hello instagram artist. your challenge is to do a portrait study of a woman but you’re not allowed to stylize them so their eyes are really big and more cat eyed than the reference photo. You’re also not allowed to make their noses more of a button nose or their lips full and pouty or their faces heart shaped with no double chin. Also you have to draw a fat woman. one thats actually fat and not just slightly curvier than the kpop demon hunters body type. good luck
inability to correctly perceive 3d objects is in fact far more dangerous when someone is driving a car next to you then when they're like, sending emails to you.
hi trans kiwis and friends. if you haven't seen the news, they're trying to pass a frankly insidious bill in aotearoa to define the terms 'man' and 'woman' based on biological sex. this unsurprisingly reflects a lot of similar cruel efforts happening overseas at the moment. IT HASN'T PASSED YET, but I figured I should speak up about it because this is happening as we speak.
(screenshot from the linked RNZ article)
it seems very fucking bleak!!!! please don't lose hope! it hasn't passed yet and a lot of the shoddy bills suggested by the coalition have been shot down already. it's still worth knowing about. you don't have to share this post if you don't want to. I just know that a lot of my followers are kiwi. if there are any updates as to what we can do to push back against this, I'll make a relevant addition. kia kaha, okay? love you all.
UPDATE: you can now very quickly and very easily submit a comment on the bill! these will be counted and considered in parliament.
it took me less than three minutes, and that's only because I wrote a whole paragraphs on why this is a stupid idea. all you really need to put is "don't pass this bill" if you want. it'll only take 30 seconds.
if you're able to and you want to, please consider reblogging! the more reach this gets, the better. thank you all so much [:
synopsis: James Potter, a soldier of the royal guard, is assigned to protect the princess at all costs. His new duty proves far harder than he imagined, for the princess has a habit of doing exactly what she’s not supposed to, and hiding a secret no one must uncover.
tags: princess x bodyguard, forbidden love, royal fantasy world, violence, graphic scenes, angst with happy ending.
character introduction map playlist
chapters:
beginning of the end
a caged bird
of magic and secrets
flower of fate
the parade
leap of faith
a free bird
runaway
path to the unknown
brothers
city of stars
a heart’s offering
the lantern lights
homecoming
the cell, the farewell, and the knell
the engagement dinner
"et tu, brute?"
fortune favors the bold
win to save
save to win
lumicryst
end of the beginning
taglist: open!
a/n: i've been working on this for a while and i really hope you guys enjoy it. i’ll update as often as i can! comments, likes, reblogs—really any form of interaction—mean so much to me and keep me motivated, so don’t hesitate to drop your thoughts. happy reading <3
series inspired by: tangled, eldia by yagamidiary, brave, and a touch of game of thrones
The air grows soft, a fading, gentle gray,
As daylight’s fragile beauty slips away.
A single star begins to softly gleam,
And in its distant, silver, silent fire,
My dreaming heart conceives a soft desire,
A quiet echo from a waking dream.
The world below grows still, a hushed refrain,
As shadows lengthen on the window pane.
The moon ascends, a pearl against the blue,
And though no voice across the darkness calls,
A silent truth within my spirit falls,
A whispered yearning, ever fresh and new.
No mortal touch can span the cosmic space,
Nor time erase the memory of your face.
Yet in this velvet hour, still and deep,
When starlight spills its solace on the land,
I feel your presence, close within my hand,
A secret promise that my soul will keep.
summary : nothing riles bellamy up more, than you making fun of him. sadly, him taking up the challenge of fixing the rover is the perfect opportunity for you to do so.
warnings : softdom!bellamy x fem!reader, banter, heated making out, but nothing too explicit, slight roughness, dry humping, on the hood of the rover, in the middle of nowhere, aka my dream.
word count : 1.6k.
„Damn it!”
Your head perked up at Bellamy’s voice, coming from underneath the chassis of the rover. „You know, usually when the mechanic lets out ten ‚damn its’ within 5 minutes, it’s not a good sign.”
„You havin’ fun here?” He mumbled with a sigh.
„Absolutely. How about you?” You asked, twirling some unknown tool in your hands.
„I’m having an absolute-” A loud thunk. „-blast.”
It was getting harder not to laugh at his struggling with each minute passing. The thing is, Raven insisted on quickly getting the small malfunction in the rover fixed for him the other day. But Bellamy, being the stubborn man he is, assured that he was fully capable of doing that himself. And once he got his hands on something? He could never admit defeat. Especially not when you and Raven were already making bets on how many hours it would take until he would storm out of the mechanic bay, cussing out the rover.
„Pliers, please. The big ones.” He outstreached his muscled arm to you with marks of grease on it. You grabbed the tool hopping off the worktop. „Thank you.” He mumbled, reaching for the implement.
You gave him an encouraging pat on the leg in response. „Anything else?”
„Pliers and your insufferable jokes should be enough for now, thanks doll.”
•
„Alright…” After a few more curse words of his and even more teasing comments from you, he finally rolled out from under the chassis. Wiping sweat from his brow, he stood up and looked up to you with a wide grin. „See? All done.”
„Really?” Seeing traces of dirt covering his freckled cheeks, you fondly rubbed them away. He didn’t seem to care about them though - he was way too proud of himself to notice anything other than the fixed rover.
„Really.” The keys jostled in his hand as he was already holding the passenger door open for you.„C’mon. You up for a test drive?”
You jumped into your seat and just couldn’t get enough of the childlike beam on his face. He was so eager to prove himself, to rub it in your face - but you didn’t mind. Not when it meant seeing him so damn happy.
The trees flashed before your eyes, as Bellamy pressed the gas harder, getting a bit bolder. Your eyes met at the exact moment when the engine rumbled louder, causing the steering wheel to shudder under his grasp.
„Go easy! What if…” You scoffed, as the dust from under the tires covered half the window.
„What if what? You have that little faith in me?” The expression you made was a clear response. He shook his head and let out a sigh. „You just can’t admit defeat. Face it - it runs like a dream!” His palm patted the dusty dashboard.
Then as if on command - a faint whine rose beneath the noise of the engine. Steady and sharp. As if something was straining to hold on.
„What was that?”
„Maybe it’s just…” Bellamy really wanted to believe it was nothing to fuss about. Unfortunately, the following jolt sygnalized otherwise. „Oh shit…” That tone couldn’t bear good news. The engine fell silent as he pocketed the keys.
Your legs swung back and forth as you sat on the hood. You were waiting for the final diagnosis, as Bellamy dived underneath the chassis again. Once he got up with a pathetic, resignated sigh, you needed to bite your tongue to hold back your amusement.
You watched him lean against the hood right by your side, run his hand through his messy curls and finally speak up. „Call for…”
„Raven’s on her way.” You finish his sentence with a fond look.
„Good.” He nodded. He looked so deep in thought, as if he was still going over what could have possibly gone wrong. You couldn’t take it any longer. The burst of laughter came unbidden.
„Yeah, sure, laugh. You jinxed it!”
„I didn’t!” You managed to slip out between the chuckles.
He shook his head and slowly closed the distance between you. Looking up to you, he positioned himself between your legs and decided to openly address your viciousness. „You’re cruel.” He mumbled with feigned reproach, cupping your knees with his large palms. His grasp was firm, obviously conveying how deeply your lack of faith ‚angered’ him. „Be nicer to me. You could have at least pretended I was doing well as a mechanic.”
„I’ll stick to my ways.” Your fingers reached up to brush some strands of black hair from his eyes, hoping the tender gesture could placate him. But only a few seconds later, your cruelty got the best of you after all. „I’d say you should stay away from the mechanic bay. For the sake of public safety.”
„How dare you.” He groaned, and before you could let out another one of your signature smartass remarks, his hands were already at your waist, giving you a warning pinch. You felt his whole body lean onto you, while clutching at your midsection. A small chuckle slipped through your throat, as his words, said in that rugged tone, landed deep in your stomach. His breath tickled your neck, making your skin feverish even from the smallest contact. He was more than aware of how fast your body was to respond. He knew how to push your buttons. Leaving you completely at his mercy way too easily. Now - he got to be the cruel one.
Playful giggling morphed into gasps. His palms endlessly kneading at your thighs were a punishment. His teeth sinking into your lower lip - a teasing disciplining. As if that was a perfect retaliation for making fun of him and injuring his pride.
Your body hummed with anticipation while you ached for a proper touch, not just a playful one. You needed his mouth, your hands desperately reached for his neck to guide his lips to yours. When he finally decided to go for your mouth, he almost lunged forward. His right palm grabbed your cheek, squeezed it, slipped down your jaw, your neck, and gave a rougher squeeze there as well. Drawing a deep sigh out of you, his lips curled in a smile while his chest rumbled with chuckle as sweet as honey.
You both have long forgotten about where you were and why.
You felt his hips jerk forward, enough to make you tremble when you felt his hardness. Enough to make you mouth a quiet whimper into his shoulder. A taunting move ended too soon, leaving you deprived of a proper sensation. Again.
Then his damned hands. Every time his fingers got closer to where you wanted them the most, they retreated. He sucked on your collarbone slowly, letting his teeth experience your skin there too. Occasionaly letting out deep, satisfied sighs. Making you weak. He caressed your inner thigh, brushing against the upper part, rubbing with only the lightest pressure. You tried to lean in closer, slide further on top of the cold hood. Seeking more friction, you moved your thighs, causing him to just laugh against your skin. „Easy…okay?” He whispered. „Cruel, impatient…what else, huh?” He softly summed you up before focusing on marking your neck. You let out a small, pained sound of pleasure when his bites were temporarily distracting from the blooming heat in you.
Your legs wrapped around his waist, riding up his t-shirt, rubbing against the holster at his belt. „Damn it…doll…” He went crazy at the sensation. Losing all the power he used for holding himself in check, he lowered himself down on you, making your back hit the steel. You grunted with a smile, sick from anticipation and hunger. His breath grew shallow as he adjusted his position. His mouth was not taking a smallest break from devouring you. He rubbed himself against your core while his warm fingers stroked your untamed hair behind your ear.
„Bell…” Your pulse was in your throat. His hands were everywhere. The buckle of his belt loosened with your help. Just a moment and you could feel him, he would give you what you crave, and then…
He stopped. Fucking stopped.
You tried to catch your breath. You tugged on his belt, looking up to him pleadingly, unaware of anything around you. Just when you were about to scold him and let out a needy whine…a rumble of an engine in a near distance reached your ears, and your eyes finally registered what he saw too.
Of course. You called for Raven.
„Shit.” His trembling with need hands travelled to his belt, jumping off you.
You fixed your hair, with embarassment trying to ignore the banging of your heartbeat, trying to calm down. Cursing yourself for making the fucking radio call so soon…
Raven jumped out of her rover wordlessly. Bearing a smirk too wide to mean nothing.
Of course she saw.
As soon as she approached you two, your head turned towards Bellamy, whose face was all red. You fought with everything within you not to laugh. „I’m gonna go get the…toolbox.” He mumbled with an awkward smile, immediately heading towards Raven’s rover.
„Yeah, okay.” You nodded with unnecessary enthusiasm. After letting out a deep breath, you took up the courage to face Raven.
She eyed the rover up and down. Then you. Then she scoffed. „Well, no wonder the truck’s broken if you two do that often...”
summary ༄ remus x friend!reader -- or in which you realize you like remus. and that absolutely terrifies you. requested
word count ༄ 3.4k
nora’s notes ༄ hiii i hate this but probably will not be able to post until may or june soooo here it is anyway 💘 hope you enjoy!
Liking someone has always been the death of you. You could name all of the crushes you’d ever had on one hand–the boy next door in your childhood home, the sandy-haired one at the ice cream shop the summer you’d just turned 13, the guy who sat next to you in potions year 5. The thing (or the problem, depending on how you look at it) was that few boys proved to be to your liking–but, if they were, you liked them hard.
These boys had essentially nothing in common. Different personalities, hair colors, stories. The only trait that united them was how much you liked them–and how awkward you became as your relationships progressed.
You weren’t boisterous the way some of your peers were–cough, Sirius Black–but you weren’t a complete hermit, despite what some of your friends would claim. You kept to yourself mostly. Being on the outskirts of the picture means you’re still in the frame. The thing was that the second you realized your feelings for someone, you would straightjacket yourself. Your personality would curl in on the edges, speech coiled in the pit of your stomach.
You try your best now to not like people. You’re totally fine until you do, so staying away from that territory is your best bet–at all costs.
“Are you coming?” One of your dormmates sticks a head back into your room. They’re going to Hogsmeade, or something like that, to meet the new Beauxbatons transfer.
You emerge from your trance, shaking your head. “No, I’m going to the library. I’ll catch you later, though.”
You receive a nod and the sound of footsteps running down the hallway, which cues you to pack up your books and head out to study, where you’re planning on meeting Remus.
The library is one of your favorite places to be. It’s dark but not dank. It’s cozy. Especially when you spot the boy at your table, snug in one of his signature knitted jumpers. You can see his eyes lifting from the parchment spread in front of him to watch you approach.
“Morning,” he says with his signature quietness–low and firm. Steady.
“It’s mid-afternoon,” you respond as a grin crosses your face subconsciously. “You feeling alright?”
“Aren’t I always?” He gives you a lopsided smile, taking your head shake as a response. He’s avoiding your question–the full moon’s coming in a few days–but you’re not one to push. That’s why he opened up to you in the first place. “You going to Hogsmeade later?”
You shrug. “Maybe. My roommates went ahead, though.”
“Prongs and I are heading over later–actually, the whole lot will, if you fancy checking it out.” He raises his eyebrows, and you consider it. You like hanging out with James and Sirius; they always make you feel welcome, having been adopted into their group via Remus and being in Lily’s circle.
“Sure, not like I have anything better to do. This is a bore itself.” You gesture jokingly to him and pause to let him pretend to be offended, acting out the dramatics he’s clearly inherited from Sirius. Luckily, he only bemoans your lack of enthusiasm to hang out for a few moments before returning to his studies. Head over paper, neck craned. “Your posture is terrible, Remus.”
He pouts, still hunched into himself. “Let me live.”
“Okay, you’re the one who’s going to have back problems when you’re thirty,” you shrug, patting his arm with a hollow affection and pulling back to work on your essay. “But, suit yourself. I let you live and you let me work.”
He leans over your seat, a deluge of ink and chocolate and smudges of cigarette smoke that tickles you in the best way and leaves you the slightest bit dizzy, to deliver a quick pinch to your earlobe. You think he mutters something like you started it, but with a petty slap to his shoulder, he shuts up and gets back to his essay.
You’re not sure if it’s hours or minutes that slip between the two of you, but at some point, Remus stands, looking over the table. A quick glance through the cloud-kissed windows tells you it’s still afternoon. Probably. It’s a little too gray outside to tell.
“Ready to go? Think the boys are heading there now,” he yawns, arms stretching above his head. The edge of his wool sweater pulls up, a sliver of his sweetly tanned skin peeking out.
You stand right after, gathering your things into a bag. “Mhm, let’s go.”
When the cold nips at your cheeks outside, makes shivers run down your skin, you shudder, running in place to warm up. Remus laughs.
“That’s rude,” you say with a scrunch in your nose. “I’m freezing my arse off and all you’re doing is laughing at me.”
He suppresses himself into a broad, open smile. “If I had a hat, I’d give it to you.”
You shrug. “It’s the thought that counts, I suppose.”
“Yes, it is,” he says solemnly. Somehow, some time, his arm wraps around your shoulder. “To keep you warm.”
You hum as you enter Three Broomsticks, catching sight of the Marauders immediately. They’re sitting with your roommates, actually, and someone unfamiliar–the new girl, it must be. Your spine straightens of its own accord, shoulders roll back. Remus notices, dropping his arm from you as the new girl catches sight of you.
There you two stand, shoulder to shoulder, pressed awkwardly together like soldiers.
“Hi!” She stands, a wave of ink falling over her back in silk curls. She’s gorgeous. “I’m Romy, Romy Roche. From Beauxbatons.”
You nod, offering her a quiet smile and introducing yourself. Remus does the same before the two of you slide into the booth, you next to Romy, him across. He gives you a sly grin behind his hand, like a secret between the two of you. You’re not sure what he’s smiling at, yet you can’t help but give one back.
Romy turns towards you, doe eyes big and chocolate and shiny. She asks you something that you respond to dutifully, turned towards her. You steal a long glance at Remus to watch his eyes crinkle, soften, then drift off of you to speak to Sirius. You lean your elbow onto the table, latching onto a conversation between Romy and Lily, chiming in when awarded space.
As the afternoon shimmers to a sweeping dusk, everyone stands, shuffles back to the castle in one big lump. Your roommate comes to sweep her arm into yours, you walking on the outside. She leans into you, mouth almost on your ear.
“I think Romy’s into Lupin,” she says at a volume probably too loud to be comfortable given both of said people are currently two steps behind you.
“Remus?” You ask. “She wants Remus?”
For some reason, those words sour on your tongue, bite at the roof of your mouth.
She nods enthusiastically as you approach the Great Hall, the richness of Hogwarts dinner steeping into your bodies.
“Hm,” you say in response, pulling towards your house’s table. You don’t know what this feeling is–something that’s curdling in your chest. Whatever it is, it’s ugly. Romy and Remus. They do sound nice together. You swallow back the bile that climbs up your throat.
It should probably be illegal to wake up as early as your roommates do on a Sunday morning.
It should definitely be illegal to make as much noise as they do so early on the aforementioned Sunday morning.
With a groan, you lurch yourself awake before you can help it. You’re at war with yourself, but you can’t sleep with all the pattering around and attempts at whispering–Merlin help them, they’re trying. You think.
When they see you, one lets out a guilty giggle. “Sorry. Breakfast is over soon, you ready?”
The groan that escapes you is involuntary, you swear. You force your body upwards and moving, half-awake as you stumble out the door and into the hall. There’s the Marauders, Romy, your friends. Remus. Your eyelids perk open a little more. Romy’s definitely staring at him, they’re sitting next to each other. Maybe she really does like him.
You slip into a seat beside James Potter.
“Morning,” Remus says from across the table. His hair is mussed, sleep ringing his under eyes. He smiles at you. It’s lopsided, tilting his cheekbones.
“Good morning,” Romy echoes, offering a head tilt. A soft warmness flows from her, washing her in a sweet golden.
“Good morning,” you return with as much of a smile you can muster with drowsiness oozing through your system.
Remus looks across at you, tosses a sweet your way. “I bought this for you yesterday, at the shops. You better eat it and enjoy. It cost nearly double what it should have.”
You can’t help the squeal that scratches at your throat. “Thank you, Rem, this is perfect.”
He reaches into his bag and slides another one towards you. “I’m glad.”
Romy looks at him with a kind curiosity, tapping on his forearm to ask him something that you can’t hear. Your shoulders slouch involuntarily.
“Are you okay?” The boy asks as breakfast ends. “You’ve been quiet today.”
“I’m always quiet,” you counter. “Ask anyone.”
“Not usually.” He raises an eyebrow. “And quiet is different from completely mute.”
“I’m just tired.” You yawn, accentuating your point. “Catch you later?”
He nods in response, turning to his friends when they grab onto his elbow. You stand as well, ready to walk out when a body appears by your side. You startle, not realizing anyone had walked up.
It’s Romy, who shifts her hair away from you, allowing you a whiff of her coconut perfume. She smiles at you. You smile back.
“Can I walk with you to the dormitories?” She requests, words softened by her accent.
“Of course,” you find yourself saying, letting her lead you to your common room.
“So, I must ask,” she says only two feet outside of the hall. “You and Remus Lupin are dating, no?”
“What?” You step away from her, jaw loosened in shock. You and Remus? Dating? No way.
“I thought he was cute at first,” she continues, taking your silence as permission. “But I didn’t want to take your boyfriend.”
“No, we’re not–we’re just friends.” Heat is scratching the inside of your cheeks, burning.
“Oh, but you are so cute together. You definitely like each other, no?” Her expression is pure enthusiasm. Your heart’s fluttering now, thrashing in your ribcage.
You don’t like Remus. You can’t. That’s not how things work. No. No.
“No, I–” you stutter out, blinking rapidly. “I don’t like him like that. No.”
She tilts her head at you. Bobs her head up and down. Nodding, you realize. She’s nodding. You nod back, once, then turn away.
“Okay,” she says, turning back to your common room.
You barely remember saying goodbye to her, it all begins to smudge. You’re in the common room, then your bedroom. You don’t like Remus. You can’t. You know what happens when you like people. Your palms clam. Your whole body clams, condensing you into the pearl of an unbreakable shell. Your shoulders shudder. Convulse.
Maybe–maybe, you’re tired. You’re imagining things. He’s a friend. A good friend. That’s it. You don’t like him. You won’t like him.
Then again, you’ve never allowed yourself to think about him that way. In some sort of self preservation, you’ve pushed that image away. Do you like him?
Cold clings to your skin and a waterfall of images shuffles through your mind. Him staring up at you with those pretty, pretty eyes. His knit sweaters. His whispers past midnight, hushed in the library, just the two of you huddled in a corner. Him waiting for you to tie your shoes, use the restroom, tidy up after class, even when his friends had long since left. His lopsided grin.
Shit. You don’t like him.
You’re in love with him.
–
Before you know it, you’re pacing around your dorm. What the hell do you do now? Your heart freezes when you think about facing him tomorrow. Why did you have to figure this out? Couldn’t you just live in ignorance for the rest of your life? Your head drops down. You love Remus.
You don’t sleep that night. Instead, your eyes drift to your bedside, where photos of you and your friends lay. There’s one of you and your roommates, you and your family, and you and Remus. His arm is over your shoulder, his thumb massaging your arm. You’re turned towards him all bright and shiny, mid-sentence. How could you not have seen this coming? Of course you were in love. It had been in front of you forever. Fuck.
Morning rolls around into a heavy thing, something you try to push aside. All night, you’ve tossed in between your sheets, trying to avoid this, avoid him.
You pull the blanket over your head when your roommates call you to breakfast, mumbling an excuse. You only force yourself up to head to Potions, slipping into the classroom last minute to avoid Remus and his stare.
You fail, miserably. Though you’ve slipped into a seat near the front, where you can’t see him, he can see you, and you feel the hug of his stare through the whole hour, heating the back of your head. The thought of speaking to him raises bile in your throat, so as soon as class is over, you shove your things into your bag and dart towards the door. You vaguely hear him calling your name, you think, but you don’t dwell on it. You don’t dare to.
You can’t imagine what you’d ever say to him, now. How you could ever face him after knowing these feelings. And so unfortunately, you have many more classes with him. You manage to sidle out of Transfiguration without him noticing, and intend to escape to the library for lunch, but before you can, Lily’s looped her arm through yours and guided you to the great hall. Fuck.
You try to search for an escape, but she’s practically dragging you with her, chattering on about something she’d read recently.
And then, oh shit, she’s sat you with the Gryffindors, with the Marauders, and there’s Remus sliding across and oh shit, your palms are sweaty and your mind’s stopped working and you’re breathing quick and not enough.
“Y/N,” he says with a scary kindness, the kind that makes your heart race and ache against your ribs, begging to be let out. “Are you okay? You came late to Potions and you’ve been acting all funny since then.”
You dart your eyes away from his face, hands pulled onto your lap to fiddle with themselves. “Oh, yeah, I’m–I’m fine. Just tired, that’s all.”
A glance up tells you that he doesn’t buy it. His eyes narrow. He can tell you’re curling into yourself.
His hand reaches under the table, finds yours. He gives you a friendly pat on the knee, or so you tell yourself. “You can talk to me. Always.”
Blush burns your cheeks and your eyes slide to where his hand is still on yours, warming you up. You try your best to nod. Or to squeak out something. You used to be so good at this. You used to tease him, joke around. Now all you can do is stare at your plate and pray you don’t burst into flames.
His gaze is hot on you, and you shift in your seat, muscles suddenly tense. He releases your hand from his hold, and you burst upwards, mumbling something to Lily about needing to go finish a Charms project and escaping from the Great Hall.
You’ve made it five steps before a warm hand wraps around your wrist, grabbing a shriek from your throat. They pull you into a Potions classroom so quickly that you can’t look up to see who it is nor fight back–either way, you’re too stunned to react.
“Tell me what’s wrong.” You’d recognize that voice anywhere, velvet tenderness and crackling with love.
“Remus?” You ask quietly.
“You don’t have a Charms project,” he says without answering you. He knows you know, that you would know with your eyes closed and ears closed off. You know him blind, turned upside down and inside out.
When you look up at him, the intensity in his eyes makes you shrink back. “You heard me?”
“What’s wrong?” He ignores you without ignoring you. The twitch of his hand at your side tells you everything. “You’ve been weird all day. It’s scaring me.”
His grip loosens.
You look down, watching his fingers loosely encircling your wrist, dancing across your skin. Still, his touch leaves bruises, ones you’ll never be able to see, printing themselves shamelessly onto your heart, your soul.
When he speaks again, his voice drops to an intimacy you’d only ever dreamed of. “It’s like you don’t know me, like I’m a stranger.”
No, that’s something much worse. Hurt.
“What did I do?” He’s pleading now, his other hand coming to rub at your wrist. “I’ll fix it. Whatever it is, I’ll fix it.”
A tear slides from your eye, tracing down your face. His thumb rises to your cheek, wipes it into your skin.
“I don’t want to see you upset. I care about you, dove.” He scares you with his understanding, sometimes. Never have you seen a man so kind. “I care about you. Sometimes, I think it’s too much. I could drown in you and still want more. I’m greedy for you, for your attention.”
Your lips part. Still stunned into silence. You won’t–no, can’t–say anything. “I–”
“What’s wrong, baby?” His thumb wanders to the plush of your lip, pushes in. “Tell me something. Anything, please.”
“I’m scared, Remus.” You say finally, voice a papery whisper. “I think I like you. I think I love you.”
He doesn’t say anything to you, not at first. He freezes, eyes sweeping across your face like headlights. Just for a moment, you clam again. You shouldn’t have said that. He cares about you, but just as a friend. You should’ve stayed silent.
You’re embarrassed now, and you move to step backwards, away from him and this suffocating room away from his stare and his eyes those melting eyes boring into you, oh, Merlin. But he anticipates it, anticipates you.
One hand falls to cup the back of your head. You lean into it involuntarily, let him smooth out your hair and pull you back.
“That’s not what I thought you were going to say,” he pushes a breath from his mouth.
“I’m sorry.” Your face is flaming again. “I didn’t mean to.”
“Me neither,” he says, making you stop. The pause that lingers between the two of you is heavy.
Then, a belly chuckle, which makes you squirm with warmth, letting his laugh settle over your skin. It’s collected just as much as it’s trembling with relief. “I thought you would say something much worse. I’m scared that I more than love you. There’s not a word for it yet, but I love you so much that I will will it into existence.”
You shudder. Remus, Remus, Remus.
He says your name like a chant, smooth and thunderous at once. A command and a lullaby. You’ve been put on pause, putty to every motion he makes. The twitch of his finger by his side. His eyelids flutter as they shutter. Your stomach clenches.
“May I?” He asks so tenderly, so softly that something in your body roils, relaxes so completely that you almost let yourself cry.
You nod. He’s so close that your noses bump. Your lips part in anticipation, in waiting.
Three seconds pass. Four. And you can’t say when he erases the space between you or when he became yours or when you melted together and your arms closed around his neck because it’s so natural. You and him just are. His lips, sweet and soft, on yours. His thumb petting your cheekbone. His eyelashes fluttering, faces so close that you can feel them on your skin. Your heart buzzes at his sweetness and the feeling that tickles your insides, this feeling that you want him to hold on to you until time dissolves. When all else fails, you know your love will thrive, that it will do nothing but expand.
andulkaphoto
yousharknotpass
2087
prguitarman
