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happyyyandcrazyyy · 2 years

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flu (remus lupin x reader)

summary: (y/n) meets remus in the hospital wing. it’s quite fitting, really

remus and (y/n) are aware of the lingering feelings but won’t confess, maybe all they need is a little marauders’ meddling

warning: chronic magic illness, slight canon divergence (in the sense that i made up magical stuff lmao), description of pain (not detailed)

request by @ladylokilaufeyson5 : “Hi, I was wondering if you could write another remus lupin x reader? Maybe reader and remus are lowkey in love with each other and everyone but them knows? And the marauders try to interfere? On another note I absolutely ADORE your writing <3”

a/n: hii!! thank you so much for the request and for your words <3 i’m sorry it took me so long to get it done, inspiration has been hard to find these days :/ i changed your request a bit and added additional stuff i hope you don’t mind and i hope you enjoy it !!

chapter 1: the flu (spoiler: it isn’t the flu)

1.0

Everything hurts.

(Y/N) is used to that, the lingering headaches and muscle aches. They’ve been there for as long as she can recall.

What she isn’t used to, however, is her skin feeling as if it’s been blasted with cold air. She’s freezing and the shivers that run through her body are only worsening the pain. She can’t help the pained grunt that leaves her lips.

There’s movement somewhere around her— she would open her eyes to see exactly who it is but her body’s being uncooperative, and her lids are just too heavy —and the next thing she knows there are hands on her face. The back of the palm is pressed against her forehead, there’s a mumble, too quiet for her to hear, and then the hand’s gone.

“How are you feeling Miss (Y/L/N)?” And it’s a testament of how much time she’s spent here that even with her brain feeling as if it’s been stuffed with cotton candy, she’s able to identify the voice.

She tries to reply, but it feels like her tongue is stuck to the roof of her mouth. It takes her a couple of seconds to be able to articulate the words, “Like I’ve been run over by a hippogriff.”

The matron chuckles at that, one of her hands delicately moving some of the hair in (Y/N)’s hair away from her eyes. The laughter sounds somewhat fond, like she’s grown much to used to her comments. That’s the real testament of how much time she’s spent in the Infirmary, the fact that she gets the privilege of gentle tones and sweet hands.

Madam Pomfrey helps her sit up, one hand on her arm and the other on her back. The change of position makes her head pound, but she keeps her mouth shut, she knows better than to say anything that will keep her bedridden longer than necessary. She’s handed a glass of water and the matron observes her, makes sure she drinks it all before nodding approvingly. If the matron notices the way her hands shake as she guides the glass to her lips, she doesn’t say a word. She does, however, evidently notice the goosebumps that cover her skin and wordlessly casts a warming spell. (Y/N) can’t help the way her muscles immediately sag in response to the heat, no longer tensing. The deep ache lessens slightly.

“Try to rest,” Madam Pomfrey instructs as she takes the glass away, as if (Y/N) had enough energy to do anything else. She only nods in response and closes her eyes as the healer walks away to tend to other patients.

It’s quiet for a while and (Y/N) finds herself drifting between consciousness and sleep when a sound startles her. Her eyes snap open and she turns her head around to try to locate the noise. There’s a hiss, followed by a swallowed groan filled with pain (the kind of sound you produce when you’re hurt and it’s painful, but you don’t want to bother anyone because, yes, the pain is bad, but it could be much worse). It doesn’t take much for her to identify where the noises are coming from; the bed right next to hers. Knowing who it is, however, is near impossible seeing that the curtains are pulled shut.

They must be badly hurt, she thinks to herself, because Madam Pomfrey only ever closes the curtains when the extent of the patient’s injuries is serious.

Whoever it is keeps on moving around as if trying to find a position that isn’t painful. (Y/N) can empathize and maybe that’s the reason she finds herself asking, “You alright?”

The movement comes to a sudden stop, and it seems like it takes a while for the person to realize that she’s talking to them.

“Uh, yes. I’m— I just— I got the flu.”

And that’s a lie if she’s ever heard one. (Y/N) isn’t even looking at them and she can tell. It’s such a bad lie that it’s kind of comical, it makes her huff out the most silent snort, “Okay.”

“You?” The person asks after a couple of seconds of silence, moving around once more before settling, “Are you okay?”

(Y/N) crosses her arms over her chest, biting her lip down when her muscles cry in protest, “Also got the flu.”

That brings out something that resembles a chuckle, but is much to pained to be one, from the person.

“Must be flu season.”

She can’t help the way her lips quirk in amusement, “Must be.”

1.1

She’s back in the Hospital Wing two times before she sees (hears?) the person again. If she’s being honest, she hadn’t expected to ever meet them again, not everyone is a frequent visitor like herself, after all.

This time, however, the roles are reversed. She’s the one with curtains pulled shut (because it’d been bad this time, real bad, she somehow managed to burn her right arm and part of her chest and the feeling of freezing to death had been bad enough that Madam Pomfrey had been forced to give her Pepperup Potion) and he’s the one who speaks up first.

“Are you okay? Do you want me to holler for Madam Pomfrey?”

It isn’t until she hears those words that she realizes she’s been letting out small whimpers of pain. She breaths deeply through her nose and tries to quiet down, it’s kind of hard when it feels like her insides have been liquified, but she manages.

It takes her a moment to realize she knows that voice, she’s heard it before. It’s a good thing, she thinks, that she has the ability to match voice to people with scary precision because it only takes her a couple of seconds to know where she’s heard that voice before.

“I’m good,” she replies, “It’s the flu, you know?”

The person is evidently startled, most likely not expecting that answer, because they let out a small laugh, “Highly contagious, isn’t it?”

They have a nice laugh, deep and rich and overwhelming warm. She doesn’t think she’s ever heard someone laugh in the Infirmary before. It’s nice, she decides, different in a way she could get used to.

“Very much so,” she plays along, somewhat amused.

They’re quiet for a couple of minutes before the person speaks up again, “I’m Remus Lupin, by the way.”

She hadn’t expected to exchange names with the person, but this is a nice development.

“The infamous marauder,” she teases, groaning low as she changes her position. The bandage around her arm is beginning to itch. “Whatever have I done to be blessed with your presence?”

“You know who I am?”

He sounds genuinely surprised and that’s confusing because, really, there isn’t a person at Hogwarts who doesn’t know the marauders. She tells him as much.

“I figured it’d be James and Sirius who everyone was familiar with.”

(Y/N) shakes her head, even if he can’t see it, and immediately regrets it when pain flashes through her eyes like lighting. “I’m pretty sure you all have fan clubs,” she responds through clenched teeth, doing as best as she can to keep the pain from her voice.

She’s moderately successful, good enough to fool anyone who doesn’t know her, but Remus must be familiar with pain because he asks, “Are you sure you don’t need Madam Pomfrey?”

And she does want some pain relief potion (badly, she wants it badly) but she doesn’t need it. Calling out for the matron will only end up with (Y/N) having to stay longer than she wants.

“I’m good, Lupin.”

He hums in response, obviously disbelieving.

“Oh, I’m (Y/N) (Y/L/N),” she tells him after a couple of minutes of breathing through her nose and clenching her eyes shut, willing the pain to pass. “Just remembered I never introduced myself.”

There’s shuffling, like he suddenly sat up. She swears she can feel his eyes on her, even through the curtains.

“The brightest witch of our generation,” he teases, but he’s unable to hide the evident astonishment from his voice. It seeps through, only a little, but enough for (Y/N) to notice.

She huffs and catches herself before she can cross her arms over her chest, the movement would be too much for her muscles right now. She’s not the brightest nor is she the most powerful, despite what everyone believes. Even if she was, it would only be due to an unfair advantage. It’s not really her.

Just when she thinks he’s going to ask something else about her magic, like everyone does— it’s always is it true you managed to cast a patronus when you were only twelve? and can you really perform nonverbal spells? and can you teach me how to cast protego with the power of my mind and no need of a wand? —his voice becomes gentler and he says, “Nice to meet you.”

And that’s it. No questions, no prodding.

She likes him, she decides in that moment. He’s not what she expected him to be.

“Nice to meet you, too.”

chapter 2: blooming friendship

2.0

Things don’t drastically change after that. She wouldn’t say they’re friends, not really. Acquaintances is a more fitting word, (Y/N) reckons, although sometimes it feels more intimate than that. Being aware of each other’s pain does that, she guesses.

Despite not running in the same circles, they’re friendly with each other; Remus nods at her when he catches her eye and (Y/N) always responds with a smile.

It isn’t until Professor McGonagall decides that she’ll be the one pairing up students for the upcoming Transfiguration project that things do change.

Now, usually professors allow them to choose who they’ll be pairing with— partially because it prevents conflict, but mainly because it prevents the heavily dramatized whines and complaints from Potter and Black, who grumble as if they didn’t spend their every waking moment stuck to each other’s side —so it isn’t surprising that the news are received with a communal groan.

(Y/N) shares a disappointed look with Crasswell, one of the best friends and someone she works splendidly with, and begs to Merlin that whoever is her partner isn’t Potter or Black.

(“Minnie, please! We’ll do anything.”

“Anything!”

“No running around past curfew.”

“No pranks for a whole week.”

“No stealing food from the kitchens.”

“No sneaking into Filch’s office.”

“No convincing Peeves to carry out mischiefs in our absence.”

“No trying to get the portraits to sing opera in the middle of the night.”

“This is all merely hypothetical, Minnie, of course. Not to say we’ve ever done any of these things.”

“Precisely.”

“But if we ever had, we could stop.”

“Grant you peace of mind for a week or two.”

“Because, honestly, I think I might die if I’m not paired with Prongs.”

“The separation anxiety would be too much for him, Professor.”

“I feel ill by just imagining it.”

“He does look kind of feverish.”

“Mr. Black,”

“Yes?”

“If you’re going to die be sure not to do it on my classroom.”

“Mr. Potter,”

“Professor?”

“Back to your seat.”)

Yes, (Y/N) really begs it’s neither of them.

“Ms. (Y/L/N) and Mr. Lupin.”

Merlin be praised.

She can’t help but sigh in relief, because not only is he not James or Sirius but Remus is actually a decent partner.

“You lucky sod,” she hears Black tell Remus as he begins to make his way towards her. “You got the best possible partner.”

It seems as if the class agrees because as soon as her name is called along with Lupin’s, the remaining students huff in discontent. She isn’t egocentric, but (Y/N) knows people were hopeful to have her as their partner— if Mulciber’s unblinking stare and Avery’s crossed fingers are any indication —after all, she’s known for being particularly skilled with any sort of magic that requires a wand. It makes her even more grateful to be partnered with Remus. He might be one of the few who wouldn’t exploit her to get a good mark.

“Hey,” she greets him warmly, moving her books aside to make room for him.

“Hi.” His smile is sweet, shy, it shows off a barely noticeable dimple in his right cheek. She thinks it’s adorable.

That’s really where it all begins.

2.1

(Y/N) ends up spending a lot of time with Remus. At first, it’s only because of Professor McGonagall’s assignment— they’re doing trans-species transformations, after all, and even with her unwanted magical advantage (Y/N) knows it’s a complicated and dangerous matter, so they’re forced to spend hours doing research before even beginning to experiment with animals —but it eventually becomes more than that. She finds out she enjoys his company, his attentive silence and quick-witted comments. Remus never looks at her like others do, not with a mixture of pity and sympathy like her parents, or like she’s an experiment that needs to be prodded at like some of the healers at St. Mungo’s. He doesn’t even look at her like some other students do, with greed and the intent of befriending her just to get a peek at her power, or intrigue and the desire to figure out why she disappears for days at a time. It’s like Remus is able to look past assumptions and expectations and see her. It’s different and (Y/N) finds out she likes the normality very much.

She discovers a lot about Remus Lupin in the months that they go from being acquaintances-that-see-each-other-at-the-Hospital-Wing-every-couple-of-weeks to friends-that-spend-every-single-moment-of-the-day-together. (Y/N) finds out that he’s got the gentlest soul and the kindest heart, that he’s someone who genuinely cares. He’s not much of a talker but is instead a great listener and an ever-better advice giver. It’s curious, she thinks, the way he becomes louder when he’s around the marauders. Not different, but brighter. Remus is also incredibly smart, not exactly in a book-smart-kind-of-way (somehow James and Sirius surpass him in academics, it’s one of the greatest mysteries to herself and Evans because they both swear on their lives they’ve never seen either of them open up a book unless the purpose was to destroy school property) but in an intellectual-kind-of-way, he’s knowledgeable and passionate about a handful of topics and it’s fun to have someone with whom she can debate about controversial topics.

Seeing the good in him is as easy as breathing, it’s all there in the surface for the public eye. Sensing his hardship, however, can be almost impossible in a good day. Still, (Y/N) manages to see what slips through, eyes that shine with an emotion that resembles guilt and shame crumbled together. After having Remus deflect when she’d asked, she knows better than to push him into discussing things he obviously does not wish to share, but those are the days that she pulls him closer.

“I think we might get this done tomorrow if we’re lucky,” (Y/N) speaks up as she rubs her eyes. After realizing just how well they worked together during McGonagall’s assignment they’d decided to partner up for all the upcoming projects. They’ve been cooped up in the Library, working nonstop on Professor Slughorn’s assigned concoction for hours, she feels like her brain is melting and never has she been more grateful to be done for the day. “Rem?”

At the lack of response, she turns around to meet her friend.

Remus is starting out the window, seemingly lost in thought. He’s been more agitated the last couple of days, anxious. (Y/N) has noticed he gets like that sometimes before ending up at the Infirmary.

“Remus, hey!” she moves her hand in front of his face, effectively pulling him out of whichever daydream he’d been in. “You good?”

“Yes, sorry,” he closes his eyes for a second as he runs his hands, “Uh, I don’t know if I’ll be able to meet up tomorrow. I haven’t been feeling well, might be coming down with the flu.”

And that’s the keyword, the word they both use, the one they know means something else entirely. (Y/N) wonders if one day he’ll trust her enough to tell her about his condition. She wonders if she’ll ever tell him about hers, too.

“That’s quite alright, we still got plenty of time to get this done, we’ll finish it when you feel better.”

Even months after knowing each other, Remus still seems surprised by her gentleness, and something akin to regret colors his features. She hopes he doesn’t feel bad for not telling her the truth, she doesn’t mind.

(Y/N) finds herself reaching out for his hand, squeezing it gently as she offers him a kind smile. “Get some rest, yeah?”

He huffs a little, like the idea of resting sounds impossible, still, he replies with, “I’ll try my best.”

Later that night, as she lies in bed with nothing but the full moon for company, (Y/N) wonders what kind of magical condition Lupin has. She can’t help but compare herself to him. From what she’s seen it appears like whatever he has doesn’t affect his everyday life and it also seems like he can always tell when it’s coming. She envies that. There are things she’ll never be able to do, like ride a broom and play Quidditch, and she can never tell when a new episode is about to occur. Well, that’s a lie, sometimes she’ll get the smell of citrus burning through her nose or a feeling of intense pressure between her eyes and she knows, but it’s never early enough to prevent the attack, only enough to allow her to escape to some place where she can be alone. Whatever Remus has leaves him drained and injured, she’s seen him sporting scratches and bruises, and that confuses her because if there’s one thing she’s learned by visiting every healer in the country from the day she was born is that magical illnesses don’t tend to be violent in nature. (She’s an exception, of course, because apparently she’s an exception to every single magical rule that’s ever been written.) The thing that itches at her mind the most is how Remus’s condition seems to be cyclical, not at all random like her own. There’s only a handful of cyclical illnesses, she’s read enough magical medical books to know that.

She sighs to herself, looking at the moon one more time before snuggling into her bed.

It isn’t until the next morning, as she brushes her teeth, that she makes the connection.

Her eyes widen in realization, toothbrush falling from her mouth to the skin.

Merlin’s beard, how could she be so daft?

A full moon high in the sky every single time.

When she visits him in the Infirmary later that day she brings him three chocolate frogs— which she’d bought the week prior with him in mind —and tells him not to worry about anything other than resting. He responds with a smile, one that’s pain-filled but genuine. She doesn’t tell him about what she thinks she knows.

2.2

Her next episode happens in the middle of the night, as she sleeps in her bed. That is new, she’s never had an episode while asleep. (Later on, when the pain is manageable, she’ll reach the conclusion that it’s not only new, but concerning.)

This, as it turns out, is both a blessing and a curse. Being asleep means she doesn’t suffer from the initial dizziness and nausea, just the muscle cramping and spasms that always come prior to losing consciousness. Even then, it’s like she passes out earlier on than usual, her body too disoriented to handle the pain. She counts that as a win, really. The downside, however, is that she wakes up feeling as if she’s been slammed by the Whomping Willow and stupefied at the same time, every nerve ending is flaring up. Tears well up in her eyes and begin falling without her permission. It’s been a while since she’s cried out of pure pain.

The pain not bad enough to knock her out again— she wishes it would —but it does manage to make her stomach churn. She turns around and throws up. Somehow Madam Pomfrey (when did she get here? had she been here all along?) foresees it and there’s a bucket that keeps her from making a mess out of the Infirmary.

She’s sticky with sweat, hair pressed against her forehead, and the tears keep on falling. Her body trembles with the effort of keeping her upright and heaving into the bucket. The muscles on her chest ache, badly. She’d feel gross if she had enough mind to think. What she does notice, however, are the shivers that run up and down her body. As if the pain wasn’t enough, she’s freezing.

Everything becomes a blur after that. She’s conscious, but she’s not. Madam Pomfrey works diligently around her (the shivers decrease but they don’t disappear completely). The curtains are pulled shut (are there any physical injuries or is it just that bad?). She drinks two potions (or were there three?), she doesn’t even register the taste. There’s mumbling (an incantation maybe?) and then there’s black.

It takes her a week to recover and three more days of rest before Madam Pomfrey lets her go back to her everyday life.

Her roommates come by and she finds out that they’d been frightened and worried out of their minds when they’d woken up and she hadn’t been in bed. (Y/N) doesn’t have to ask Madam Pomfrey how she’d known she’d had one episode; she’s been wearing the small necklace— one that is enchanted to detect increased flows of magic and heart rate —for as long as the episodes have been occurring. The matron was probably alerted by it. She’s also not surprised that her roommates didn’t hear a thing, she places a silencing charm around her bed every night in case something like this ever were to happen.

Remus also comes by; he brings her gummies and his favorite muggle book for her to read— he introduced her to romance muggle books and she thinks she might be addicted. He sounds evidently concerned about her, voice filled with worry (there must be rumors going around the castle, she guesses), but he never asks about her illness, only makes sure she’s feeling better. He fills her in on the things she’s missed, which include two highly amusing pranks by the marauders and a very public breakup by a Slytherin couple in the middle of the Great Hall.

Neither her friends nor Remus see her, the curtains stay shut until she leaves the Infirmary. The traces of visible magic floating around her fingers linger for days and it isn’t until they disappear that she’s released from the matron’s care.

chapter 3: hogsmeade, feelings and revelations

3.0

(Y/N) feels like her energy is being sucked out of her. Some days she wakes up to find out there’s already a headache building at the back of her head, others it’s hard to even open her eyes. She’s always cold. She uses a glamour spell to hide the dark bags under her eyes. What’s truly concerning is the feeling of her magic; it swirls unsteadily, uncurling only to tighten up again. It’s not painful— after all her magic doesn’t actively try to hurt her, it’s just too much —but it worries her because it’s uncontrolled. It normally takes a lot of effort to keep it reigned in, these days it’s even harder which results in her episodes occurring more frequently.

Madam Pomfrey wants to inform her parents about the recent developments of her condition, (Y/N) begs her not to— she knows what’ll happen, they’ll take her home and make her rest and then she’ll be visited by a thousand different mediwitches and healers only to find out that no one knows how to help her. Madam Pomfrey compromises, but only after (Y/N) starts pouting.

“You’ll come over after dinner every night to have your vitals checked,” Madam Pomfrey relents. “I’ll talk to Professor Slughorn about brewing a potion that’ll help you harness the magic.”

(Y/N) knew the matron had a soft spot for her, even if she tries to deny it.

“But if the condition gets any worse, if your health is at risk, I will inform your parents.”

(Y/N) hopes it doesn’t get worse, but that’s just wishful thinking, she knows it will. The cold feeling should’ve been enough of a warning; (Y/N) is pretty sure she’s dying. If that’s the case, she just wishes to be allowed to enjoy however long she has left before inevitably ending up bedridden.

That’s the reason why, when Remus asks her to accompany him to Hogsmeade, she doesn’t hesitate to agree, even when she’s exhausted beyond belief.

It’s how she finds herself walking around the small town, watching little snowflakes fall to the ground, one hand linked through Remus’s arm. Half of her face is covered by a red and golden scarf that Remus had taken off some hours ago when he’d noticed her teeth chattering.

He’s so unbelievingly attentive to her— he’ll pull her closer whenever she starts feeling weakness settling in her bone, letting her lean some of her weight against him, and he’ll gently guide them to whichever store is closest when the cold gets too much for her to handle. She doesn’t need to say a single word, Remus just appears to know, and that’s, honestly, impressive since she has a lifetime of experience at pretending to be okay. For a moment she thinks that maybe it’s just a coincidence, but then she catches the small glances he throws her way, filled with a tiny bit of concern and something else she rather not name. It makes her feel warm all over.

Everything’s going great, they’ve visited Honeydukes and Zonko’s (where, to no one’s surprise, they stumbled into the marauders, who, to no one’s surprise, teased Remus by making kissy faces at him when they thought she wasn’t looking) and walked around talking about everything and nothing. That’s another thing she likes about him, talking comes as easy as breathing, conversation just flows.

So, yes, everything is going great which means that inevitably something was bound to go wrong because that’s just how (Y/N)’s life goes.

They’re making their way to the Three Broomsticks when the cold hits her with a bone-aching intensity. She comes to a sudden stop, clenching her chest in panic, knees weakening. (Somewhere in the back of her head, she’s annoyed. It’s not even that cold, her body just seems to be spending its energy and heat in keeping the magic contained so everything feels colder than it should.)

When she comes back to herself, vision clearing up, she realizes that Remus is holding her by the arms. He’s speaking, but all she feels is pain and so his words are muffled. The frantic panic on his eyes, however, is unmistakable.

“I’m okay,” she reassures him when the pain lessens and the cold diminishes and she regains the ability to speak.

At some point Remus had moved them near an alleyway. Away from prying eyes, she realizes. Her heart grows fonder.

Remus stays silent for a second, studying her face. He doesn’t look panicked anymore, but the concern lingers and it’s obvious that he doesn’t believe a word she’s saying. He opens his mouth and hesitates briefly before speaking, “You’re still ill, aren’t you?”

It’s evident the way he worries about having crossed a line because he cringes slightly as the words leave his mouth. She doesn’t blame him, even when they both know the other is sick (is that even what they are? sick?), they’ve never openly spoken about it. It’s always the flu, and that’s that.

She considers lying, but it feels wrong to do so. Remus understands what it’s like to be limited by something beyond your control in a way not many can, it makes it easier to be vulnerable, “Some of the symptoms linger.”

He nods and (Y/N) expects him to ask more about her condition, to press for an explanation, but he just reaches forward to cup her cheek.

“You had me worried there for a second.”

Her heart beats louder at the admission, at the genuine concern in his eyes.

“I’m alright now, really.”

Her hand reaches up. She places it over his, the action reassuring.

“Godric, you’re freezing.”

But he doesn’t flinch away. Instead, he reaches out and places both of her hands between his. The warmth of his skin is soothing. If he notices the way her fingers tremble, he doesn’t acknowledge it.

“You should’ve told me you weren’t feeling well,” Remus tells her, thumb running over the back of her hand in attempt to warm it. “We could’ve stayed in the castle—”

We.

He’s implying he would’ve stayed with her.

(Y/N) ignore the way that makes her heart race, the way she feels heat crawling to her cheeks.

“—played some magic chess or ransacked the kitchens.”

That snaps her out of whatever she’s feeling, the way he so nonchalantly suggests doing something that would most definitely end up with them getting detention. She spends so much time with him when he’s not around the other three that (Y/N) sometimes forgets he’s a marauder. Worst thing is, she would willingly accompany him to any adventure— risking detention and all— if he asked. She pushes that revelation to the back of her mind.

“You talk about raiding the kitchens as if you’ve done it before,” she teases.

She ignores just how handsome he looks, wind blowing his hair back and a smirk beginning to decorate his features.

“Maybe I have,” he replies cheekily, winking.

She rolls her eyes, somewhat amused.

(Y/N) isn’t surprised, if anyone would be able to find their way into the kitchens it would be the marauders.

They fall quiet and some of the previous tension returns. Remus’s face grows more serious.

He tugs gently at her hands, “Promise me you’ll tell me if you’re ever feeling unwell?”

She looks down at their joined fingers, observes the way his thumb keeps on caressing her hand, and turns her attention back at him, “Only if your promise the same thing in return.”

And at that Remus looks conflicted. He presses his lips together and looks away before sighing and nodding. His gaze returns to hers, “Promise.”

“Promise.”

“You want to head back to the castle?” He asks her as they make their way back to the main street.

“You don’t mind?”

“Not at all,” he looks at her and grins, “We might still have time to play some magic chess.”

She groans playfully, bumping her shoulder against his. “You know I’m terrible.”

“Exactly the reason I proposed it.”

Remus never let go of her hand, not once in all the way back to the castle. He keeps them intertwined, hidden in the pocket of his jacket.

This might be love, she thinks to herself, and maybe if she wasn’t dying she would do something about the feelings that are lazily brewing in her heart, but she can’t because that wouldn’t be fair to him.

She’s so wrapped in those thoughts that she doesn’t realize specks of her magics slipping though, she doesn’t realize that as she holds his hand the bone-chilling cold dissipates into nothingness.

3.1

(Y/N) wouldn’t say she’s a worrier. She takes things in stride, goes along with whatever life throws her way. Maybe if she hadn’t been born with her condition she would’ve been different, but life has taught her that worrying won’t help at all. When healers tell you that your life expectancy is twenty nothing really phases you anymore.

So, yes, (Y/N) wouldn’t say she’s a worrier, but that only applies to things concerning to herself. When it comes to her friends— to Remus, especially —she can’t help but worry at the first sign that something is wrong and, right now, it appears that something is very wrong.

Last night was a full moon and, as usual, she’d gone to the Infirmary first thing in the morning to check up on Remus, but he hadn’t been there and neither had Madam Pomfrey. (Y/N) couldn’t help the way her first thought had been that something had gone terribly wrong, bad enough that the matron couldn’t heal it herself, and he had to be taken to St. Mungo’s and now her heart is stuttering in her chest and she has to make sure he’s alright and that’s the only reason she’s making her way to the Gryffindor table. If there’s anyone who can have answers is the marauders.

Black notices her coming their way, bumps his best friend in the arm. James is a bit startled, but looks up, nonetheless. Suddenly they both are wearing matching wicked smiles.

“Is Remus okay?” she asks before either of them can open their mouth. If there’s something she’s learned about the marauders is that it’s always better to have control of the conversation.

Potter and Black share a knowing look, and it’s Sirius the one that answers. He rests his cheek against his hand, “Good morning to you, (Y/L/N). How are you doing on this fine day?”

“Yeah, yeah, morning, Black.” She manages to not roll her eyes at him and instead crosses her arms over her chest, foot tapping impatiently on the floor. “Is he okay?”

“He’s fine, why do you ask?”

“Are you maybe worried about him?” Potter interrupts, voice taking a teasing tone.

She wants to strangle them both. She would, but then she wouldn’t get answers.

“Where is he?” she’s surprised she manages to keep the exasperation off her tone.

“We aren’t always together, you know.” That’s both a deflection and a flat out lie.

She sighs out, shoulders deflating, “Look, yesterday was a…”

That catches their attention and she realizes her mistake too late. They don’t know that she knows. James stops chewing, Sirius straightens up. Their eyes are unwavering and the initial cheeky friendliness is gone. They might be jokesters but they’re also unbelievably perceptive and fiercely protective and it shows.

“Yesterday he said something about not feeling well,” she corrects herself. Potter relaxes but Black’s gaze remains on her, unwavering and somewhat untrusting. Like he’s measuring her up, figuring out how much she knows.

“He wasn’t feeling well,” Potter confirms, swallowing some pumpkin juice, “and that’s why he spent the night at the Infirmary.”

“He wasn’t there when I went to check up on him,” she replies, eyebrows scrunching up when she notices them share a look of confusion.

Then, they proceed to have a brief wordless conversation before muttering lowly between each other, as if she isn’t there. Their voices are almost a whisper and only catches the words because she’s had years of experience being nosy and eavesdropping on conversations between her parents and mediwizards.

“Do you think Madam Pomfrey discharged him earlier?”

“Last night was different, Prongs, wasn’t it? He was more present, more docile. He didn’t even have injuries.”

“That’s true.”

She waits for them to turn to her, but they don’t. Instead, they have another wordless conversation, all eyes, no words.

Black turns to her. Potter goes back to his food.

“He’s probably resting in the Common Room.”

“He likes to read in the couch after, well, rough nights.”

And despite knowing he’s okay something within her still itches with the need to see him and make that assessment for herself.

They’re both still looking at her, as if waiting for something else, but she doesn’t have anything more to say so she just nods her head, “Okay, thanks.”

As she goes to leave, Potter calls out to her, “Hey, (Y/L/N)!”

She turns and raises her eyebrows expectantly. Potter shares a look with Black before saying, “The password is Oddsbodikins.”

That she hadn’t expected and the surprise must show on her face because Potter chuckles.

He munches on some toast and waves his hand dismissively, “Go see your man.” The smile lingers and it’s softer than anything she’s ever seen in Potter’s face— except, perhaps, when he’s looking at Evans.

She’s grateful enough that she doesn’t roll her eyes at them, doesn’t even correct James.

“Thank you.”

3.2

Technically speaking, they should be studying— the NEWTs are closing up on them and even though there’s still time (Y/N) knows that she should at least begin revising —but they’d spent the last four days drowning in assignments and she’s decided she would much rather enjoy the last moments of freedom with Remus.

They’re sitting in the shadow of one of the trees by the Black Lake. (Y/N) is reading one of those muggle romance books that Remus got her hooked on and somewhere along the line Remus’s head ended up in her lap. She holds the book with a single hand, the other one running through her friend’s hair absentmindedly.

He looks calm, eyes closed and steady breathing. The bags under his eyes have slowly become less prominent and he doesn’t seem as tired as he used to be when the full moon was a few days away. He’s humming under his breath, it’s probably a muggle song because it doesn’t sound familiar at all, and the sound is soothing, it caresses her skin and floats away with the wind.

(Y/N) flips the page using her thumb. Her other hand appears to have a mind of its own because it travels from Remus’s hair down his cheek, fingers gently stroking the skin. It’s only when her hand meets rugged skin and Remus flinches that she moves her hand away, immediately looking down at him.

The scar, she realizes. She’d just touched the scar that runs along his left eye.

“I’m sorry,” she rushes out, but he only shakes his head and, without even opening his eyes, his hand looks out for hers. He places it back on his cheek.

Hesitantly, she smoothly thumbs at the wounded skin. This time he doesn’t move away, just sighs.

“Does it still hurt?”

It shouldn’t, the wound is years old and appears to be healed, but magical wounds are different, sometimes traces of the magic remain and when those traces are powerful enough they can cause recurring pain.

“No,” his voice is deep and rough, somewhat drowsy, like he’d been halfway through falling asleep.

“It’s ugly, isn’t it?” he asks after a couple of minutes of silence. She can’t help the sharp intake of breath, the way her eyebrows furrow at his words. Nothing in Remus could ever be ugly.

“I don’t think it is,” she replies, and the sentence comes out in a hushed whisper, like it only matters if his ears are the ones to hear it. She traces the skin, notices the slight blush that begins to cover Remus’s cheeks. “I think it’s a visible reminder of your strength.”

Part of her wants to reach down and kiss the damaged skin. She manages to abstain herself.

He lets out a self-deprecating scoff, “You wouldn’t believe that if you knew how I got it.”

His eyes remain closed and (Y/N) is somewhat grateful, she doesn’t think she could manage to see the self-loathing that sometimes paints his irises.

“I don’t have to know,” she responds firmly, fingers tracing the wound from where it starts on his forehead all the way across his eyebrow and his eyelid and his cheekbone. “You went through something, whatever it was, and managed to survive. That’s strength, Rem.”

He surprises her by catching her hand once again without the need to open his eyes. He links their fingers together, presses the back of her hand against his lips and then holds it over his chest.

Her heart stutters and she feels some of her magic tremble within her chest, wanting to slip through her fingers. A tiny amount of it does, it seeps through her and into his palm. She feels warm. With much effort she reels it back in and ignores the throbbing at the back of her head, the one that comes along with keeping her magic in check.

Remus’s voice brings her back, anchors her to the present. “I want to tell you how I got it,” he admits slowly, eyes finally looking up at her, “but I’m afraid you’ll see me differently.”

“I would never.” And its earnest and truthful and she hopes he can hear that in her tone. In case he doesn’t she squeezes his hand in assurance.

They stare at each other for some seconds. The book she previously held is now abandoned on the floor. Her hand, the one that isn’t intertwined with his, runs through his hair. Remus nibbles on his lower lip, hesitant and most likely debating if he should say anything at all, before he squeezes back.

“I got it when I was five,” he starts. His voice is low, quiet, meant only for her. His eyes stay trained on her face, waiting for any reaction. “It was given to me by a werewolf,” and although she knew she can’t help the way her breath catches at the back of her throat at the admission, “along with the bite.”

He stares expectantly, braces himself as if expecting some sort of disgust. Instead, she offers him a smile, “I was right, then. It is a visible reminder of your strength.”

That was obviously not what he’d been expecting because his eyebrows furrow in confusion.

“You’re not scared?”

“Why would I be?”

“I’m a monster and—”

She cuts him off because she won’t have that, she will absolutely not stand for Remus Lupin badmouthing himself.

“You’re not a monster. You’re Remus Lupin, an incredible talented wizard that just so happens to turn into a werewolf every full moon.”

And that seems to appease him, shoulders relaxing.

“I’m scared all the time,” he admits, looking away and into the Black Lake, “of hurting people I care about. I’m scared I’ll somehow end up hurting you.”

“You wouldn’t.”

When he doesn’t look convinced, she removes her hand from his and places them over his cheeks. She forces him to look at her.

“You wouldn’t,” she repeats because she needs him to understand that she isn’t afraid of him. It isn’t until he nods his head that she releases the hold, thumbs running over his cheeks.

“Besides, anything could hurt me.”

My own magic does, she thinks to herself.

“So you don’t mind?” he asks, voice hopeful. “Me being a… you know.”

“You’re still my Rem.” The words slip out without thought, devastatingly honest.

He blushes again and she has to bite her lips to keep herself from commenting on how beautiful the red in his cheeks makes him look. She doesn’t say a word when he reaches for her hand again.

“Good.”

It’s quiet after that. She doesn’t pick up the book again, even when she was just getting to the best part, and instead basks on the afternoon sun. The throbbing of her head reappears but it isn’t a warning for an upcoming episode, it’s just pain. These days she’s getting a lot of that. (Y/N) looks down at Remus— someone who’d just laid his soul bare for her and had trusted her enough to not hurt him —and suddenly she’s speaking.

“I was supposed to have a twin sister,” she starts and the only reason she knows he’s paying attention is the way he shuffles and the feeling of his eyes on her. “But she died in the womb early on.” It’s weird, missing someone she never met, but (Y/N) does. She yearns for what could’ve been and what she could’ve had, a normal childhood, a lifetime companion.

With a sigh, she carries on, “By the time she passed we’d both already developed our magical cores and, somehow, my core absorbed hers. I carry within me both her magic and mine.” Every single healer she’d ever visited had been absolutely astounded, shocked beyond belief, because this should’ve never happened. According to every single magical law, magic dies with its user, magic cannot be taken away, magic cannot be transferred.

“Isn’t that… impossible?” Remus asks quietly.

“Theoretically, yes,” she lets out a humorless chuckle, “and yet here I am.”

And that was pretty much the reason she kept her condition a secret, because people looked at her differently after they found out (some in awe, as if she were some sort of medical miracle, some in fear of her potential, some with greed). If people— the wrong people —were to find out, she could find herself being studied in attempts to replicate what her magical core had done, to be able to steal someone else’s magic.

“It’s the reason I have an affinity to wand related magic and why I can do more complicated spells. There’s just more magic running through my veins,” she explains, her eyes fixed on some students playing by the shore of the lake. It’s easier to say things when she focuses on something else, like the way a second-year pinches a tentacle and runs away giggling when the squid splashes her in retaliation.

“The thing about magic in excess is that it’s volatile,” her tone becomes tense without her meaning to, so she sighs and forces herself to relax. “I can keep it controlled most of the time, simmering below the surface,” as if to disagree, the magic lurches forward and she clenches her jaw to keep it contained, “but sometimes it’s too much, too uncontrolled, and I lose my grasp on it. It’s like my body goes into overdrive. Best case scenario I have seizing episodes, worst case I seize and lose complete control of my magic. It can be incredibly dangerous.”

With that she looks down at Remus and finds him already looking at her. He’s deep in thought, which is understandable seeing that she is one of the most confusing medical cases in magic history, and Remus is nothing if not curious.

“You talk about your magical core as something you can feel,” he says and that’s a question she’d been expecting because magical cores aren’t a topic many wizards and witches have knowledge of.

“I can sense it,” she explains, not knowing how to word it other than that, “but it’s dormant on most magical beings, just a source of magic.”

He hums in understanding.

“Thank you for sharing it with me.”

She runs her fingers through his face and taps his cheeks twice in response.

(Y/N) swallows down the guilt of not telling him that she thinks she’s dying.

chapter 4: the marauders (and their need to stick their noses in everyone’s business)

4.0

Somehow being friends with Remus translates in being friends with all the marauders. It’s interesting, to say the least.

She goes from being exasperated by James and Sirius to being fondly exasperated by them. They worm their way under her skin and into her heart and— Merlin, she can’t believe she’s saying this —she grows to enjoy their company. She gets used to their jokes, teases them back, pretends not to hear them plotting how to break twenty school rules in one night.

It’s only because she’s grown a tolerance to their presence that she hasn’t snapped at either of them, hasn’t even rolled her eyes, even when they’re interrupting her study time.

“Don’t you like him, (Y/N)?”

They’ve been nagging at her for ten minutes, after growing bored of writing their own Potion’s essays. She’d thought ignoring them would make them eventually stop, but she should’ve known better; they are the marauders, after all.

It’s not after Sirius has repeated the question for the thirteenth time— they took turns asking, like the annoying children they are —that she sighs and decides to reply. Not even looking up and while she scrabbles a word, she says, “Of course I do.”

James clicks his tongue. She doesn’t have to look up to know that he’s leaning back in the chair and sharing an amused look with Sirius.

“See that’s what we’ve been trying to tell Moony.”

Merlin, she knows that tone and she knows where this is going. They’ve gone down this line of questioning with her a couple of times because, surprising to no one, they like to pry.

“Does he think I don’t like him?” she asks blankly and somewhat sarcastically, because she knows what they’re both implying but is decidedly not going to play their game.

“No, he knows you like him,” James assures her. He quiets down for a second and (Y/N) knows she’s not going to like whatever leaves his mouth next. James gets quiet when he’s plotting. “He doesn’t know you like like him.”

That makes her look up, unimpressed. “Never said I liked liked him,” she mocks.

Looking down to her writing and then back to the book of Advanced Potion-Making, she realizes she needs the fourth volume of Asiatic Anti-Venoms and pushes away from the table to go look for it. She lets out a deep breath when she hears them follow behind her. They’re like garden gnomes, impossible to get rid of.

“But you do,” Sirius singsongs from behind her, voice filled with mirth and amusement. It’s like her annoyance is his serotonin.

“Never said I did,” she parrots back, using his same tone. Her eyes trace the book and she hums to herself when she finds it.

Sirius is faster and slaps her hand away, reaching for the book. (Y/N) looks up at him, holds her hand out but Black only tuts and holds it up, far from reach.

“Come on, love, you’re a terrible liar,” James leans against the bookcase, watching as (Y/N) crosses her arms over her chest and smolders at Sirius.

“I’m not lying,” she responds, not sparing Potter a glance. “Come on, Black, give it here.”

“You might have a good poker face (Y/N), but your eyes give you away.”

“Please do refrain from staring into my eyes, Potter.”

James begins denying ever staring at her but she pays him no mind, eyes trained on Sirius.

“Black, I swear I’ll hex you into next life.” She presses her wand against his abdomen for good measure.

“Fine, fine,” he relents, not sounding in the slightest frightened by her threat. The smirk is still on his lips. “You might not be lying but you are deflecting,” Black tells her as he hands the book over, “and you’re also terrible at it.”

Scoffing, she looks at both of them, “Why are you two ganging up on me?”

“It’s fun,” James admits with a laugh, following behind her back to their table.

“And we want you to admit you like Moony so that you can be together and happy and all that,” Sirius completes the sentence.

Rolling her eyes, she plops back in her chair and forces herself to ignore their words. She won’t allow herself to go down that train of thought— about Remus and her and what could be —because it never ends up in anything but sadness. Instead, she opens the book and starts looking for the information she needs to finish her essay. When they remain quiet she looks up (quiet marauders are plotting marauders) only to find them looking at her expectantly.

“What?”

“So?”

“Will you confess and all that?”

Snorting, she goes back to the book, “You need to stop meddling in things that aren’t your business.”

Someone slams their head against the table. (Y/N) guesses it’s Sirius.

“She’s impossible, Prongs.”

She hides the proud smirk that grows on her face. Nothing makes her happier than annoying either of them.

“Look,” she does not look up, but James continues, “He likes you, (Y/L/N), and you like him, literally everyone can see it. So why can’t either of you accept it?”

Her hand stills as she flips the page.

“It’s complicated, Potter.”

I’m dying.

“So you do like him!”

She kicks Sirius under the table, but his teasing smile only widens.

“Oh, piss off, Black.”

“She so does, Prongs,” he mock-whispers to James.

(Y/N) kicks him harder on the shin but doesn’t deny it.

4.1

It was a bad day. (Y/N) knew it would be a bad day from the moment she opened her eyes to find colors swirling in her vision and a headache already forming at the back of her head. She, however, did not expect it to become a terrible day. Then again, life never goes the way she expects, and her bad day became terrible the moment her Divination professor told her he wouldn’t allow late assignments, even if she was submitting the assignment late because she’d been unconscious during the delivery date.

She’s upset and the headache won’t go away, and her fingers are beginning to lose sensation due to the coldness spreading from within her body. There’s nothing she wants to do other than slip under her covers and sleep for the whole duration of the weekend and yet, here she is. In detention. Because she didn’t hand in her assignment. Because she’d been unconscious.

To make matters worse she’s accompanied by Potter and Black— who are still going on about her and Remus and are apparently determined on making her life miserable. Now, on a good day, she would humor them, but this is turning out to be an incredible terrible day, she’s lightheaded and in pain and she will snap at them if they send one more ball of parchment flying in her direction.

Which, of course, they do.

“Fucking cut it out.”

The matching gasps are dramatic and followed by chuckles.

“I’ve never heard you cuss before, (Y/L/N).” Potter says in mock surprise, smirking widely when she flips him off.

“It’s madly attractive, I must admit.”

(Y/N) moves her middle finger in Black’s direction.

“Just messing with you, love,” Sirius leans back in his chair, a teasing smile taking over as he adds, “I know your heart belongs to our beloved Moony.”

There they go with that again.

She knows they’re just messing around, being dumb and intrusive as they usually are, but for some reason the words resonate differently with her this time. She wants to scream out, let herself feel all the love her heart harbors, act out on the desire of pressing her lips against Remus’s, but she can’t. That would be selfish, like offering a freezing person a fire that will die out as soon as they come close enough to feel the heat. She can’t do that to him, she cares too much.

Merlin, she wishes she wasn’t dying.

Pulling her sweater closer around her and crossing her arms over her chest, she cuts their rambling off, “Look, I think it’s better for everyone if Remus and I remain friends.”

And there must be a seriousness in her tone that hadn’t been there before, some sort of look in her eyes that she can’t control, because her words stun them into silence.

“Why?”

She doesn’t know how to explain why, it’s much too complicated, so she babbles out, “I— He— We just wouldn’t work out.”

“Why not?”

“Because, James.”

James studies her for a minute and he apparently dislikes whatever he finds because his features become stony. “It’s because of his condition, isn’t it?” All the teasing is gone, replaced by slowly growing anger.

She frowns, confused as to how he’d arrived at that very wrong conclusion. Her eyes trail from Potter to Black, the latter is looking at her unblinking, waiting for some sort of revelation.

“It’s not—”

But it seems like James Potter is quick to anger, especially when it comes to his friends, because he cuts her off and keeps on pressing, tone nothing but curt, “Moony told us you knew and he said you were okay with it but you’re obviously not.”

His voice rises, the lightheaded feeling she had slowly becomes a pounding headache.

“It has nothing to do—”

“It obviously has everything to do with it,” he’s breathing heavy, leaning forward on the chair, “why else would you say you rather remain friends when your pining is painfully obvious!”

“It’s complicated.”

“No, it isn’t,” he lowers his voice but the words are lethal and cutthroat, “You like him, and he likes you, but you want it easy.”

And all the semblance of calmness she has disappears at those words. Her sentence comes out cold and with spite, “You don’t know a thing about me, Potter.”

“I know you’re a coward,” he spits out.

“Prongs…”

Sirius’s warning goes ignored.

“He cares for you, a lot, and you can’t be with him because of, what?” he scoffs, “a condition he has no control over?”

Maybe it’s the rising anger or the increasingly painful headache, or the way Potter is looking at her with such misplaced disgust, that she snaps back, “It’s not about his condition, it’s about mine!”

The words echo around the classroom. James flinches back like he’s been slapped.

“What?”

(Y/N) presses her thumb against her temple, trying to soothe the pain away. “I’m sick,” she sighs out, closing her eyes and pressing her finger harder against her skin. The pain builds up and when she releases her finger it’s as if the pressure bubbles away. “Really sick,” she emphasizes because she doesn’t want to exemplify (most days I wake up nauseous and lightheaded, I can’t keep my food down, I’m growing weaker by the day, I feel cold even in the hottest days, the migraines make me unable to function, the episodes are more frequent than ever) but she needs them to understand it isn’t just a casual flu.

Both Sirius and James are staring at her in concern. The look doesn’t suit their faces, ones that are usually filled with life and mischief, so she waves them off, “It’s fine.”

It isn’t.

“I am sorry, (Y/N). I didn’t… I thought—”

“You’re an arsehole, James, and way too quick to anger,” he cringes at that, looking down. “But I get where you were coming from. You’re an arsehole with a good heart” He huffs out an incredulous laugh at that and looks up to find a warm smile sent his way.

(She’s never been one to hold grudges, life’s too short for that.)

“We’re good.”

chapter 5: on death’s door

5.0

The smell of citrus is so potent that it catches her by surprise, head reeling back and nose scrunching up. It’s only when she realizes that there are no oranges or lemons or anything in the table that would be able to produce such a strong smell that she grasps what’s going on. It’s an aura, one strong enough that it didn’t slowly make its presence known but rather appear out of nowhere.

She stands up quickly, only briefly stumbling, before rushing out of the Great Hall. It takes everything in her power to keep the panic from appearing in her face. (Y/N) only ever smells citrus when the episode it’s going to be a bad one— like the time she lost complete control and burnt her body and the time she’d remained unconscious for five days.

Pressure begins building up between her eyebrows and it’s a good thing she knows her way through Hogwarts blindfolded because her vision starts to blur out. Her knees weaken, she holds onto the walls to keep herself from falling to the floor. She must hurry and find an empty room, a place where she won’t cause damage to anyone else, because she definitely won’t make it to the Hospital Wing.

Her magic pulls hard and her chest constricts in pain, she can feel it slowly trailing down her arms, desperately needing to be released. She coughs as she feels everything tighten and there’s something in her mouth. She has half a mind to think that it may be blood.

Fisting her hands and stumbles forward. She feels all heat leave her extremities, her body’s attempt at keeping her magic restrained. The headache becomes a migraine, blindingly painful, and it’s accompanied by nausea. Everything is hazy and spiraling.

Tears well up in her eyes but the pain is too much, it won’t let them fall. (Y/N) feels herself falling forward, but her knees never hit the ground. There’s something holding her up.

With great effort, she turns her head around and even with the blackened edges of her vision and the mind-numbing pain she recognizes the face.

Remus Lupin.

There’s a brief moment of relief before the logical side of her brain catches on and then there’s full blown panic because if he’s with her when she loses all control of her magic he will undoubtedly get hurt. She tries to push him away but her arms are too weak. He’s saying something but the words sound far away and like gibberish, it’s like hearing a language she doesn’t understand.

She tries to move her mouth and form words, tell him that he needs to get away from her, that she needs to be away from everyone. She isn’t sure she’s successful.

Her ears are ringing, her magic is restless, her hands become cold enough to hurt. She feels the familiar tensing of her muscles and she’s submerged into blackness.

5.1

It feels like her brain and body are disconnected. She hears voices, rapid and hushed whispers. The words don’t make sense.

“Is she going to—”

“Her magic— too much—”

“There was blood and—”

Hands are one her. Her magic tingles in her chest, reacting to someone else’s magic. Everything fades.

The tugging of her magic core makes her regain consciousness. She can feel the threads of magic slipping down her shoulders and through her fingers. (Y/N) tries to move, but she can’t. It’s as if her bones are made of lead and her muscles of jelly. Her body doesn’t respond. She can’t feel any pain, but that’s probably just the potions.

“What’s happening?”

“Calm down, Mr. Lupin—”

“Should I—”

“Do not let go of—”

“I’d never seen—”

She loses consciousness before realizing that, for once, the magic leaking through her fingers isn’t uncontrolled.

Someone is holding her hand, that’s the first thing she realizes as she comes to. Second thing she realizes is that she isn’t cold. For the first time in a while, it doesn’t feel like her body is freezing, there’s heat steadily running through her.

Her brain takes a while to catch up and suddenly she remembers everything. The pain, the blood, Remus.

She bolts up, coughing out as her body protests to the sudden movement. She might not be cold, but she’s still weak.

“Hey, hey.”

Wide eyes look around in panic and they settle on the person who’s holding her hand. Remus. He has moved up from where he sat and is gently guiding her back to a supine position.

“You shouldn’t move,” he chastises, but his tone is gentle and his eyes evidently filled with concern.

“Are you okay?” she forces the words out and they sound something like a rough whisper.

His eyes snap up to hers in surprise, “Me?”

At her responding nod Remus shakes his head, “You are unbelievable,” his eyes look fond, “You almost died and you’re worried about me?”

When she only stares, eyebrows raised and eyes looking for any sign of visible damage in his face, he sighs, “I’m alright, love,” and plops back down on the chair.

(Y/N) doesn’t understand how he’s okay, she doesn’t know why he’s here and why he’s allowed to hold her hand even when there are traces of magic floating all around them. She blinks, watching the multicolored streams of pure magic travel around her. They don’t feel rampant but rather gentle.

Remus squeezes her hand, presses the back of her hand against his mouth and mumbles against it, “I was so worried, you wouldn’t know. You were bleeding and seizing and I…” he chokes on the words, “I thought you’d died.”

(Y/N) looks away from her magic and at him, ready to provide any sort of comfort, and that’s when she realizes that her magic is running down her own arm and into his. Frightened of hurting him, she tries to pull away, but Remus holds tight.

“Don’t,” Madam Pomfrey’s voice startles her. (Y/N) looks around to the source of the sound and finds the matron looking worse for wear. Nevertheless, there’s a glint of relief in her eyes.

“My magic—” she tries to protest, to explain, but is shushed with a single look.

“Mr. Lupin is what kept you alive.”

(Y/N) looks between both of her companions, confusion evident in her face, “What?”

“Drink this,” Madam Pomfrey hands over a vial and (Y/N) takes it with her free hand. It’s as she’s swallowing down the contents that the matron behinds to explain.

“Due to his own medical condition Mr. Lupin’s magical core acts differently to those of other witches and wizards.” That makes sense, (Y/N) guesses, but her brain is working in slow motion so this doesn’t explain anything to her at all. She looks at Remus and finds him already looking at her. “It’s acting as an outlet for you excess of magic.”

Her eyes snap back to the matron��s in surprise, “Really?” When she’d been nothing but a toddler she remembers some healers suggesting for her parents to find her a magical object in which she could channel her magic, they’d said it could be a way to manage her condition. Her magic had rejected every single object— regardless of how powerful it’d been or who it’d belonged to— and (Y/N) had been forced to learn how to keep the magic reigned in after one too many explosions.

Sentient beings aren’t supposed to be able to act as an outlet.

“And it doesn’t hurt you?” she asks Remus, studying his face for any sign of discomfort even when she can feel her magic being gentle with him.

“It barely even tickles,” he responds.

She looks at Madam Pomfrey with raised eyebrows because she must know this isn’t normal.

“The alteration in Mr. Lupin’s core allows it to harness your magic,” the matron explains.

“I think it even helps,” Remus adds and it sounds as if he’s just come to this realization, “My last transformation was my least violent one. It might be because of the time we’ve spent together.”

(Y/N) briefly remembers magic going out of her fingers and into his palm.

“Some of my magic slipped through the day we spent by the Black Lake. It went right into your hand before I could pull it back in,” she confesses, sounding apologetic. “I didn’t tell you because it was such a minimal amount I knew it wouldn’t harm you.”

“It appears like your magical cores are compatible.”

(Y/N) doesn’t know how she feels at that revelation.

5.2

Remus didn’t tell the marauders about (Y/N)’s magical illness, much less utter a word about their magical cores being compatible, so he really has no clue how they found out about either of those things. He’d asked them about it when they first brought it up, eyes going wide in surprise, but Prongs had only winked in response while Padfoot had pretended to sip his mouth shut.

“Your magical cores accept each other, Moony!” And this is probably only the fifth time Sirius has said this exact sentence, but Remus feels as if he’s heard it a thousand times before. He wishes they would stop repeating it because his mind has been spiraling ever since he found out, ever since Madam Pomfrey told them that (Y/N) needs to release some of her magic into him at least once a day to try and reduce the frequency of her episodes, to try to help her recover. They haven’t talked about it. They’ll sneak out through the Whomping Willow and into the Shrieking Shack every night and she’ll look away as her magic turns to life, wild and vibrant, and sneaks down her arm and into his. It’s like the revelation of the compatibility of their magic cores has shifted something in their friendship and Remus hates it. She feels distant even when they spend every second of the day together.

“It’s like… Merlin… like you’re soulmates or something.”

That makes Lupin still mid-action.

“We’re not soulmates, Pads,” he clears his throat, shakes his head and ignores the pointed look Sirius sends all the way from where he’s lying on his bed. “She’s a friend.”

Sirius scoffs at that and turns his attention to Prongs, who’s lying face down and skimming through a Quidditch book.

“Do you hear this guy, Prongs?” He points at Remus with his thumb and incredulous look in his eyes.

“Sounds like he’s delusional and in denial,” replies James without even looking up.

Remus rolls his eyes at that, ignoring the yelp of agreement that Sirius lets out.

“She’s a friend,” he repeats, trying to get it through his thick-skulled friends. (Because they could never be more than that, no matter how much he yearns for it. It’d be selfish to keep her from finding someone better, someone who isn’t tarnished.)

Prongs lets out a chuckle, “Sure, because you obviously hold hands with all your friends.”

“I… we don’t…”

“And walk them to their lessons,” Pads chimes in.

“And carry their books while doing so,” Prongs adds.

“I’m being chivalrous!”

“If you say so.”

“And, of course, I write all my friends little love letters that I keep hidden on the chest under my bed. Don’t you, Prongs?”

“‘Course I do,” James replies sarcastically.

“I told you to stop snooping through my things!” Remus’s indignation is ignored.

“Let’s not forget about gifting them muggle romance books because they’re obsessed with them and you think ‘it’s cute the way they smile’,” and Sirius changes the tone in which he says the last words making it somewhat deeper. Remus thinks to himself that his voice does not sound like that.

“I hate it when you gang up on me.”

“Funny,” Sirius grins, “that’s exactly what (Y/N) says when we annoy her. See, you even think alike!”

“Alright, knock it off, I get it,” Remus closes his eyes and sighs, “I’m hopeless.”

“You’re not hopeless, Moony,” James responds, his voice losing its teasing edge and becoming gentler.

“You’re in love,” Sirius teases, snickering.

Remus glares at him and before Padfoot can even blink there’s a pillow hitting him in the face.

“I’m joking, I’m joking” Pads says, not sounding apologetic at all, as he holds his hands up and dodges another pillow Remus sends his way. When he’s sure he won’t be getting smacked in the face he grins and says, “Things could be worse, at least she likes you.”

“As a friend, sure.”

His friends’ heads snap towards him.

James looks up so quickly from what he’d been reading that it looks comical, “You’re kidding, right?”

Remus shrugs as he shakes his head, eyebrows furrowing in confusion. Why are they looking at him as if he’s just grown another head?

“You’ve got to be the most obtuse person I’ve ever met.” Coming from Sirius it’s a pretty terrible thing to hear.

“What do you mean?”

“Moony,” and this is probably the most serious he’s ever heard Prongs be, “she looks at you as if you hung up the moon and the stars.”

“She does not—”

But Sirius has grown exasperated and cuts him off, “She does. Literally everyone is waiting to see when you’ll get together. There are bets going around and all.”

Remus shakes his head and ignores the part of him that is suspicious as to who started all those wagers.

“Look, it doesn’t matter if she likes me or not,” he ignores the way his chest hurts as he finally admits to someone other than himself, “I can never be with her, not with my condition.”

“Moony…”

“I don’t want to talk about this anymore.” The more he thinks of (Y/N) the more he wishes things were different, that he was never bitten so that he could be worthy of her. He turns around and pulls the covers over his shoulder, “Good night.”

He misses the look Prongs and Padfoot share.

chapter 6: the masterplan

6.0

“James Potter I will hex you into oblivion if you don’t let us out right now!”

(Y/N) hears muffled whispers,

(“I don’t wanna die, Pads.”

“You won’t if everything goes according to plan.”

“And if it doesn’t?”

“We die together, I guess.”)

before the answer comes back, clear as day, “We won’t let you out until you sort your things out.”

She sighs and turns around to meet Remus’s eyes.

“I tried,” she offers with a shrug, going back to her position on the floor besides him.

The storage closet is tiny and crowded, she holds her knees to her chest, the outer part of her thigh brushing against Remus’s elbow. There’s a squeak somewhere in the background, a sound that sounds suspiciously like a mouse. She breaths heavily though her nose and begins planning the marauders’ demise— current company excluded, of course.

“I can’t believe I fell for it,” she admits to Remus when she’s satisfied with the plan that surges in her brain for how to retaliate on the marauders.

There’d been a letter on her bed with only four words; fourth floor, 10:30 pm, tomorrow. The writing had been so unmistakably Remus’s that she hadn’t had a reason to suspect otherwise until she’d arrived at the spot only to be blindfolded and consequently pushed into this place.

Remus chuckles, “I can’t believe I fell for it.”

And, yes, it’s probably worse that he fell for it because he supposedly knows every single play in the marauders’ playbook.

From the corner of her eye she watches as he plays with the end of a broom. It’s a Silver Arrow— (Y/N) only knows that because her father is a fanatic — and it’s old and dusty and looks like it would snap in half if someone were to ride it. She can’t see the broom’s magic, but she feels it in the way her magic twirls uncomfortably in her chest. Being close to magical objects is a tricky matter for her, she never knows the way her excess of magic will react, so she tends to keep away from them. Right now, she can feel a headache beginning to bloom and the only reason she isn’t worried is because the broom is too old to hold powerful traces of magic, a headache is probably the worst thing that can happen.

“Your head hurts?”

It’s only when Remus speaks that she realizes her eyebrows are pinched together in discomfort. She forces her face to relax, but answers truthfully, “A bit.”

“Give me your hand.” He twists around to face her and offers his hand, palm up.

“Remus…” The words come out tentative, but that doesn’t deter him. His palm remains open, hand firm.

“We’re going to be locked up here for Godric knows how long,” he responds, “and we were going to do this later tonight, anyways.”

He’s right and that’s the reason she reaches down to take his hand in hers.

Immediately, as if her magical core detects his, her magic uncurls from where she keeps it reigned in her chest. It swoops all the way from her chest, down her arm and into her fingertips, mighty and bright. It’s mesmerizing, the mesh of colors and the palpable feeling of power, and she’s filled with warmth when the strands of magic curl around Remus’s wrist and into his skin.

She looks away.

“Why do you do that?”

“What?” she asks, even when she’s knows the answer.

“Look away from me.”

He’s got it wrong. She’s not looking away from him (she could never look away from him), she’s looking away from her own magic. There’s so much Remus doesn’t know, so much she hasn’t told him, and she can’t help the crippling guilt that fills her chest whenever he helps alleviate the pain.

“Rem, I have to tell you something,” the words are sudden and she feels like if she doesn’t speak them now, then she never will. Slowly, she looks back at him. “You’ve taken all of this in stride and I’m unbelievably grateful for how much you’ve helped me in the last couple of days, but I haven’t been completely truthful with you.”

He doesn’t seem hurt at that, only merely confused, “What do you mean?”

She breaths in through her nose and lets the words flow rapidly, feeling as if she doesn’t say them now then she never, “I’m dying.”

He stills, his hand tightening and his eyes desperately searching hers. His breath seems to stop for a split second when he doesn’t find any indication of jesting on her face.

“You’re what?” and he sounds breathless, words barely above a whisper.

“I’ve always known I wouldn’t live long. Most healers say I’ll be lucky if I make it past twenty,” she explains gently, trying to appease his worry. It doesn’t really seem to help. “My parents have looked desperately for any sort of solution but there’d never been one.”

He follows her eyes down to their intertwined hands.

Her magic tingles as it flows down her skin.

“Until me,” he breathes out in realization.

“Yes.”

“So you aren’t dying anymore,” he clarifies, watching as little specks of light start to flow out of the constant stream of magic pouring out of her.

“For now.”

His eyes snap back to her and the puzzlement is clear as day.

“This is just a temporary solution,” she confesses, “For it to work it would have to be done every day.”

“I would do this for the rest of my life it it keeps you alive.” His words are firm, coming straight from the heart, and she knows he means them.

(Y/N) shakes her head fondly, “You don’t know what you’re saying.”

“I do.”

“You don’t,” she repeats, firmer this time, because she’s been reading through tons of books and Remus really has no idea what he’s talking about. “Agreeing to this would mean agreeing to tying your life with mine. There’s a magical ritual that has to be done, a bonding of magical cores.”

And the implications appear to settle in because Remus’s eyes widen. This is advanced magic they’re talking about, ancient and complex. The bonding of cores is an archaic custom that nowadays is only ever done in marriages of pureblood families. It’s the most intimate magical tradition, it joins two people together for life and it allows them to borrow magic from their partner. It makes the bonded pair powerful in regards of their magic but also unbelievably vulnerable. The loss or separation of the pair can be fatal.

“I haven’t told my parents about this,” she gestures at their joined hands, “about you, even when Madam Pomfrey insists I do, because once they know they’ll end up persuading you of going through with the bonding and I wanted to give you a choice.”

Remus blinks at her and when he doesn’t speak she begins to ramble. “I’m sorry for not telling you before, it’s just that everything happened so fast and then I started looking into this core compatibility and I found this out and I didn’t know how to tell you. I don’t want you to think I was using you because I would never, I care so much about you and—”

“Hey, hey,” he hushes her and it’s a good thing because she thinks she might’ve kept on speaking for hours. His unoccupied hand comes to cradle her cheek, soothing all her worries away. “It’s okay.”

“I’m sorry,” she whispers.

He shakes his head and moves forward just enough to press his forehead against hers, “You’ve got nothing to be sorry for.” His voice is equally as quiet.

(Y/N) finally lets go of the slight feeling of guilt that’d been chasing her the last couple of days.

They’re close, too close, his breath is steady and she can feel the way it breezes past her lips. Her heart begins to beat louder, the trail of magic down her arm slows down.

“Would it freak you out if I told you that I wouldn’t mind going through the bonding ritual?”

Her heart skips a beat at that.

She wants to back away and search his eyes, but she can’t, not when being this close to Remus feels this right.

“Do you mean that?”

“I love you,” he mumbles, words meant only for her ears. “I cannot bear the thought of losing you. Of course I mean it.”

This does make her back away in surprise. She finds nothing but candor and warmth in his eyes.

“You love me?” and it comes out quiet and disbelieving because this was not what she’d been expecting. She just told him how much of a burden she truly is and he replied with fondness and she can’t quite believe her ears.

“You couldn’t tell?” he smiles softly and (Y/N) swears her heart is going to beat out her chest. The traces of magic run warmer, gentler than before and much brighter.

And it wasn’t like she didn’t notice his love because she did— just the way she hopes he has noticed hers —but she always thought herself too selfish for wanting him. A small part of her feared to be rejected because she comes with stolen magic and pain. She tells him as much.

He breaths out a soft laugh, “I thought of myself as selfish because you deserve much more than a half-breed.”

“I want you.” Only Merlin knows how much she does.

(Y/N) doesn’t know who leans in first— maybe it’s her as she presses her free hand to his nape and pulls him forward, or maybe it’s him and the way he holds her cheek with such tenderness, maybe it’s both of them acting out at the same time —but the next thing she knows his lips are on hers.

The kiss is soft, gentle, unhurried even when they’ve waited a long time for this. Remus kisses with such intensity, even in calmness, that she can’t help the sigh that escapes her. She feels the way her magic clings onto him, untamed but controlled for the first time in her life, like it’s exactly where it’s meant to be.

chapter 7: epilogue

Everything hurts.

(Y/N) is used to that, the lingering headaches and muscle aches. They’ve been there for as long as she can recall.

What she isn’t used to, however, is waking up to a hand holding hers and the feeling of warmth enveloping her. The pain is rapidly subsiding, she can feel magic trailing down her arm.

The first thing her eyes see is Remus’s face, always mildly concerned after an episode but so unbelievably full of endearment.

She’s so so in love.

“Are you back with me?” he asks and even though his voice is soft she can hear it over the ringing of her ears. He caresses the back of her hand with his thumb, patiently waiting for her to regain the ability to communicate.

After a few minutes she manages to nod her head, squeezing his hand as an additional response.

“Don’t look so worried,” she rasps out when she doesn’t feel like her tongue is made of lead anymore. “It’s just the flu.”

#remus lupin #remus lupin fanfiction #james potter #sirius black #remus lupin x reader #remus lupin imagine #remus lupin x y/n #marauders era #marauders era fanfic #marauders x reader #marauders x y/n #remus lupin x you #marauders x you #harry potter fanfiction #happyyyandcrazyyy writing

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magicamicitia · 4 months

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Volume Two, Chapter 3

"We're supposed to be a team!"

Almost as if everyone had gotten altitude sickness, the air in the gymnasium felt desperately heavy.

"What do you mean…?" Fluttershy’s voice trembled.

"It means," Kyubey enthusiastically shook its tail. "If your soul gem is shattered during a fight or lost in your daily life, I can't do much to assist you, but otherwise, no matter how deadly the injury, your physical bodies can be reconstructed eternally with magic!"

"What in tarnation…" Applejack spoke up. "So you turned us into your personal scarecrows or somethin'?"

"I suppose scare-witches would be more appropriate." He continued. "And speaking of them, I assume you now understand why collecting grief seeds is so important. It would be truly a shame if your bodies were damaged and you had no magic to spare. Besides, deadly situations like that rarely happen when you have enough power, so there's really no need to worry!"

"No need to worry?! You killed us! You killed us and then turned us into some kind of freakish reanimated magical corpses!" Rainbow Dash shouted. "I never agreed to any of this!"

"Well, maybe you should have asked." Kyubey rebutted.

"Why, you little…"

"No, we couldn’t." Twilight interrupted, finally speaking up. "I… can’t speak for the others, but when you offered me a contract, I was in no position to ask you about the specifics. You knew that, and you took advantage of it."

Her words sparked some kind of dreadful feeling in Sunset Shimmer.

One day, Twilight Sparkle was living her normal life… and the next, saving her from witches as a magical girl. It was so sudden, Sunset almost couldn’t believe what she was hearing now.

What happened to Twilight that night that was so dangerous and so abrupt?

If she was at risk, why didn’t she ask her for help?

Did Twilight herself not fully trust Sunset yet?

That didn’t make sense. All this time, Sunset had been the one protecting her, so why…

Huh?

…What was she protecting her from, anyway?

Her head started to ache terribly, and she couldn’t help but let out a groan.

"Oh, I'm sorry." Rainbow Dash said sarcastically. "Are we bothering Miss Shimmer with all our screaming? You got a headache? This must all be so hard on you."

"N-No, I…"

"Rainbow, stop it. This isn’t her fault." Twilight responded.

"Isn’t her fault? She almost killed Fluttershy!" Rainbow screamed.

"I almost killed Fluttershy." She gestured at her own chest as she spoke. "Just like you, I didn’t know about any of this, and neither did Sunset. Nobody here had ill intentions. I just wanted you all to give her a chance.."

"Why exactly would we give her a chance after stealing our things?" Rarity questioned.

"That’s what I said!" Sunset added. "Listen, Twi. They don’t like me, and they don’t have to. It’s not like I’ve done anything to deserve it."

"But you have!" She held Sunset’s hands within her own, and she could feel Twilight was trembling. "You’ve changed, I know that better than anyone! If you just had a chance to prove it… We’re supposed to be a team!"

Sunset let go of her friend.

"No, Twi. You’re supposed to be a team. I’m not a magical girl."

Twilight didn’t say anything, and didn’t move. She just stood there, staring wide-eyed at nothing.

This time, Pinkie spoke.

"Yeah. You aren’t a magical girl. So… maybe you should leave."

Sunset didn’t reply. As her footsteps faded away into the halls, Applejack turned to Twilight.

"You know, I just can’t understand why you insist so hard on defending that awful girl."

"She’s not awful." She replied quietly.

"She’s a bully, Twilight."

"She saved my life!"

Her shout echoed throughout the room.

"I know… She doesn’t act the nicest, she pushed me away at first, too. But… She had her reasons! If you just try and…"

"Reasons?!" Applejack scoffed. "I don’t give a darn tootin’ heck about her reasons, she hurt me and my friends! You know, If you're gonna keep this up, maybe…"

"I gave my life for her." professed Twilight. "When I made my wish, I gave up my soul. And I did it for her. Are you saying I died for someone I shouldn’t have?"

"I…" She started to say something, but her words failed her.

"You wished for something, too. If I told you that what you chose to die for was awful, how would you feel?"

The room went silent for a moment, until a frail voice stuttered,

"Twilight… We understand how you feel. But… We need time to forgive Sunset Shimmer."

"Fluttershy…" Twilight didn’t finish. She just gulped in her words and nodded.

Then, she mumbled another sentence.

"I’ll leave."

Nobody had told her to do so, but as she walked away, nobody asked her to stay.

She headed to the nurse’s office. The school day was only halfway through, and even though a part of her felt tortured that she was essentially bailing on her studies, she just wanted to go home, because her heart felt heavy every second she spent in that place.

Like it poisoned her very soul.

That thought caused Twilight to jolt back to reality, and she quickly took out the soul gem in her bag.

It was much more tainted than the last time she’d checked.

Which meant she would have to go witch hunting soon.

Kyubey had left out another crucial detail about soul gems. A detail that the others didn’t seem to know, but she did.

She knew it all too well.

What happens when your soul gem turns completely dark…

Earlier, Twilight said that she died for Sunset when she made her wish. But now, thinking about it again, that day…

If she hadn’t wished, who’s to say Sunset would have spared her, or even recognized her at all?

#magicamicitia #mlpmagicami #mlp au #pmmm au

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jesscrazydoodles · 9 months

Text

HAPPY NEW YEARS!!! I wanna start 2024 introducing my main penguin oc and finally posting his character card that I had in my gallery for far longer that I’m willing to admit 😅

So, This is Jimmy. I took a page out of @flxr-art book and asked her to describe him and this is what she had to say:

“Jimmy is the type of character that acts mostly because of his love ones instead of for himself, and once he learns how to step outside of what he knows is great. He's so very insecure at first, and still is, but he makes due with what he has and even though he's not confident on himself he takes a step outside of his comfort zone for his friends and is very protective of them”

Jimmy has charisma, but he lacks the confidence to back it up. He “knows” a lot of penguins but had little to no friends before meeting Thunder.

He’s on the inattentive side of ADHD and was definitely considered “gifted” as a kid witch gave him such a self worth crisis that still follows him. Basically if he isn’t giving his 110% he doesn’t feel like he’s doing something right. To him, if things are easy, he’s not putting an effort. This mentality has kept him from perusing many opportunities.

He’s the book’s smart to Thunder’s street smarts in the sense that he does that ADHD thing of picking up information like a magnet and knowing a little bit of everything.

As a kid all to way up to early adulthood he had a blog dedicated to conspiracy theories. Ninjas, secret codes, tipping the iceberg, etc. He still logs into it from time to time but since he became a journalist he’s barely been able to update it. Aunt Arctic had always been a role model to him so, in her honor, his screen name for this blog was “Jimmy Arctic” and it stuck.

His mom is Argentinian and his dad was Puertorican but if you ask him up front he’ll just say he’s Argentinian since his dad passed away before Jimmy could really remember him and he doesn’t feel very connected to that side of himself. He’s very close to his mom though. He was born and raised in Club Penguin but his mom moved away after he grew up.

Jimmy is very adaptable to whomever he is with. He can even the playing field easily or match the energy of the other person. He’s actually on his best when playing off of someone else since it forces him to step out of his comfort zone, and explore different facets of his own personality.

On the down side, he can be a bit egocentric, but not in a “oh look at me, I’m the center of the universe” kinda way. All his life it’s been just him and his mom, so that’s his point of reference. It’s more of a “oh, I’ve been stuck inside my own head for so long that I forget the factor the wide range of reactions from others”

——

Fun facts:

-“Jimmy” was the name of my first ever penguin in CP. The name comes from that one character in the Kratt brother’s cartoon. To this day I have no idea why I choose it, I didn’t even like the character that much, but regardless, I’m glad I did.

-I named him Juaquin because as a kid, I didn’t like the name. I also didn’t know how to spell it. It’s fine, it’s a running joke. (Also to all Juaquins out there, I do like the name now, I’m sorry 🙏)

-He was originally going to be related to Aunt A. but upon revision, yeah first thing I scratched. The name stuck though.

-He also had a cousin named Elsa who was a whole other mess of a character so I scraped her

-All my ocs are adults in their early to mid twenties, but of the main three, Jimmy is the youngest.

-His dad named him.

-His mom calls him “Quino”

-Has a lot of ADHD headaches

-He has an argentine accent when he speaks Spanish, and while he can mask it pretty well in English it occasionally slips.

-He enjoys card-jitsu as a spectator sport and collects the cards.

-He came up with the band name. Thunder only regrets it sometimes.

-just in case it didn’t make sense, he has a blue puffle named Blue.

-💚🤍🩶🖤

—

I still have a lot of this character I could talk about but I want to leave it a little bit brief cause if it was up to me I’d keep going and that’ll just be a nightmare 😵‍💫 if you’ve read this far that probably means a failed to put the “read more” and IM SORRY 🥲 or you actually read all this and just 🥹❤️ thank you!

#jess crazy art #my art #digital art #art #artist on tumblr #club penguin #club penguin art #club penguin oc #Jimmy Arctic #club penguin story #procreate #oc #oc art #my oc stuff

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genderdotcom · 10 months

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see the day

(888 words) the dark urge and karlach chat about birthdays. pre-relationship, early act 1

“You know what, I never even asked what date it is.” Karlach leans back against the damp log, sizzling slightly. “I mean, I know it’s been ten years- time doesn’t flow that differently down there- and I can see that it’s summer. But- other than that?”

Japhet looks up at the sky in silence for a long moment. Crickets chirp and frogs burble on the river’s shores.

“I don’t know either. Part and parcel of the amnesia, I suppose. Why do you want to know?” It’s the amnesia that makes them curious, they think- but it also obscures the truth of their thought; I don’t think I’ve asked as many questions in my life as I have in the last two tendays. I must not have cared. Or there was nothing new happening.

“I dunno. Wanted to know if I’d missed another birthday, I guess. It’s in summer.” She laughs as she says it, but her smile is more of a wince than anything.

Another lapse of conversation, this one lasting long, silent minutes. There’s nothing more for them to do tonight- dinner has been cleaned up, the tents have been set, and the sun’s slow descent gives them plenty of time to recuperate. But something niggles at their mind.

Birthdays…

Their brow furrows.

“I don’t know how old I am.”

Karlach pries open one eye from where she’s sprawled, giving them a slow blink.

“Ah- I’m sorry. I just realised that in my amnesia, the memory of my age has completely disappeared.”

“Sorry, what? Think I dozed off there.”

“Huh.” She levers herself back up to a sitting position, leaning towards their face with a squint. “Okay, let me have a look.”

Her golden eyes rove across their face, bending this way and that to take it in from all angles. This close, they can feel the puffs of heated air from her shoulder vents, the slow exhalation of her breath. They see how her eyes flick to their lips; they lick them almost unconsciously- her vents flare. A burst of heat flowing over their skin, strong enough that they blink back tears.

“Absolutely no idea. Sorry, mate, but you could be twenty or sixty and I wouldn’t know the difference.” She snorts. “I mean, I’m twenty-seven- or thereabouts- but I don’t really have an intuition for elves and such. Half-elves. D’you remember your birthday, at least?”

“Shit! Sorry.” She scoots back from them, an embarrassed grin blooming across her face. “Guess I’ve finished my professional examination.”

“And? What verdict have you arrived to?” With the new distance placed between them, the evening chill creeps in. A sense of loss.

Birthdays. That’s the thought that had brought them to this- but even the concept feels foreign. What would they do with a birthday? What does anyone do with a birthday? Birth just brings forth thoughts of the gnolls they'd fought only yesterday, spawning from distended hyenas in a beautiful- gory- explosion. Perhaps it’s more like that. A more fitting beginning for the creature they are than any sort of celebration.

“I… am not sure I have ever had one.”

“Oh.” She looks terribly sorry for them, all of a sudden. “That might just be the amnesia, but- that’s really sad, Japhet. No… cakes or anything? Gifts? Well, I never got much of those either, but- celebrations? A candle to blow out?”

Gifts just put them in mind of- something. Luxurious black wool grown heavy with blood, keeping its warmth close, an endless embrace- and a headache that robs them of any more detail.

They shake their head.

“We should ask Gale about the date. Perhaps there’s time for us to celebrate your birthday, still.” The thought ill fits their mind, but they continue on. “You can show me what it’s like.”

Karlach smiles- small, at first, then breaking into a grin as a thought seems to occur to her.

“Wait- I’ll do you one better. Stay here for a sec.”

She stands up in one explosive motion, leaping over the log she’d been lying on and bounding over to Gale.

They watch on in slight confusion as the two exchange a few words. Karlach gestures grandly, flames flaring yet again- and Gale matches her enthusiasm. Finally, she returns.

“Well, I’ve missed my birthday by ‘bout a month- but we can still celebrate yours. It’s the fifteenth of Flamerule right now- let’s just say your birthday’s on the twenty-second. Sound good?”

They blink slowly.

“Why?”

“Why not?” She counters. “I mean, you can pick another date, but this way we get to celebrate it. Unless we go squiddy before then, at least.” She’s getting antsy the longer they look up at her. Shifting from foot to foot. Even if they’ve never had a birthday- they’ll try it for her.

They’d only met her a scant few days ago. She only saw them this way, as a friend, as someone she should get close to, because she’d arrived too late to see Alfira’s ruined corpse. They’d packed up camp, and by the time they’d returned to the Chionthar’s shores rain had washed the blood-drawn circle clean away. She didn’t know the depths of horror they’d sunk to without even a conscious thought.

“Thank you, Karlach. I appreciate it.”

She grins and flares so bright it reflects off the water for a moment.

“Aces.”

#hello world #TRYING SM NEW OUT.... just posting short fics straight onto here #bg3 #baldur's gate 3 #karlach #dark urge #japhet #my writing

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lyon-amore · 2 years

Text

What if...? Duskwood Chapter 29

Chapter 28 ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

*Macie POV*

I leave the bathroom after getting dressed. Jake's on the computer looking up the clues we've gotten. I see him concentrating and it makes me feel bad for what I did. I can't get it out of my head that he's grieving for Hannah, but he suppresses it. "How are you holding up?" I ask, sitting up on the bed. "I'm still looking for clues…" I hear him sigh. I nod and look at my phone. As if I expected Richy to text me that it was all a lie. But he's not going to.

Because it doesn't suit him.

Exactly. After calming down and watching the looped videos and then Jessy's, there were a lot of differences. Richy's attack didn't make sense, why? For going into the forest? Ha... A stupid rule, knowing that our beloved The Man Without a Face had already made mistakes. He never appeared on camera like he did with Jessy, and I highly doubt it was because he didn't have the mask on. And the blood… The more I looked at it, the more it amused me. I almost laugh in front of Jake. At first he obviously caught me off guard because I don't like to see blood and I had put my feelings more than reason. Something I shouldn't have done. This time I won't let it happen. "I'm hungry…" I comment trying to get rid of my anger with Richy now. I hadn't had any dinner and after resting after the headache, my stomach had woken up. "Right, I forgot." Jake turns to see me. "I'm used to going days without eating." He approaches his backpack and takes a sandwich out of it. "It's not much, but it's what I bought at the bus station." "Thank you" I accept and look at him. Just looking at it makes my mouth water. ", I'm a little sorry that I can't cook something here…" Jake laughs, returning to the chair. “I think that's what I missed the most” he says as he types. "At least, thanks to you, I ate well for a while." “What's up? Did the doctor not feed you or what?" I ask, eating slowly. "She was stricter than you." "And... and she was pretty?" I ask, an annoyed tone in my voice. "Who?" "The doctor, who else?" Jake turns around again and raises an eyebrow, looking at me curiously. "And what is that question about? "For...forgetting a bit about before, I don't know," I answered, not wanting to say that it bothered me that another woman had seen his face. Or maybe I was worried. I didn't know if that woman was trustworthy. Jake puts down the computer and sits next to me. He had an almost proud smile on his face. "Well, each person has a type," he begins to explain "and the truth is that I didn't even notice if she was pretty or not." "Because you were badly hurt?" "Because I already found my type." he answers, looking at me intensely. I sigh when I see how he looks at me. His words make me lose myself in my thoughts, thinking what type is that. "And you, Macie?" He asks me, curious. I bite my lip looking at him. I've known for a long time. "You don't have to ask me." I replied, extending my hand to his and with my little finger, lame in his. Jake ends up taking my hand. He squeezed me lovingly. "And don't worry, I'm not the doctor type." He fondly strokes my cheek with his free hand, a sweet smile. His whispering voice gives me goose bumps. "And how do you know that?" I ask, controlling my breathing as I have him close "I'm sure you make a lot of impressions on women..." "Because she has a girlfriend." I blink. One. Two. Three times. I blush with embarrassment at being jealous now. Jake laughs when he sees my face and I get angry. "Go back to work, now." I told him, pushing him out of bed. "Are you jealous?" He asks me, I can't move him a bit. He's using my words against me. “You should focus on the investigation, Macie." I go to answer him and my phone rings. I take it from the table and see that it is the group. “End of break.” I tell him. "I'll keep looking." He gets up from the bed, going back to the computer. ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Lilly Guys? How are we gonna go on now? Should we go to the hut that Richy rented for us? Macie I don’t think Richy even got round to that ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Honestly, I'm not even sure about it but… why would you want to rent and then do this? I look at Jake, hurt. I don't want to tell him. First we have to find Hannah.

Jessy doesn't want to go to the hut without Richy. I imagined. ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Cleo To be honest, I can’t leave Duskwood with a clear conscience right now But I have to ask you for something, Macie, so that we can continue I want you to reveal everything to us that you and Jake have found out There can’t be any more secrets ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

It is understandable, we have hidden many things that we know, putting them at risk. ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Macie I knew you’d ask that one day Cleo And I want to ask you something else I want you to add Jake to our group. ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

What? Why does she want to bring Jake into the group? ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Macie And why? Cleo It's a little hard to explain He owes us I mean, I can only speak for myself, but I think the others feel similarly I trust you Macie And I want to stay in Duskwood to find Hannah, and now Richy But only knowing half the truth all the time and knowing that there are things that are deliberately being kept secret from me That’s really hard for me I want to carry trusting you so we can get our friends back But I need to know everything in order to do that ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Her words hurt a little. With everything that's happened, she's already starting to doubt me. The problem is, I don't know if Jake is going to want to, would he accept? I really would like him to be part of our group and for him to be able to talk to my friends, get to know them. I think it would even be another small step.

I reply to Cleo that I was going to try, getting out of bed.

I put my hand on Jake's shoulder to get his attention. "Jake?" I call him with a worried voice. "What happened Macie?" He turns quickly in his chair and I'm surprised. "Nothing, calm down" I tried to calm him down and he relaxed. "The others are questing us to reveal the results of our investigations and I told them that I’d have to talk to you about it first." He doesn’t answer. He looks down, tensing, suspicious. “I can kind of understand them, Jake.” I squat down, taking his hand. Perhaps by appearing a bit shorter, trying to show sympathy, he may agree. He has also manipulated me a bit to make me trust him, why deny it now? If in the end I ended up doing everything his way. Now is mu turn. "I know you don't trust them.” He makes a throaty noise, annoyed. He looks away, preventing him from convincing him. ". But you trust me" I force him to look at me, bringing my hand to his face, moving it gently "and I’m sure we'll benefit from it too.” He crosses his arms, still doubtful. Okay, I'll use the heavy artillery ". Do it for me." I smile a little, looking at him with innocent eyes. He gets up from his chair and begins to walk in the room. I sit up and look at him. Thinking. "Alright" I hear how he complains under his breath when he answers. He clearly couldn't resist in the end. ". You may share the results of our investigations with them." "You won't regret it." I replied quickly. "I hope so..." he replies, a little unsure. I start to touch the phone. Now comes the biggest. "And... There's something else..." I bite my lip, nervous. I don't know how well this can turn out. He wait for me to continue. I sigh deeply. "Would bad would it be for you to join the group chat?" He turns to look at the ceiling, raising his hand to his face. I know there's a lot at stake, but the group also wants to feel safe and they don't know Jake. They've been pointing at him from the start, this could be good for everyone. "I should have seen it coming..." he answers annoyed. "I can't do this without you" I walk over to him and take his hand, seeking support "and to be honest, it's important to me that you get along with others…please?" Jake looks down at me. Again I see how he softens when he sees me. He brushes my hair and I lean into his hand, smiling up at him. "If that is your wish, Macie, then we will do it together." He gives me a smile, but it's gone immediately, as if he remembered something. "But I have a favor to ask of you. "That’s only fair." I see him doubting whether to tell me. But in the end he looks at me determined. "You need to remove Richy from the group chat." Little by little, I change my expression. It was a curious thing to ask for. "We must expect Richy's cell to be in the culprit’s hands now. Therefore he might be able to read all chats that Richy is involved in." a wave of fear hits me. So he must know about Cleo's request by now! He must have read that she wants Jake in the group! "And under those circumstances, we cannot reveal the results of investigations." "I understood." I reply without hesitating for a second. Jake is surprised at my quick response. He nods calmly, smiling. “Thanks Macie.” I smile at him and he goes back to the computer, getting ready. "You can take all the time you need." Quickly, I enter the group and eliminate Richy from it. I won't risk our investigation or Jake. “Done.” I tell him, sitting up on the bed, getting ready. "I thought you'd need more time." He looks at me again, surprised. "You said it yourself, the culprit may be reading the conversation." I reply as I write the same thing to them. "I'm not risking it all." I hear Jake's chuckle. I noticed that he seemed somewhat shaky. "Okay… Now comes the most difficult part." "You'll do fine." I try to encourage him. I see how he nods and I notice that he has joined the group. ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Macie Guys this is Jake *Jake POV*

I want to seem like the calm guy that I appear to be, the one who can have everything under control… Oh, well, almost everything.

I couldn't say no to Macie's request. Her way of asking it of her has made me surrender to her. She needs me on this. And perhaps in this way I can clear up the doubts of the group that believes that I am guilty of the kidnapping of my sister. Ah, but it's better not to go into those details in the group, this is not the time to tell the truth, it would cause more problems than help.

The first to greet me is Lilly, and a nervous smile spreads across my face. I had never talked to her and I wasn't angry about my part in what she did either. Although maybe a little yes with what she did with Macie, but I can understand her. I have the same feeling as when I first met Hannah, happiness to meet my sister.

Jessica greets me in a friendly way, and Cleo welcomes me.

Obviously it wasn't going to be that easy being in this group, Dan demands that I clarify how I know that. ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Jake I am accountable to none. Dan You are to me Whatever it is you’re about to tell us As long as I don’t know how all of this came to be, I won’t be able to believe one word of it Macie Dan, could you please stop that? ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

I read Macie's words and turn when I see her. She looks angrily at the screen. Pretty annoying. Until now she has been defending me all this time, even when I was hiding the truth from her. Maybe it's time she knew how I found out about Hannah's kidnapping. And for that, I will have to entrust it to the group as well. She told me that it was important to her and I will do that. ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Jake It's okay, Macie. Some time ago, I would have probably not told you this under any condition. But I would like to change my mind, thanks to Macie ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

I hear a small laugh. Macie. I'm thankful that I'm turning my back, because now I'm on fire and, surely, I'm blushing for saying this.

I explain that I was on the phone with Hannah when it happened, because she had asked me for help without knowing why. As an older brother, I couldn't refuse even though I broke off contact with her many years ago. If my sister needed me, I would be there for her. I still remember her relieved face when I called her. That and the one that she made scared, are the faces that I will not be able to forget. "You had a video call?" I hear Macie ask me, even though she writes it. "Yes." "Oh…" "What happen? "I was thinking, if we hadn't met face to face" she looked at him while she spoke, attentive "would you have done it with me too?" "I'm sorry, that would be too risky" I answer, a little uncomfortable ". Hannah was a special reason." "Uh...I see..." "Does it bother you?" "No, no, I'm fine" she answers, not caring ". It was just out of curiosity." I smiled at her jealousy. She wouldn't admit it either.

I'm telling Hannah was attacked from behind. I can still hear her in my head screaming my name and for me to help her. I couldn't do anything but warn them. ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Jake I'm a hacker wanted by the government. My pursuers invested a lot of time and money to finally be able to catch me. Contacting you was ultimately my only way of helping Hannah. At the same time, I couldn't risk raising suspicions that I might be involved in all of this. ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

I read the words that I have sent. I want to be honest with them for Macie. I'm already telling them enough about myself, something I shouldn't and that worries me. “You're risking too much…” Macie comments. I can hear pain in her voice. "It’s okay," I reply, "I'm trusting them...” ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Dan Tsk, that went really well 👍 Jake But my conscience didn’t allow me to just turn my back on Hannah. And when Thomas was sent the number of Macie , I contacted her immediately. I knew straighaway that she would play a key part. What part exactly, however, I do know to this day. Jessica So that's what happened Macie Even I didn't know that ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

I hear Macie's footsteps coming towards me. I look at her and see that she is frowning. "No more secrets..." she tells me, squeezing the phone tightly. "Alright." Macie sighs and types on her cell phone, but she decides to talk too. It's clear that she wants to look at my face as I answers her questions. It's a bit ridiculous, if we come to think of it, we're both in the same room and we text each other. But if we want others to know it, we have to write it down too. She sits down at the table so she can look at my face as she questions me. "Was there anyone else with Hannah?" She finishes writing to ask me. "Had there been another person in Hannah’s vicinity, I probably would not have been able to see them due to angle at which Hannah was holding her cell phone" I explained, remembering the scene. In loop ". But I believe her to have been alone. There was in any case, nothing to make me believe that there was anyone else present. " Macie nods, thinking about the next question. I already know what face she makes when she's going to do it. "Would another person would have been able to see you? "I don't think so." I reply quickly. Even where I was, it was dark, with the simple light of the computer. "How exactly was Hannah attacked?" "Alas, I cannot tell you." I scratch the back of my neck, trying to think if I saw anything in particular "I did not see the object the attacker used." After the questions, Macie hugs me. "Thank you for telling me about it" she whispers to me, "and I'm sorry it was hard on you." After listening to her, I hug her tightly. I have hidden so many things from her that I don't know how she can continue to trust me. I appreciate it too much. "You had to ask," I replied, then pulled away a bit. She brushes my bangs off my forehead and kiss me. I close my eyes feeling warm with that kiss. Then she caresses my face and we return to the conversation. ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Jake Then we can begin. Jessica Can I go home first? Sorry I didn't say it earlier 😕 ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

"Is that okay with you?" Macie looks at me sadly. “She's been busy helping us find the car files." "Yeah, that's fine with me" he replied, smiling at her. I don't want to argue about her friend either, there's a lot of work to do and I have to prepare everything.

She goes back to bed and I go looking for clues. I get the chat alert. Dan still doesn't trust me. I had put the chat notice for a moment. I was afraid that after telling my version of the day of the kidnapping, someone would take advantage of telling it somewhere. ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Dan I still don’t trust that guy Macie And why not? 😩 Dan We can't prove any of the stuff he’s been saying Just though I’d mention it He’s sort of your hacker I don’t know, don’t ask me ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

<<I'm her hacker…>> I let out a laugh. ‘He’s sort of your hacker.' Sounds better than all the things that have called me now. "That laugh?" She asks me I remove the chat notice and the spyware. I think everything is fine for now. "For nothing" I replied, examining everything we have "We'd better go through our files, get ready. " "Yeah, it's going to be a pretty long morning." I hear her sigh.

We remain silent, concentrated. From time to time I look at her, still worried about what happened this morning. She seems like she's recovered fast enough to continue this.

I'm still surprised that she was able to watch Richy's video often. It didn't seem like a good idea to me... I hope it didn't affect her. Jessica returns and we begin with our exposition of the events that have occurred so far, showing the clues we have. No one knew that Hannah had depression. They are just as surprised as I am. Even Lilly and she's her sister. Macie tries to calm them down, wanting neither of them to feel guilty. ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Macie Please don't worry about not knowing It's not unusual to keep it a secret... Thomas But I could have helped her We would all have helped her And I’d have had the chance to understand what was going on with her Macie It was her choice, Thomas. I can understand Hannah ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

I worry as I read her words and look at her. "Are you sure you're alright?" I ask nervously. "Yes, don’t worry." She smiles at me to calm me down. "Then why do you say you understand her?" Macie stares at the ground, avoiding my gaze. “It's not…exactly the same as Hannah,” she says slowly. "Let's say that before I didn't like people watching me all the time, asking me how i was, if I was okay, if I needed to talk about it... " "Does it mean that I overwhelm you by asking if you feel bad?" "No, not anymore, it was a few years ago" She smiles at me to calm me down ". Let's continue with the chat. " I nod, returning to the screen. I don't want her to happen like with Hannah and not be able to do anything to help her.

We show the conversation between Hannah and her psychiatrist. We all have it clear: The worst psychiatrist that exists. We focused on the theme of the incident when Hannah was a child, that this same man from that incident was following her, and that she wasn't alone back then. It doesn't seem like anyone says anything.

The mysterious Jennifer. We get to the point and I ask who told Macie. But silence. It was Richy who gave us her name: Jennifer Manson. But it wasn't her real name either. Jennifer Hanson. I found her name looking in the old Duskwood news and Jessica spoke to her mother Iris, getting the address of her car. And something happens. ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Thomas Wait Jessy Jessica ? Thomas You went to Hannah's car? Jessica Uh yes Thomas Where was it? Jessica In front of her house? Macie What's up, Thomas? Thomas When Jake first got us all into this group chat and said Hannah was in danger I drove to her immediately Richy was there and said Hannah wasn't in her apartment. He had already rang the doorbell He had read what Jake had written… But what I’m trying to get at is that Hannah’s car wasn’t there! ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

"Jake!" Macie exclaims excitedly "This is important!" "Yeah, that's what I think." I look closely at Thomas's words. “I didn’t know we’d get new information." Indeed, this is interesting. I never thought we would end up discovering this detail from them.

Dan starts to feel bad and we leave for a moment. "What do you think of the car?" I ask Macie, curious about her theory. “I think the kidnapper didn't want the car found in any particular area” Macie says, thinking "The bad thing is that right now that car isn't much help to us. Who knows how many prints there must be on that car?" “And more if your friend Jessica has enter on it after they used it before her." "Yeah…" she sighs, raising a hand to her head "If I'd known before, I could have stopped her" I hear her get up and sit down at the table, to talk to me. ". The positive thing is knowing that she talked to Iris." I nod and cross my arms. I need a coffee for this break. "Do you want me to buy you something?" Macie asks me, as if she's read my mind. "The truth is that a coffee wouldn't hurt me." I answered with a smile. "Then wait, I'll be here in a heartbeat." She jumps down from the table, reaching for her bag ". I'll be right back." "Don't worry, I'm not moving from here." I joked before she left. Well, for now everything seems to be going well.

Chapter 30

#duskwood #duskwood jake #duskwood mc #duskwood jake x mc #duskwood fanfic #duskwood everbyte #everbyte studio #everbyte

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hereisleo · 2 years

Text

from/ ‘All Hallows’ Eve’

w/ k.hj & reader

g/ inspired by “persona 3”: angst, friendship, supernatural

w.c/ 1k

a.n/ hello~ it’s me~ it’s been a while since i stepped foot in tumblr! sorry for disappearing without notice but i’ve not been in the writing mood for some time, life too has been busy. in honour of spoop month, here’s another piece to the series. i don’t know how many of you are still around but enjoy! happy halloween!

t.w/ ghost, blood, death

[First Quarter]

“Don’t.”

You stop in your tracks. Why? He warns you out of good nature but never is able to explain more. He doesn’t know either, he tells you it’s a bad time to go and you might see something you wish to forget. There’s no turning back when it happens. Unfortunately, the inevitable already happened. You’ve seen him, an anomaly in your usually normal life. Kim Hongjoong. A dead man. A ghost in your apartment.

“Have you gone out there? In the hidden hour?”

Hongjoong shakes his head. He doesn’t remember anything related to his death. As a ghost, he feels everything that living humans doesn’t feel. The danger, the restlessness, the wailing, the torment. He calls it the hidden hour, a secret hour where those without potentials turn into coffins and those with are preys. The hidden hour is where the dead become the living. Yet Hongjoong is still a ghost and you, a human, apparently with potential, are now sitting on your bed. The dark blue sky is tinted green with the half golden moon, so big and close to Earth almost as if the distance is reduced by half.

The coffins, water turning into blood, the gigantic moon are nothing compared to the lofty skyscraper of a tower appearing out of nowhere. A pseudo gothic edifice formed with the surrounding buildings pierce through the moon. It’s horrifyingly beautiful and Hongjoong agrees with your musing.

“I don’t know. Maybe I have. I can never seem to remember anything after a certain time. I can feel it nearing again, crawling under my skin.”

You look over at him, Hongjoong appears with his black and white striped polo shirt. Your first wild guess was a dead runaway prisoner but he miffly shut down the idea. No prisoner is as fashionable as he is. His hair matches his polo, black and white, cleanly split in half. Your second guess was Cruella cosplay which he took more graciously. A trailblazer of their own.

“You should sleep. There’s not much we can do at this time. If they sense you, you might as well be food for the dead.”

You tuck yourself in and Hongjoong too because he keeps you company while he contemplates life. The blanket goes through him but it's the thought that counts.

“Goodnight, Joong.”

[Waxing Gibbous]

“Joong? Hongjoong?”

Silence greets you in the hidden hour's eerie ambiance. You can hear the guttural noises the shadows are making down the street, louder than what you’re used to. Perhaps it's the moon phases, slowly but surely getting fuller each day, and each day, Hongjoong seems to disappear longer or have trouble appearing. Are ghosts affected by the phases? Why are you the only one who can see him? You’ve asked the apartment staff and none seem to know the existence of Kim Hongjoong.

“I’m here…”

Hongjoong looks a bit worse for wear. Did he lose weight? There are telltale of dark shadows under his eyes and his cheeks look slightly sunken in. The hidden hour. Where the dead becomes the living.

“Are the shadows giving you trouble?”

He slightly winced at your comment, it seems to hit the mark. He shut your window when the groaning of the shadows grew louder, clutching his forehead as if he had a very painful headache. You urge him to sit down, the blanket goes through him again but he never goes through your bed, what an interesting ghostly concept. He sinks further into your pillow, burying half of his face into it.

“That and my head feels like they’re splitting in half. I have dreams that don't feel like dreams. It’s always the same, it gets clearer each time.”

You reach forward to brush his fringes in comfort and your fingers painfully buzz with sharp static electricity. Well, that never happened before, your fingers usually pass through him with goosebumps trailing up your arms. He gives you an apologetic frown, too spent for another word.

“It’s alright, Joong, though I do wish I could see your dream so you don’t have to shoulder it yourself.”

His brows furrowed and he shakes his head. You should have been careful with what you wished for. It wouldn’t be long until you wished that his dream didn’t come true because that will be the last time you see your friendly ghost roommate.

[Full Moon]

Dreams do come true. The ear splitting roar you hear in your shared dream with Hongjoong becomes a reality. The bridge shakes and your footing is unstable. He can’t hear you, he’s too far. No, you couldn’t get close. There are instances where you are scared but this… This is fear.

Hongjoong is solid, he has pushed you away from him, his hands warm and strong against your shoulders. He drops to his knees, clawing at his head and letting out a heart wrenching scream. You feel suffocated within his presence.

“Make it stop! I just want to be free! I don’t want to hurt anyone!”

You jump, ignoring the handing in your ribcage, the twisting in your stomach and the cold sweat dripping down. Hongjoong, your ghost roommate, is alive. Your arms wrap around him, coughing when his elbow struck your chest but you held him. He burns inhumanly hot.

“It’s okay, Joongie. I’m right here. Be free.”

You didn’t know the implication of your statement, you didn’t know until Hongjoong looked at you with desperation, pain and guilt. But in that moment, he’s relieved and so are you. In an instant you feel bone chilling coldness seeping into you, so cold it burns. You hear shadows roaring and closing all around you, blood thick and pungent soaking your trousers, and coffins towering over you. Hongjoong starts to disappear, lighter and more translucent with each passing second.

“You must survive.”

Hongjoong’s parting word brings a specific memory. Those with potential are food for the living dead. The frantic rushing and jumping of shadows to feast, they were close enough for you to feel their teeth before you heard something shatter. The bell from the tower in the middle of the chime with intensity that rattles your teeth and eardrums.

Just like that the hidden hour ends. The twisted skyscraper disappears in a blink. The coffins towering over you turn into pedestrians, yelling and screaming at your state. You probably look similar to a notorious serial killer caught in the bloody act. In your arms is the cold body of Kim Hongjoong.

I must survive.

#8makes1teamnet #ateezlovenet #kwritersworldnet #kpopscape #k.hj #kim hongjoong #hongjoong #hongjoong imagines #hongjoong scenarios #hongjoong blurbs #hongjoong drabbles #ateez #ateez fic #ateez au #ateez imagines #ateez scenarios #ateez blurbs #ateez drabbles #leojov

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steddiesupportgroup · 2 years

Text

A season 5 steddie fantasy I’ve been rolling around in my head for days now under the cut

Let’s say we live in a perfect world where wonderful queer coded characters get together how we want them to for a minute- my dream steddie progression would be for them to get closer and more flirty over the course of vol 2, because things are crazy and they need something to break the tension. They both survive, beaten and bruised but alive. Definitely have some “shared trauma,” if you know what I mean

And then season 5 comes and we’re all thinking maybe they’ll flirt some more, have a couple longing glances and lingering touches. At first they seem like normal friends, close but not that close. And then the moment the scene cuts away from the group to just to two of them, Eddie slams Steve up against the wall of an empty bathroom at the bar he plays his shows at. They kiss like they’ve been teaching each other how, grabbing at clothes and hair like they can’t get enough and it’s revealed: they’ve been dating in secret since vecna was destroyed. Those shared looks and shoulder touches throughout the rest of it aren’t because they want to be together but aren’t; it’s for reassurance and to let the other know that they’ll get through it together.

I’m also imagining them having to split up for a little while, both super reluctant, but Eddie kisses Steve’s knuckles and says with all the affection and confidence he can muster, “I’ll be seeing you real soon, Stevie.”

And they LIVE.

#sorry if this doesn’t make sense I’ve had a headache all day #listen I’m just so weak for established relationships you already know #I love fics where they get together but I’m not very good at writing it myself #steddie #steve x eddie #st4 #steddie headcanons

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clouds-rambles · 3 years

Note

Hey bestie may I request diluc,childe,zhongli,and venti having a bad nightmare over their s/o wanting to break up with them and when they wake up their s/o isn’t there but really they’re in another room or something if that makes sense!! Thank you 🤑

Hi bestie positively evil... i love it <3 nobody question why zhongli and the reader are married in all my headcanons thanks lmao

Pairings; (Seperate) Diluc, Childe, Zhongli, and Venti x reader

Warning(s); panic, nightmares, hurt/comfort, injury mention

Keep reading under the cut!

Diluc

Diluc wakes with a start, his brows furrowed as he takes a moment to arrange the events of his nightmare in his head

Both you and he had a particularly explosive argument after he had come back injured from a night protecting Mondstat

You had left the winery after exclaiming that you refuse to date someone who has such a lack of regard for his own life. In the long run you’d be saving yourself from further heartbreak if he ended up dead on the front porch

Diluc wonders if dream you could be right...

The red-head finally notices the cold side of the bed you should be sleeping on. He more than remembers going to sleep with you

Panic sets in at the bottom of Dilucs stomach. He must be imagining things right? You’re probably just in the bathroom

A beat passes

Then three

No, you’re not in the bathroom. He would have heard you by now...

What if the dream was actually what had happened last night. A breath catches in the mans throat as he gets out of bed and throws a shirt on

If he couldn’t find you in his home has he truly lost you?

Diluc speedily walks through the halls of his home, checking the spare rooms, the study, the library, the living room, the dining room, the

Diluc opens the door to the kitchen his heart threatening to break out of his chest at the pace it’s beating when he finally spots you drinking a cup of tea, in your pajamas

Thank the archons it was just a dream

“Diluc, honey, are you okay?” you ask getting up from the table in the kitchen to your sweating, hyperventilating partner

Diluc says nothing but opts to hugging you, his head bowing to your chest as he breaths you in

“Diluc, you’re worrying me” you tell him returning his embrace and rubbing circles on his back

“You weren’t in bed” is all he offers to tell you. You don’t push him on the details of why he is so panicked

“I couldn’t sleep so I came down for a herbal tea” you explain kissing the man on his bed of fluffy hair “I have a cup left in the kettle, I can pour one out for you” you offer

“Please” he breathes, but doesn’t move to let you go from the embrace, you can stand to hold him and tell him sweet nothings for a little while. Tea can always be reheated

Childe

It would only be right, and he suspected as much. You had told him that because of what has recently transpired in Liyue you cannot find yourself to love a brutal harbinger

Maybe its for the best. Childe concludes not paying much attention to his weeping heart. Maybe, you’d be happier not to be under the constant eye and scrutiny of the Qixing, the Milleth, and the watchful eye of Childes own fatui informants

Without much pause form Childes last thought the man finds himself waking in his room, unsure if the dream was reality or his mind playing tricks on him, he feels your side of the bed and notices a distinct lack of warmth... and you

He cries

Childe curls himself up in a ball determined to not get caught by anyone showing such an extreme and out of character emotion, he let himself cry. He’s pretty sure he’s sobbing loudly but he doesn’t care. It’s just him in the house anyway. The one person that he doesn’t mind seeing such emotions has left him

That’s until he hears the distinct click of the bedroom door open “Oh my archon Childe, are you okay?” you ask quickly making your way to the side of his bed and placing a hand on his shoulder

The man looks up to you, he isn’t sure if you’re real

“I thought-” he starts “I had a-” he tries to find his words without seeming like a crazed person “You weren’t-”

“It’s okay babe, I’m right here. I’m not planning on going anywhere” you console “I just had an epiphany in my dream and I had to write it down” you add explaining your absence. Childe nods along

“Stay” he tells you as you wipe the tears out of his eyes. You nod and hum

“Of course” you lay onto the bed and let Childe wrap himself around you

You hum him to sleep and whisper sweet nothings

Zhongli

‘I can’t love you anymore Zhongli, I feel obligated to come back to Liyue after every adventure, it’s starting to take a toll on me’

‘But our vows, [name] we made a contract at the altar’

‘To love each other, yes? Zhongli there’s no love left in this marriage, you sleep in the spare bedroom whenever I’m back, we sit in silence over dinner, I don’t think I’ve kissed you in months. The lack of love itself is the breach in the contract’

‘But I-’

‘Think about it, do you really feel the same love that you felt on the day we got married?’

‘[name]-’

Zhongli wakes up with a start, his heart beats a little fast for a second. The man convinces himself it’s just a dream he had, but the coldness of your side of the bed seems to speak otherwise

In all fairness, Zhongli should have rationalised his dream before he started wondering the house like a mad man. The only time he sleeps in the other bed is when you’ve suffered an extreme injury, dinners are often spent with jolly laughs and conversation. And Zhongli prides himself on the amount of affection he gives you around the house... and in the bedroom

But most things aren’t making sense in his head right now

“Zhongli my love” you call him upon noticing him in the hall. You had just come out of the bathroom after a midnight toilet break “Are you okay darling?” you ask placing a hand on his shoulder

The tenseness in Zhongli’s shoulders dissipate as soon as you initiate the touch

“I love you” he tells you, the declaration is out of nowhere to you. But you smile at him and embrace him

“And I love you too” you pause bringing up your hand baring the ring that sits on it “And this ring is a reminder of our vows and my unyielding love to you” you tell him with a smile

Zhongli chuckles at you and returns your hug “You seem to always know how to comfort me my dear”

“It’s because I’m a mind reader” you jest matching your spouses chuckle

Venti

Disappeared. So much so that the thousand winds could tell Venti that you were in fact not in Mondstat and had travelled to Liyue from the time Venti was playing music in the tavern to when he knocked for you early the next morning

The only trace you left was a letter. Unmistakeably written by your hand

‘Venti, writing this in a letter is much easier than saying this to your face. I am quite simply tired of your antics, no matter try to talk to you, you seem to always brush me off. Be it the nights you spend at the tavern, my general concern when you disappear for days at end just to tell me you were at the thousand winds temple, stormterrors lair, or windrise, no matter how much I tell you I checked all three. Being in a constant state of concern isn’t good for me, it’s emotionally draining and I’m terrified of finding you dead somewhere, despite your archon blood. By the time you read this I’ll be in Liyue where I’ll be staying with a friend for a while. Tell me I’m going somewhere you can’t follow, and I’ll tell you this is how I have felt many a night. I wish I could have kept loving you, [name]’

A harsh way to break up Venti admits to himself rereading the paper a few times before waking up

A dream?

Venti holds his chest, surely a dream couldn’t conjure such a horrific sinking feeling that makes him want to just vomit

Looking to your side of the bed for your comfort the sinking feeling intensifies when he doesn’t see you

So it wasn’t a dream? Venti doesn’t want to call on his kin, the thousand winds, again just to be told once more that you’re currently in Liyue sipping tea with this cousin you had mentioned in the letter

The archon sits up in bed and takes deep breaths, he doesn’t want to explain to anybody that he had a panic attack over your horrific breakup letter, no no

After calming his breaths Venti steps out of bed with a shaky few steps before walking downstairs to engage in the typical breakout routine. Snacking. Maybe when you left you had elected to ignore some of the snacks you love to litter about your abode

When Venti walks in to the living room towards the kitchen he sees you nursing your head on the couch

“[name]?” he asks in almost disbelief

“Hm,” you answer before looking up to Venti “Oh hey love, sorry I’ve got a headache” you greet properly after a moment. Venti grins at you which causes you to tilt your head. Why is your headache so grin worthy? Weird...

“Would you like some paracetamol?” he asks walking beside you, you shake your head

“I just took some” you reply looking up at your partner “Though I’d love to rest my head on your thighs” you add. Venti more then obliges and settles down on the couch

“You know I had the strangest dream” Venti tells you after a prolonged amount of silence, you hum to let him know you’re listening “You left me” he says bluntly

Damn

You bring yourself up to Venti’s face with a smile and give him a kiss “I love you Venti, I wouldn’t leave you for even the prettiest lyre” you half console half jest

“That’s because the prettiest lyre is mine” Venti chuckles and you nod pressing another kiss to Venti’s lips

guys it’s 2.42am I’m so sorry if there’s grammatical errors, my brain isn’t catching up rn

#genshin impact #genshin impact x reader #diluc x reader #childe x reader #zhongli x reader #venti x reader #genshin diluc #genshin childe #genshin zhongli #genshin venti #diluc #childe #zhongli #venti #hurt/comfort #nightmares

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sunshine-on-my-mind · 2 years

Text

𝕋𝕚𝕞𝕖 𝔸𝕗𝕥𝕖𝕣 𝕋𝕚𝕞𝕖

𝚌𝚑𝚊𝚙𝚝𝚎𝚛 4

pairing: Steve Rogers x reader

words: 3k

series warnings: 18+ (minors do not interact) mature themes, smut, ANGST, Fluff, toxic parents

chapter warnings: 18+ (minors do not interact), Smut, kissing, making love, hugs, fluff, soft moments, happy tears, angst, toxic parents, crying.

series summary: Steve and you were mean to be together, but life had other plans. Your heart belongs to Steve and you’ll do anything for him, even at the cost of your own happiness.

a/n: Sorry for taking so long but here we are at the final chapter of this series. Thank you for all the love and support you all have given to this series and I hope you enjoy the last chapter as well. Thanks to @zaraomarrogers for coming up with this concept. Reblogs, Comments or any feedback is much appreciated.

previous chapter ; series masterlist ; main masterlist

Steve clenched his jaw. All your words came back to him, the way you used to describe your mother.

She had an unreadable expression on her face, a smile that could send chills and which hinted that she was up to no good.

“Steven, look at you” your mother smirked, “Life’s been going well I see. I have been hearing your name here and there. Good for you.” Steve stood quietly.

“Why have you called me here?”

“Straight to the point huh? I like that.”

She motioned for him to sit, but he didn’t move.

“Steven, I think it’s better if you sit down.” Steve took a seat with a huff.

“You see, my daughter always had a misconception that she can outsmart me, but she has never been successful. Never.” Your mother enunciated the last word. Steve tried to keep his face emotionless. Even if you left him, even if your promises felt like lies, one thing Steve was sure about, your mother was exactly how devious you described her to be, if not more.

“It’s true that I don’t keep an eye on my stupid daughter anymore like I used to, I mean she isn’t my headache anymore. That doesn’t mean I’m stupid enough to not check her whereabouts at all.” She smirked before continuing. “You see, I’ve asked her to visit me several times but it seemed as if she is very busy, always occupied with something or the other. It was surprising to see that apparently she isn’t busy when it comes to paying her old lover a visit almost regularly.”

The more she talked, the more Steve became curious, and a little confused at the same time.

“I thought maybe it’s just old flames reignited, but looks like my daughter isn’t as stupid.” She smirked “A little research about you and I found out about your daughter and it didn’t take much calculation to realise what’s actually going on.”

Steve was becoming frustrated with whatever your mother was trying to imply.

“Listen, this really seems something between you and your daughter. And maybe to your surprise, I don’t have the whole day, so just come to the point. What do you want from me?”

The cold look on your mother’s face made Steve feel uneasy. But he was adamant.

“What I want is for you to knock some sense in my daughter’s head since she clearly didn’t learn anything the first time.”

Steve knitted his eyebrows. What on earth was going on? At least your mother had more to say, which would probably help Steve to get some context.

“My daughter has always been foolish. Apparently has too much heart and no brains. But not you. You have both. So I’ll make it simple, make my daughter go back to her life, her husband. She may have no regard for her societal status but I do, because that in turn will affect our family’s name. I will not tolerate some scandal about an affair or this secret daughter.”

“Don’t talk about my daughter, okay?” Steve made it clear.

She shook her head in disappointment. “Just when I thought she has finally got some sense. Looks like I will have to interfere. Again.”

“What do you mean again?” There was an ill feeling rising in Steve’s stomach. He didn’t like it one bit. Your mother let out a humourless chuckle.

“You don’t know?” Your mother became more intrigued as well. “How did she manage all this without telling you?”

“Manage what? What is going on?”

Your mother tried to think back about what may have happened. Not that she cared but she was intrigued about how you managed everything.

“You see Steven, you were never good enough to be associated with my daughter, with our family name. My foolish daughter was building some silly dreams about your future together but someone had to stop it. So I made sure she knew what was at stake, I made sure she doesn’t tarnish our status in the society. My daughter has too much heart hence she did what I asked her to. You know, I guess she actually did care about you a lot. Make sure you tell my daughter that if she still cares about you, then she must take her decisions wisely.”

Steve felt his heart would stop beating with each word your mother uttered. Was this really happening, or rather did it really happen? Steve did feel you weren’t yourself when you broke up with him. He had a feeling something went wrong, and Sarah, his mother too couldn’t believe it was all your doing, the kind sweet girl who she knew loved his son very much. Too much perhaps.

Steve stood up without a word, he needed to talk to you. He had so many questions, but mostly he just wanted to see you. Before leaving he turned to face your mother once and for all.

“The girl I love is the strongest person I know. You on the other hand seem like someone who enjoy exerting your powers on others. Guess what your threats won’t work on me, so you can keep on playing whatever game you want but I’m not backing away either.” With a nod, Steve left.

He rushed to you, as he felt the tears prickling in his eyes. Steve felt rage, but the sadness was overweighing everything else.

“Steve?” You weren’t expecting to see him at your doorstep. Bucky was at work and you were getting ready, you were supposed to visit Hope later that day because Steve finally trusted you enough to let you visit her without him being there.

“Is everything alright, is Hope-“ Steve interrupted you before you could finish.

“Why? Why did you leave me, why did you break up with me?” Steve needed to know, his eyes filled with tears made your heart ache.

“I- You know why, I-“ Steve held your shoulders as he pulled you close.

“I want the truth Bubble, I only want the truth. The truth your mother was implying at.”

You looked perplexed, and a little scared at the mention of your mother. Steve told you about the interaction he had with your mother, how she was trying to warn him, how she mentioned the past.

“She- she threatened me, a-and I couldn’t let her harm you. I’m sorry Steve I-” You looked up at him, your eyes mirroring his, filled with tears.

“My mother, she threatened to ruin your future, your career, and I knew how hard you had worked all your life, I couldn’t risk it.”

“W-why didn’t you tell me Bubble? We could have handled everything together.” Steve pulled you into his embrace as you both broke down into sobs.

“I’m so sorry Steve, I didn’t want you to sacrifice your future for me.” You clenched his shirt tightly in your hands, he kept his arms wrapped around you protectively.

“Trust me I did what I thought was best, I wish things could have been different, oh how much I have wished that everyday, hoped this was a nightmare.” Steve pulled apart slowly as he took in your broken expression. How much pain you must have had to endure. His heart shattered thinking about all the hardships you went through.

“When I found out about my pregnancy, I got so, so scared Steve, I was desperate to protect my child and somehow my luck worked when I got Bucky beside me. My skin still shivers thinking about how much worse the situation could have been.” Steve held your face in his hand as he touched his forehead with yours.

“Oh baby, I’m sorry honey, I’m sorry I wasn’t there, I’m sorry I couldn’t see how much pain you’re in.”

“I-It’s not your fault Stevie” You cupped his cheeks as you stared into his eyes. “I had already made up my mind to push you away, I couldn’t let my mother harm your future in any way.” You smiled softly in between tears, you stroked his cheek as he planted soft kisses on your palm

“Steven Grant Rogers, if I ever have to choose between you and my own happiness, remember that time after time, I’ll choose you. You saw me for the person I am, you made feel alive for the first time, I’ll never forget that. When I see you today, I feel so proud of the man you’ve become. I always knew you’ll achieve all your dreams.”

“What about you my love? Sure I had dreams but you were a part of all of those dreams. Because no matter how much time passes, time after time you’ll be the one for me.” Steve kissed your forehead before he continued “Yes I may have a successful career now, I may have made a name for myself but nothing feels complete without you. Hope and I, we’re incomplete without you.”

“Me too Stevie. I miss you. Miss you both so much.”

Steve pulled you into a passionate kiss. Shallow breaths, longing and yearning, all conveyed in that kiss. You held his neck to pull him closer, his hands found your waist.

Time seemed to have stopped, but you both felt alive after so long. Seemed to have found your old selves.

“I’m so thankful you had a friend like Bucky with you baby.” He kissed the back of your hand, while lying down on the couch with his head on your lap and you stroked his hair softly. You told him everything, you told him how Bucky became such a good friend when you needed someone beside you.

“Mhmm, really lucky. I don’t know what I’d do if I was all alone.” You smiled at him, and he smiled back. That signature smile of his which made your heart melt.

The bell rang, Bucky must be home, he was supposed to take you to see Hope. Steve got up and looked at you.

“Can I talk to him? I want to thank him for everything.” You nodded with a smile before going to open the door.

When Bucky saw you with a smile and Steve standing behind you, he could feel the situation was finally good for you and broke into a big smile himself. Bucky hugged you and you returned the embrace.

“I’m guessing you’re back together?” Bucky asked you both. You shared a smile with Steve. “Wouldn’t have been possible without your support Buck.” Bucky chuckled.

“Hey I just played my part as a friend. Besides, it’s the love you have for each other that brought you back together. I’m really happy for you both.”

Steve shook Bucky’s hand and thanked him for everything.

“Thank you for being there with my girl, man. I don’t know what to say except that I’ll always be grateful to you.” Bucky smiled.

“This one here has been through a lot, take care of her.” Bucky turned to look at you. “And you, I know you’ve always thought I’m the one who did so much for you but the truth is you have done a lot for me too. You made me a better person, a more compassionate person. You both did actually. Your story, your love inspired me to be kind. I have been quite a loner myself but you gave me hope to find love myself. And looks like I’m finally going to take your advice and start finding the one for me.” He chuckled “If I can find even half of what you both have, then I’d say I got pretty lucky. Really, I’m so happy for you both.”

You smiled, thinking that at least you found a good friend amongst this mess.

“I’m happy for you Bucky. You’re amazing and I hope you find someone worthy. Oh and don’t forget to-“

“To invite you in my wedding, I know I know.” Bucky finished your sentence before you could. “You’re both invited in advance, just got to find a bride now.” You all shared some laughs before going to see Hope, who was with Sarah.

That night you all had dinner together, which Steve insisted to cook and Bucky helped him. You played with your daughter whose smile seemed brighter than before.

When Sarah found out about everything, the first thing she did was give you a big hug. You really missed her hugs.

“You’re such a strong woman, love. Truly, my Stevie is lucky to have someone like you looking out for him.”

In a few weeks Bucky finalised the divorce and you started living with Steve and Hope. Bucky came to visit from time to time, Hope seemed to have taken a liking towards her Uncle Bucky.

When Steve came back from work one day, he heard you crying and ran quickly to you. He was met with the view of you kissing Hope’s chubby cheeks in between sobs.

“Wha-“

“Steve!! She- she called me-“

Before either of you could speak properly, your daughter stole the show.

“Ma, Ma! Lub you. Ma!” Hope kept on repeating as she giggled looking at you. Steve rushed towards the two of you, wrapping you both in his arms.

“My girls are the best.” He kissed the top of your head and then Hope’s.

The following day, you were making yourself a cup of coffee, when you felt a pair of strong arms wrap around your waist from behind.

“What’s on your mind Mr. Rogers?” Steve groaned softly against your ear.

“Mmm you.” Steve spun you around to make you face him.

“Hope is with my mom, so that means it’s just you and me here today.” He pecked your lips “Just the two of us.” Steve whispered before picking you up.

“Stevieeee!!” Your giggles filled up the room and Steve was sure it was his one his favourite sounds ever.

“I think we should celebrate this moment Bubble. And the bedroom seems like the perfect venue for it.” He winked before carrying you to the bedroom.

“We have to make up for lost time don’t we baby?” Steve’s voice was so low and raspy. He laid you down on the bed and looked at you with hunger in his eyes. You pulled him down into a heated kiss.

“Need you Stevie.” Those words were enough for Steve to lose his mind.

He planted kisses on your jaw and neck, and kept kissing till little marks formed on your skin. All these years you yearned for his touch. His sloppy kisses felt hot against your skin.

Steve made sure to pay attention to your body, to make you feel good. He was beyond content to have you so close to him.

“Fuck Bubble, you’re absolutely breathtaking my love.”

The night was filled with touching and kissing. Rediscovering your bodies all over again.

When he was inside you, it felt like your souls were connected to each other not just your bodies.

“That’s it baby, so good for me. Missed you so much bubble, missed having you so close doll. Fuck, missed these pretty noises you make for me.”

You lost the number of times your reached your high. Steve made you feel you dizzy in the best way possible. It all felt like a happy blur.

Tangled with one another, wrapped up in sheets, you both slept so well that night.

“Morning Baby.” Steve woke you up with soft kisses. “You look so beautiful in the morning. I want to start everyday by seeing this face.” He stroked your face with his thumb and you nuzzled against his chest.

“Mmm good morning to you too Stevie.” You planted a quick kiss on his chest before looking at him with a big smile on your face.

“How about we go on a picnic today him? You me and Hope?”

“Sounds perfect.”

And it was perfect, your little family made you the happiest.

You sat with Steve on a picnic blanket as Hope walked around the two of you, jumping the best she could in happiness.

Steve looked at you. You looked happy, which made him happy. All those years were so tough, but he didn’t want to think about the past. Steve had his future right in front of him and he couldn’t be happier.

He grabbed your hand softly and you looked at him.

“I know life hasn’t been the way we wanted, but now that we are together, I know in my heart everything will be alright. Time has passed but there’s still much to explore and I want to do it all with you by my side. Bubble, you and Hope make me the happiest.” Steve looked down at your hands joined together and a sweet smile appeared on his face.

“So here I go again, even though last time was sort of a disaster” He chuckled and got down on one knee.

“Steve-“ You stood up.

“Well good thing is, I have a wing-woman this time, so I guess my chances are better.” As if on cue, Hope made her way to stand beside her dad. Steve took out the most beautiful ring you had ever seen in your life.

“Bubble, I love you, so much. Meeting you was the best thing that ever happened to me. You gave me love and you gave me Hope, literally.” He chuckled looking at his daughter.

“You’re my ‘forever’ and I’ll spend all my life, giving you all the love I have. Will you do me the honour of spending all your days with me? Will you marry me?”

“Pwease Ma” Hope asked in her adorable voice.

“My answer would have been Yes back then if I had the chance, and it will always be Yes, Steve. I love you so much. It would be my honour to be Mrs. Rogers.” You started crying and laughing at the same time and so did Steve as he slid on the ring on your finger. A perfect fit.

He got up and lifted you up in his arms, kissing you with joy. Hope clapped her small hands. Steve placed you down and wrapped you in a side hug while picking up Hope with his other arm, holding her up. Steve kissed your daughter’s chubby cheek which made her giggle.

Looking at the two made you realise how much they meant to you. You knew in that moment, no matter what happened, time after time you will find your way to each other. Because this was meant to be.

taglist: @writing-for-marvel @mrsdrysdale18 @turbolisedcomet @midnightf @aynanasstuff @zaraomarrogers @infatuatedjanes @marvelmenwhore @spookyparadisesheep @justile

#time after time series #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers fanfiction #steve rogers #steve rogers x you #steve rogers fic #steve rogers angst #steve rogers fluff #steve rogers smut #chris evans x reader #captain america x reader #marvel x reader #marvel x you #avengers x reader

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stripper-patrick · 3 years

Text

Next Lifetime 💫Michael B. Jordan pt 1.

Warnings: smut, fluff, kids, sneaky link turned into family, angst, crying, 18+, NSFW gifs, series

Tags: @rebellious-desires @mrsbanreswillseeyou @eclecticblkgirl @designerwriterchic @bvssmob

Relationship: Michael B. Jordan x black plus sized reader (Azina/Z)

<4 years ago>

I’m throwing my ass back to the music just enjoying myself during this time. I’ve had at least 4 shots and I’m feeling all of them.

I feel someone press up behind me and it’s my best friend Michael whose clearly off the Henny just as much as I am. He grinds against me and as I’m working my hips I feel his dick stiffen. A boldness surged through me, or maybe that’s the liquor, and I stand up turning to him sealing a kiss. I’ve always wanted him no doubt I just never knew how to tell him. I guess being drunk is the best way. His hands grab at my waist then snake to my ass. His sweet Hennessy flavored lips are getting me even more drunk but with lust this time. The glisten of his plump lips being out the diamonds in his grill set plastered perfectly on his teeth.

“Let’s go to my house” I nod agreeing with his request and he grabs my hand leading me outside. He hails down a cab and opens the door letting me get on first. He smacks my butt on the way in and I giggle.

“322 Barron Street please” it’s about a 15 minute ride from here.

The driver begins his route and Michael starts kissing my neck and his hand slips down my shorts. My panties are beyond soaked and now he’s rubbing my clit making me whine.

His hand wraps around my throat whispering on my ear “stay quiet ma” he rubs again and as soon as the driver turns the corner into Michael’s loft I’m bussing all over his fingers biting the bottom of my lip trying to stay quiet.

He wraps his hand around my mouth flicking my clit faster making me shake harder. He pulls out his coated fingers placing them in my mouth. I suck off my own sweet juices and he grabs my by the throat kissing me tasting myself off my tongue. The driver clears his throat and we stop giggling and getting out. He tips the driver and walks past me opening the door. As soon as he gets the door open my pants are already unbuckled and halfway off.

“Damn hold on mamas” he slurs. We finally make it up to his nicely decorated bedroom and I’m pushed backwards flying back first on the bed. Michael comes on top of me and I flip us over grinding down on his already rock hard dick. He grabs a handful of behind moaning in my mouth. I move down to his neck where I kiss it sloppily. We stop kissing for a moment and I remove my shirt while he does the same. I move down pulling down his boxers and pants in one motion wasting no time swirling my tongue on the tip of his leaking dick. A low moan fills the room and I wrap my lips around the entire tip and push my head down letting it hit the back of my throat. I let it get wet then go back up to sucking on the tip while my right hand jerks the base and my left hand cups his balls. I come off with a string of saliva and I use my palm to rub on the top directly allowing the slick saliva to give him pleasure. His stomach caves and a loud moan erupts from Michael as he looks down holding vicious eye contact with me.

“Fuck Z” I continue going to town until he grabs me by the throat pulling me up to his mouth. Michael’s tongue roams my mouth fighting for dominance as he pulls me on top of him. I grab his throbbing dick pushing it inside of my aching pussy feeling him expand my walls gracefully. He leans back laying his head on the pillow as I gasp sinking down on him until our hips meet. I place my hands on his chest and sit on my feet rocking my hips along his shaft. His eyes flutter shut as I work my magic swirling my hips in a sloppy drunken circle. He bites his lip while one hand grabs the back of my head pulling my sweaty forehead to his. The other hand grabs a handful of my ass pulling me down. His dick fills my pussy completely making me gasp. Without missing a second Keith grabs both sides of my head keeping deadly eye contact with me and thrusts his hips beating my pussy from below. I let out a mewl holding his biceps while digging my acrylics into them. I bite my lip as he obliterates hot spots I didn’t even know were there.

My entire body feels like it’s on fire as after he thrusts he gives it aches and caves for more. “You like that? You like being daddy’s lil bitch” he moans pounding me out. Michael moves his hands wrapping his hand around my throat pulling me further and growling in my ear. I try to push away as the pleasure is starting to overwhelm me and he holds me by my hips keeping me right where he wants me. The only that can be heard in the room is the slushing sound of my wetness, the clapping of my ass and his balls slapping against my ass. My legs shake already as he continues. My pussy soaks everything underneath me as I let out a struggled moan cumming harder than I’ve ever came with any other man before. Michael pulls out pushing me up onto his face while jerking himself off in the process. He wraps his hands around my hips tasting the beautiful mess he made. My body jerks and my hand instinctively moves to his head as I roll my body on his tongue. He moans at my taste sucking and lapping on my clit. I smile getting off his face and back on his dick bucking my hips wildly. Michael guides my hips keeping himself as deep as possible. He begins thrusting up again at a fast pace making my eyes roll to the back of my head. He growls again giving me a fair warning that he’s about to cum. Without thinking I scream “cum inside this pussy daddy”

I’m aching from his blows. I sit up and keep bouncing at the same pace as he holds my hips tensing up. His seed spills inside of me and I watch his arch his back when I clench my pussy creating a suction. He moans pressing into my hips more.

Michael sits up kissing me and giving me a hard spank to my right ass cheek. His dick throbs inside of me as our mixtures leaks out dripping past his balls and onto the sheets. Drunkenly I lay on top of him giving him lazy kisses. Time and liquor consumes us and before I know it we’re both asleep in each other’s arms.

…

I wake up with a headache the size of the room. I feel like if I move too fast I’ll throw up. I feel someone warmth next to me and I pause. Who did I go home with last night? What happened? I’m aching between my legs but my conscience tells me not to be scared. I look behind me seeing Michael fast asleep. I sigh in comfort knowing I’m safe. He stirs in his sleep opening his eyes and he sees me. “Morning”

“Morning” I move my legs and notice they’re weak. I pull back the covers and we’re both completely naked. Oh shit. I jump up to the best of my ability and he sits up too

“Mike what did we do last night”

“Well using my context clues we had sex” he says rubbing his eyes

“Michael do you not see an issue with that? You have a girlfriend”

“I know but I mean if I’m being honest I’ve always had feelings for you Z and clearly you feel the same way” he states. I grab my underwear shaking my head.

“Mike that’s not the point you knew we shouldn’t have acted on it especially since you’re in a relationship. This could absolutely ruin our friendship. Lemme ask you this what if we go get together and break up then what you know I’m not friends with my exes. If you can be cool with your ex y’all were never in love or still are in love. There’s no in between” he looks at me with his head hanging low. He knows exactly where I’m coming from. “I’m not tryna lose you as a person in general” Mike goes in the bathroom brushing his teeth and peeing.

I collect my clothes putting them back on and Mike throws on some basketball shorts and a t-shirt he grabs some slides and his car keys . Luckily my car is already at home since Michael and his girl Lori picked me up.

“Z I’m sorry. I know things went too far but I’m glad we at least know how we feel about each other” he says “and I don’t regret what happened last night” I nod and get in his car. He gets in the drivers seat taking off and taking me home.

…..

Lori decided to have a pool party today to celebrate Mike for his birthday. Of course he invited me and being his best friend I wouldn’t miss it for the world. Plus it’s at his new house and I’ve never seen it before. Granite we haven’t talked much or seen each other at all since our ordeal a couple weeks ago. In fact this is the first time I’ve actually seen him since that day.

I walk through their beautiful house with a bottle of champagne in my hand. I see Lori in the kitchen. Honestly me and her have never really been that close. I never really cared for her but I was always cordial with her. “Hey Lori I brought this for y’all” she looks at me taking the champagne without even saying thank you. Bougie bitch. Don’t get me wrong I’m bougie too but best believe I’m as humble and as thankful as they come. I guess that’s why me and Mike are best friends. We’re the same.

I roll my eyes and my heels click outside where I see a bunch of people lounging in the pool and on the sides with drinks in their hand. My other best friend Lamia greets me with open arms. Her perfume makes me nauseous and dizzy “Hey girl” she smiles

“Hey” I say trying to hold my breakfast down.

“Mike is over there. Have you and him talked since then?” As soon as I got home that day I got ready for work and told Lamia what happened. I shrug my shoulders as an answer.

“Only small talk and I’ve low key been trying to avoid him just so the awkward tension doesn’t arise” I say

“Makes sense” Michael begins walking over and I stride a little further away until he catches me.

“Hey ladies” he hugs lamia and I’m next. I smell his cologne and melt. “you want a drink Z” I shake my head

“I don’t feel too hot right now so I’ll stick with water for the day” he nods eyes lingering on me for longer than a second. Lori comes out running his bare back and our contact is broken. While Lori begins talking to him I slip away downing the rest of my water. The nausea is finally gone and I sit on the lounge chair going on my phone. I put on my sunglasses shielding my eyes.

While I’m relaxing in the sun I notice Michael keeps staring at me. I see the small bulge in his shorts and I can’t help but bite my lip, mouth water at the taste of his dick down my throat.

A mid-height dark skin man starts walking my way and I see he has a pearly white smile similar to Michael’s. I get a better glimpse of his face. His name is Jayson. I’ve heard about him before. I heard he’s a player and he sleeps with anything that moves.

He sits next to my feet flashing his smile at me. I sit up with a small smile on my face. “Hey I’m Jayson Mikes friend”

“Yea I know. I’m Z”

“What’s that short for”

“Azina” he smiles scooting closer. I glance up seeing Mikes eyes never leaving me.

“That’s beautiful. Fitting for a beautiful woman” he bites his lip. I take a deep breath and take my sunglasses off. I stare directly into Michael’s eyes and he’s fuming. Dimples are prominent in his cheeks, nose flared, biceps flexed from how tense he is. Jayson moves even closer and that’s when Michael comes over.

“Hey Jay what y’all talking about?” He interjects with his nose held high. A small rage burns in my stomach at how he completely ruined my chance at something. Even if I was just playing Jaysons game right back at him.

“Her name. It’s pretty”

“Oh yea the two ‘A’s in her name stands for aggravated assault. She’s crazy man she beat niggas” he laughs. He’s not fully wrong “but she’s my kinda crazy. Speaking of Azina can I speak to you privately please? Jay you don’t mind right? Course not be right back” before I even have a chance to protest he grabs my wrist and my panties are soaked by the time we enter the glass double doors of his house that Lori happens to be staying in. Just hearing him call my name rather than my nickname has me wanting to be on my knees on this cold marble floor.

“What the hell is your issue?” I ask yanking my arm away. He grabs me again taking me upstairs through the neatly decorated white hallway. We get into his gold coated marble bathroom where he locks the door. I lean against the counter and he folds his arms “why have you been avoiding me”

“I-“

“And don’t lie to me” he asserts his dominance making my clit throb. Silence and heavy thick sexual tension fill the air and I look down at my long pink acrylic nails. He steps closer sealing any space between me and him. His large hand wraps around my throat making me bite my lip “you like seeing me get all jealous? Shit makes you wet mama?”

“Yes” I whimper. And just like that I’m putty in his hands. He pulls me up to his plump lips placing a wet kiss on them. Michael pulls off my duster of a swimsuit coverup. His large hands play with my breasts and my hand moved to his hard on. He’s rock solid now. His hand moves from my breast to my bikini bottoms rubbing my clit. My hips hunk and my hands move to his bicep as his plump lips kiss my neck. My body jerks as his thick fingers slide into my hole with ease. He begins pressing my g-spot like a button making me lose my breath. Michael moves up to my ear whispering “you’re mine”

He pulls his fingers out and sucks them dry turning me around some I’m facing the huge mirror above the sink. I grab the ledge bracing myself as he rolls my bottoms down spanking me in the process. I spread my cheeks feel his warm hard dick press inside of me. He fills me up and holds my hips bouncing me back to meet his thrusts. His breaths become heavy and ragged and my mouth drops open but nothing comes out.

Michael is pressing right on my g-spot making me lose my breath. “Daddy” I whimper.

“That’s my girl take all this shit. You wanna flirt with other niggas ima show you who you belong to” he wraps his hand around my throat quickening his pace. My eyes squeeze shut and my moans get louder. The sounds of our moans and my ass clapping fills the room but we have to keep it quiet so no one comes up here and finds us.

“You like when daddy fill you up bitch?”

“Yes I love it so much” my legs begin shaking as my orgasm approaches fast like a train. He gets close to my ear still pounding me out against the marble counter.

“Look at me when I make you cum” I bite my lip and his grip tightens on my neck. I open my eyes to the best of my ability as my entire body seizes in front of him. My body is on fire and he chuckles biting his lip “you look so fucking pretty taking all this dick like a good little whore”

I whimper jerking around and he pulls out watching my body tense up and convulse. He smacks my already shaking ass. Michael turns me around again putting me on the counter and he gets on one knee licking my pussy. He slurps you the mess he made moaning at the taste. I watch as he pulls my pussy lips back making sure to get as much of my clit as possible. My body writhes from still being sensitive and I grab the back of his head pushing him further in me. I pull off my bikini top rubbing my nipples while grinding on his face. My head falls back and he gives small licks making me even crazier than before. Michael comes up kissing my lips. I can taste myself on his tongue. He taps his dick on my clit before inserting himself again. I wrap my arms around his shoulders as he wastes no time taking me to Poundtown.

His short nails claw down my back and he buries his head in my neck. “That’s it daddy right there” my nails take through his short waves as his hips ripple through me. My moans uncontrollably get louder and he covers my mouth pounding me harder “can’t scream now can you baby?” I whimper eyes rolling to the back of my head as I squirt on his dick “that’s what I want fuck I’m bout to cum” his growls get louder and he kisses me moaning. His body shakes when he leaks inside of me. My nails scrape down his back and he empties his load inside of me.

He stays inside of me staring deep into my eyes. I can’t help this feeling anymore but I need to for the sake of our friendship. Michael’s catches me in a kiss and for a split second I ignore my feelings and kiss him back. As if he were really mine. That thought stops me from going any further “I’m sorry for avoiding you”

“I understand mamas” he kisses me again and pull out grabbing a towel he wipes off my pussy and leans down placing a kiss on my clit making me gasp. I chuckle getting off the counter with his help. My legs shake and I laugh. I grab my clothes putting them back on and making sure I look like I did before I came up here.

“Mike” I hear Lori call from downstairs. To the best of my ability I walk to the door but before I open it Michael grabs my arm kissing me again. This one was more passion than lust. I smile pulling away and open the door. To see Lori coming in. I turn around and turn him around quickly “so this is the master bathroom?” I look at him

“Yea it’s marble counters and the gold trim it’s my favorite and there’s the waterfall shower in there” we walk towards the shower acting like he was explaining me the layout of the bathroom the whole time. I hear loris heels click in the bathroom “baby the boys are looking for you at the pool” he turns around nodding

“Ard come on Z” We walk past Lori and her eyes linger on us.

Me and Mike walk outside and he can’t stop staring at me. He stands at the front of the bar with a microphone “I wanna thank every one for coming out. I wanna thank Lori for putting this together couldn’t have done this without you babe” that word ‘babe’ leaves a stinging mark on my heart as Lori steps up beside her man. She kisses him and then looks at me. I walk backwards dipping out from the crowd. I go inside and grab the champagne I brought. This bottle wasn’t cheap so if they won’t drink it I will. I pour myself a glass and start sipping it. Michael comes in and once again it’s just us alone.

“I’m sorry”

“Don’t be sorry. Look Michael as much as we both want it us being together might never happen simply because you and Lori are a thing and y’all are basically destined for marriage”

“Now you know I’ve been about you and only you for a while”

“I can’t tell cause I’m still single and you’re in a relationship” I sigh “I’m leaving this house is beautiful but you need to figure out what you really want” I extend my arms and give him a hug. He plants a kiss on my neck Mumbling the words I’m sorry again.

I grab my champagne and leave the house with a heavy heart and a cloudy mind. That nauseous feeling is back.

#smut #fluff #series #michael b jordan x reader #michael b jordan smut #michael b jordan #filth

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thebibliosphere · 3 years

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So I'm currently unemployed because I got fired for taking too much sick leave (it was legally sketchy blah blah blah but in the end I just can't work and take care of myself and investigate my mystery health problems at the same time). So I've been spending more time writing!

I really admire your writing and loved Hunger Pangs. I'm looking forward to the poly elements developing and I'm wondering if you have any advice for writing about poly. I've made one of my projects a snarky take on "write what you know" ... Apparently what I know is southern gothic meets Pacific northwest gothic, chronic illness pandemic surrealism, and falling back-asswards into threesomes.

I know this is a very open-ended question and I don't expect an answer, I'm just curious about it if you have the energy. As a writer, trying to write honestly / realistically about polyamory/enm, I'm curious if you have any thoughts on what's different about portraying monogamy or nonmonogamy in books, romance or erotica or otherwise.

I'm trying to read examples but it's hard to find examples that fit the niche I'm looking at. Excuse me if this question is nonsense, it's the cluster headaches.

I'm sorry to hear you've been dealing with all that and solidarity on the cluster headaches. But I'm glad you're finding an outlet through writing! And I hope you're happy with an open-ended ramble in response because oh boy, there's a lot I could talk about and I could probably do a better job of answering this sort of thing with more specific questions, but let's see where we end up.

There's definitely a big difference between writing polyamory/ENM (ethical non-monogamy) and what people often expect from monogamous love stories.

Just even from a purely sales and marketing standpoint, the moment you write anything polyamorous (or even just straight up LGBTQIA+ without the ENM) you're going to get considered closer to being erotica/obscene than hetero romances. It's an unfair bias, but it's one that exists in our society. But also the Amazon algorithm and their shitty, shitty human censors. Especially the ones that work the weekends. (Talking to you, Carlos 🖕.)

So not only do you start out hyper-aware that you're writing something that is highly stigmatized or fetishized (at least I'm hyper-aware) but that you are also writing for a niche market that is starving for positive content because the content that exists is either limited, not what they want, or is problematic in some fashion i.e. highly stigmatized or fetishy. And even then, the wants, desires, and expectations of the community you're writing for are complex and wildly varied and hard to fit into an easy formula.

When writing monogamous love stories, there is a set expectation that’s really hard to fuck up once you know it. X person meets Y. Attraction happens, followed by some sort of minor conflict/resolution. Other plot may happen. A greater catalyst involving personal growth for both parties (hopefully) happens. Follow the equation to its ultimate resolution and achieve Happily Ever After.

But writing ENM is... a lot more difficult, if only because of the pure scope of possibilities. You could try to follow the same equation and shove three (or more) people into it, but it rarely works well. Usually because if you’re doing it right, you won’t have enough room in a single character arc to allow for enough growth, and if ENM requires anything in abundance, it’s room to grow.

And this post is huge so I’m going to put the rest under a cut :)

There's also a common refrain in certain online polyam/ENM circles that triads and throuples are overrepresented in media and they may be right to some extent. Personally, I believe the issue isn't that triads and throuples are overrepresented, but that there is such minuscule positive rep of ethical non-monogamy in general, that the few tiny instances we have of triads in media make it seem like it's "everywhere" when in actuality, it's still quite rare and the media we do have often veers into Unicorn Hunter fetish porn. Which is its own problematic thing. And just to be clear, I’m not including this part to dissuade you from writing "falling back-asswards into threesomes." If anything, I need more of it and would hook it directly into my brain if I could. I'm just throwing it out there into the void in the hope that someone will take the thought and run with it, lol.

I’d love to see more polyfidelitous rep in fiction, just as much as I’d like to see more relationship anarchy too. More diversity in fiction is always good.

Another thing that differs in writing ENM romance vs conventional monogamy is the feeling like you need to justify yourself. There's a lot of pressure to be as healthy and non-problematic as possible because you are being held to a higher standard of criticism. Both from people from without the ENM communities, and from the people within. Granted, some people don't give a shit and just want to read some fantastic porn (valid) but there are those who will cheerfully read Fifty Shades of Bullshit and call it "spicy" and "romantic," then turn around and call the most tooth-rottingly-sweet-fluff about a queer platonic polycule heresy. That's just the way the world works.

(Pro-tip for author life in general: never read your own reviews; that way madness lies. I glimpsed one the other day that tagged Hunger Pangs as “ethical cheating” and just about had an aneurism.)

And while that feeling of needing to justify yourself comes from a valid place of being excluded from the table of socially accepted norms, it can also be to the detriment of both the story and the subject matter at hand. I've seen some authors bend so far over backward to avoid being problematic in their portrayal of ENM, they end up being problematic for entirely different reasons. Usually because they give such a skewed, rose-tinted perspective of how things work, it ends up coming off as well... a bit culty and obnoxious tbh.

“Look how enlightened we are, freed from the trappings of monogamy and jealousy! We’re all so honest and perfect and happy!”

Yeah, uhu, sure Jan. Except here’s the thing, not all jealousy is bad. How you act on it can be, but jealousy itself is an important tool in the junk drawer that is the range of human emotion. It can clue us in to when we’re feeling sad or neglected, which in turn means we should figure out why we’re feeling those things. Sometimes it’s because brains are just like that and anxiety is a thing. Other times it’s because our needs are actually being neglected and we are in an unhealthy situation we need to remedy. You gotta put the work in to figure it out. Which is the same as any style of relationship, whether it’s mono, polyam or whatever flavor of ENM you subscribe to* And sometimes you just gotta be messy, because that’s how humans are. Being afraid to show that mess makes it a dishonest portrayal, and it also robs you of some great cannon fodder for character development.

Which brings me in a roundabout way to my current pet peeve in how certain writers take monogamous ideals and apply them to ENM, sometimes without even realizing it. The “Find the Right Person and Settle Down” trope.

Often, in this case, ENM or polyamory is treated as a phase. Something you mature out of with age or until you meet “The One(tm).” This is, of course, an attempt to follow the mono style formula expected in most romances. And while it might appeal to many readers, it’s uh, actually quite insulting.

To give an example, I am currently seeing this a lot in the Witcher fandom.

Fanon Netflix!Jaskier is everyone's favorite ethical slut until he meets Geralt then woops, wouldn’t you know, he just needed to find The One(tm). Suddenly, all his other sexual and romantic exploits or attractions mean nothing to him. Let's watch as he throws away a core aspect of his personality in favor of a man.

Yeah... that sure showed those societal norms...

If I were being generous, I’d say it’s a poor attempt at showing New Relationship Euphoria and how wrapped up people can become in new relationships. But honestly, it’s monogamous bias eking its way in to validate how special and unique the relationship is. Because sometimes people really can’t think of any other way to show how important and valid a relationship is without defining it in terms of exclusivity. Which is a fundamental misunderstanding of how ENM works for a lot of people and invalidates a lot of loving, serious and long-term relationships.

This is not to say that some polyam/poly-leaning people can't be happy in monogamous relationships! I am! (I consider myself ambiamorous. I'm happy with either monogamy or polyamory, it really just depends on the relationship(s) I’m in.) But I also don't regard my relationship with a mono partner as "settling down" or "growing up." It's just a choice I made to be with a person I love, and it's a valid one. Just like choosing to never close yourself off to multiple relationships is valid. And I wish more people realized that, or rather, I wish the people writing these things knew that :P

Anyway, I think I’ve rambled enough. I hope this collection of incoherent thoughts actually makes some sense and might be useful.

----

*A good resource book that doesn't pull any punches in this regard is Polysecure by Jessica Fern. It's a wonderfully insightful read that explores the messier side of consensual non-monogamy, especially with how it can be affected by trauma or inter-relationship conflicts. But it also shows how to take better steps toward healthy, ethical non-monogamy (a far better job than More Than Two**) and conflict resolution, making it a valuable resource both for someone who is a part of this relationship style***, but also for writers on the outside looking in who might have a very simple or misguided idea of what conflict within polyam/ENM relationships might look like, vs traditional monogamous ones.

** The author of More Than Two has been accused of multiple accounts of abuse within the polyamorous community, with many of his coauthors having spoken out about the gaslighting and emotional and psychological damage they experienced while in a relationship with him. A lot of their stories are documented here: https://www.itrippedonthepolystair.com/ (warning: it is not light material and deals with issues of abuse, gaslighting, and a whole other plethora of Yikes.) While some people still find More Than Two helpful reading, there are now, thankfully, much, much better resources out there.

*** Some people consider polyam/ENM to be part of their identity or orientation, while others view it as a relationship style.It largely depends on the individual.

#long post #writing #ethical non-monogamy #relationship styles #relationship models in fiction #also that kindle link is an affiliate link #because fuck giving amazon free recs

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rcksmith · 4 years

Text

I want to do bad things with you — Five Hargreeves

Request: “6 from fluff and 4 and 8 from smut list for five hargreeves?”

Fluff Prompts:

6. “I’m going to marry you one day.”

Smut Prompts;

4. “Are you sure that’s what you want? I could really hurt you.”

8. “I don’t care how good it feels you’d better not cum until I tell you to.”

A/N: We not tolerate any pedophilia here !!

I write about Five with their 20s. I write the same about the characters of Harry Potter.

I hope it got close to what you wanted. ❤️ This is a heavy smut, I was in a bad mood, sorry jsnsjsnsjsn.

Guys, I really understand who doesn't feel comfortable reading or writing Five's smut. But I always say that I only write with him (any genre: romance, fluff or angst) with the notion that Five is 20 years old here. All of my fanfics mention swearing or sex, even if it is a memory or something shallow, but as I am writing with Five as an adult, it is consistent that the fic has aspects of an adult life.//

English is not my first language, so I so sorry if have a mistake.

Requests are open. Love you ❤️

Couple: Five Hargreeves / Fem! Reader.

Warnings: SMUT, SMUT, bad words and bad smuut.

— — — — —

Five Hargreeves were many adjectives. Genius, superhero, handsome, dangerous, sinic, arrogant, born leader, among other things. His energy was intense and mysterious, and looking him for too long was like facing the stormy sea: dangerous and risky, but extremely fascinating.

He carried many adjectives on his back, is truth, and domineering was one of them. His life was a constant line of stress, problems and exasperation, Five felt irritated most of the time, so relieving all that stress in sex was... it was fucking good.

Normally, his emotions were always on a tight leash, under iron control. Five was composed, controlled, taking everything rationally. Even in sex, when he vented all his anger, he was conscious. Until you show up.

You were a little, sweet, lyrical little thing and... fuck, you had an angel face that made Five clench his jaw as soon as he laid eyes on you. And then controlling yourself became a much more difficult task. You had a cunning, catlike look, but an face so pure that it hooked Five into the his soul.

He couldn't get involved with you, he repeated that every fucking day. Five could barely look in your direction without wanting to hold your angel face and kiss you with the fury of hell. Five wanted to fold you in front of him, slap your ass until you blush and hear you whimpering his name. He wanted to do all the dark things in his mind to break your doll energy.

Five Hargreeves was many things, but the irony of all was how they swayed when he fell in love with you. It was inevitable. Over the months, while trying to control his thoughts, he found himself admiring your intelligence and sense of humor. He started to notice how you loved sweet tea and had headaches when you had coffee, which is why he started to leave a migraine medicine in the kitchen if you needed to.

With the days, Five now hid his smile when you laughed at something stupid and admired how the world seemed sweeter when you were happy.

And that's when he kissed you. And his whole view changed. When he held your face between his hands and tasted your lips, Five felt like he was touching Egyptian crystal, and then the urge to protect you was born. He didn't want anything or anyone to hurt you, anyway. Five touched you so delicately and made sure that nothing bothered you.

So that's when you two slept together. Fuck, it was so fucking hard for him. Extraordinarily difficult because Five wanted to make you scream and fuck you so hard. It was difficult as hell because he wanted to hit your ass and thigh so hard that he could see the marks tomorrow. And... son of a bitch, even though you moaned and squirmed, you looked like a fucking angel. And the desire to desecrate something so pure became even bigger.

And that was why he avoided touching you during those hours. He kept his hands on the mattress, on the headboard, on the walls or on the pillows, avoided touching you as much as possible. Because Five knew... it was already too hard not to fuck you rough, hard and intense, if he touched you... it would be the end. He didn't even want to kiss you too much, or suck on your skin, because one thing would lead to another and... God, you fucked his mind!

It was after a few months that he realized he loved you. And your relationship will become even more serious.

"I love you so much.” You whispered on his lips one day, with the cold and rain falling outside, and you curled in him up like a pet.

Five nodded, him lips on you forehead, brushing them there as appreciated what that phrase did to him. You two had already said that a few months ago, but you loved to keep repeating it and Five appreciated how right the universe felt when you said that.

“I'm going to marry you one day.” He sighed through your hair, lowering lips to yours before receiving your ecstatic and passionate screams.

But the more love grew in you two, the more hunger, lust and sin grew within Five too. Was like a wild beast, hitting the bars of the cage, almost breaking what kept under control. And controlle herself started to be physically painful. So he tried to put out that blazing fire.

Seeing you naked has become excruciating torture. Five fidgeted uneasily whenever you changed in front of him, took off the towel after a shower. But the worst was when you two had sex. Fucking you, feeling you pulsing, squirming, totally submissive to his whims, made Five have to acquire phenomenal self-control. Although Five exhibited a cold, arrogant and confident personality, everything inside him became a boiling volcano when you appeared.

“Baby…” That was when Five heard you purring, you had just come out of the shower, a short white towel covering your body.

When Five looked at you, and saw you walking towards him, he pulse reached alarming levels. Normally, Five always managed to keep his impulses under control, even though it was an overwhelming endeavor. But not today.

Oh, he was far from being in control. Your doe eyes looked at him docilely and Five felt again the overwhelming appetite to take you so badly.

God, he needed to break you…

You didn't make it easy for Five either. Oblivious to the internal battle within him, you sat on his lap, supporting your legs on either side of his hips, with the towel rising to the top of your thighs and your bare skin sitting on his already pulsating member.

Five snarled softly, hands tightly squeezing the bed sheet, your body pulsing beneath his. He felt hot as if were in the Sahara desert.

“You are so tense.” Your voice was velvety, soft, and you brought your lips to his neck. And that was too much.

“Y/N..” Was a warning.

“Something wrong?” You pulled your face back enough to look at him.

Five shook his head, hands still clutching the sheets. You followed that gesture with your eyes, and started connecting the pieces second by second.

It was no longer today that your felt him controlling himself. Moments he didn't want to touch you at all while he fucked you, like you were a hot iron. Days when he forced a little more force into the way he kissed you and then completely backed down.

“I've been noticing a few things lately...” You commented, the left index finger playing with his uniform “I noticed that you have ... controlled yourself, as if you were holding something.”

And then you looked into his eyes, and what you saw in the green sockets was a lust so fervent that you felt yourself losing breath.

“Y/N...” the voice was still hoarse, a ring signaling his warning as well “I ... I won't be able to talk about this with you.”

“Why not?” You didn't know exactly what the problem was, how deep it went, but you knew something was going on. “I did something? Or are you more stressed? ”

“You did not do anything.” He assured you, and as he saw in your eyes that you would not let the matter pass, because you were determined as hell, Five sighed deeply. “It with me. It has nothing to do with you, I just... I like to do more... rough things. "

You were watching him closely, the direction of the conversation was pleasing to you... It wasn't today that you knew your own tastes, and something brutalized and stronger was exactly what you liked. But Five was always so controlled, so reserved, that you were still looking for an opening to bring it up.

Five must have noticed that your eyes took on a different glow, and he looked at you as if he suspected.

“Why that look?” His little corner smile made you smile too.

“ I didn't know you liked things like that.” Five raised an eyebrow at you, the little smile still on his face. “Is that why you have been controlling yourself?”

Five had to take a deep breath, hands going to your waist under the towel, in a soft, controlled touch. But his hands were stiff, you felt it.

“I do not want to hurt you.” He was succinct “I have more aggressive, brutal desires, and I don't want to take it out on you.”

Oh, you were really enjoying the conversation.

You let out a low chuckle, playing with your index finger on the lapel of his uniform.

“Like ... hit me and stuff?” Then you felt his grip tighten on your waist, his jaw tighten.

Five looked at you with a clear warning that you were walking in rough waters. That it was better for you to stop here. He could barely cope with his own thoughts about it, let alone hear you say those things with that fucking angelic voice of yours.

"What if I wanted to?” Now your eyes were bright with amusement and anticipation.

“You can't tell me these things” His grip got stronger, his eyes more fierce, the energy more irritable “Even more naked in my lap.”

Five might be covered in clothes, but he could feel your hot pussy under him, the soft skin of your thighs around his waist, your breasts a touch away... Damn, it was too much for him!

“I mean it.” You ran your fingers through his hair, resting your hands behind the back of his neck. “I like something hard too, if you are willing to try this on me, I would like us to do it. You are always so focused... I would love to see you more out of control. ”

Five kept his eyes on you, as if he were looking for some hesitation in you. But he found none. Just shared desire.

God help him.

“Are you sure that’s what you want? I could really hurt you.” He wanted to warn you, he wanted you to know it was a path of no return. Five could destroy you and him wanted you to know that.

“Yes.” You agreed “I want it so much.”

Suddenly, something in the air seemed to change. Everything became rarer, more caustic and crackling. Five's intensity had reached extremely high levels and he looked at you as if you were the prey on a night hunt. Five pulled harder on your towel, freeing your naked body. He gasped, his eyes fixed on you.

“Say red when you want me to stop.”

You were going to say something, but he didn't give you a chance. His hungry lips stuck to yours. It was a controlling kiss, drowning out you surprised moan. Five stood with you on his lap and threw you on your back on the mattress. You gasped, your naked body exposed on his bed, given over to all the profane fantasies he had in mind. Seeing you there, submissive, destroyed all the control he had.

Oh he was going to destroy you.

Five remained standing, pulled your legs over the edge of the bed and opened them aggressively. You let out a heavy breath, the core pulsing. God, seeing that made him rock hard.

Five leaned over your body, pressing his lips in you before moving to your breasts, sucking on aching nipple, squeezing the other in a heavy touch. His hands left you for a second before him straightened up and removed he blazer and sweater from the academy, his nimble hands pulled the tie knot fiercely, tearing the piece of silk from his neck.

“Be quiet for me, dear.” Five put your hands together, tying your fists with the tie and tying the tie to the headboard.

You bit your lip, your body fidgeting for him, the core throbbing. Five had barely touched you and you were already pulsing for him.

“You are so needy.”

Without warning, he was leaning over you, him lips on yours, his hands roaming your body in a rough touch, his mouth pinching your lips. And everything started to get heavy after that point. Five closed his mouth on your neck, leaving a trail of purple hickeys as he brought two fingers to your mouth.

You took them in, sucking without waiting for an order. But his fingers on your mouth seemed to have an even more exciting effect for you. You legs closed, wanting to seek any friction, but Five slapped your left thigh roughly, brutally separating them with his free hand.

“Did I tell you to close your legs?!” You whimpered, and he gave you another slap “Answer!”

“N-no...” You did your best to speak with his fingers in your mouth.

“No what?!” Another slap. Now you could feel the flesh throbbing. You pulled on your fists, trying to control yourself not to close your thighs again.

“N-didn't”

Now his free hand went to your chin, forcing you to look at him.

“It's ‘No, Daddy’!”

“No, Daddy!”

“Good Girl.”

Five withdrew his hand from your mouth, bringing it down and melting it into your pussy. You moaned louder, forcing the tie, shifting your hips. He didn't give you time to breathe before he buried his fingers in you, hitting your walls.

You screeched muffled by his lips on your, as his hand pushed against you frantically, slamming inside you at a brutal pace.

“F-fi...”

Another slap. Stronger, more aggressive.

“What did fucking you say?!”

“Daddy! I mean Daddy! I’m so sorry.”

He accelerated his hand even more, and you started frantically pulling on the tie, trying to get rid of or gain more of that ardor. You were starting to feel close to orgasms when Five pulled away, slapping your bare breast as he rose again. You whimpered in protest, your hips still making some movements in search of some ghost friction.

“Look at you, so desperate and I haven't even fucked you yet.” Five began to unbutton his white shirt, stripping off his clothes and leaving the belt beside you.

You excitement went to extremely high levels when you saw his cock jump out. Pulsating, molasses with pre-cum and dashed with thick veins. Your core throbbed, dripping your liquid while you whimpered.

Five smirked when he noticed where your attention was, and he leaned you, but now bringing the belt with him and placing it around your neck.

God, he was going to fuck you so hard.

Five gave a tug, testing the accuracy, and when you groaned needy, Five appeased his own excitement by sinking his bruised lips into yours.

He stood up again, pulling your legs closer to the edge as he brushed your pussy with the throbbing head of the stick, watching you squirm. It was torture for him too, but the sight of you struggling for contact was a fucking reward.

“Please d-Daddy!” You whimpered, rummaging in despair, wanting more of anything he give you.

“Please, what? ‘Please, daddy, fuck me hard’ or ‘please, daddy, use me’ ?”

You were begging, with tears in the corners of your eyes as he played with you, by sinking the head of the stick inside you. It was driving you crazy. Five held the base of him penis while he sank just another inch into you, then pulled and rubbed your clitoris.

“Fuck me h-hard, Daddy!”

Suddenly, Five entered you brutally to the bottom, leaving you speechless in a loud and silent groan. He pulled you by the belt, not giving you time to get used to the size, he established strong and aggressive blows.

“Do you want hard?! I will give you hard!”

Then Five untied the tie from the headboard, turned you brutally on you stomach and pulled your hips up. He pulled his hand back and unloaded it on your ass, and you screamed, staggering forward. Five pulled you by the hips, dissatisfied with your distance.

“Be good girl for me, dear." It was an order.

You obeyed, crying out loudly when Five pushed the stick inside you aggressively, pulling on your neck with the belt. He held you by the belt and the waist while he fucked you. Hard, fast, without any abandonment.

His hand hit the flesh of your ass from second to second, and you can't help but moan for it. He gave no respite, the sound of his bodies colliding flooded the room, perhaps the entire mansion.

Five has never felt so hardcore in life, so hungry, so lust. He wanted to break you, hurt you, squeeze your flesh so hard that you would be left with marks for months. He groaned, trying to concentrate on mistreating the walls of your pussy, pounding with brutality, harder and cruel.

“D-d-daddy!”

Tears streamed into your eyes as you dug your nails into the pillow hard, unable to contain the moans and the tremor in your thighs. Your belly vibrated, hummed with hyperstimulation, that was paradise and sin at the same time and you felt that you could fall apart at any moment.

Five pulled the belt tight, bringing you up and sticking your back to his chest. He put his free arm around your waist, bringing the thrusts in slow, hard rhythms, making you feel every inch of him.

You hands went to him arm around your waist, the new position reaching the most sensitive places, making your pussy throb. You bit your lip to try to control your moans, because you were afraid they would be too loud.

“Without trapping those sounds for me!” This time the slap came down on your left breast, followed by a deeper thrust, and you begged for excuses while looking for air “Let everyone hear who's making you feel so good! Who does this slutt belong.”

That pushed you further into the abyss. Five sucked on the skin on your neck, pouring out a strong hickey while you could only scream and whimper for him, unable to do anything else. . He entered you deeply, taking whatever inch you had and forcing you to take it deeper.

Five did not allow you to move an inch away, your hips clinging to his, held by his arm, him fucking you hard without you can moving your hips. He could feel you blinking on his dick, making your honey drip down your thighs. His hunger had given no respite, and when he looked at you, and he saw your angel face in an expression of pleasure, pain and dirty with tears, it further fueled Five's hunger.

"That, little slutt!"

You were close, pulsing on his dick, sweat running down your body, your broken moans. Five loved how you were a mess for him, your whole body scarred because of him. He never fell your owner as much as he does now. You begged for something you didn't know what it was, but Five did. And he would give it to you. But he felt your pussy squeeze him, swallowing him in a broken way.

“You can't come until I let you!”

“Da-daddy!” You moaned louder “Please! Please! I need... I need it! ”

“I don’t care how good it feels, you’d better not cum until I tell you to!”

Five came out of you, turning you brutally on the bed once again, removing the belt from your neck. He climbed on top of you, now sticking your body to his, placing his mouth on yours in a gasping kiss. The skin-to-skin sensation was maddening, you were both hot, sweating, and Five squeezed your thigh tightly before slapping it down again. Your wrists were still tied, and you could only press them against his broad chest.

Your thighs were shaking and Five was delighted by this, he traced hickeys all over your breasts, and sank into you again when he sucked on your left sore beak.

Five held you while he fucked you in that position. Strong, cruel and hard. His hands were glued to your flesh, marking your skin with purple from his digits, holding his own moans. And you watched him with your mouth open by the screams and the sight. He was beautiful like that. Wild, his skin all sweaty, his teeth closed on his lip to keep from groaning, his black hair stuck to his forehead.

It was too much torture, too much stimulation, and you were already letting the tears flow while you were begging for something.

“Come to me, my good girl.”

Five didn't have to say it twice. You came intensely, your pussy sucking all of his cock and receiving the hot, thick liquid of his as a reward. You threw your head back in abandonment, feeling him it sink into you deeper, making sure you got all his sperm.

“Such a good girl for me.” Five whispered as he gave you a reward kiss you.

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