled the coach as he inspected the outcome, grateful that you weren’t visibly injured, or well– “Partridge, did you just hit your teammate square in the bloody eye?! What’s the matter with you?”

“She–She jumped at me! She’s mad!” Partridge pointed at you, you looked up to find her properly rumpled but not hurt at all. “She said she would give me a demonstration, then– then attacked me!”

“Attacked you?! You hit me first!”

“That’s enough out of you,” The coach spat, turning to you to inspect your eye, he clicked his tongue pensively. “Need you to go to the healer to get this checked.”

“But–”

“I’ll handle your teammate. Surely there’s an explanation to this circus.” He turned to Calista, who straightened her posture in very captain fashion. She nodded at you, a silent promise that she would make sure Partridge wouldn’t get out of it unscathed. “Go.”

You exhaled abruptly and grabbed your gloves from the floor, making way to the healer’s tiny cubicle to get your eye checked. As you walked out the pitch, you caught a glimpse of the page you sent flying mid brawl, a candid photo of you and Remus kissing one late night after the meeting, a few days ago. An uneasy feeling settled in your stomach but now for completely different reasons.

—

“And I still hear it, minutes before the transformation, sometimes I can feel him lingering close, even though he’s locked away!” Exclaimed McDougall, a thin man that had been a victim of the Imperius curse by Riddle himself. You frowned as you listened to his heart-felt rant, your eyes very pointedly trying to look everywhere but at Remus. “It’s driving me mad!”

You watched in curiosity as Remus raised his hand.

“Is there something you’d like to say, Mr. Lupin?” Asked the healer kindly, Remus nodded, then cleared his throat. “Go on, then.”

“Uh, this happens to me too.” He spoke out, voice scratchy like it hurt him to speak. You bit your lip anxiously. “What I do, uh, I like to play music, I’ve found that the wolf likes it during the transformation. It helps, sometimes, with the voices.”

You studied him meticulously, taking inventory of his scars and the new ones he acquired the night before. His hand shook slightly where he rested it over his knee, the previous scars in his hands a faint red as if they had been reopened again, a bandage peeked out from his sleeve. His hair disheveled a little like he tried to comb it but gave up mid action, but other than that, he looked like the same Remus you had grown to adore. His amber eyes met yours as Healer Figg continued talking to the rest of the group, and he sent you a soft, tentative smile. You felt a tug at your heartstrings as you waved shyly at him, a tentative tiny thing.

As soon as you left the healer’s office at the pitch and after you met with the coach, you made your way to your flat to assess the damage before it was time for the meeting. You had desperately tried multiple beautying spells and make up products to make the black bruise taking up most of your eye and temple so faint that it would pass right through Remus. Your efforts were to no avail, so you decided to get there a bit later than usual in order to avoid him questioning you about what had happened, or worse, you telling him about the article on the Daily Prophet. You weren’t sure which one you dreaded the most.

“Thank you everyone for coming, again, it has been delightful to see the outcomes of the group, you all have progressed very much.” Healer Figgs said, pulling you out of your own head as she turned to you. “Let’s all extend our applause and say goodbye to our companion, y/n, who has successfully finished her time with us.” You looked away from Remus, who you felt staring right through your soul as you shyly smiled at the rest of the group.

“Thank you.” You mumbled, laying back on your chair as if you wished to disappear against the wall. Everyone stood up, and you took that as your queue to finally leave.

Your hand shook slightly as you opened the door of St. Mungo’s and caught a breath of fresh air. You dug inside your purse and brought a cigarette to your lips, somewhere behind you the door opened again and quick steps followed you.

“What was that? Back there?” Remus breathed out, catching up to you. You looked down in order to hide your face from him with your hair, he frowned. “You’re done?”

“Yeah, um, I was told today I filled my quota for the league.” You said quietly, Remus had to lean closer to hear you. “I was going to tell you–”

“When? Today? When you barely said hi to me the moment you got here?”

You sighed dejectedly and brought the lighter to your lips. To your rotten luck, the flame lightened your face and gave Remus a very clear glimpse of your pathetic attempt at covering your marred skin.

He inhaled sharply and gently grabbed your face in his hands, “What happened to you?” Your lips parted in surprise around the cigarette and met his worried gaze. His thumb swept over the skin and you hissed. “Sorry, sorry… Dove, who did this to you?”

“It’s nothing.” You said under your breath, shaky fingers plucking the cig out of your lips. “Really, Remus, it was just an accident.”

“It certainly doesn’t look like nothing.” His eyes studied you, and you suddenly felt very insecure about your face. Stupid Partridge, you thought. “Are we keeping secrets now?”

“What? Remus, no.” You reached to grab his wrist with your free hand, your hold earnest and desperate as you looked into his eyes. “I just… I just didn’t want you to worry. That’s all.”

“Well, I ought to be worried,” He frowned, bringing your temple to his lips, where they lingered a beat too long as you both savored your hold on each other.

You closed your eyes and inhaled deeply, “It was one of my teammates.” You finally said after a moment, Remus pulled back with a frown. “Did you read the Daily Prophet today?”

“Ah,” He nodded, and grabbed the cigarette from your hand. You watched in awe as he pensively studied you, then, “I had an inkling it was about that.”

“You saw it?”

“Of course I did, James dumped about 7 copies on me this morning, full moon be damned.” He said, you smiled despite your anxiety. Remus mirrored your tiny smile, happy that his efforts worked. “It doesn’t bother me, if that’s what you’re worried about.”

“But, she… she aired your condition to everyone.” You supplied quietly, a slight frown in your eyebrows that Remus wished to kiss away. “She called you a–” You seemed to work yourself up again, and he wondered what exactly went down to bring this kind of reaction out of you.

“I don’t care, she doesn’t know a damn thing about me.” He said, and put out the cigarette in favor of holding your face again. “There was a time I would’ve cared, and would’ve tortured myself about that, but now it all slides right off. Dove, please don’t go around picking fights for me. Especially with people like her.”

You looked down, eyes fixated on a spot in his chest. Remus suddenly thought you looked very beautiful, a slight vulnerability to your demeanor that made you look angelic. He kissed your temple again, very softly to not hurt you, then searched for your gaze.

“But that’s not everything, isn’t it?”

You met his gaze, and his heart ached at the glossiness in your eyes. His eyebrows pinched slightly, and watched as you curled your arms around his middle, your hold desperate for comfort. Remus sighed as you hid your face in the safety of the crock of his neck.

“I tried really hard to protect them from… from people commenting on their story, how they died. I didn’t want them to become another fatality of the war, and–” To your horror, a tiny sob left your lips and you closed your eyes. Remus thumbed the tears in your cheeks away with very gentle movements, careful of your tender skin. “I couldn’t even do that. I keep just failing them day after day, the league pulling me back, getting into fights and proving everyone right all along. I… I don’t know what to do, the least I could do is be someone worthy for them and to honor them after they died because of me and–”

“Wait, no. They didn’t die because of you.” He frowned, and you seemed to have a hard time meeting his gaze, he curled a hand under your chin to look into your sad, teary eyes. “How could it be your fault? Dove, that man is at fault, he’s the one that killed them, he sent the order. There’s no way you would’ve known.”

“But… but I could’ve tried harder at protecting them. I should’ve done something.” You finally let out the thought that had been consuming you for months and kept you up at night. “How can people call me bright and promising in that stupid magazine… If they only knew how useless I was during the war.” You chuckled humorlessly. Remus decided he had enough of it.

“Listen to me, y/n. You being this incredible, promising witch and your parents’ deaths aren’t mutually exclusive. Voldemort targeted all the muggles and wizards that didn’t follow along his insane ideology, there was nothing you could do to stop that from happening, I know you don’t want to call it that but it truly was a tragedy… because no matter what you had tried to do, he sent his best men to kill you and your family knowing it would be one against four. It was meant to be a tragedy whatever the outcome. And your parents? They would've been so bloody proud of you for fighting the death eaters off, for surviving and fighting tooth and nail for your future that was almost ripped away from you. Don’t… don’t count yourself out just because of this, it might feel like it sometimes… but you’re not alone.”

You bit your lip, finally meeting his gaze. Remus exhaled deeply as he finished off his desperate rant, some fight still lingering inside of him to make you see his perspective.

“I’m sorry.” You finally said, your finger sweeping back and forth where your hand held his wrist. Remus watched as you inhaled, channeling all your strength to compose yourself. “I… Thank you, Remus.”

He smiled softly, “No need to be sorry, or to thank me. I would do this every day, pretty much like you would, too.” You blushed, and he found himself ignoring his self-control and leaned forward to kiss your lips. They tasted a tad salty, but not any less sweet.

“They would’ve really liked you,” You said as you broke away, Remus’ smile got impossibly wider and grabbed the sides of your face to kiss you again. “Ouch.”

He gasped, “Oh, I’m so sorry.” He leaned closer, pressing a soft kiss just shy of your bruise. “Let’s go get you fixed up, hm?” He placed his arm around your shoulders, and you trailed next to him in a daze. Still slightly shaken up, Remus noticed; he tried another angle. “So, proved myself worthy to the in-laws already?”

You smiled sheepishly, “Don’t let it get to your head, though.” He pressed a kiss to the crown of your head as you rounded the corner, his flat building in view.

Remus sighed happily as he dug inside the pocket of his jacket for his keys, his other arm head-set in holding you close to his side. You, for your part, seemed to enjoy his hold around you and walked next to him with a tiny, shy smile, your hand picking at the skin of your lips distractedly.

“Here,” He helped you out your coat as you both walked in. You immediately took notice of the homely ambience to it, Remus’ taste all over the flat as your eyes rovered the room with curiosity. Remus’ heart did a little flip as he studied you, “Wait here, I’ll go check what potions I have for your eye.”

You nodded then made a beeline to his couch, a worn out, lived in thing that matched with the decor in the walls. Just like the Potters’, he had countless photographs hung up on all the walls, evidence of his happiness despite the numerous trials he had suffered in the past. The biggest one, you noticed, was one of him holding Harry as a newborn, his amber eyes red and with some tears welling up, you felt a tug in your heart as you scanned it.

“Why am I not surprised?” Said Remus with a breathy chuckle as he walked to you, a container and wet cloth in his hands. You laughed as you walked to him, “What is it with you and photographs?”

You shrugged as you sat in front of him on the couch, Remus placed the container on his knee before gently pressing the warm cloth to your face, to remove your flakey concealer no doubt.

“I’m used to still images back home, seeing them move is something I don’t think I can get used to–Ow!”

“Sorry, sorry,” Remus placated, a slight frown to his eyebrows, he made his movements extra gentle to not hurt you again. “A very valid point.” He added, then placed the cloth down. “Ow, dovey, that was a hard punch, it seems.”

“You should’ve seen Partridge.”

“You hit her?”

“Nah, just gave her a scare. Also gave her a proper demonstration on how it’s done, real muggle style.” He barked a laugh, and opened the container next. You scrunched up your nose at the smell. “That’s foul. Is the smell alone a punishment for getting into a fight?”

“Probably,” He hummed, eyes fixated on your bruise as he gently patted the cream potion on your skin. You felt your insides mushy and soft with gratefulness and something akin to love for him. “I stole this from Madam Pomfrey so I wouldn’t put it past her.”

You raised an eyebrow. “Using your Pomfrey privileges to steal supplies? Oh, Moony, you’re incorrigible.” Remus paused his ministrations to meet your eyes, you smirked playfully at him.

“You will have your kiss after I finish this, dove, do not fret.” He commented breezily, thoroughly enjoying the way you flushed. Remus chuckled as he finished putting the rest of the potion on your eye and kissed it softly, he grimaced, “Shit, that really is foul. Terribly sorry, dovey.”

You laughed. “It’s okay.” Remus placed the container and cloth away to fully face you, you smiled up at him with something giddy and excited in your chest. “So, where’s my–”

Remus smiled, a wide, bright smile that almost blinded you as he grabbed the nape of your neck and pressed his lips against yours. You laughed against his lips, your mood suddenly lifted now that you had what you wanted, Remus kissing you silly and holding onto you like you were about to fly away, and by the happy sigh that left your lips when you momentarily broke away, he wasn’t so far off. You shyly reached over and placed your hands tentatively around his middle, Remus, without breaking away, grabbed your arms and circled them around him, a permission to hold onto him as much as you wanted. You readily accepted the invitation, fisting his jumper with longing and deepened the kiss.

“Not here,” Mumbled Remus between kisses, he helped you up and immediately pressed his lips against yours again, as if stopping kissing you could physically harm him. “Dove,” He said breathlessly as he pulled you to your feet, you let him manhandle you, a wicked smile on your lips as you pulled him back down to you. “Come on,” He held your hand and guided you down the hall, no doubt to his room, your insides suddenly recoiled with anxiety.

You sighed as he kissed you again, his fingers toying with the hem of your jumper, you sucked in a breath and deepened the kiss again, hoping it would distract him from his intentioned hands in your middle, but to no avail, he unconsciously lifted the hem and placed his hands over the scarred skin around your waist, if what he found troubled him, he didn’t show, but you stilled and Remus pulled away slowly at your reaction.

“Dove?” He frowned slightly, and you willed your lungs to accept air as you breathed quietly, “Was I too harsh with you? I’m sorry,” His hands found your face again, and you met his gaze, his lips parted in surprise as he noticed the troubled look in your eyes. “What is it?”

“I just..” You sighed, biting your lip nervously. Your fingers grabbed the hem of your jumper, Remus’ eyes flashed with realization. “I haven’t been with anyone… after… you know.”

“Oh,” He breathed out, scanning your face for regret, but you seemed mortified enough to even meet his eyes. “They don’t bother me, but if they do to you, I won’t touch them. I’m sorry.”

“I’m sorry,” You said under your breath, suddenly feeling like you wanted to cry. Why was your past so adamant to ruin your present? You thought bitterly. “I don’t know why I… I’m sorry,”

“Hey, it’s quite alright.” Remus leaned down to search for your eyes, he cupped your cheek. “We don’t have to do anything you’re not ready for, dove. It truly doesn’t bother me, as long as you’re comfortable.”

“I didn’t mean to lead you on,” You said, holding onto him in the desperate selfish way he was starting to adore. “I just, I keep forgetting they’re… there and it always feels like a rude wake up call when I notice them.”

“I get it,” He nodded, and kissed your eyebrow. “Believe me, I do. Mine used to bother me too, not so long ago, but they’re part of me, of my story. Though they hurt like hell, I’ve eventually learned to accept them. It’s okay if you’re not ready to accept yours, lovely girl.”

You looked up at him, very overwhelmed with gratitude and love for him, you were sure your heart could explode soon. Remus seemed to notice it as he lifted an eyebrow in question, and kissed the corner of your lips after you gave him a short nod. When he pulled away and walked a few steps back from his bed to give you space, you were only mildly disappointed at the distance.

“We don’t have to do anything, but you can stay over if you want. Have a cwtch, maybe?” He asked, offering a tiny olive branch that felt gigantic to you. You smiled and nodded eagerly, he mirrored your giddy reaction and brought your hand to his lips.

Remus nodded and laughed when none of you made to move, “I don’t have…” You trailed off, and his face brightened.

“Oh, no need to worry about that,” He smiled and walked to his drawers, excitedly shuffling some things inside, then lifted a black shirt out. “You like Bowie, don’t you?”

You laughed and accepted the clothes he presented you, he placed a kiss to the crown of your head as you followed him to his bathroom. Your limbs suddenly felt rather heavy and exhausted as you changed your clothes into his, a ratty Bowie shirt and some boxers that looked awfully big on you. You tried to not stare at your reflection in the mirror as you changed, but had enough courage to inspect his healing work on your bruise. Small steps, you supposed.

Remus felt his own heart falling out of his arse when he stepped out of his own bathroom, to find you sitting prettily on the edge of his bed, looking around his room and fighting against a yawn that tried to escape your lips. He was overwhelmed with tons of feelings as he walked to the bed and threw himself over it, pulling you down with him. The sound of your surprised giggles echoed around the room as he propped himself over his elbow, eyes full of love as he looked at you.

“What are you thinking about?” You asked quietly then, your finger tracing the letters of his own shirt. Remus held your hand captive and kissed your palm, then reached over and kissed you. “Remus,” You giggled as he placed sloppy kisses on your face, cautious of your eye.

“Just happy, ‘s all.” He mumbled as he pulled you close to him, you happily accepted his hug. “I still can’t believe I went to that support group just to get signed off for a job, and not only left with a job but with the prettiest, smartest witch as my girlfriend.” Your chuckle came in a sleepy breath, eyes closed as you drowned in the sound of his voice. Remus didn’t mind, telling you all that was his own private indulgence. He placed a kiss on your forehead, “And she fights for my honor unprovoked, too.” He added.

“Of course that’s the part you fixate on,” You mumbled, words quiet and slurred like you fought against sleep to speak out.

Remus fought against his own drowsiness, “Oi, you think someone there caught a photo of that?”

“I don’t know.”

“It would be a very lovely addition to the wall.”

“Remus,”

“Well, I was just thinking, since you love photographs.”

“Goodnight, Remus.”

—

Champagne flutes sat empty over the tables as the record on the turntable echoed faintly around the room, one of the records Lily picked halfway over. James and Sirius busied themselves picking up the trash and cleaning the remaining dishes respectively as Lily climbed down the stairs after putting Harry down to sleep in his nursery. She stopped dead in her tracks at the sight before her, Remus and you passed out on her couch, clinging to each other. You still wore your Quidditch gear from the match earlier and Remus didn’t deign to change his Holyhead Harpies neither, even after the match had been won and long over.

“They’re asleep?“ Asked Sirius, and both his spouses shushed him immediately.

“Yeah,” Lily nodded, then walked back to the kitchen to continue helping with the tidying. Her green eyes fell on the polaroids she left out to develop. “Oh, isn’t this adorable.” She gasped with a smile as she picked them up.

She walked back to the sitting room and stood in front of the wall, eyes searching for an empty spot for the new additions. James stood behind her, a frown to his eyebrows as he helped her out.

“What about moving these, lovie? So they can fit here.” He pointed, Lily followed his eyes and nodded excitedly. “I hardly think ickle Harry would mind.”

Lily lifted her wand and whispered a sticking charm to the new additions, a warm, happy feeling in her chest as she admired the final product.

There stood two new photographs to the family wall, one of you winning the Major League match, your big smile as you lifted the Golden Snitch in the air and the crowd roared behind you; the other a candid photo of you Lily took that very same night, of you and Remus dancing and laughing, both of you sporting matching bright smiles as you celebrated the big win of the night. His arm placed firmly around your waist as he playfully dipped you low, and baby Harry clapping happily somewhere in the back of the shot, but the real star of the photograph was the glistening ring in your finger as you cupped Remus’ face, Hope Lupin’s very own engagement ring that was passed down as an heirloom to you.

#reader insert #x reader #female reader #marauders x reader #remus lupin x reader #remus lupin

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n0-0neeee · 10 months ago

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💜💜💜

Pro Hero Bakugo who can’t wait to see you once his patrol shift is up. He’s been texting with you all day during his downtime, smiling like an idiot anytime your name pops up on his lock screen. Even when Kaminari teased him about it, he didn’t yell or tell him to fuck off, just rolled his eyes with that grin still plastered on his face. It didn’t matter what you two talked about, you somehow always kept his attention.

Bakugo was the one to find and pull you out of the burning building months ago, saving you from the eventual collapse of the rubble. He’d stayed with you for hours, making sure you were properly seen by medics and not overwhelmed when the police questioned you about the villain who started it all. Before leaving, he left you with his agency card - “Call if ya need anythin’, big or small.”

That was Bakugo’s way of saying, “oh shit, I kinda like you” without risking his professionalism.

Fast forward to now, he’s blasting through the air to your apartment complex, feeling like a feather in the wind. He lands on your balcony with a thud, hurriedly kicking off his combat boots and leaving them outside. You’re already in the living room, arms crossed with a smile on your face as he comes inside.

“I have a front door, you know,” you tease, laughing softly to yourself. He doesn’t care, stomping over to you excitedly and tugging you into a hug, smothering your cheeks and forehead with kisses. It leaves you gigging, even if he’s covered in sweat and dirt from his shift.

“Katsuki, you’re filthy!” You joke while trying to shove him off of you.

“Excuse me, Princess,” he jests, throwing you over his shoulder. “Guess we’ll just have’ta shower together.”

Bakugo’s running down the hallway of your apartment to your bathroom with you over his shoulder, cackling like a witch as you squirm playfully in his hold. He sets you on the bathroom counter before pulling you flush against him, lips finding yours in a heated kiss. When he pulls away, his hand caresses your cheek, eyes focused on your beautiful features.

“If you shower with me, I’ll cook ya dinner,” Bakugo offers, impatiently beginning to reach for the hem of your shirt. You knew he was going to anyways, he shoos you out of the kitchen every night to make dinner for the two of you.

“Isn’t bribing against the laws of hero society?” Your fingers hook under his mask to slide it to his forehead, hands roaming to the zipper on his collar piece. “I won’t tell if you won’t.”

“You’re such a little shit,” he grunts, pulling your shirt over your head. “And I love it.”

It’s not a typical relationship, being that you’re quirkless, but Bakugo wouldn’t trade it for the world. No matter how soft you made him, it’s worth every moment in your presence and by your side. You make him want to be a better person, a stronger hero, and have a bigger heart.

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n0-0neeee · 10 months ago

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💜💜💜

彡 𝐒𝐄𝐄 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐒𝐎𝐎𝐍 — 𝐒𝐚𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐮 𝐆.

♡ — 𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘: a nurse finds a man visiting you, her unidentified coma patient. It’s your husband, Satoru Gojo.

♡ — 𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐍𝐓: 18+ only. heavy angst, mentions of death, injury, hospitalization & thoughts of suicide. brief smut mention.

♡ — 𝐀/𝐍: I was bored last night, eating pasta, and decided to write this because why not (: dividers by @/firefly-graphics!

The young nurse was around thirty exhausting minutes into her twelve-hour night shift when a figure sitting beside her coma patient caught her attention.

She glanced up from her medical binder and peered through the interior window of your hospital room, her head tilting questioningly at the sight of the white-haired man she hadn’t recognized.

“Is a stranger bothering my patient? Should I call for security? How did he get into her room without anyone noticing in the first place?”

Those were the questions that circulated throughout her mind when she swung your door open.

With a frown, the young woman asked, “Excuse me, can I help you, sir?”

The man didn’t answer — his soft sniffles filled the silence.

Softly, he stroked your cheek, his fingertips gracing the straps that secured the intubation tube down your throat; the tube that was breathing for you.

His other hand was draped across the pages of an open book lying beside your leg. A few wet splats from fallen tears soaked the inked paper.

“Was he reading to her?” The nurse thought, clenching the door handle.

“Sir?” She called out yet again. “Are you able to help us identify this patient? She’s a Jane Doe. Any information would be-“

“She’s my wife.”

The nurse’s eyes widened, and those wide eyes darted down to the wedding ring on the man’s finger.

“O-Oh, okay.”

“Her name’s Y/N,” the miserable man looked over at the nurse for the first time since she stepped into your room. “I was just reading her the rest of her book. She wasn’t finished with it, and I don’t know if she’ll . . .”

The man’s body trembled a bit. A noise escaped him, seemingly a combination of a sob, hiccup, and a sigh — it was the sound of heartbreak, a sound that drowned out the repetitive, dire beeping from the machines attached to the countless amount of tubes going in and out of your wounded body.

“But, um, her name’s F/N Gojo. She’s my wife. She’s my . . .” One hand gripped yours, while the other ran across his teary, bloodshot eyes. “Has anyone been talking to her? She gets lonely easily, and I don’t think she has enough blankets, she could be cold.”

“Yes, I’ve been talking to her, sir. Everyday.” The nurse smiled sadly. She had gotten used to witnessing tragedy. It was as normal to her as brushing her teeth in the morning. Even so, see the man’s guilt-ridden face prickled at her heart. “Unfortunately, too many blankets could make it more difficult to treat her if something goes wrong. They could get in our way if we need to get to her quickly during an emergency, but, um, maybe an extra one wouldn’t hurt. Um . . . I have quite a bit of paperwork for you to fill out, I’ll be right back. Can I bring you anything? A cup of coffee? Tea?”

The man wiped a tear away from his reddened waterline, though it was pointless, as his pale cheeks were wet enough already. He slumped back in his chair, ran a trembling hand through his messy head of white hair, and returned his gaze to you, away from the rambling nurse.

“I don’t deserve a damn thing,” he mumbled. “This is my fault. I was on a work trip. If I was at home, we would have had dinner together. In the kitchen. I would’ve cooked. But I wasn’t home, so she went to get her own food. She was turning into a drive-thru, right? When another car slammed into hers, right?”

The nurse gave a little nod.

“She was in a coma for two days and I had no idea. I wasn’t here. It’s all my fault. I left her alone,” Satoru bit the inside of his cheek, thinking about the obstacles he had to face just to be by your side right now.

He was on his way home around 24 hours after you stopped responding to his messages and calls. Screw his work trip; you were his only priority. During that time, he had to deal with shitty cell service and horrific weather delaying flights for hours to days. Even now, his days-old attire was covered in rain droplets.

“I’ll be right back, Mr. Gojo. And I’ll go fetch her doctor for you. He can tell you more about your wife’s condition.”

The man didn’t bother speaking or nodding. If it was up to him, he wouldn’t have bothered with breathing, either.

Why should he? You couldn’t breathe. You had machines doing it for you. And he blamed himself. He always would.

He gently stroked the skin of your hand.

“Baby?” Satoru said softly once the nurse left your room. “I’m gonna keep reading. I know how much you wanna get to the ending. But I just wanted to say that I wish this happened to me instead. It should’ve been me, not you.”

He wanted to speak more, but grief had formed a lump in his throat that made it too difficult to vocalize how much he needed you. Tragedy had taken his voice away from him.

Those glistening eyes of his glanced up at your bandaged face, and he couldn’t help but picture it; you, his sweet wife, driving to a local restaurant, perhaps while listening to your favorite songs on the radio. All it took was one incorrect turn from another driver. One wrong turn flipped your car.

One wrong turn resulted in devastation.

One wrong turn.

Next, your beloved husband pictured the happy memories shared between you both. Eating ice cream on the couch while watching a Netflix show together. Making pancakes from scratch on Saturday mornings, turning the kitchen into a mess of batter and dirty dishes. Laughing together over the memory of Satoru asking you to marry him during your first time together, three months into your relationship. He blamed his embarrassing ramblings entirely on the sheer pleasure of getting to fuck you. It made him delirious, so he said.

And, god — he couldn’t help but think about your laugh. He loved it more than anything. Satoru was smiling sadly as he thought about you laughing over a silly kitchen mishap that nearly led to a grease fire last year when suddenly, the alarming machines surrounding you started to beep rapidly.

A staff of medical workers rushed in, and Satoru was rushed out — or, at least, they tried to force him out of your room as they reclined your bed and attempted to perform a medical miracle on your comatose body, but he wouldn’t budge.

He couldn’t.

He would never leave your side again, he made you that promise, and there he was, right by your bedside when the defeated doctors pulled away from your lifeless body.

“Time of death, twenty-thirty-two,” a man said somberly.

And Satoru didn’t break down. He didn’t cry, not yet. He hadn’t realized that his legs seemed to have a mind of their own, that his body was guiding him out of your room and down the depressing, illuminated hallways of the hospital. The only thing on his mind was the fact that the hospital accepted patients via helicopter, which meant he could gain roof access.

Satoru stepped into an empty elevator. His finger pressed a button: the highest floor.

A floor accessible only to employees with ID, or, in his case, grieving family members who stole dangling badges from distracted doctors attempting to revive you.

He hadn’t figured it all out yet. Not the logistics of it. After all, concerned medical staff with their eyes narrowed and voices brimming with concern were already trying to follow him and see what he was up to.

But Satoru knew one thing for certain: he’d see you soon.

🏷️: @sad-darksoul @priv-rose @yihona-san06 @keriaonmarz @luvvmae @underworldsheiress @notgoodforlife @thewondrousdreamer @levisfavoriteteashop @insomniacbehaivour @preciousamethyst @irisveinn @iwanttohitmyself @shoyosdoll @lil-apple-pie @prettypixigrl @sonarspace @averysmolbear @starstoru @starlightanyaaa @dolphin1135 @ioveartfilm @filhadaanarquia @blackdxggr @jaegergirl @gunslxtz

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n0-0neeee · 10 months ago

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gojo is sitting with his daughter, playing with her and asking various questions; you are in the next room drinking coffee and sometimes listening to their conversations.

“you know your mom has a beautiful name, right?” gojo is lying on the floor and she is sitting on him, holding onto his big palms. she giggles and nods. you suddenly become interested and you look out, imperceptibly watching them.

“so what's your mom's name, sweetheart?” satoru smiles, it is difficult for him to remain serious in order to hear an accurate answer from his child. you're hiding and looking forward to what your daughter will say.

she exclaims without hesitation, raising her hands high, “her name is my love!” satoru laughs and feeling your gaze, he turns his head in your direction, “look what i taught her, my love”

you don't understand what kind of feeling it is that seems to flutter in your chest, but you chuckle, heading towards them and sitting down next to gojo, “i see, my precious”

#gojou satoru x reader #gojo satoru x reader #gojo satoru x you #gojo x reader #gojo satoru #satoru x reader #jjk fluff #jjk scenarios #jjk x reader #female reader #x reader #reader insert #fluff #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu gojo

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n0-0neeee · 11 months ago

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So I've been seeing TikToks of girls telling their boyfriends that they're gonna sleep on the couch and the boyfriends getting so confused and or pouty because they wanna sleep with them and I just can't help but think that's so Bakugo coated 😂 cause we all know Bakugo would get so offended/ pouty if his s/o were to tell him that or just out right refuse and make them sleep in the bed with him anyways

hey tysm for the ask !! and LMFAOO this ask is so cute, katsuki is def the type to get so offended if you decided not to sleep in the same space as him like hello ?? How dare you, but anyway hope yall enjoy !!

you don’t think you’ve ever seen your boyfriend look so offended in the years you’ve known him.

“huh ?”

“i said,” you repeat, your acting skills come through and you let out an exaggerated sigh “i wanna sleep on the couch tonight.”

katsuki blinks once, twice and then he squints at you “the fuck did i do.”

“nothing,” you shrug, he squints harder.

“bullshit. i did somethin’ and now yer mad at me.”

you do your best to hold back a giggle. looking away from him to keep from laughing you start heading over to your bedroom, your boyfriend follows behind you like an angry lost puppy, keeping a slight distance but never too far.

“i didn’t forget anything.” he starts. it’s not a question, he’s sure of it and you smile slightly.

“you didn’t.”

“i know.” you have to hold back a snort “so what’s up with you ? you just feelin’ pissy ?”

you scoff, rolling your eyes as you grab a blanket, you really want to sell this. “i’m not feeling pissy, and you didn’t do anything wrong.”

“you just felt like sleeping on the couch ?” the crease between his brows grows as he finishes your sentence for you. you nod and his scowl pulls up harder. in an instant and with his pro hero speed his on you, grabbing and ripping the blanket away from you. before you can get a word out he’s stomping over to the couch and fluffing up your pillows and laying the blanket down onto the couch.

“what’re you doing ?”

“m’settin’ up out stuff” he gruff, eyes away from you as he pulls out his phone to lay down underneath the blanket.

“our stuff ?”

he looks up at you, eyebrow raised like he was being obvious “you wanted to sleep on the couch right ? so we’re sleepin’ on the couch.”

confused, you splutter “but we won’t both be able to sleep on it, it’s too small !” katsuki simply grunts, continuing to scroll on his phone and making himself cozy.

“we’ll just sleep in the bed then.”

“but i don’t wanna sleep in the bed !” you giggle, exasperated.

“well that’s just too damn bad isn’t it ?” he sasses, gazing trailing away from his phone. you huff, plopping down onto the couch and immediately he wraps an arm around your middle and pulls you into it. the awkward position has you laying awkwardly on his chest so you turn slightly to look at him with a pout, which he reciprocates with a smirk.

“i meant i wanted to sleep on the couch alone.” you huff. the blond snorts, poking at your cheek and squeezes your nose to get a reaction out of you.

“yeah, not happening. was real cute you thought you could get away from me though.” he snickers, you roll your eyes but snort anyways. you decide snuggle next to him as best you can, and as you thought it’s definitely a tight fit, but your boyfriend wraps his arm around you tightly either way.

“you’re so clingy,” you tease, poking at his cheek. he grunts, eyes still glued to his phone but he turns his head to press a hard kiss onto your temple as a habit.

“call it whatever you want, you’re in this shit with me for life. yer stuck with me” he concludes, continuing to scroll through his feed and pretend he doesn’t see your cheesy smile from the corner of his eye.

you press a kiss to his cheek, making sure to loudly make a “muah !” noise to make him grumble. “good, wouldn’t have it any other way.”

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n0-0neeee · 1 year ago

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curiosity killed the cat.

pairing: regulus black x reader.

song inspiration: late night talking by harry styles.

author's note: i've been in such a writing rut lately, but sweet baby boy reggie is singlehandedly bringing me out of it. this idea has been floating in my mind for a while so I hope you all enjoy it. <3

Curiosity killed the cat.

The irony of the phrase wasn’t entirely lost on Regulus as he cautiously peered through the bustling kitchen. The elves were cleaning up after supper, humming and working diligently to keep the castle in order behind the scenes. Some of them leaned down to reach for him with soapy fingers, but he narrowly avoided each attempt, baring his teeth in warning.

They would not deter him from his true mission to infiltrate the basement. Having explored all the nooks and crannies Hogwarts had to offer, the Hufflepuff common room was his Atlantis—the last unexplored territory that he had yet to set foot in.

In his current state, it was perhaps more accurate to say that Regulus had never set paw in this corner of the castle. Most of the time, he found his spontaneous transformations terribly inconvenient, but as Regulus slipped past the door without a trace, the youngest Black brother was suddenly grateful for his complete lack of mastery over his Animagus form.

To be fair, he was only trying to find some peace and quiet. As of late, Regulus had become particularly fond of the kitchens. It was always warm down here and the smell of freshly baked bread wafted from the ovens and beckoned him towards its glorious scent like a beacon. Not to mention the fact that the elves often left a bowl of cold milk for him every night.

Well, he supposed it wasn’t exactly for him. At least, not his true human form. The elves were not fond of Regulus the person, but they did adore the feral black cat that haunted the halls of Hogwarts.

Potato, potato.

The point is, that his benevolent caretakers were typically careful about securing the ever mysterious door at the end of his little haven. Lest he get his wily little paws all over those timid badgers. Much to his delight, the security measure was not in place tonight. The door was wide open, presenting Regulus with an offer that was simply too good to pass up.

With a shimmy, he slinked behind enemy lines. Despite being located in the lower levels of the castle like the dungeons were, the Hufflepuff common room was far more welcoming. Instead of gothic furnishings and depressing color palettes, Regulus was greeted with warm earth tones and mismatched furniture. Plants of all shapes and sizes littered the room, which were far more pleasant to look upon than the haughty portraits that lined his own common room. At least the mimbulus in the corner didn’t sputter out rather unnecessary comments about the length of his curls every time he entered the dungeons.

The Hufflepuffs seemed averse to the menacing lighting that his fellow serpents seemed so fond of, choosing instead to illuminate their space with enchanted sun lamps. It was charming and cozy, if one were to take notice of such things. Malfoy would have deemed it greenhouse chic with a sneer that conveyed aristocratic distaste. For that reason alone, Regulus decided he liked the place.

The growing fondness was solidified as he followed the intoxicating scent of banana nut muffins. The trail led him to a dorm tucked away into the heart of the basement. Luckily for Regulus, the door was slightly ajar, which was more than enough permission for him to venture inside and make himself comfortable. It was the standard issue room—two beds, two desks, and two dressers. Yet the right side drew his attention.

The top of the nightstand was brimming with books, all stacked in no particular order. The color scheme of the blankets and pillows consisted of golds, pinks, and oranges, reminding Regulus of the sunset. Fairy lights and enchanted plants provided a lived in feel, which was more than he could say for his obsessively neat dorm with its alphabetically arranged library and utilitarian furniture. Everything in his room was designed with practicality instead of comfort in mind. A choice he was rather proud of until the stark contrast made his space feel cold and rigid in comparison.

The reading nook nestled beside the hearth drew him in like a moth to a flame. Regulus inspected the cloud chair, stomping on the soft woven blanket and plush pillows with his paw before coming to the conclusion that it was as good a place as any to burrow.

This was the life, he said. Or purred, if he was being technical.

As Regulus enjoyed the comforts of his newfound paradise, he failed to consider the fact that this dorm belonged to someone and that someone would likely be back any second to reclaim their refuge, given the late hour. Engrossed as he was with licking his paws, Regulus startled when the door swung open. Instantly, he recognized the owner of the dorm as the shy and quiet Hufflepuff that sat beside him in Charms. Regulus lifted a paw to his furry head, feeling foolish that he had not connected the dots earlier.

No wonder the banana muffin scent drew him in. Every now and then, he caught a whiff of it in class when you quietly claimed the spot beside him. The colorful scrunchies on the dresser also sparked his memory. How many times had Regulus witnessed you twisting the hair tie around your wrist as you quietly murmured the correct answers to Professor Flitwick’s questions under your breath? It never made much sense to him that you would allow the others to blatter and stutter through topics you were clearly an expert on, but Regulus attributed that to his proximity to pompous know-it-all pricks all his life. Slytherins were known to be showoffs, but you seemed to be the complete opposite.

Perhaps that was the reason why he stayed. Well, that and the fact that he was currently too comfortable to even dream of leaving his sanctuary. Really, the decision was made for him. Regulus watched as you settled into your desk, studying diligently as your quill flew across the parchment. Every so often, you leaned back against the chair and stared at whatever problem eluded you as though intimidating the parchment would bring forth the correct answer. It was rather endearing. Dare he say, charming.

In his mind, only minutes had passed since the start of your silent companionship, but a glance at the clock said otherwise. It was nearly midnight at this rate. As Regulus grumbled about his inevitable separation from the comfy cloud couch, a group of girls spilled into the room. They briefly said hello to you before gathering at the vanity table on the left side of the room. Regulus assumed one of them was your roommate. Probably the dark haired girl chattering on about the party the Gryffindors were hosting tonight.

“Do you think Cormac will be there?” she asked hopefully.

The other girls nodded in agreement, asking questions about the older boy with misplaced enthusiasm. Regulus wrinkled his nose. McLaggen, really? Your roommate truly needed to raise her standards. He glanced over in your direction, snorting as he caught the tail end of your grimace. Clearly, you weren’t a fan either.

After the girls were satisfied with their appearances, your roommate sauntered over to your desk with a friendly smile. “Would you like to come to the party with us, Y/N?”

Before you could answer, one of the other girls rudely interrupted. “Oh no, Y/N doesn’t go to parties. She’s too shy.”

Regulus vaguely recognized the annoyingly nasally tone of the speaker. He thought her name was Brandy or Brenda. Whichever one it was, she always hung around the quidditch team batting her eyelashes and laughing in an exaggerated way that bordered on deranged. It deeply irritated Regulus.

“Isn’t that right, Y/N? Our little bookworm only prefers the company of her novels. No chance of embarrassing yourself in front of boys when they’re just words on paper.”

“That’s mean, Britt,” scolded your roommate.

Regulus very much wanted to scamper across the room and bite Britt’s ankles. He lifted his head up as you stood, mentally encouraging you to even the score by chucking a tome at that horrid girl’s head, but instead you simply smoothed down the front of your gingham dress and smiled.

“Thanks for the offer, Mina, but I think I’ll stay in tonight. You girls have fun though.”

The others were more than happy to flee the awkward tension in the room. You bid them goodbye at the door before closing it behind you. As it clicked into place, you released a sigh. Regulus tracked your movements as you swiped a book from the teetering tower on your nightstand before collapsing into bed.

“God, what’s wrong with me?” You whispered softly to yourself. “It’s Friday night. I should be going out and partying, but instead I’m wallowing alone. No wonder everyone thinks I’m just a boring bookworm.”

Regulus voiced his disagreement. Unfortunately for him, the words came out as a series of meows. He blended in amongst the blankets, his whiskers barely peeking out from a distance. Unaware of his presence, you yelped at the strange cat peering at you from the reading nook. The noise startled Regulus, causing him to launch across the room and into the bed.

“Oh, it’s just you.” You sat upright, cocking your head at him. Your fingers twitched at your side, probably itching to pet him. You restrained yourself, respecting his general aversion to humans. “If you’re here to bring me bad luck, then I’m sorry to say that I’ve got enough of that on my own already.”

In protest, Regulus attempted to headbutt your hand, but it only resulted in an unintentional nuzzle. You chuckled in amusement before carefully patting his furry head. He dodged your hand and swiped at your leg, but the padding motions quickly turned to him just making biscuits on your thigh.

You chuckled in response. “Hm, everyone says you’re a mean kitty, but I think you’re just a little misunderstood.” Regulus huffed, but his displeasure was short lived as you scratched under his chin. He was only slightly embarrassed at how eager he was to receive more. “Look at us, we make quite the pair.”

At that, Regulus purred in agreement.

From that night forward, Regulus became a frequent visitor. He hadn’t intended on making a habit of it, but every time Regulus accidentally transformed, he found himself in your dorm. It wasn’t his fault that it was warm and toasty and smelled like pastries. If you weren’t trying to attract a feral cat, you shouldn’t have made your room so inviting.

During one of his visits, your roommate walked by and yelped at the sight of him. Regulus lifted his chin up in challenge as he claimed his rightful seat on your lap. “Is that the feral cat that almost took off Cedric’s fingers?”

Regulus purred in answer. He was rather proud of that moment. Would’ve gotten away with it too had it not been for Diggory’s quick reflexes.

You barely looked up from your book as you combed through his fur. “Mhm. He likes to follow me around sometimes. He’s like my little shadow.” A bright smile curved against your lips. “Oh, I think we found you a name. Shadow.”

From then on, Regulus wore the name like a badge. The name seemed to awaken more of his animal instincts because his spontaneous transformations became a rather frequent occurrence. At the beginning, they were isolated to nights and thus easier to manage, but now his Animagus form seemed to have no respect for convenience. As of late, the transformations were happening more and more often with absolutely no rhyme or reason.

The only common denominator seemed to be you. Every time Regulus was in his Animagus form, he sought you out. Whether he was interrupting Potions class to jump in your lap or resting next to you in the courtyard while you read, Regulus was resigned to the fact that he would end up in your proximity one way or another. He basked in the attention you showered him with, shamelessly nuzzling against your hand for more chin scratches and cuddles. It became a routine for the two of you. Most nights, you read in silence as he curled against you for warmth, but other nights, your inner monologue spilled out and he listened to you grapple with your shyness and anxiety.

Funny, you didn’t seem all that reserved around him. But then again he had taken on the form of a grumpy yet harmless cat. You were none the wiser that Regulus Black was currently purring for more pets as you lamented over the events of the day. He listened intently, not quite understanding your desire to become more sociable. You seemed to view it as a deficiency, but Regulus had always leaned towards the extremities of introvertedness. Though in his case, no one batted an eye when he was abrupt and abrasive. It was just how he was.

Hufflepuffs, on the other hand, were expected to be sunshine and butterflies. You were, Regulus thought. In your own quiet way, you radiated joy. It wasn’t loud or obnoxious or overbearing. It was just right. Regulus longed to tell you just as much, but it wasn’t like he was in a position to. Outside these late night talks, the two of you hardly spoke a word to one another.

Perhaps it was time to change that.

The first time Regulus tried to speak to you was a complete and utter disaster.

It was bright and early on a Monday morning. You slipped into your seat a few minutes before the start of Charms. The two of you were always the first ones in class, so he figured it was an opportune time to strike up a conversation without overwhelming you.

“How was your weekend?”

You blinked up at him, surveying the room covertly as though you weren’t quite sure that he was speaking to you. Regulus watched you flush as you realized that he was indeed addressing the question to you.

“It was good,” you responded cautiously. “How was yours?”

Regulus paused. “It was…fine.”

Never in his life had he wanted to swan dive into the Black Lake and become fodder for the merpeople. The response was a natural conversation killer, but he couldn’t very well tell you that he spent the entire weekend lounging in your dorm as you read Pride and Prejudice for the umpteenth time. That little revelation probably would’ve resulted in a restraining order.

The short and awkward dialogue made him cringe internally, but you simply smiled politely at him. For Salazar’s sake, where was the basilisk when Regulus needed it?

When lunch came around, he was still pondering the less than lackluster encounter. Regulus needed to find a way in. As his friends chattered and chatted, he stared intently across the Great Hall and watched you. Things were so much easier when you thought he was a cat.

“Reg, mate, you haven’t blinked for like five minutes. You’re really starting to freak me out.”

The annoying little quip from Nott brought Regulus out of his stupor. Had he truly been staring for that long? He hoped to Godric that you hadn’t caught him being an utter creep. A sly glance told him that you were none the wiser as you continued chatting with Luna Lovegood and Ginny Weasley. He turned to Theodore and frowned.

“What are you staring at, anyways?” asked Mattheo. The curly headed git surveyed the room for the object of his friend’s focus, which only made Regulus more irate.

“Nothing,” Regulus mumbled.

Riddle, ever the menace, grinned as he spotted you. “Doesn’t look like nothing to me.”

He elbowed Theo, who smirked once he too caught sight of you. “Say, Reggie, don’t you have Charms with that cute little Hufflepuff?”

“Shut it, Nott.”

“Whoa, a little touchy there, aren’t we? No need to fret. I won’t turn my Italian charms on her. After all, I wouldn’t dare go after one of my mate’s crushes.”

Regulus bristled. “I do not have a crush.”

“Sure, mate, and I’m Harry bloody Potter,” scoffed Mattheo. “You’re not fooling anyone, you know.”

“Does this conversation have a purpose besides showcasing your remarkable skill of grating my nerves?”

“Aw, Reggie’s upset.” Mattheo and Theodore chuckled as Regulus stood abruptly. He flung the napkin onto his plate and walked off without explanation. “Don’t worry, mate. We won’t tell anyone about your secret girlfriend.”

Unfortunately for Regulus, the childish teasing gained traction over the next few days. Trust Nott and Riddle to be a general nuisance to his everyday life. Every time you walked past Regulus in the halls, his friends (debatable as of late) would nudge him and smirk. Given that Mattheo and Theo possessed the subtlety of a bull in a china shop, you were definitely beginning to notice.

Even worse, Lorenzo had taken it upon himself to chat you up in the courtyard. Regulus looked on in horror as his best friend laughed and gesticulated alongside you on the bench. His presence had not gone unnoticed by their fellow classmates. A crowd of Hufflepuffs began crowding near your usual spot under the willow tree and Regulus could easily spot the tell-tale signs of your anxiety blooming. He needed to put an end to this.

“Berkshire, can I talk to you for a second?”

Lorenzo appeared completely unbothered as he nodded. “Sure, just let me wrap up here. Reg, you’ve met Y/N, right? She was kind enough to lend me notes for History of Magic.”

You looked up and gave Regulus a shy wave. The desire to throttle Lorenzo diminished by a few notches. “Sorry about him. Berkshire’s a bit overeager. Not fully trained, you see.”

His friend protested the accusation. “Hey, I’m standing right here!”

Regulus ignored his protests. Lorenzo might as well have been halfway across the world with how little attention he paid to his friend. He was far too busy being enamored with the way you tried to bite back a grin.

“Thank you for indulging him. I’ll make sure he doesn’t go off leash again.”

You chuckled. “It’s alright, really. I’ve got a habit of attracting strays.”

“Where is that little monster of yours, anyways? Busy clawing off some unsuspecting student’s face?” Lorenzo quipped.

“Shadow isn’t so bad. He’s actually very sweet, once you get to know him.”

Regulus tried not to grin.

Lorenzo shot him a knowing look. “Sounds like someone else I know.”

Regulus rolled his eyes. “Sorry again about him. I’ll make sure he returns your notes.” He tugged Lorenzo by the collar. “Now let’s go, Berkshire. We’re going to be late for practice.”

“Bye, Y/N!” Lorenzo called over his shoulder. “Don’t be a stranger.”

“Bye, Lorenzo,” you said with an amused smile. “I’ll see you in class, Regulus.”

Regulus couldn’t help but smile. “See you in class, Y/N.”

Thanks to his meddlesome friends, Regulus kept finding himself in less than ideal situations. The twats seemed determined to force you two together. Lorenzo, most of all.

Every time they studied in the library, you seemed to conveniently be seated a few desks away. Every time they were walking back from quidditch practice, you coincidentally seemed to be headed to the greenhouse. Every time Lorenzo fetched something in his locker, you just so happened to be walking by between classes.

It was during one of these times that Regulus overheard Britt making snippy little comments about your dresses and bows, commenting on how you were always lost in your books, even citing the fact that the feral cat had taken a liking to you because birds of a feather flock together. Your roommate defended you, but she was a lone voice amongst the other mindless girls who laughed along with Britt. The next time Regulus ran into her in his cat form, he made sure to hiss and claw at her.

In terms of finding his way in, Regulus had yet to crack the code. When it was just you and your Shadow, you spoke to him for hours and hours. But when he was actually himself, you were so quiet and reserved.

“Why don’t you just talk to her?” Lorenzo offered.

The glare Regulus cut his way was sharper than a splicing spell. “I’ve tried, but I’m terrible at it. I asked her about the weather, Enzo. The bloody weather!”

To his credit, Lorenzo didn’t laugh. Instead, he seemed deep in thought. “You’ve got to find out what she’s passionate about. What’s something that she could talk about for hours and hours?”

Regulus bolted out of his chair, startling Lorenzo. “You’re a genius, Berkshire.”

His friend looked utterly confused. “Thanks, I suppose?”

Half an hour later, Regulus found himself standing in a labyrinth. Plot Twist, the largest bookstore in the village, was as magical as you described it to be. Each aisle was filled to the brim with books, the shelves winding and twisting in on itself to reveal even more volumes. Soft classical music played throughout the shop, its interior filled with kitschy trinkets and illuminated by enchanted candles.

If Regulus recalled correctly, the latest installment of your favorite series just recently released. You mentioned it to Ginny in the Great Hall last week while he lounged on your lap. Was it ethical to eavesdrop on your conversations and use the information he gleaned to grow closer to you? Perhaps not, but he couldn’t help it. Cunning was in his nature. There was a reason Regulus was sorted into Slytherin, after all.

So here he was on a Friday afternoon, looking absolutely engrossed in the romance section of the bookstore. Regulus picked up a novel from the display. One of your favorites, of course.

From the corner of his eye, Regulus glimpsed your entrance into the store. Naturally, you were headed in his direction since romance was your preferred guilty pleasure. He pretended to skim through the summary despite the fact that he already read the book in its entirety. When you were reading it back in your dorm, you blushed so much that he had to see what the fuss was about for himself.

“Oh, that’s a really good one,” you said shyly.

“Yeah?” Regulus asked, noting the pretty flush dusting your cheeks. “Have you read it before?”

“About a thousand times.”

“What’s the verdict, then? Would you recommend it to me?”

You cocked your head in observation, taking him in. Regulus was acutely aware that he didn’t fit the usual demographic of romance novel readers. Hell, even his all black ensemble clashed with the vibrant book covers.

“I know, I know. I have the looks of someone who would rather binge murder mysteries, but I’m trying to branch out.”

The grin you gave him made his heart stutter. “Well, I’d be more than happy to be your guide.”

Regulus had no idea why he hadn’t realized it sooner. Books—that was the gateway to your heart. He listened in fascination as you pulled books from the shelves, talking a mile a minute about your favorite authors, characters, and tropes. You lit up the entire room as you spoke, filling the place with your infectious energy. He had only ever seen you this way in the comfort of your own dorm, so he relished in the fact that he was witnessing this not as Shadow but as Regulus.

“Oh my god, I’ve been rambling. I’m so sorry. Once I start, I just can’t seem to stop.”

He smiled softly. Regulus could have listened to you talk about books for the rest of his life and never grow bored. “I don’t want you to stop. I like that you’re so passionate. It’s adorable.”

Suddenly, Regulus wished he had a camera because the sight of you smiling up at him was a memory that needed to be captured and immortalized. For now, he settled for its dizzying aftereffects.

“Thank you for letting me talk your ear off,” you said shyly as the two of you made your way to the counter.

“No, thank you for helping me expand my horizons.” Regulus countered as he set both of your books down.

You started to fish for your wallet, but Regulus simply waved you off. “Please, let me.” The shopkeeper gaped at him. “Would you mind putting everything on my tab?”

“Of course, Mr. Black.”

“Regulus is fine.”

“Sure thing Mr.—I mean, Regulus.”

As the shopkeeper carefully packed up the books, Regulus leaned in. “You can call me Reg, if you’d like. Reggie, if you’re feeling particularly brave.”

You beamed. “Thank you, Reggie.”

“You’re welcome, Y/N.”

The Monday after the breakthrough, Regulus marched into Charms with purpose. You glanced up in amusement as he settled into his seat.

“You were right. Your recommendations were fantastic. I read it all in one sitting.”

“Which one?” you asked curiously.

Back at the bookstore, you had gotten a little overzealous with the recommendations, but at the end, you managed to narrow it down to your absolute top picks.

“All of them.”

Your jaw nearly dropped. “You read all of them?”

Regulus shrugged as if it were no big deal. “Yes.”

“Every single book?”

“Mhm.”

“But I gave you six recommendations,” you stated incredulously. You considered yourself a voracious reader, but Regulus Black was giving you a run for your money.

“And I devoured every single one.”

As it turns out, that was all it took to unlock the floodgates. Soon your conversations flourished from books and literature to hobbies and future plans. Regulus could tell that you were warming up to him. The conversations that were once isolated to the Charms classroom flowed easily outside of it as well.

The first few times you were spotted together, it turned a few heads.

Regulus had never been particularly known for his sociability, so he supposed it was a rather strange sight for everyone else to find him practically glued to your side. Never mind that he’d done it a hundred times before as your Shadow and no one ever said a word about it back then. As he spotted you in your usual spot under the willow tree, he found that he really didn’t give a damn what anyone else thought of your newfound friendship.

“Is this seat taken?”

You nodded as you moved your belongings to make room for him. “Yes, by you.”

Regulus dropped his backpack by his feet before stretching his long legs out on the wooden bench. You watched in amusement as the wood creaked under his weight. “I prefer to be horizontal when I read. You don’t mind, do you?”

“Knock yourself out, Mr. Black.”

“That’s Regulus to you, love.”

“I thought it was Reg.”

“Actually, I prefer Reggie. But only if it’s being used by you.”

“Okay, Reggie.”

He couldn’t help the smile that tugged at the corner of his lips.

Despite spending time with you during the day, Regulus still made his visits in the night. He truly just couldn’t get enough. Thanks to his questionable methods, you were starting to open up to him more. Just that morning, the two of you ate breakfast together in the Great Hall. You teased him for eating such a bland meal.

“Honestly, Regulus. We attend a magical school. You could ask for anything your little heart desires and you choose to eat gruel?”

“It’s not gruel. It’s oatmeal.”

“My point exactly.”

“What’s wrong with oatmeal?”

“Nothing, I suppose. If you prefer eating cement for breakfast.”

“You’re awfully judgmental. Let’s take a closer look at your choices. A chocolate chip muffin? You might as well swallow a spoonful of sugar and call it a day.”

“My apologies, Mr. Black. I forgot that you abhor flavor. Shall we share your cement goop, then?”

“After you insulted my culinary preferences? I think not, Y/N.”

Needless to say, the two of you got along like a house on fire. Both of your friends constantly teased you about the newfound friendship. Regulus simply rolled his eyes and brushed off the comments, but even his mates noticed the way he smiled every time you were mentioned. You knew your friends were bursting at the seams with questions regarding Regulus, but to their credit, Ginny and Luna were happy seeing you happy.

Not everyone shared their enthusiasm though. Britt, in particular, was rather cross. It made no sense that someone like you would catch the attention of Regulus Black. She had harbored a crush on the youngest Black since third year and he could barely even spare her a glance, yet here you were receiving his full and undivided attention. Britt was seething with jealousy. She simply could not accept losing to you, of all people.

Perhaps you dosed Regulus with a love potion. Perhaps he pitied you, viewed you as some wounded animal to save. Either way, Britt was convinced that Regulus wasn’t meant to be with someone like you. A shy and quiet girl who could never hope to hold his attention for long. She just had to make Regulus see it. The perfect opportunity presented itself one Friday afternoon.

In the crowded hall, Regulus shielded you from the incoming traffic of students rushing to their next class. It wasn’t much of an effort on his part since your fellow classmates cowered and parted as soon as they caught sight of your companion’s scowl.

“Reggie, could you try not to scare the first years away?” You teased, bumping your hip against his. “Poor Anderson looked ready to cry when you glared at him.”

Regulus bumped you back. “He nearly stepped on your foot.”

“Did that really warrant you threatening to hide bullfrogs underneath his pillows?”

“You’re right, I’ve gone soft. I should’ve threatened him with fire serpents instead.”

“You’re hopeless, Regulus.”

Regulus placed a hand over his heart, feigning hurt. “You wound me, ma chérie.”

The nickname made you flush. Regulus had never been more thankful that French was his native tongue. The language of love certainly had its effect on you.

“However will you live?”

“I’ll tell you what, if you come keep me company tonight, then all will be forgiven.”

“I’m not helping you sneak bullfrogs into Anderson’s dorm.”

He pouted in response. “Fine. I suppose we can have a quiet night in. Come join the dark side. We can read together in the common room.”

“The dungeons?” You asked apprehensively.

Though you’ve gotten used to the occasional Slytherin greeting you in the halls, the whole lot of them still terrified you. You weren’t quite sure how you felt about marching right into the serpent’s nest.

“It’ll just be us,” Regulus added softly. “I’ll make sure of it.”

The way he eased your worries was endearing. You bumped his hip again. “You can’t just kick people out of their own common room.”

“I’m Regulus Black,” he said haughtily. “Of course I can.” Regulus draped an arm over your shoulder and leaned in to whisper conspiratorially. “Come on, I know you’re dying to read that new novel you bought last weekend.”

You rolled your eyes affectionately. He knew you too well. “You mean, the novel that you bought me. Against my will, thank you very much. I will pay you back.” Regulus started protesting, but you only held your hand up. “You’re right, though. I’m convinced. I’ll bring the snacks. Chocolate frogs for me and a bowl of gruel for you.”

You yelped as Regulus dug his fingers into your side. “It’s a date, love.”

Regulus paced back and forth, watching the door to the dungeons. To say he was nervous would’ve been an understatement.

As soon as classes were dismissed for the day, Regulus wasted no time. He raced back to the common room and made sure everything was perfect. The boys were taking the piss out of him, but he paid no mind to them as he fluffed the pillows and draped a blanket over the couch.

“Ooh, what type of candle is this?” Theo asked as he wrapped his grimy little fingers around the banana nut muffin scented candle.

Regulus smacked his friend’s hand away. “Don’t touch that.”

Mattheo snickered as he took in the scene before him. “You must really like this girl, Reg. I don’t think I’ve ever put in this much effort for a date.”

“Yeah, and how’s that working out for you?” Regulus snipped. Blaise and Pansy snorted in response.

Lorenzo bit back a smile. “I think it’s nice. Y/N will love it.”

“You think so?” Regulus asked absentmindedly. He wanted to make sure everything was perfect. The dungeons were a far cry from your dorm, but Regulus did his best to emulate the comfort it provided. “It’s not too much?”

“It’s a bit…cozy for my taste,” said Draco. Regulus fought the urge to throttle his cousin. To be fair, Draco hated anything that wasn’t French or expensive. “But I’m sure your girl will love it.”

“She’s not my girl,” Regulus corrected. “Not yet, at least.”

Tom shot a disinterested glance at him from the couch. “What on earth are you waiting for? You’ve been pining over her for months. Your yearning is starting to sicken me.”

Mattheo grimaced. “I think that’s Tom’s way of encouraging you to make a move.”

“Consider me encouraged,” Regulus said with an eye roll. “Now everyone get out.”

As his friends filtered out, Lorenzo patted him on the back. “Good luck, mate.”

Luck had nothing to do with it. Regulus refused to take his chances on such a finicky thing. He was far too resourceful to leave things up to chance. Instead, he compiled everything he’s learned about you to ensure that you wouldn’t feel overwhelmed.

At exactly six o’clock on the dot, Regulus opened the door to the dungeons. He smiled when he found you standing in the corridor, fidgeting with the hem of your sunflower dress. You clutched your book to your chest as he stepped through the threshold.

“Hi, Reg,” you greeted shyly.

“Hi, love.” Regulus offered his arm, which you gladly took. “Come on in.”

You weren’t sure what to expect at first, but you found the dungeons to be quite cozy. The waves from the Black Lake gently lapped against the stained glass windows, the murky waters shimmering across the onyx floors. The furnishings were all dark wood and harsh lines with pops of emerald tying everything together. The velvet couch was piled with pillows and candles illuminated the space, providing a warmth and coziness that you never would’ve attributed to the dungeons.

“This is quite lovely,” you said softly.

Regulus took your bag from you and set it gently on the marble side table. “I’m glad you think so.”

“Where’s everyone else?”

“Out,” Regulus responded. “If they’re smart, they’ll stay that way.”

You chuckled. “I guess it pays to be mean and scary.”

“To everyone else, yes.” Regulus said as he guided you over to the couch. “Not to you, though.”

The sentiment made you smile. “Well, big scary Reggie, thank you for inviting me over. As promised, I came bearing snacks.”

As you laid out a treasure trove of treats, Regulus watched with an amused smile. “For Salazar’s sake, I’m getting a cavity just looking at all of this candy.”

You grinned as you waved a sour gummy worm in the air. “But it’s good, though.” Regulus backed away from the neon colored candy with a grimace. “Come on, Reg. Try it.”

“No, thank you.”

“Please,” you pleaded, poking his cheek with the worm. “Just one little nibble. I know you want to.”

“You’re a terrible influence,” he sighed defeatedly.

Regulus leaned over, his lips brushing against your fingers as he took a small bite. You flushed furiously, heat prickling your skin as his emerald gaze pierced through you. From this close, you could make out the golden flecks swimming in his irises.

“It’s a bit sweet,” Regulus murmured. His eyes never left yours as he held your wrist in place, devouring what was left of the sour worm. “But I’ve grown an appetite for sweet things lately.”

Regulus licked flecks of sugar off of his lips, smirking when he caught you staring. You cleared your throat, eager to diffuse whatever tension was brewing between you. He tracked your movements as you retrieved your book and daintily perched yourself on the couch.

“Shall we?”

A comfortable silence befell the common room, broken only by the lulling crash of the waves against the windows. It baffled you how at ease you were in the dungeons. Usually, it took a bit of time for you to adjust to new environments, but something about this place seemed familiar. You felt safe here, thanks to the boy sitting beside you.

As you curled up on the sofa, Regulus assumed his position. He scooted towards you, placing his head on your lap and stretching his long legs out until they touched the other end of the couch. With a smile, you peered at him as he nuzzled against your free hand. Regulus sighed in satisfaction when you ran your fingers through his curls. The action reminded you of your little Shadow.

You had no idea how you hadn’t realized it sooner, but the two of them were similar in a lot of ways. They were both standoffish and prickly on the outside, but complete softies on the inside. The thought made you chuckle.

“What’s so funny?” Regulus murmured. Despite the fact that the two of you were supposed to be reading, his book remained perched on his stomach while his eyes fluttered close.

“It’s just hard to reconcile grumpy Regulus to the Regulus that practically begs for his head to be scratched.”

Regulus scoffed. “I do not beg.”

You placed your hand back in your lap. Regulus furrowed his brows as he glanced up at you. With a soft nudge to your side and a matching pout to boot, he single handedly proved your point. “Why’d you stop?”

The pointed look you gave him made Regulus flush. “Fine, I suppose I’m not above begging.”

You raised a brow, which only made him sigh in defeat. Regulus lifted your hand and placed it back atop his curls. “Please?”

“Only because you asked nicely, Reggie.”

The rest of the evening was blissfully peaceful as the two of you continued reading. Well, you were reading. Regulus, on the other hand, hadn’t even cracked open his book. You could feel the intensity of his gaze boring into you while you pretended to be engrossed in your novel.

“Do I have something on my face?” You asked self-consciously.

“No.”

“Then why are you staring?”

Regulus sat upright and faced you, his emerald eyes locking onto yours. His expression was soft as he tucked a stray strand of hair behind your ear, knuckles brushing along your jaw.

“Because you’re beautiful.”

The air left your lungs as Regulus beheld you. The calluses on his thumb stroked your skin as he caressed your cheek. You shivered at his touch, at his scent, at his closeness. Regulus was like poetry come to life. A work of art that moved and breathed and mesmerized everyone around him. If anyone was beautiful, it was him.

“Reggie…”

The words died in your throat when Regulus brushed his thumb over your lips. “Y/N…”

Little by little, the gap closed between you. Anticipation swelled in the room, enveloping everything with unspoken tension. You felt like a harp string pulled taut, waiting for release. Just as Regulus tilted your head back, a loud smack echoed through the dungeons.

You nearly jumped out of your seat, but Regulus shielded you behind him, keeping you close. A stream of people made their way through the common room, trampling the once serene atmosphere. The commotion from earlier seemed to be coming from the large keg that Adrian Pucey was now rolling across the stone floor. The other Slythering began clearing the furniture, chattering excitedly amongst themselves.

Regulus was incensed. “What the fuck is going on?”

One by one, his friends streamed in. Blaise was the first to squeeze through the crowd. “Common room party, apparently. We ran here to warn you, but they were already rolling the kegs through the corridor before we caught up.”

Theodore and Mattheo pushed their way through a couple of fourth years. At their complaint, the two boys glared at them so intensely that they slowly started to back away.

“The fuck are you looking at?” Mattheo barked.

“Are you deaf or just thick? Get fucking lost, mate,” Theo added menacingly.

You flinched at the display of aggression. Regulus clocked the reaction and pulled you closer before frowning at his friends. Theodore elbowed Mattheo when he caught sight of you, who in turn elbowed Theodore back.

“Sorry about that, Y/N.” Theodore drawled, his Italian accent seeping through the words. “We didn’t see you there. Usually, we’re more well-behaved in the presence of a lady.”

“That’s a lie,” Pansy interjected. “You’re horrid around me all the time.”

“I’ve known you since we were in diapers, Pans. You’re certainly not a lady,” Theodore quipped.

“Why, you little twat—”

“Guys,” Regulus scolded.

Pansy stopped in her tracks, sighing as she put her hand down after landing a smack on the back of Theodore’s head. She offered her hand. “Right. Well, this isn’t how we thought our first introduction would go, but it’s nice to finally meet the infamous Y/N. Regulus talks about you all the time.”

You flushed as you took Pansy’s hand. “It’s nice to meet you too, Pansy.”

“Me next,” Theodore exclaimed. “Theodore Nott, at your service.”

The floppy haired boy bowed cheekily before taking your hand in his and kissing your knuckles. Regulus glared daggers at his friend, but you merely giggled in amusement.

“Move, Nott. It’s my turn now.” Mattheo smacked Theodore away and enveloped you into a hug. “Mattheo, the most handsome Riddle. Although don’t tell my brother that. He might hex me. Anyways, nice to meet you." He paused, sniffing your hair unabashedly. "Oh! Reg is right. You do smell nice.”

“Riddle,” warned Regulus.

Mattheo only winked at you before stepping aside. You exchanged introductions with Blaise and Draco next until Lorenzo caught up with the rest of the group. He gave you a warm hug before explaining that someone had printed out posters promoting a party that none of the Slytherins had any clue about. Of course, it didn’t take much convincing on his housemates' part before they jumped on the bandwagon, hence the packed common room.

“I’m so sorry,” Regulus said as he turned over to face you. “ I didn’t know any of this was happening.”

Worry marred his beautiful face. Though the situation was a little more than overwhelming, you didn’t want Regulus worrying on your behalf. It was touching, truly. But you could try to push through it.

“It’s okay, Reg. I’m fine, really.”

“We can leave,” he offered. “Find somewhere more quiet.”

“Already?” Mattheo asked, pouting. “But we haven’t even played butterbeer pong yet! Dibs on Y/N as my partner.”

“No fair! I was going to ask her,” Theodore said, shoving Mattheo. His curly headed friend shoved back, which only escalated into Theodore putting him into a headlock. You shook your head in amusement.

“Sorry to disappoint, but I have no idea how to play butterbeer pong.”

Mattheo slithered out of Theodore’s hold and beamed. “Oh, it’s easy. You just arrange a bunch of cups into a pyramid and then take turns shooting ping pong balls into them. Surely, you’ve handled balls before, right?”

The double meaning was not lost on the group. Regulus tensed, charging up to smack Mattheo into next week for the inappropriate joke, but your response stopped him in his tracks.

“I have,” you said softly. “Have you? Because it doesn’t seem like it from the way you kept missing the goalposts during the game last week.”

Mattheo gaped in shock before bursting into laughter. “Oh, she’s a keeper.”

“You’re lucky Y/N found that funny,” Regulus said to his friend. “Otherwise, I would’ve twisted your intestines into a bow for her.”

“Taking a page out of my brother’s book, I see,” Mattheo taunted.

“Is this a bad time to ask if you’ve ever had a body shot, Y/N?” Theo asked with feigned innocence. “If not, I’m more than willing to show you.”

Regulus reeled back and smacked Theo on the head while the rest of the group cackled. Theo rubbed the sore spot and grumbled. “A simple no would have sufficed.”

The more time you spent around them, the less intimidating they became. From what you gleaned, they seemed to be a tight knit group. It wasn’t at all what you expected from the Slytherins.

“Your friends are silly,” you whispered to Regulus as the group migrated to the couch.

In the background, Mattheo and Theodore bickered over who drank the last of the firewhisky while Lorenzo wiped the back of his mouth and burped. He winked when he caught your eye, charging you with keeping his secret.

“They’re idiots,” Regulus scoffed. His tone was contrasted by the softness in his eyes as he watched his friends muck about. “But they’re family.”

Throughout the night, you didn’t miss the way that Regulus fussed over you. He was a constant presence by your side, attuned and attentive to every need. When you felt parched, Regulus was there to offer you a drink. When you felt cold, Regulus draped his jacket over you without you needing to ask. He checked in with you often, making sure his obnoxious friends weren’t offending you and ensuring that the attention wasn’t too overwhelming to handle.

You assured him that you were fine. In fact, you were surprised to realize that you were enjoying yourself. It was a lot easier to deal with your social anxiety when you had someone there to ground you.

The Slytherins were a rather social bunch. Pansy was thrilled at the prospect of having another girl join the group. Within thirty minutes, she had talked you into going to Hogsmeade with her next weekend. She wanted a break from the boys, she said. But she also made it known that she expected a full rundown of the situation between you and Regulus.

Draco and Blaise were very clearly eavesdropping, despite their efforts to appear nonchalant. Apparently, everyone was as invested in your pairing as Pansy was. Theodore and Mattheo didn’t even try to hide the fact that they were talking Regulus up. When Mattheo declared that Regulus rescued an injured baby bird and nursed it back to health, you nearly lost it. Regulus hated birds.

“You’re an idiot,” Regulus exclaimed.

“No, let him talk. I want to hear all about it. What kind of bird was it, Mattheo?”

“Uh…the kind with wings?”

Lorenzo shook his head. “Really, mate? That’s the best you could come up with?”

The group continued their bantering as you watched in fascination. Their dynamic fascinated you. They bickered like siblings, but you could tell that they would go to the end of the world for one another. You could see why Regulus thought of them as family.

“Feeling okay?” Regulus asked, nudging you with his hip.

“Mhm,” you responded, bumping him back. “Thanks for inviting me over.”

“This isn’t what I had in mind when I did,” Regulus said. “But I’m still glad you came.”

“Of course, I had to see you in your natural habitat. I didn’t know you were such a party animal, Reggie.”

He grabbed hold of your waist and leaned down to whisper in your ear. “I preferred when the party was just you and me.”

You flushed, pitching forward to hide your face behind a curtain of hair. “I did, too.”

“When everyone leaves, I intend on picking up where we left off. You should know that I’m not the type of man who leaves things unfinished, love.”

There was no hiding the blush that blossomed on your cheeks. Crimson colored your features even as you excused yourself to the bathroom. As you washed your hands in the sink, you studied your reflection. While you would always feel the lingering social anxiety that came from being in large crowds, you thought that tonight was going fairly well. With a smile, you made your return back to the Regulus.

“I don’t know who you’re fooling, Y/N.” Britt sneered at you as she leaned against the wall, a cigarette held haphazardly between her neon painted fingers.

You frowned. “What are you talking about, Britt?”

“Regulus may have fallen for your shy and sweet little act, but he’ll get sick and tired of you dragging him down sooner or later.”

A lump formed in the pit of your stomach. Though it was no secret that Britt wasn’t exactly a fan of yours, you hadn’t expected her to say such hurtful things. Even worse, she touched a nerve with her words.

Britt nodded pointedly towards the crowd. “Look at him. He can’t even enjoy himself without worrying about poor, helpless little Y/N.”

Regulus towered over everyone, cutting an imposing figure in the middle of the room. His eyes darted through the crowd, seemingly searching for someone. Perhaps it was the reality of seeing the worry in his features, his half-distracted responses to whatever Lorenzo was saying as he stood stoic, unable to partake in conversation because he was too busy looking for you. Worrying about you. However horrid Britt was, you realized that there was merit to her words.

The last thing you wanted was to hold Regulus back. You didn’t want him worrying about babysitting you instead of having fun with his friends, which is exactly what he was doing now. The thought made you sad. Sure, Regulus was fine with catering to your needs now, but he was bound to tire of it sooner or later. You didn’t want to find out how long it would take.

You didn’t want to be a burden to anyone. Most of all, Regulus.

Without a word, you passed by Britt and weaved your way through the room. You stuck to the alcoves, passing beneath its shadowy refuge until the door came to view. Only a few steps stood between you and your escape when a low, stern voice stopped you in your tracks.

“Y/N,” said Tom Riddle. “Leaving early, are we?”

“Oh, hi there Tom,” you mumbled, casting your gaze towards the floor. You were afraid that you’d cry if you stayed in the dungeons a second longer. “M’just not feeling very well.”

You could feel his observant gaze sweeping over you. “I imagined you wouldn’t after encountering that hag outside of the bathroom.”

“You saw that?” You asked in a small, defeated voice.

Finally, you deigned to look up and found Tom staring at you. As always, the eldest Riddle was cold and stoic, but there was something in his gaze that conveyed concern.

“Yes, and I heard it too.”

“Please, can you—can you just not tell Reggie?”

Tom’s expression was imperceptible besides his curt nod. “If that’s what you prefer. I’ll let him know you left early because you weren’t feeling well.”

“Thank you, Tom.”

You bid him a good night before reaching for the door. Behind you, Tom cleared his throat.

“For the record, that hag doesn’t know what she’s talking about. You’re not dragging Regulus down. If anything, you’ve made the twat more tolerable over these past few weeks.”

Before you could respond, Tom was gone. You barely caught a glimpse of his back as he climbed the stairs that led to the dormitories. The parting surprised you, but you figured that Tom probably just felt bad for witnessing the conversation between you and Britt.

Casting a last glance towards the common room, you spotted Regulus once again.

Softly, you whispered, “Bye, Reggie.”

Once you were back in your dorm, you showered and decided to turn in for the night. It was just a few minutes shy of midnight as you tossed and turned in bed. Your roommate was most likely still at the party, leaving you to ponder your thoughts alone. There was an air of restlessness in the room as you stared up at the ceiling and considered your predicament.

No matter which way you looked at it, there was only one solution. You had to end your friendship with Regulus.

The thought filled you with overwhelming sadness. Letting go of Regulus made you feel so isolated and alone, but you knew it was the right thing to do. As though sensing your need for comfort, Shadow slinked through your door and hopped right into your lap. The black cat stared up at you with knowing eyes and meowed.

“At least I can count on you to always keep me company,” you murmured softly as you scratched under Shadow’s chin. “It’s been a rough night.”

Shadow bumped his head against your hip, seemingly telling you to stop feeling sorry for yourself.

“Britt is right, Shadow,” you confessed. “I’m just not the type of girl Regulus should be with.”

The cat bumped you again, stomping his feet on the bed in frustration. Shadow gave you a rather argumentative meow.

“Oh, don’t give me that. We both know it’s true. Reggie is Reggie and I’m…well, I’m me.”

Shadow hissed in response, demanding your attention. You sighed as you pulled the cat into your lap. “It’s a shame,” you whispered against his dark fur. “I really like him.”

To your surprise, Shadow purred softly and cuddled against your side. Though the feral little cat had taken a liking to you and your dorm, Shadow was always usually gone in the morning. Tonight though, the cat curled up next to you as though it knew that this was what you needed.

“Good night, Shadow.”

Regulus knew it was reckless.

But after Tom informed him of your sudden illness, suspicion rose in him like a tide. Even if you weren’t feeling well, it wasn’t like you to leave so abruptly, which meant that something was definitely wrong. All of his suspicions were confirmed when he got to your dorm.

It broke his heart to hear you say that you weren’t right for him. How could such a thought even cross your mind? There had never been anyone more perfect to him than you. Didn’t you know that you were the first person Regulus looked for in a room full of people? Couldn’t you tell how head over heels he was for you? His sweet, sassy, shy, sunshine of a Hufflepuff. There was no one better.

Certainly not Britt. Regulus was well aware of the crush she had on him. At first, he simply ignored it. He had absolutely no interest in someone as foul and loathsome as that girl, but now that she had come after you, Regulus had half a mind to sink his teeth and claws into her ankles until he drew blood.

At the moment, his plot for revenge was set aside as he focused on comforting you. Up until this point, Regulus had always been careful not to fall asleep in your dorm because he never knew when he was going to switch back, but tonight, he was willing to risk it. He didn’t know if this would be the last time you ever spoke to him given what you confessed earlier.

Perhaps it was selfish of him, but he didn’t want the night to end. Regulus wasn't ready to face the prospect of you ending things, so he snuggled into your side and fell asleep to the sound of your heartbeat.

It was a choice that would certainly have its consequences in the morning.

The first thing that woke him up was not the sunlight streaming through your windows or the chirping of the birds, but instead your surprised yelp. Regulus blinked sleepily, rubbing his paw against his snout, but instead bumped his hand into his nose.

This was not good.

This was definitely not good.

You were on the other side of the bed, blankets pulled up over your chin as you stared at him in disbelief.

“Reggie? What—what are you doing here?”

Regulus was an idiot. A stupid, careless idiot.

But none of that mattered now.

“Don’t end our friendship.”

You reeled back in surprise. “I—what—what’s even happening—”

“Don’t end our friendship,” Regulus said once more. “Fuck, it’s not even a friendship. You and I both know it’s so much more than that.”

“I don’t understand.”

“I’m not going to get bored of you. Never in a million years would I ever get bored of you. In the months that I’ve gotten to know you, not once have I ever stopped feeling drawn in. I want to know everything about you, Y/N. Even though you tell me everything without realizing it, I still want to know more. I want to listen to you talk about your books and hold your hand when you’re overwhelmed and follow you all around the castle like I’ve been doing all along.”

You were speechless as Regulus continued. “Tom told me that you weren’t feeling well last night. I knew it was a lie, so I had to come and see for myself. I had to make sure you were okay, even if you didn’t know it was me.” He sighed, closing his eyes. “But then you said you wanted to end our friendship and I just—I was selfish. I should’ve gone back to my dorm, but I didn’t know if last night was the last time you’d ever speak to me and I just couldn’t bring myself to leave.”

Realization dawned over you. Pieces of the puzzle started clicking into place. “You’re—you—you’ve been Shadow this whole time?”

Regulus nodded guiltily. “I understand if you’re angry with me, but please know that I didn’t mean for any of this to happen. I found your dorm by accident that first night and I don’t know. I just kept coming back. You just kept drawing me back.”

He bowed his head and ran a hand through his curls. “I realize you might hate me after this, but you have been the best part of my day since I accidentally stumbled into your dorm and I think—no, I know that I’ve fallen for you.”

You blinked in disbelief, still processing his confession. “So you’ve been…you this whole time? You knew everything I’ve ever said to Shadow. You listened to me vent and rant, thinking I was just talking to a cat.” You paused as something niggled at your brain. “When we first ran into each other at the bookstore, did you already know I was going to be there?”

Regulus didn't deny it. “I did. I also already read all of the books on your shelves in advance on the off chance that you might mention it in class. I didn't really need help in charms, that was just an excuse to spend more time with you and I...I bought the same candles and blankets you like so you'd be comfortable in the common room. I learned all of that by listening to you, by spying on you, and I'm sorry. I’m so fucking sorry —"

His apology was cut short as you surged forward to kiss him. Regulus was stunned for a moment as your lips met, but it didn’t take long for him to reciprocate. One arm slid around your waist to pull you closer while the other cradled your cheek. His kisses were hungry, like he was a man awaiting the gallows and you were his final meal. It was full of passion, the longing and yearning evident as he gorged himself on the taste of you.

Coming up for air, Regulus finally opened his pretty emerald eyes and looked at you. His gaze pierced through your skin, raw and vulnerable. “You’re not mad at me?”

“Are you kidding? That’s the sweetest thing anyone’s ever done for me.” Regulus sighed in relief, pressing his forehead against yours. “Plus, how can I be mad when you make such a cute little kitty?”

Regulus laughed, the sweet, melodious sound filling the room. You brushed his curls back and grinned. “For the record, I’ve fallen for you too.”

“That’s a relief. My friends have been pestering me on finally making a move for months. Pansy cornered me last night and lectured me on asking you to be my girlfriend before you realize that you’re too good for me.”

“I think I like Pansy.”

“Don’t tell her that,” Regulus groaned. “She’ll definitely try to steal you away from me.”

“I don’t think you’ll have any trouble with that.”

“Good, I don’t want Parkinson getting any ideas about running off with my girlfriend.”

You raised a brow. “Oh, I’m your girlfriend now?”

“Girlfriend. Love of my life. Apple of my eye. Take your pick, mon cœur.”

“I’ll take all of the above, boyfriend.”

Later that morning, after much cuddling and kissing, you and Regulus finally decided to head to the Great Hall for breakfast. You smiled as he held your hand, bumping your hip as the two of you walked through the corridors. It was strange how at ease you felt. You were vaguely aware of the eyes that trailed your every move, but they quickly blended into the background when Regulus pulled you close and kissed your cheek.

Luna and Ginny perked up at the sight of you, surprise marring their faces when they spotted Regulus at your side. Their eyebrows raised to the skies, pointedly staring at your linked fingers.

Later, you mouthed. You had a hell of a lot of explaining to do, but your friends merely smiled and nodded.

“Finally,” Pansy announced exasperatedly. She patted the seat next to her as you shyly slipped in. “I was beginning to think that we’d have to scheme to get the two of you together.”

“No need,” you said with a smile. “I think we took care of that on our own.”

Regulus smiled and nuzzled against your shoulder. The boys flashed him shit-eating grins, but he didn’t seem to notice. “Stop scaring my girlfriend away, Pans.”

“Oh, is it girlfriend now? It’s about time. I’ve only listened to you pine and yearn for months.”

“Excuse her,” Blaise said. “She’s just happy to have another girl in the group.”

“Damn right I am. I’m tired of spending so much time with you heathens.” Pansy patted your shoulder. “I hope you’re in the market for new friends, because you’re not getting rid of me now. My first act of friendship will be to determine whether or not to hex that little trollop for glaring at you. Do you know that girl, Y/N?”

You turned and found Britt frowning at you with her arms crossed. “It’s alright, Pansy. She’s not worth it.”

At the same moment, Tom sauntered through the aisles. Once he reached Britt, he cut her a glare that would paralyze a basilisk. She cowered back and made a hasty retreat.

Tom merely continued walking before taking a seat next to Mattheo. “So, that hag, “ he says in a no-nonsense tone. “Would you like me to take care of her?”

You glanced at the group in concern. “What exactly does taking care of her mean?”

Mattheo’s curly head popped up from his plate. “Oh, he means he’ll feed her to his snake.”

You laughed at the jest, but Tom remained stone-faced. He was obviously just kidding. Right?

“He’s dead serious,” Theo added. “I’ve seen him do it before.”

With a gulp, you turned back to Tom. “That won’t be necessary, Tom. Please don’t feed Britt to your snake.”

Tom shrugged as though you were discussing the weather. “Suit yourself.”

When everyone returned to their morning banter, you turned to Regulus. “What have I gotten myself into?”

Regulus smiled and pecked your lips. “You know, I considered clawing her ankles off, but I think Tom’s way will be much quicker.”

“Regulus Black.” You scolded, though it wasn’t entirely convincing given the grin you were biting back.

“It’s Reggie to you, love.” You stared at him pointedly, which only made him sigh dramatically. “Fine, Tom’s snake will not have a new snack, but only because I have a saint for a girlfriend.”

“And I have a devious little sinner for a boyfriend.”

Regulus smirked. “I’ll make sure to worship at your altar for penance.”

You rolled your eyes, but couldn’t help but blush as Regulus laid his head down on your shoulder once more. You ran your fingers through his curls, smiling to yourself when he let out a satisfied hum that sounded awfully close to a purr.

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