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eighteen. she, her. libra. entp. 8w4. slytherin. hopeless romantic. jazz enthusiast. james potter’s lover. friends to lovers devotee. currently somewhere in northern italy, chasing starlit whispers. call me sol!

⊹₊⟡⋆ requests are open!

જ⁀➴ masterlist ᝰ. guidelines ₊⋆

wherein sirius and reader are ex lovers. after the war ended they see each other again for the first time. but reader is married to regulus. then everything from there just goes down, sirius insinuating hurtful things and regulus finally stands up to him after years of resentment.

happy new year, my love! i’m so sorry for the delay in replying to your request, but i’ve finally finished it! i really hope you like it!

୧ ‧₊˚ unraveled hearts

₊⊹ summary: amidst the ruins of war and broken bonds, love weaves its bittersweet, inevitable tale.

₊⊹ pairing: regulus black x fem!slytherin!reader x sirius black

₊⊹ warnings: strong language, angst, emotional distress, family conflict, and sirius being a dick.

the autumn sun filtered through the windows of the great hall at hogwarts, painting the stone floor with golden and orange hues. sirius black was sitting at the gryffindor table, laughing loudly at something james potter had said. he was an impossible figure to ignore. his laugh had a magnetic quality, something that made heads turn in his direction, even unintentionally. the spark in his eyes and the charming nonchalance in his smile always seemed to attract attention — and he knew it.

but that day, his eyes caught something different. a movement at the slytherin table.

you were there, as always, with a book open in front of you and the elegant posture of someone who knew the impact they had when entering a room. to sirius, there was something about you that was as fascinating as it was frustrating. he knew your type: intelligent, relentless, full of secrets. and yet, he couldn’t take his eyes off you.

it wasn’t just your appearance; it was the way you seemed to navigate the world, as if it spun at your will. your friends seemed to orbit around you, and among them, regulus black. the brother sirius despised so much.

deep down, he knew staring at you was a mistake. not only because you were a slytherin — and that would be enough for james to mock him for weeks — but because you were inaccessible in a way he couldn’t explain. still, he couldn’t stop himself.

in the following months, sirius found excuses to get closer. in the hallways, in shared classes, even in moments when you were alone in the library, lost in your thoughts. he started with jokes, sarcastic comments about the professors or remarks about other students, but over time, the conversations began to gain depth. he saw a side of you few knew: a voracious curiosity, a sharp sense of humor, a passion for justice that didn’t fit with the stereotype of your house.

and you saw something in him beyond the reckless rebel everyone seemed to see. when you were together, sirius dropped his mask. he spoke about his house, the weight of the black surname, how he hated everything his family stood for. he spoke about freedom, about a future far from all of that. and, for a time, you believed he could be different.

the romance between you grew in silence, hidden in the shadows of hogwarts. they were stolen moments — a touch of hands while passing through the hallways, glances that said more than words ever could. there were nights when you met in empty towers or in the dark gardens, where the distance between you was broken by eager kisses, as if time could slip away at any moment.

but time was not on your side.

⋆˚ 𝜗𝜚˚⋆

everything began to fall apart in the spring of sixth year. sirius always had a knack for trouble, and his pride was both a weapon and a weakness. he hated showing vulnerability, and though you were the only one he opened up to, there were moments when he withdrew, putting an invisible barrier between you.

that night, after a verbal duel with his mother that echoed in his mind like a poorly cast spell, sirius found you in the gryffindor common room. but he was different, his dark eyes filled with something you couldn’t name.

“why do you keep pretending this will work?” he suddenly shot, his voice heavy with frustration.

you blinked, confused, feeling the pain in his words like a sharp knife. “what do you mean by that?”

“this, us. do you think we can keep going like this? like it’s simple? like it’s easy?”

your anger flared in response. “easy? sirius, this has never been easy. i knew it wouldn’t be easy, but i chose to be with you anyway. and you’re telling me that—”

“that maybe it was a mistake,” he interrupted, his voice low and filled with something dangerous.

those words were the last thing you expected to hear. something inside you broke at that moment, and you stood up, refusing to let him see the tears that threatened to fall.

“you’re a coward, sirius black,” you whispered, your voice trembling. “you say you want to be different, but all you do is run away. what are you so fucking afraid of?”

he didn’t answer. he couldn’t.

in the days that followed, you both drifted apart like two colliding stars, leaving behind wreckage and silence. sirius drowned in his pain in a destructive way, throwing himself into parties, provoking fights, doing everything to ignore the emptiness you had left.

and then, you found comfort where you least expected it: in regulus.

⋆˚ 𝜗𝜚˚⋆

regulus black was everything sirius black was not. while sirius was impulsive, regulus was calculated. while sirius burned with an intensity that could consume everything around him, regulus was a steady flame, offering warmth where there had once been only cold. you began talking by chance. he noticed your sadness, and somehow, his words — always so careful and precise — were exactly what you needed to hear. he didn’t try to be the hero. he didn’t try to fix you. he was just there, listening, understanding, offering what sirius had never been able to offer: stability.

love, they say, is a silent seed. sometimes, it is planted without warning, without any expectation, just rooting itself in the shadows of forgotten moments. for regulus black and you, this love didn’t reveal itself in a grand way, like a beam of light or a thunderous roar that lights up the sky. no. the love that bloomed between you was like a shy flame, igniting patiently, slowly, as if time itself had to bend to allow it to happen. it was a flame fueled by the quiet of shadows, something that grew as silently as a rare flower rising in complete darkness.

regulus always had something mysterious in his nature. he wasn’t like sirius, who made his presence known wherever he went, whose laughter and words filled spaces like fireworks. no, regulus was different. he was the calm at the center of the storm, the silent enigma that appeared when no one expected it. he didn’t rush, didn’t seek the focus of others’ gazes. his life unfolded like a book no one dared open, but when leafed through, revealed profound content and an unshakable quietness. he possessed the serenity of a calm night, the kind that envelops you slowly, without haste, without omen, making you realize that the world can be, for a moment, perfect. he was the type of person who would never force anyone to see what he was, but at the same time, attracted others to him with an invisible force, like the moon that lights up the darkness without making a sound.

when chaos began to take over the world around you, when the winds of war started to blow harder and closer, you, lost in your own inner battles, found something in regulus you never imagined you needed. he never offered sweet words or empty promises. but his presence had an unexpected effect on you. it wasn’t that he had answers to all your doubts or that he could ease all your fears. but there was something in his silence, in his calm way of being, that soothed the turbulence you felt. he didn’t need to ask. he didn’t need to understand. regulus knew, without words being spoken, the weight you carried, what was hiding in your heart. he knew, without explanations, how pain, fear, and doubt sometimes take control of the soul, and he knew you needed someone who was simply… quiet. someone who was there without rushing to change what couldn’t be changed, but who was willing to be, silently, a support.

and you, without realizing it, sought him out. not because he had the perfect words or a solution to the problems that accumulated in your mind, but because he possessed something you never knew you needed: the strength of silence. regulus knew how to live with the shadows, with the questions that never found answers, with the fears that no one could ever dissipate. it was the way he accepted his own darkness that gave him the strength to be a constant presence, a rock for those who needed something solid, someone for whom the world didn’t matter because what mattered was what was right there, beside him, in that moment.

in those days of uncertainty, when the world seemed to be falling apart around everyone, he became your refuge. and, although you didn’t know it yet, he also needed you. regulus didn’t need protection, nor advice. but he needed something you offered without knowing: your peaceful presence. it was as if the world around disappeared when you were together. time seemed to stretch, as if the universe knew that both of you needed that moment, that pause, that fragment of eternity where nothing else mattered.

the words exchanged were few. they weren’t necessary. the touch of your hands, the deep gaze exchanged, spoke more than any words could convey. instead of seeking answers, you allowed yourselves just to be, in a silence that seemed deeper than any speech. as if, in that moment, you were sharing a secret that didn’t need to be said.

what grew between the two of you wasn’t a wild passion, nor impetuous declarations of love. it was something quieter, something that grew slowly, like the tide that, without hurry, invades the sand and never returns to its starting point. it wasn’t fire or fury. it was constancy, it was calm. it was the wisdom of time, that silent understanding that true happiness isn’t found in great victories, but in the simplicity of what is real. and in regulus, you found that place. not a place of empty promises, but a place of acceptance, where he offered, without asking for anything in return, a peace you never knew you needed. regulus was never someone of grand words or theatrical gestures. he simply existed, and his existence offered the tranquility you sought.

and when he finally asked you to marry him, there was no surprise. there was no rush, no applause. just a silent acceptance, as if everything that had happened until then had been inevitable. as if everything was already in the right place, at the right time. you felt your heart warm in a way you couldn’t describe. it wasn’t words that needed to be said, nor exaggerated gestures. it was just a quiet smile, a confident look. because, more than promises of a perfect future, regulus offered you something more precious: the certainty that, in his company, everything that was needed would be fulfilled, without haste and without regret.

⋆˚ 𝜗𝜚˚⋆

the war did not come like a roaring storm; it crept in, a quiet and insidious tide that seeped into the cracks of your life, staining every corner with its shadow. at first, it was whispers: rumors spoken in hushed tones, warnings of darkness rising. then, it was faces—familiar ones, beloved ones—disappearing into the ether, swallowed whole by a war no one truly believed would touch them.

but it did.

it wrapped its cold fingers around everything, twisting even moments of respite into fragile, fleeting things. it stole away the future you had once dared to imagine, replacing it with something sharp-edged and uncertain. every step forward was laced with the fear of losing yourself—or worse, losing the people you loved most.

regulus had become your tether.

war carved at him, stripping away the vestiges of his once-arrogant youth and forging something unbreakable in its place. he carried himself now with a deliberate, quiet strength. every movement, every glance was purposeful, sharpened by necessity. he was no longer the boy you had known in hogwarts’ shadowed hallways but a man who bore the weight of his choices with a kind of grace that defied the chaos surrounding him.

he had left behind the chains of the black family, the suffocating legacy that had once defined him, and yet, the marks it left were indelible. you saw it in the lines of his jaw when he thought no one was looking, in the way he spoke carefully, as if every word might carry too much or too little meaning.

and yet, he remained. for you. for the future he clung to like a fragile ember in the dark.

sirius, however, was fire itself.

where regulus was methodical, sirius burned recklessly. he fought like a man trying to outrun his own shadows, pouring himself into the fight with a fervor that bordered on desperation. his anger was a weapon, a shield, and a mask all at once.

it was strange, seeing him again after so many years of silence and distance. he was still sirius—breathtaking in his defiance, his charm as sharp as ever—but the war had marked him too. his eyes held a hollowness that hadn’t been there before, a quiet kind of grief that spoke of battles fought and losses endured.

he did not speak to you. not directly, at least. he let his gaze linger too long when he thought you wouldn’t notice, his expression caught somewhere between anger and something softer, something more fragile. you caught him watching you in those fleeting moments of stillness between battles, his eyes dark with unspoken questions.

the silence between you was heavier than any argument could have been.

the war raged on, relentless. every safe house, every abandoned village became another temporary haven in a world consumed by chaos. each battle brought new wounds, new scars, and the unspoken truth that none of you could outrun forever: the end was coming, one way or another.

it was during one such night, when the war felt impossibly close, that regulus turned to you.

the safe house was quiet, the air heavy with exhaustion and the faint smell of damp wood. the others were scattered—some sleeping, some keeping watch—but the two of you had stolen this small fragment of peace for yourselves.

regulus sat across from you, his face lit only by the flickering light of the dying fire. shadows played along the sharp lines of his cheekbones, his expression unreadable as he stared into the embers.

“you know,” he said, his voice breaking the silence, “i used to think the war was something distant. something that couldn’t touch us… not really.”

you didn’t respond immediately, sensing there was more he needed to say.

“i thought…” his voice faltered, but he pressed on. “shit, i thought i could keep you safe from it. that if i fought hard enough, if i made the right choices, it wouldn’t find its way to you.”

“reg…” you began, reaching for his hand, but he shook his head.

“it has, though. it’s here, and it’s fucking cruel, and i—” his voice cracked, and he exhaled sharply, as though trying to push the words away. “i can’t promise i’ll always be able to protect you.”

you squeezed his hand, grounding him as much as yourself. “we’ll protect each other,” you said softly, your voice steady even as your heart ached.

he looked at you then, his gray eyes filled with a vulnerability he rarely let show. “if we survive this,” he said, his words measured and deliberate, “promise me something.”

your breath caught, and you nodded slowly, not trusting yourself to speak.

“promise me that when this is over—when we’ve fought through this, no matter how broken we might be—you’ll be my wife.”

the room seemed to still, the weight of his words pressing against your chest.

“i know it’s not the right time,” he continued, his voice quieter now, almost hesitant. “i know i should wait until this war is over, until i can give you something more than a promise made in the shadows. but i can’t. i need to know that—”

you cut him off, your voice firm despite the tears threatening to spill. “yes,” you said, the word escaping before you could think twice. “yes, i promise.”

his relief was palpable, a quiet exhale that seemed to release years’ worth of tension. reaching into his pocket, he pulled out a simple silver ring. it was unadorned, its surface slightly worn, but to you, it was perfect.

“i wanted it to be more,” he admitted, sliding the ring onto your finger with a tenderness that made your chest ache. “but this is all i have right now. when this is over—”

you stopped him with a kiss, your hand cupping his face as if to pull him back into the present. when you pulled away, his forehead rested against yours, his breathing unsteady but steadying in your presence.

“we’ll make it through this,” you whispered, your voice barely audible but laced with conviction. “together.”

and for the first time in what felt like years, regulus smiled. it was a small thing, fleeting, but it softened the hard lines of his face and reminded you of the boy he had once been—the boy you had fallen in love with.

that night, as the fire burned low and the shadows stretched long, you held onto that promise. the war might rage on, tearing at the edges of the world you had built, but you and regulus would fight. for each other. for the future you had promised one another.

and in that moment, the silver ring on your finger felt like a beacon in the dark, a reminder that even in the depths of war, hope could still burn bright.

⋆˚ 𝜗𝜚˚⋆

sirius black could not understand why he had returned. perhaps it was a desperate attempt to recover something that had been lost in the tangled threads of time—something tangible, something that might restore a sense of control over the life that seemed to slip further from his grasp. the war was over. the chaos of battles, the deafening explosions, and the shrill screams had all passed. yet, the internal war—one that raged within him, fighting against his own ghosts—remained relentless, a storm that had no end. he felt the weight of invisible scars, the heavy burden of flawed choices, unspoken words, broken loves, and burned bridges.

grimmauld place, the house he had once rejected, had now become the sole tether to his past. to a history he had tried so desperately to erase, but which still consumed him, no matter how much he wished to escape it. even after the war had ended, something deep within called him back to that place. what else could he do but return? what else was left to him but this house, a monument to his failures, to his origins, to his family? what was he truly seeking there? an answer? consolation? or, perhaps, something far simpler: a way to live with the weight of what he had lost, to understand how he had arrived at this point.

sirius did not know what he expected as he crossed the threshold into grimmauld place, but something urged him to revisit the shadows of that place. he had been estranged from his own history for too long, and perhaps it was time to reconnect with it, to confront his mistakes, no matter how unbearable that might be. in those solitary days of silence, he began to wonder whether there was still something there that could make sense of it all. something that might redeem him in his own eyes. something that could make him feel less guilty, less empty.

the corridors of grimmauld place were silent, and sirius could almost feel the weight of every portrait, every tapestry, as though they were silent witnesses to a time he could no longer grasp. each step he took echoed in the emptiness like a heartbeat in the void, a reminder of a past that could never be undone. he wandered the house aimlessly, like a man searching for a path yet unaware of the destination. he wasn’t there to solve the mysteries of the house; perhaps he was there to solve the mysteries within himself. it was in that state of uncertainty, as he crossed the dimly lit hallway, that something made him stop suddenly.

it was a strange sensation, subtle yet undeniable, as though the very air had thickened, become heavier. compelled by an instinct he couldn’t explain, he followed the pull, not prepared for what he would see. the door to the main room stood slightly ajar, revealing a scene that stopped his breath and froze his thoughts.

you were there. and regulus.

they were so close, so intertwined, that sirius felt like an intruder in his own life. your hands were clasped together, your eyes filled with a tenderness he had never imagined you could give to anyone but him. the scene unfolded before him like a cruel blow, a vivid reminder of everything he had lost. the smile you had once given him, now directed at regulus. the sparkle in your eyes, no longer for him, but for the brother who had always seemed distant, so different, but now appeared to fill the void that sirius had left. regulus stood there, calm and secure, as if he had finally found his place in the world.

and in that moment, time seemed to freeze for sirius. he had not only lost you, but also the chance to be happy by your side. he had destroyed everything—everything that could have been, everything that should have been. what remained now was a cold bitterness, an unbearable pain that consumed him from within. the silence around him was deafening.

he stood there for what seemed like an eternity, unsure whether to retreat or advance. but the weight of his pain pushed him forward, crossing the threshold between what was left of his family and the chasm he had created.

regulus saw him first. there was no shock in his gaze, only a calm that seemed unshakable, as if he had known this moment would come. as if he had been prepared for it all along. slowly, he rose from where he sat, his hand still holding yours, and looked directly at sirius.

“you’ve returned,” regulus said, his tone neither welcoming nor accusing. it was simply a statement. “what do you intend now?”

sirius felt the words rise up from deep within him, sharp as blades, fueled by anger and regret. he turned his gaze to you, and as the words spilled from his lips, he could not stop them—like a force beyond his control, he was compelled to speak, to unleash the weight of his sorrow and fury.

“do you really think you fucking deserve this, regulus?” he spat, his voice low but intense. “do you think you can replace me? do you really believe that because you’re the younger brother, you can take everything that was mine without paying the price?”

he turned to you then, his eyes clouded by rage and remorse. “and you? after everything we’ve been through, everything i did for you… you chose him? you chose regulus?”

his words were like daggers, each one a piercing cry of pain, a silent plea for forgiveness he could not find the courage to speak.

regulus did not falter. he did not retreat. he stood there, hand still entwined with yours, his expression calm and unyielding, as though he had already weathered this storm. he had already seen the wounds and scars sirius carried, and now, he was ready to face the consequences of those actions.

“it’s enough, sirius,” regulus said, his voice low, yet firm—an authority in his words that made sirius’s heart skip a beat. “do you think you can destroy me with your words, like you always have? it won’t work. not now. not in front of my wife.”

the silence that followed was thick, oppressive—full of the weight of years of silence, of the burden of everything that had been left unsaid. sirius stared at you, his eyes clouded with pain, and for the first time, he understood, in a brutal, blinding clarity, the wounds he had inflicted upon himself. the pain that filled him was almost unbearable, a stabbing blow to the chest that stole his breath. yet, even as it tore at him, regulus’s words continued to echo in his mind—sharp and cutting, each one burrowing deeper into his heart, a precise blow that tore through him with ruthless accuracy. every one of them dug into his soul, until, finally, he found himself consumed by rage—a blind fury that stole his ability to breathe, that overwhelmed him completely.

“you’ll never understand, will you, regulus?” sirius spoke, his voice low, but filled with such disdain that it seemed to carry the weight of ancient curses. “you were always the ‘good boy.’ the perfect one. the one who never rebelled. the one who never had the courage. and now you think you can take my place? shit, you think you deserve something that you don’t even understand? something that was always mine, something only i could carry?”

he stepped forward, his posture arrogant, his words dripping with contempt. “she always looked at me. and you, weakling, think you can take her from me? you don’t know what it means to love, to give everything for someone, to make sacrifices. you never knew that.” he paused, his gaze venomous. “but now you stand there, like a rat that found its nest. and you ask me—where is the worth in that, regulus? where is the courage? where is the honor?”

regulus’s reply was immediate, his voice low, controlled, but carrying an unmistakable fury—each word a sharp weapon, a perfect counterstrike to sirius’s venom.

“be careful what you say, sirius,” regulus retorted, his gaze cold, sharp as a forged blade. “you think you can reduce me to just a reflection of your ego? you think you can trap me in your arrogance? you’re nothing but a broken man who can’t even look himself in the mirror. you never had the strength to admit that you lost. to accept that you destroyed everything you touched. you don’t know what it means to love someone with your soul, to look at them and see your entire world in their eyes.” he stepped forward, unwavering, unhesitant. “and that’s why she was never yours. that’s why she never chose you. you got lost in your lies, in your pride. and now, it’s too late.”

the air between them had become electric, thick with fury, resentment, and desperation. each word between them was no longer just a word—it was a curse, a binding spell woven with hatred, an agreement forged in the shadows of malice and contempt. the two brothers, once bound by blood, now stood as adversaries, each locked in a battle that had transcended their familial ties.

regulus looked at sirius with an expression that was both a promise and a curse. “you could never see what was right in front of you, always blinded by your own arrogance, by your pride. you were so consumed by your own pain, your own desperation, that you couldn’t see what i saw. you couldn’t see her for what she really was, or what she really wanted from someone.” he pointed to you, standing there, watching them both. but his eyes were filled with a truth sirius could no longer escape.

“you lost her, sirius. and now, it’s too late.”

with that, the silence that had hung between them, thick with the weight of broken promises and shattered lives, pressed in like a suffocating fog, each second more suffocating than the last. it was a silence so absolute, so cruel, that it felt as though the walls themselves had closed in, as if even the house—grimmauld place, with its cold, dark corridors and haunted memories—had absorbed the bitterness of their words. it was as though the very air between them had become sharp, like glass, ready to cut deep into whatever fragile hope was left in sirius’s heart.

sirius felt it—his failures crashing into him with an almost physical force, like waves of a storm that never ceased to pound against the shores of his soul. the crushing weight of every misstep, every wrong choice, every moment of pride and arrogance, all of it came rushing at him in one suffocating wave. the ache in his chest, the hollow emptiness that had been gnawing at him for years, threatened to consume him whole. regret spiraled endlessly within him, faster and faster, until it became a maelstrom—twisting, tearing, pulling him under. his mind reeled as he felt every regret he’d ever buried rise to the surface, each one like a haunting shadow, a specter from the past that could no longer be ignored.

he had always believed he could outrun it, that he could escape the ghosts of his past by embracing the present, by fighting in the war, by seeking vengeance, by looking for any kind of redemption. but now, standing here—no longer the man he once thought he was—he understood that there was no escape. no amount of defiance, no amount of rage, could erase the mistakes that had led him here. he had destroyed everything. everything that could have been, everything that should have been. and the magnitude of his own failure was suffocating, almost unbearable.

it was as if the weight of his entire life—his choices, his actions, his relentless pursuit of the wrong things—had come crashing down upon him in that single moment, and the unbearable truth became clear. there was no turning back. no way to undo the damage. no way to rewrite the ending of his story. every step he had taken, every path he had chosen, had brought him to this very moment of irrevocable loss.

his gaze flickered between regulus and you, but it felt as though the distance between him and the two of you was insurmountable—an ocean of his own mistakes that could never be crossed. the love he had once felt for you, the bond he thought was unbreakable, now felt like a distant memory—like a dream he could never touch again. you had chosen regulus. and in that choice, you had left him behind, not just in body, but in spirit, in every part of him that had once believed in something greater than himself.

the silence stretched on, unbearable, suffocating. sirius could feel his heart pounding in his chest, his breath coming in ragged gasps, as if the very act of breathing had become an effort he could no longer bear. everything had fallen apart. the house, his family, his love, his life—each one of those pieces lay in ruins around him, and there was no escaping the wreckage he had created. he was drowning in it.

and yet, the truth was clearer than ever: the end had come. not just for this moment, but for his entire existence. all the hope he had clung to for so long had vanished, like smoke dissolving in the air, and all that remained was a hollow, aching emptiness that could never be filled.

his story—the one he had desperately tried to write, to control, to mold into something meaningful—was over. the chances he had squandered, the love he had let slip through his fingers, the bond with his brother he had shattered with nothing but arrogance and pride, all of it had led to this moment. and now, standing in the ruins of his own making, sirius finally understood: there was no redemption. there was no forgiveness, no second chance. the weight of everything he had lost, everything he had failed to protect, pressed upon him like a suffocating blanket, and all he could do was stand there—lost, broken, and utterly alone.

‘for timothée chalamet, who inspires me endlessly.’

hi, sweets! it wasn't very clear to me whether you'd prefer something more platonic or a friends to lovers dynamic, so sorry if it’s not what you wanted! happy new year everyone! ㅤ♡ྀི

୧ ‧₊˚ just friends, right?

₊⊹ summary: two friends, one unspoken love. you and timothée struggle with their feelings, afraid to ruin everything. after a tense buildup, they finally admit the truth and step into something new together.

₊⊹ pairing: timothée chalamet x reader

₊⊹ warnings: idiots in love, heavy on pinning, messy feelings, a little angst, slowburn.

₊⊹ author's note: sorry for the delay—i’ve been super busy because i just graduated from high school! the school year here is a bit different from what you might be used to. our academic calendar usually ends in december, which is why i disappeared for a bit—i had so much going on!

the manhattan sun felt hotter that summer of 2002. you were just a six-year-old child, curious and reserved, the kind who preferred watching the world rather than diving into it. afternoons were spent at the neighborhood park, where the shade of old trees offered welcome relief from the heat. while other kids ran and played, you sat at the edge of the fountain, holding a strawberry ice cream that always melted too quickly.

it was there that you saw timothée for the first time. he appeared like a storm: awkward, dirty, and determined, clutching a blue frisbee to his chest with an urgency that seemed exaggerated for someone so small.

“hide this for me!” he yelled, his hazel eyes wide. before you could respond, he shoved the frisbee into your hands and ducked behind the fountain.

you looked at the toy, then at two older boys who appeared moments later, panting. “did you see a kid run by with this?”

you shook your head, gripping the frisbee tightly. the boys muttered something before walking away, and timothée emerged from his hiding spot, his face lit up with a smile of relief.

“thanks for that! i’m timothée,” he said, extending a dirty hand towards you.

you hesitated for a moment but ended up shaking his hand. “can i call you timmy?”

from that day on, timothée started showing up everywhere. at the park, at school, even at your building’s doorstep, with ideas for adventures that never seemed to work out but always ended in laughter. he was everything you weren’t: impulsive, fearless, and loud. and, somehow, that made sense.

one afternoon, as you climbed a tree to fetch a kite stuck in the branches, he looked at you with the kind of awkward confidence only kids have. “did you know that friends are like brothers you get to choose?”

you laughed, thinking that was a silly thing to say. but somehow, it stayed with you.

⋆˚ 𝜗𝜚˚⋆

manhattan in winter was a moving painting. fog danced between the trees at bryant park, and the smell of roasted chestnuts mingled with the icy air. you crossed the bustling streets of soho with timothée by your side, both bundled in heavy coats that barely kept out the cold. he wore a black cap, the brim pulled low to hide his face, but his relaxed posture gave him away. he was used to being recognized, even when pretending otherwise.

“why do you always make me walk in the cold?” you complained, adjusting your scarf.

“because the cold makes us feel alive,” he answered with a crooked smile. “and, honestly, i needed coffee. good coffee.”

the café he picked felt like a portal to another decade. dark wooden tables, fogged-up windows, and a jukebox in the corner playing nina simone. the owner, an older man with gray hair and a warm expression, greeted timothée with a knowing nod, as if they were old friends.

“is this where you hide?” you asked, as he chose the furthest table.

“not always. but today feels like the right place.”

you sat across from him, your fingers still cold as you cradled the warm cup the waitress brought moments later. timothée ordered a cappuccino, as usual, while you opted for a chai latte with oat milk — something he always teased you about.

“can’t you just order coffee? it’s a coffee shop, not a tea salon.”

“you’re so predictable,” you replied, teasing him back.

despite the casual tone, something felt different that day. he seemed more introspective, his fingers absently tracing the rim of his cup as his eyes wandered over the people around you.

“is everything okay?” you asked, leaning in slightly.

“yeah, just… sometimes it’s hard to shut it off, you know?”

“shut what off?”

“all of it.” he gestured towards the window, where a group of teenagers passed by with their phones, clearly trying to sneak a peek inside. “the constant attention. the expectations. when i’m with you, it feels like… a break.”

you stayed silent for a moment, absorbing his words. “maybe because i’ve never treated you like someone who needs to impress me.”

he smiled, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes. “yeah, maybe that’s it.”

the silence between you was comfortable but heavy. you knew there was more behind his words, but you decided not to push. with timothée, things needed to be unraveled on his time.

later that day, you both went to evan’s loft, an eccentric director who always gathered artists, musicians, and writers for intimate parties. the place was a mix of chaos and elegance: worn leather couches, shelves overflowing with books, and an entire wall covered in vintage movie posters.

music echoed through the walls, laughter mingling with the sound of crystal glasses clinking in exaggerated toasts. in one corner, the beat of a hip-hop track seemed to make the floor vibrate, while in another, conversations flowed smoothly over red wine and quiet chuckles.

when you and timothée arrived, the scene felt uncomplicated, even familiar. the kind of party you always attended with him, where the sense of being out of place was outweighed by his presence. as always, he was the center of attention, effortlessly. people gravitated towards him with ease, and the fact that timothée seemed uninterested in being the “star” of the night only made him shine brighter, as if his modesty was yet another irresistible quality.

you, on the other hand, felt like a shadow beside him. it wasn’t uncomfortable, but you knew that standing next to him, people looked at you with a certain fascination too — as if, by osmosis, you absorbed some of the light that surrounded him. still, timothée seemed oblivious to everything happening around him. shortly after arriving, he disappeared, as he often did, seeking a bit of personal space amidst the chaos.

not knowing what to do, you found yourself wandering through the party, feeling slightly out of place but also entertained. the environment, though lively, had something comforting about it. you joined a small group of timothée’s friends, some familiar, others not so much. among them was ethan, a young artist you’d started talking to a few weeks earlier. his laid-back demeanor quickly revealed itself as he began a conversation that started with a discussion about the meaning of art and drifted into inside jokes about a notoriously clueless art critic.

the conversation flowed effortlessly, and you felt like you could lose yourself in those words, a kind of familiarity that brought comfort. the outside world felt distant — you no longer worried about timothée being elsewhere, as your focus remained on that small circle.

but even with the chatter and laughter around you, something in the air felt off. something in you, or maybe in the space itself, left the impression that there was more between the people than just the pleasure of company.

you tried to ignore it, letting yourself get caught up in ethan’s story about an art exhibit he’d recently attended. however, when you glanced around the room, your eyes met timothée’s. he was standing in the kitchen, his back to the party, his shoulders relaxed, but his gaze sharper than usual, fixed on you.

for a moment, you didn’t think much of it. you were used to his constant presence, the way he always seemed to be nearby, subtly but intensely. yet, something about that look made him seem distant, as if he were taking in more of you than you were ready to give in that instant.

but you continued your conversation with ethan, laughing at his story about a difficult client in a gallery. you didn’t notice that, meanwhile, timothée remained there, unmoving, watching you. his presence felt closer than it actually was, as if he were silently following every word you spoke, every gesture you made.

later that night, as the party dwindled and the music softened, you slipped out onto evan’s fire escape for some fresh air. the chill of the night cut through the warmth of the crowded loft, and the city below seemed quieter, somehow, as if holding its breath.

you leaned against the railing, eyes tracing the lights of manhattan, when you heard the window behind you slide open. timothée stepped out, holding a glass of wine, his coat hanging loosely on his shoulders.

“needed a moment?” he asked, his voice soft, the question almost casual.

you nodded, not looking at him at first. “yeah. it’s… a lot in there.”

he joined you at the railing, standing just a little too close. the silence between you wasn’t uncomfortable, but it felt thick with something unspoken.

after a few moments, he glanced over at you. “so, ethan… he seems nice.”

you turned toward him, surprised by the comment. “he is. we were just talking, nothing special.”

timothée didn’t respond immediately, but his gaze lingered on you. the way he said nothing at all made you wonder if there was more to his words than just a simple observation.

you raised an eyebrow. “what’s with the look?”

he shrugged, the faintest of smiles tugging at the corner of his lips. “nothing. i just… i don’t know. it’s just different, seeing you with someone else, i guess.”

his words hung in the air between you. it wasn’t what you expected to hear, but it wasn’t exactly surprising either. still, something in his tone made you uneasy.

“why does it matter?” you asked, turning to face him, your voice steady but edged with something you couldn’t quite place.

he didn’t answer right away. instead, he took another sip of his wine, the glass clinking gently as he lowered it. “i don’t know. maybe it doesn’t. i’ve just never really thought about it until now.”

you frowned, unsure what to make of the sudden shift in the conversation. “you’ve never thought about it?”

timothée shifted, his body facing the city now, but his eyes seemed unfocused. “i mean, not like this. not… seeing you with someone else. it’s strange. i guess i’ve always kind of assumed you’d be around. always.”

there was something in his voice, something almost… vulnerable. but it wasn’t obvious, not in the way you’d expect. it wasn’t even a confession. it was just a thought, slipping out when it wasn’t supposed to.

you didn’t know how to respond. all you could do was stand there, absorbing the weight of his words without fully understanding them.

after a long pause, you spoke, quieter now. “you don’t have to worry about me. i’m not… i’m not going anywhere.”

he turned to look at you, his expression unreadable. for a moment, he didn’t speak. then, his lips parted, but the words didn’t come. he swallowed, a flicker of something in his eyes, before he nodded.

“yeah,” he said, his voice softer now, as if he’d said everything he needed to without even meaning to. “i guess i’m just… not used to things changing.”

the silence between you stretched, but it wasn’t uncomfortable. it was… understanding, like two people standing on the edge of something they couldn’t quite name, unsure of where to step next.

you looked back at the city, the lights twinkling in the distance. “things don’t always change the way we expect,” you said, your voice distant, almost thoughtful.

timothée didn’t respond immediately, but you felt him beside you, a presence you couldn’t quite define.

“yeah,” he murmured after a beat, his tone quieter now. “i guess not.”

neither of you spoke for a while. the night stretched on, the city buzzing below, and the weight of the moment seemed to hang there, unspoken, yet understood.

finally, you sighed softly and turned back toward the window, feeling the pull of the warmth inside. timothée lingered a little longer, watching you, before he followed.

the door closed behind him, and the noise of the party seemed to rush back in. but somehow, things felt a little different. less urgent. like maybe, for just a moment, you’d stepped away from it all.

⋆˚ 𝜗𝜚˚⋆

fridays always had something magical about them, something that unfolded in the air with the same naturalness as a tradition that didn’t need to be spoken. the hours passed differently on those nights, when routine faded away and the world outside seemed distant, not so urgent, not so fast. together, fridays belonged to the two of you, and nothing else mattered. it was as if time had been molded for those moments, where the small kitchen and soft laughter created a bubble that no one else could invade.

timothée arrived late, as usual. the door opened, and he rushed in, grocery bags swinging in his hands. he wasn’t in too much of a hurry, but you knew he was somehow anxious. his smile, that half-crooked grin, was there, but there was something different in his eyes, something more restrained.

“i brought wine,” he said, in the laid-back tone of someone trying not to make it a big deal, but failing in the effort. “and taco ingredients. for a change, you know?”

you raised an eyebrow, a half-smile forming. “tacos? you know we always put too much spice, right?”

he laughed, setting the bags on the counter. “that’s part of the charm. we can’t make tacos without a little bit of excitement.”

you couldn’t help but smile, as you always did. his little remarks had that power — making the simple feel grand. though you weren’t exactly sure what it was, you felt there was something in timothée that made the nights stretch and warm up, without needing much else.

as you organized the ingredients, your movements were so automatic that they seemed choreographed, as if the years of cooking together had etched each gesture into your body. timothée cut the vegetables with his usual concentration, but there was something more in this moment, something you couldn’t quite put into words. the kitchen’s ambiance, the soft lighting, the interrupted laughter… everything seemed to carry a different weight, a subtle tension you couldn’t identify.

“remember that time we tried to make sushi?” timothée asked, his voice low, his laugh overtaking his tone.

you looked up, laughing instantly. “how could i forget? it was a complete disaster. the rice stuck to everything. even the cat felt sorry for us.”

“but still, it was fun,” he said, smiling to himself. “even when nothing went right, it always felt… right in the end.”

and you agreed with a nod, feeling a silent connection that, somehow, never faded, no matter how much life changed. it was as if this moment, this night, was more than just food and conversation — it was a reflection of something you had built together, but that you both knew was undefined.

the food was delicious. the tacos, perhaps slightly too spicy as usual, but perfect in a way only the two of you knew how to make. you sat on the couch after dinner, the empty plates and wine glasses being refilled again, as if there was nothing else to do but enjoy the night.

the movie started, one of those classics you’d watched so many times you could recite the lines without making a mistake. the images on the screen were familiar, but as you looked to the side, you noticed there was something new in that place — and it wasn’t just the movie playing. it was the silence that filled the spaces between you, the way the words were becoming slower, as if the air had thickened.

timothée was lying on the couch, his head resting against the cushion, but his eyes seemed to wander into the void. the movie continued, but he wasn’t there. or rather, he was there, but it seemed as though he was lost in something you didn’t know how to access.

and you, sitting beside him, didn’t know what to do with the growing sense of discomfort. it wasn’t discomfort in the usual sense of the word. it wasn’t something bad, but rather… something that made the space between you two feel heavier, more intense.

you pulled your legs up, drawing them close to your chest, the automatic position of someone seeking a bit of comfort. timothée’s gaze never left the screen, but you could feel, in every tense muscle, that he was aware of your presence — more than you could comprehend.

for a moment, you weren’t sure if you were being watched, but somehow, you felt the weight of his attention on you. the way he was lying, still, seemed to communicate something more, as if he was holding onto something he wasn’t willing to share. it stirred something in you, subtly, but deeply.

then, without intending to, your eyes met. the instant it happened, you tried to quickly look away, but something in his gaze held you. there was a warmth there, an intensity that didn’t make sense, as though the mere act of eye contact had shattered the fragile line between who you were and what you could be. the movie kept playing, but neither of you was paying attention to the screen anymore.

“why are you looking at me like that?” timothée’s question came softly, but it carried something you couldn’t identify.

“i wasn’t looking,” you replied automatically, defensiveness taking over. but the answer felt hollow, and you knew it.

“yes, you were.” he smiled, but it was a brief smile, almost as though he had just realized something he didn’t want to. something he didn’t want you to see.

you laughed, trying to deflect the tension that now hung in the air. “you’re so conceited.”

“and you’re a terrible liar,” he replied, with the usual lightness, but his voice sounded a little deeper. his laugh didn’t reach his eyes, and that made your heart beat a little faster, out of sync.

time seemed to stretch around you both, and for a moment, all that remained was that silence, intertwining into something undefined. you both knew there was something more there, but neither of you seemed capable of talking about it. it was easier to ignore. it was easier to let the words get lost in the air, never taking shape.

when the movie ended and the credits began to roll, you both remained silent. the kind of silence that only exists between two people who share something profound, but don’t know how to express it.

timothée stood up to grab his jacket, but paused at the door. for a moment, it seemed like he was about to say something, but in the end, he just turned to you. his gaze was gentle, but there was an intensity there that couldn’t be ignored.

“good night, chérie,” he said, his voice softer than usual. it wasn’t just a goodbye. it was an unspoken farewell.

you responded, trying to mask the confusion now filling your chest. “good night, timmy.”

and when he finally left, the emptiness that filled the room felt larger than ever. not just because he had left, but because you knew, without a doubt, that something had changed between you two. something neither of you was willing to admit. something hanging in the air, heavy and undeniable.

⋆˚ 𝜗𝜚˚⋆

it was a quiet night, but the silence in the apartment felt like a constant echo, an emptiness slowly expanding as the hours passed. the wind blew through the streets of new york, carrying with it a soft murmur that mixed with the muffled sounds of the city that never sleeps. but inside your home, everything felt calmer, more introspective, as if the world outside had been left behind.

you were sitting on the couch, your legs curled beneath you, your gaze lost in the candle still burning on the low table. your mind, however, was far from those small, flickering flames. your thoughts were elsewhere, on someone else — timothée. it was almost impossible not to think about him now. he was in your mind with an unsettling intensity, a constant presence, as if he had infiltrated every corner of your being, making it hard to breathe without thinking of him.

you had promised yourself you wouldn’t think about it. that you wouldn’t let yourself get lost in that thin line between friendship and something more. but in the past few weeks, the space between you two seemed to have closed, the unspoken words weighing more than anything that had been verbalized. his touch, the lingering glances, the laughter for no apparent reason. everything seemed to point to something beyond what friendship allowed. but at the same time, there was no clarity. he never said anything, and you never dared to. it was as if you both were just… waiting.

the sound of the doorbell pulled you from your thoughts. for a moment, you thought about ignoring it, sinking further into the confusion of your own feelings. but when you looked at the clock, you realized mia should be there. she always showed up unannounced, without explanation, and you never minded. in fact, you liked it, because mia’s visits were always a breath of fresh air in the emotional storm you found yourself in.

when you opened the door, mia stepped in with her wide smile and a look that already said everything. she had this way of sensing things before anyone else, and the concern in her eyes was evidence that, once again, she knew you were distant, lost in your own thoughts.

“you’re not okay, and i already know why,” mia said, setting her bag aside and throwing herself onto the couch beside you. “you’re thinking about him, aren’t you?”

you gave a weak smile, but you couldn’t lie. mia was like a radar, always picking up on what you tried to hide. “yeah. i can’t stop thinking about him. i just… don’t know what to do, mia.”

she looked at you for a moment, her eyebrows slightly furrowed, as if waiting for something more. when you didn’t say anything, she leaned forward a little, letting go of her usual casual tone, replacing it with a seriousness you recognized well.

“i can give you advice, you know that. but the truth is, you already know what’s going on. you just don’t want to admit it.”

you sighed, letting your head fall back against the couch. your gaze fixed on the window, but all you could see was the reflection of your own thoughts. “i don’t know what’s going on. i… feel like something’s changed. he’s changed. or maybe it’s me.”

“it’s not you. i mean, not just you. he’s changed too. it’s not just the way you look at him, you know. he feels it too. i see the way he looks at you when no one’s watching. he cares about you. it’s not just friendship, you can’t ignore that.”

mia’s words hit you like a jolt of electricity. you shut your eyes, trying not to hear. but at the same time, her words seemed to dance around your thoughts, as if they were touching a part of you you’d been trying to silence. it was true. you felt it, but you were scared to admit it.

“he’s… timothée. he’s my best friend, mia. i can’t do this. i can’t mess everything up. what if he doesn’t feel the same? what if everything changes after? i don’t know how to handle that.”

mia laughed, a low, cynical laugh. “i find it funny how you try to convince yourself he doesn’t feel the same, when everyone in the room can see the way he looks at you. when everyone sees how you two behave around each other. there’s no hiding it. but the fear you have of losing him is real, i know that. but it won’t change anything if you don’t talk about it. it’ll keep weighing on you.”

you bit your lip, your breathing becoming more irregular as the thoughts scrambled through your mind. “what if i speak up? what if i take the risk? i can’t do it. i can’t… risk losing everything we have. everything we’ve always had.”

“but you’re already losing everything, aren’t you? it’s already lost, you just won’t admit it. what you have now isn’t friendship, it’s a minefield. you’re both stepping on something much deeper and trying to pretend everything’s fine.”

the silence between you grew heavy. no more words. just the sense of an inevitable future that you didn’t know if you were ready to face. mia’s gaze, firm and deep, disarmed you. you knew she was right, but confronting it, admitting it, felt like ripping a blindfold off your eyes. and you weren’t sure if you were ready to see what was truly in front of you.

“what do i do, mia?” you finally asked, your voice softer, wearier. “what do i do when everything feels so… uncertain?”

mia looked at you, a gentle smile forming on her face. “you do what your heart tells you. no matter what happens. if it’s him, if it’s what you really want, then go after it. no matter how hard it is. no matter if you think you’ll lose everything. if he’s what you need, you’ll have to take the risk. and in the end, it’ll be worth it.”

you closed your eyes for a moment, letting mia’s words sink in, feeling their weight settle within you. as silence filled the room once more, you felt something deeper, something profound. it was time to face yourself. to confront what was there, even if you didn’t know what to do with it yet.

you looked out the window, watching the soft moonlight reflect on the city streets. maybe it was time to finally understand what you were feeling. and more importantly, maybe it was time to understand what he was feeling too.

and as mia remained by your side, you knew there was no turning back. the decision was coming, and the night seemed even quieter, as if waiting for the moment everything would change.

⋆˚ 𝜗𝜚˚⋆

it was one of those nights when time seemed to drag on. the apartment was enveloped in an almost solitary silence, with the yellowish light from the lamp casting soft shadows on the walls. the sound of the wind tapping against the window, the gentle rustling of the leaves outside, seemed to be part of a calm that didn’t match the storm brewing inside of you.

you sat there, next to timothée, with your back against the couch, feet curled up on the cushion while he was more at ease, legs stretched out, his head resting on the edge of the sofa. you were both wrapped in an aura of comfortable intimacy—the familiarity of every friday night. but something was different today. something in the air felt heavier, more tense, like a rope about to snap.

timothée grabbed the remote and changed the channel, but his eyes were no longer on the tv. they were somewhere beyond it, wandering through space, distant. you watched him without him noticing, and in that moment, you felt a subtle, almost invisible distance between the two of you that had never been there before. it was like he was distant, yet closer to you than anything else in the world.

you caught yourself thinking, once again, about what you didn’t say. the feelings you didn’t share. the confusion that took over your mind whenever he was near. how he made everything seem so easy, but at the same time, you knew that inside, he was more closed off than anything you had ever known. what you felt for him—not just friendship, but something bigger, stronger—was about to overflow. you could feel it. the ache in your chest, the warmth in your cheeks, the tension in your shoulders. it was more than the simple desire to be close to him; it was the desire to touch him in a different way, to be more than friends.

he was so distant, but still there, and you could no longer ignore it. the feeling of standing on the edge of an emotional cliff, waiting for him to turn around and see what you were trying to say, but without words. but today, maybe, it would be different. maybe you would finally have the courage to confess. what could go wrong, right?

“timmy,” you began, your voice hesitant, but firmer than you expected. he turned his face toward you, his eyes shining in the dim light of the room.

“yeah?” he didn’t know what you were about to say, but he felt the change in your tone. he always did. you could see the fear starting to appear in his eyes, but he tried to hide it.

you swallowed dryly, your mouth dry, but the urge to say it was stronger. you didn’t want to hide anymore. you couldn’t live in this uncertainty, waiting for him to notice what you felt. but at the same time, a voice inside you begged for you to pull back, to stay silent, as you always had.

“i don’t know how to start, but… i think you deserve to know,” you said, feeling your heart race faster. he stayed silent, waiting. but he didn’t know how much this was tearing you apart, how much you were about to open up in a way you never had before.

“i… i think i’m in love with you, timothée.”

the words came out in a nearly imperceptible sigh, but it was as if the world had stopped. everything felt heavier, the sound of the leaves tapping on the window, the silence filling the room, all of it fading as the words hung between the two of you, laden with deep meaning.

timothée didn’t respond immediately, and that made the blood rush faster through your veins. you looked at him, trying to find some answer, anything that would indicate that he felt the same. but there was nothing. nothing you could grasp, nothing you could touch. he was there, but he was somewhere else.

he shifted on the couch, clearly uncomfortable. his expression closed off, his shoulders tense, and for a moment, you thought he was going to laugh, that he would make some joke to break the tension. but he didn’t.

“chérie,” he began, his voice low, almost as if he were trying to find the right words. “i… i don’t know what you expect from me now.”

that sentence was a blow, but you tried to ignore it. it was okay, you could still keep control.

but what happened next was even more painful. he looked at you, his expression serious, his gaze distant, and you somehow realized that he was pulling away from you. not physically, but emotionally. something had changed. he was shutting down again, like he always did when he didn’t want to face what was right in front of him.

“i… i can’t do this, chérie,” he said, now not looking at you, his eyes fixed on the tv screen, but not really seeing it. “i don’t know what you want from me, but i can’t give you that.”

you felt the air leave your lungs, your chest tightening as if you had been punched. “but… why? can’t i be honest with you? what happened to our friendship?”

he sighed, exasperated but not angry. there was no anger. just something else… a pain he was trying to hide. “our friendship… is the only thing i can give you. i can’t give you more than that. i can’t. i don’t want to complicate everything.”

his voice was now more broken, and you could see he was struggling with something inside him, something he didn’t want to admit. you suddenly stood up, the movement abrupt as an attempt to distance yourself from the pain. you didn’t want to hear it anymore. you didn’t want to see him pulling away from you, but there was no choice. he had done it.

“i understand,” you replied, eyes full of tears, but you didn’t want him to see. you didn’t want to show him how much it was tearing you apart. “i just… thought it was more than this.”

you didn’t expect him to say anything more, and he didn’t. silence once again filled the room, heavy and dense. he stood up then, as if escaping from what he couldn’t handle. there were no more words. no more explanations. you felt empty, as if the ground beneath you had dissolved.

before leaving, he looked at you, but his gaze was distant, almost lost. there was no ‘goodnight’ or a smile. just a silent departure. and, the moment the door closed behind him, you felt what remained between the two of you unraveling.

⋆˚ 𝜗𝜚˚⋆

the distance between the two of you had grown unbearably wide. no words, no gestures, not even a glance that lasted more than a few seconds. it was as if the mere fact of being in the same place had become an effort, a trying to walk through a minefield, where any word could destroy everything. the pain was invisible, silent, but it was there, constant, weighing down on your shoulders. and what hurt the most was that you didn’t know exactly what had happened, how what once seemed simple and natural had turned into something you couldn’t touch.

the days were long, and the thoughts, constant. no matter what you did, or where you looked, timothée was always there, in the back of your mind. it was a ghostly presence, a shadow that couldn’t be shaken off. there was something in his eyes when he looked at you, something you couldn’t identify, but that your heart knew. and the words he hadn’t said still echoed in your head, like a silent scream, a deafening silence.

the pain of not knowing what had happened between you two was starting to become unbearable. the emptiness of his absence seemed to stretch through your whole being, until you no longer knew what to do with it. it wasn’t just the physical distance between you, but something much deeper. what did all of this mean? what had been lost?

meanwhile, timothée was in his own silent prison. surrounded by the bustle of his work, the cameras, the interviews, he was, in reality, completely distant. what once seemed to be his perfectly organized life was now a mess. there was no more satisfaction in what he did. he wanted out. he wanted to be with you, but he didn’t know how to reach you. he didn’t know what he would say, or how to explain everything he was feeling. fear paralyzed him. the fear of losing your friendship, the fear that everything would be lost once and for all, the fear that if he allowed himself to feel, something would break that couldn’t be fixed.

and every day that passed without him speaking to you, without him having the courage to admit his own feelings, was a day heavier than the last. the pain of not knowing what to do with this love that he barely understood, that mixed with guilt, frustration, and the fear that by saying the right words, he would lose what he valued most in his life. and you… you were there, distant and cold, and he didn’t know how to reach your heart anymore.

but then, deep in his pain, a decision formed. he couldn’t live in this limbo anymore. he couldn’t hide from his own feelings any longer. fear had consumed him for far too long. he needed to expose himself, to be honest with himself and with you. and if you didn’t want him anymore, he would understand. but he needed to try. he needed to know.

you didn’t know what to expect when you saw his message. after so long without hearing anything, the simple fact that he had found a way to communicate again made your heart race, but at the same time, a wave of uncertainty washed over you. what did he want? the message said: “can we talk?” and you didn’t know what to do with that question, with that doubt that was finally manifesting between you two.

when you arrived at his house, the atmosphere was quiet, familiar, but somehow everything felt strange. as if time had stopped there, and what was between you two was no longer the same. he was there, waiting for you, but there was something in his eyes you couldn’t understand. he had a lost look, as if he were fighting something inside himself. that silence, the lack of words between you, made the place feel oppressive, denser than ever. it was almost as if you could feel the weight of the tension in the air.

he watched you for a moment, as if he didn’t know how to start, as if he were preparing himself for something. but he didn’t speak immediately. the silence between you two dragged on, time seemed to stretch, and finally, you were the one who decided to break it.

“you wanted to talk?” your voice came out low, filled with a bitter expectation, as if by saying those words, you were trying to prepare yourself for whatever he was about to say.

finally, he moved, as if lifting a weight off his chest. he looked directly at you, and that’s when you realized he was nervous. “i’m sorry, chérie,” he said, the words coming slowly, as if they were hard to say. “i… don’t know how to reach you, or what to say. i… was scared.”

you looked at him, confused, the knot in your throat tightening. scared? scared of what? “scared of what?” you asked, feeling your heart race. was it fear, or an excuse? what was he really saying?

he closed his eyes, his expression of pain becoming even more visible, as if he had to force himself to face the truth. “scared of losing you. scared that everything between us would change. scared that if i let my feelings take over, i’d ruin everything. i didn’t know how… didn’t know how to deal with it.”

you stayed silent for a moment, the air between you heavy, tense. you couldn’t process his words properly, didn’t know what to do with everything you were hearing. but then, he moved closer, almost without thinking, his eyes searching yours as if they were waiting for something, a response, a confirmation.

“i love you.” and those words came out softly, almost whispered, but filled with immense weight, as if he were carrying the world on his shoulders.

you didn’t know what to say. that ‘i love you’ seemed so simple, and yet, so complex. it was everything you had wanted to hear, and at the same time, everything you feared. because for a moment, you didn’t know if it was true. but he was there, saying it, looking into your eyes with such intensity that, despite the doubt, you couldn’t deny what you were feeling.

“i… i love you too, timmy.” those words came out of you without you being able to stop them. relief and pain mixed together, and you felt something break inside you—a barrier, perhaps. something that had closed between you two, now opening up.

and, without another word, he pulled you into a kiss. it wasn’t rushed, it wasn’t pushed by any impulse. it was gentle and full of a tenderness that seemed to have taken years to form. as if, in that moment, time stood still and everything was possible again.

when he pulled away, you were both silent, but in a silence that was no longer uncomfortable. it was a silence filled with something much deeper—a understanding, a peace that you hadn’t experienced before.

you smiled, feeling the lightness spread through your body. “finally,” you murmured, and he laughed, a soft, relieved sound. he hugged you tightly, and in that embrace, everything seemed to fall into place all at once. the fear, the pain, the distance… all of it had disappeared. and what remained was only the truth you had finally shared, something that could not be ignored, something that would be the beginning of something new.

now, you were together, and that was all that mattered.

"theodore laurence, a tempest of boyish charm and yearning, forever chasing the melody of a love just out of reach."

hi, lovely! thank youu for the request! you're making me blusshhh 🤗🤗 hope you enjoy it! ᡣ𐭩

୧ ‧₊˚ little miss sunshine

₊⊹ summary: at hogwarts, you and regulus black struggle with unspoken feelings, while your brother james watches closely. as emotions and fears collide, will you both find a way to face the shadows of the past and the uncertainty of the future?

₊⊹ pairing: regulus black x reader, no use of y/n

₊⊹ warnings: reader is james's sister, regulus is a little coward who struggles to confront his own feelings, and overprotective james (and sirius). i think that's it!

₊⊹ author's note: i HATE that tumblr doesn't let me use my cute dividers because of photo limits!! ugh, improve, tumblr!

hogwarts was especially cold that november afternoon. the winds seemed to cut through the castle's stone walls, carrying with them a sense of urgency no one could quite explain. you were walking through the corridors of the third floor, your steps echoing in harmony with your distracted thoughts. the dim light of the torches cast dancing shadows on the walls, but for you, it was just another ordinary afternoon in a place that, despite its magic, no longer seemed so mysterious.

it was when you turned a corner that you saw him up close for the first time. regulus black, leaning against the stone wall as if he were carrying the weight of the entire world on his shoulders. his impeccable posture, the perfectly tailored slytherin uniform, and that distant gaze... he looked like a painting, but not the warm or inviting kind. regulus had the kind of beauty that intimidated, the kind of presence that made anyone hesitate before saying something.

but you weren’t just anyone.

when you saw him there, with an expression as lost as it was impenetrable, you felt an almost natural urge to break that silence. that’s when you noticed he was holding a piece of parchment in his hands, his fingers tense, as if he was on the verge of crumpling it completely.

"need help?” you asked, your voice gentle but clear enough to make it hard for him to ignore.

he lifted his eyes slowly, as though weighing every word he might say. “no.” the response was short, almost rude, but there was something in his tone that didn’t quite match the disdain he seemed to want to project.

you could have walked away, could have simply continued on your way and left regulus with his problems, but there was something about him that sparked your curiosity. not because he was a black, nor because he was james’s best friend’s younger brother, but because, no matter how hard he tried to appear untouchable, regulus black seemed deeply human.

“alright,” you replied with a slight smile, not insisting but also not hiding the calmness you carried with you. "if you ever need anything, just let me know!"

there were no more words between you in that moment. regulus stayed where he was, and you continued on your way. but somehow, that brief encounter seemed to plant a seed that only time could reveal.

it was only the next morning that coincidence—or perhaps destiny, as poets might say—decided to cross your paths again. ending charms class, professor flitwick announced that regulus black would need a tutor. his performance, though acceptable in some areas, was below expectations in advanced spellwork. and to your surprise, yours was the name the professor called for the task.

“you have the patience and talent to help, miss potter,” he said, his voice gentle but firm. “and I believe mr. black could learn a lot from you.”

regulus didn’t say a word. he merely maintained his impassive expression as you nodded.

ᯓᡣ𐭩

the first meetings between you were, to say the least, tense. regulus seemed determined not to make anything easy. he answered your questions with monosyllables, avoided looking directly at you, and rarely stayed longer than necessary.

"you know, if you actually paid attention, you'd improve quicker," you commented once, trying to break the uncomfortable silence as he attempted to execute a basic transfiguration spell.

he didn’t reply immediately. his eyes were fixed on his wand, his jaw clenched. when he finally spoke, his voice came out low and controlled. "I don’t need your help for this."

you just smiled, used to the walls he tried to build around himself. "then why are you here?"

he didn’t answer.

ᯓᡣ𐭩

as the weeks passed, something began to shift. though regulus still maintained his facade of indifference, you noticed small cracks in his armor. he no longer complained as much when he made mistakes and, occasionally, allowed his frustration to show instead of hiding behind silence. in an especially memorable moment, he let out an almost imperceptible 'thank you' after you corrected his posture during a complicated spell.

it was like watching a puzzle slowly come together, piece by piece.

but for regulus, it was more complicated than it seemed. he was used to distrusting everyone, to seeing kindness as a means to an end. but you... you were different. there were no ulterior motives in your gestures, no hidden judgments in your words. and that unsettled him.

ᯓᡣ𐭩

the days at hogwarts were always hectic, but you knew you couldn’t escape your older brother’s relentless curiosity for long. james had a particular talent for noticing any change in you, even when it was something you weren’t entirely sure how to put into words. that afternoon, while you were reviewing your notes in the gryffindor common room, he approached with the subtlety of a mountain troll.

"you’ve been spending a lot of time outside the tower lately." the statement wasn’t exactly a question but an invitation for explanations. james sank into the armchair beside you, his eyes gleaming with a mix of concern and mischief only he could muster.

"can’t I study in peace now?" you retorted, trying to hide your smile.

"study?" he raised his eyebrows dramatically. "I know it’s not that. lily mentioned you’ve been spending a lot of time in the library. and you know who else has been there?" he paused for dramatic effect. "regulus black."

the name lingered in the air like a spark about to ignite a fire. you didn’t lift your eyes from the parchment, but you felt james’s piercing gaze.

"professor flitwick asked me to help him with charms, james," you finally responded, keeping your tone calm. "that’s all."

"that’s all?" he repeated, leaning forward as if hoping to extract some hidden truth. "I can’t believe you’re actually wasting your time on him. he’s a black. you know what that means, don’t you?"

you raised your eyes to meet his, and there was something steady in your gaze that made james hesitate for a moment. "I know very well who he is, james. but maybe you don’t."

he frowned, clearly uncomfortable with the idea that you might be defending regulus. "what’s that supposed to mean?"

"it means you can’t judge someone just by their last name, even if that someone is your best friend’s brother or part of a family that’s done terrible things. regulus isn’t perfect, but neither is anyone else. he’s... more complicated than he seems."

james was silent for a moment, the words weighing heavier than usual. finally, he sighed, running a hand through his messy hair. "I just don’t want you to get hurt."

you smiled softly, touching his arm. "I know. but trust me, james. I know what I’m doing."

despite the confident tone in your voice, you knew that trust was still something you were building—for yourself as much as for james. because, even as you tried to see past regulus’s barriers, you weren’t entirely sure if he would ever let you through them.

ᯓᡣ𐭩

the next morning, you walked through the halls of hogwarts with a stack of books balanced in your arms, feeling the weight not just of the paper, but of a thought you couldn’t shake: regulus black. no matter how much you tried to convince yourself he was just a student struggling with charms, there was something about him that made you want to know more. it wasn’t just curiosity; it was a persistent feeling that he carried something he’d never shared with anyone.

when you arrived at the library, there he was, sitting at the same table as always, his expression alternating between focus and frustration. regulus had a habit of running his fingers through his hair when he was irritated, and at that moment, he looked like he was on the verge of pulling it all out.

you approached quietly, placing the books on the table. he looked up, clearly surprised by your arrival, but quickly returned to his guarded posture.

"I brought some things that might help," you said with a light smile, motioning to the books.

"you didn’t have to go through the trouble," he replied, his voice low and slightly rough.

"I wanted to. and frankly, it looks like you need it," you countered, pulling out a chair beside him.

he didn’t respond immediately, just watched as you opened one of the books and started flipping through it. there was something unsettling about the way you seemed so comfortable sitting beside him, as if the walls he’d built around himself meant nothing to you.

"have you always been like this?" he asked suddenly, his voice almost a whisper.

you looked up, confused. "like what?"

"so... persistent."

the comment caught him off guard as much as it did you. he quickly averted his gaze, as though regretting having said something so personal.

"I don’t know if it’s persistence," you replied after a moment, with a calm smile. "but I think I like to believe no one is impossible to reach."

he let out a dry, humorless laugh. "then you believe wrong."

"I don’t think so." you tilted your head, trying to catch his gaze. "you might be reserved, regulus, but that doesn’t mean you’re impossible to understand."

for a moment, he was silent, as if processing your words. then he turned his attention back to the open book, his shoulders tense.

"if you’re so determined to understand me, you might want to reconsider. it’s not always worth it."

"that’s something I get to decide," you said gently, but your determination was unmistakable.

ᯓᡣ𐭩

the nights at hogwarts often invited quiet reflection, but the gryffindor common room rarely adhered to that rule. on that particular evening, you sat near the hearth, reviewing notes while james and sirius engaged in a game of wizard’s chess, their concentration so intense that the pieces almost seemed to sweat with the effort.

“so, how’s it going with the little black?” sirius asked suddenly, his eyes never straying from the board.

james sighed heavily, crossing his arms. “don’t start, sirius.”

“what?” sirius responded, raising his hands in mock innocence. “I just find it curious that my adorable little sister is spending so much time with regulus, of all people.”

“he’s not as bad as you two make him out to be,” you replied, not looking up from your parchment.

james shot you a wary look. “he’s a black. that’s all you need to know.”

“you know that’s not fair,” you said, finally meeting his gaze. “sirius is a black, and look where he is now. regulus is different. he just... didn’t get the same chance to choose.”

“maybe he doesn’t want to choose,” james retorted, though his voice lacked its usual conviction.

“or maybe he’s waiting for someone to show him that it’s possible,” you responded calmly.

sirius let out a soft laugh, but there was no humor in it. “good luck with that. regulus has always been good at pretending he doesn’t need anyone.”

“maybe he needs someone more than he lets on,” you said, returning to your notes, though your thoughts were far from them.

james and sirius continued their banter, but your mind was elsewhere, lingering on regulus—the way he kept everyone at arm's length, how he seemed so adept at hiding his true feelings. you didn’t know why it mattered to you so much, but you were certain you wouldn’t give up.

ᯓᡣ𐭩

the days that followed brought small but noticeable progress. regulus remained his usual guarded self, but there was a shift in his demeanor, as though he was slowly becoming accustomed to your presence. perhaps it was the way you never faltered in the face of his cold indifference, or how you remained determined to treat him with kindness despite his sharp responses.

on a particularly overcast afternoon, you found regulus in the library, as you often did. he was hunched over a parchment, his quill moving with meticulous care, as though he were trying to will the ink into perfection.

“hey, regulus,” you greeted, setting your own books down on the table and taking a seat beside him.

he didn’t answer right away, but his eyes flicked toward you briefly before returning to his work.

“if it’s another book about charms, you can save yourself the trouble,” he said, his voice flat and detached.

you let out a soft laugh. “actually, no. I thought we could try something a bit more practical today.”

he raised an eyebrow, finally turning his gaze toward you. “practical how?”

“like actually casting spells, instead of just studying them.” you tilted your head, a playful smile tugging at your lips. “unless, of course, you’re afraid of making mistakes in front of me.”

“I don’t make mistakes,” he replied automatically, but a faint flush crept into his cheeks, betraying him.

you suppressed a laugh, picking up your wand. “great. then show me the levitation charm.”

he hesitated for a moment, as though weighing the worth of indulging you. but, to your surprise, regulus drew his own wand and murmured the incantation. the feather in front of him lifted a few inches before tumbling back onto the parchment.

you said nothing at first, simply raised your wand and repeated the charm, making the feather float and spin gracefully in the air. when you glanced at regulus, you noticed the frown on his face, his dissatisfaction with himself palpable.

“it wasn’t bad,” you said sincerely. “you just need to relax a little more. spells work better when you’re not so tense.”

“I'm not tense,” he retorted, though there was a hint of irritation in his voice.

you smiled, leaning slightly forward. “if you weren’t, you would have nailed it on the first try.”

he shot a look in your direction, but this time, something was different. a faint, almost imperceptible curve tugged at the corner of his mouth, as if he were trying not to smile.

ᯓᡣ𐭩

as the weeks unfolded, the dynamic between you and regulus gradually shifted, becoming almost comfortable. he remained distant, but there were moments when the ice between you seemed to crack, revealing fleeting glimpses of vulnerability that he couldn't fully conceal from you.

on one particularly cold evening, you found him once again in the library. this time, he was alone, devoid of books or scrolls, simply staring into the emptiness before him.

"is everything alright?" you inquired, sitting beside him without waiting for an invitation.

he took a moment before responding, his gaze fixed on an invisible point in the distance. when he finally spoke, his voice was quiet, tinged with uncertainty.

"sometimes, I wonder what I'm doing here," he confessed, not meeting your eyes.

you furrowed your brow in confusion. "at hogwarts?"

"no," he replied, his voice soft. "here. with you." he turned to face you, and there was something in his expression that made your heart tighten. "I don't know why you care so much. no one ever has."

his words struck you unexpectedly, and you could see the vulnerability in his eyes. regulus wasn't accustomed to acknowledging his weaknesses, not even to himself.

"perhaps because I see something in you that you don't see," you answered gently.

he let out a short, bitter laugh, shaking his head in disbelief. "you're fooling yourself."

"maybe," you conceded, but there was an unwavering determination in your voice that made him pause. "but that doesn't mean I'm wrong."

for a moment, neither of you spoke, the silence between you both more profound than any words could express. then, regulus broke the stillness, his gaze shifting away, his expression retreating once more into its familiar mask of indifference.

"you're infuriatingly persistent," he murmured, though there was a trace of warmth in his tone that hadn't been there before.

"and you," you replied with a soft smile, "are infuriatingly stubborn."

for an instant, you could have sworn you saw the faintest curve of a smile tug at the corners of his lips before he concealed it once more beneath his habitual mask.

ᯓᡣ𐭩

the following days were a careful dance between maintaining your friendship with regulus and balancing the constant concern from james. you felt the weight of each conversation, each glance from your brother, as though he were trying to decipher whether your intentions were truly safe. james never directly told you to stay away, but the worry in his eyes spoke louder than any words.

on the other hand, regulus seemed increasingly uncomfortable with the growing closeness between you two. he continued attending your meetings in the library, but his posture was more tense, his comments shorter, and his once-guarded glances were now aimed anywhere but at you.

one afternoon, while reviewing charms, you decided to finally confront him about his growing distance.

"regulus," you began, your voice soft but firm, "what’s going on?"

he didn’t look at you immediately, his eyes fixed on the parchment in front of him. when he finally spoke, his voice was cold, almost cutting.

"I don’t know what you’re talking about."

"you know exactly what I mean." you crossed your arms, leaning slightly forward. "you've been avoiding me, regulus. you can hardly look at me."

he finally lifted his eyes, but what you saw there wasn’t anger or coldness; it was fear.

"I'm not avoiding you," he said, but the lack of conviction in his voice betrayed him.

you sighed, shaking your head. "you can lie to yourself, but not to me."

he closed his eyes for a moment, breathing deeply before meeting your gaze again. "maybe it’s better this way. maybe I should just stay away."

his words hit you like a punch, but you didn’t retreat. "why? what have I done to deserve this?"

he hesitated, the internal struggle clearly written on his face. "it’s not you... it’s me."

"that’s a ridiculous excuse, regulus." your voice trembled slightly, but you kept it steady. "you’ve been pushing me away because you're afraid. afraid to open up, afraid to care."

"and what if I am?" he shot back, his voice finally rising. "what if I’m afraid? because that’s what you do. you come into my life, break down all my barriers, and I don’t know how to deal with that!"

the silence that followed was deafening. you could see the vulnerability in his eyes, the confession torn from him like it was too painful to say.

"I never wanted to hurt you," you said, softly but with the strength needed to reach his heart.

he turned his gaze away, his shoulders slumping slightly. "I don’t know how to be... this. how to be someone who deserves you."

"you don’t need to be perfect, regulus. you just need to be you."

he looked at you again, and for a moment, it seemed like he was about to say something more. but then he closed off, muttering something inaudible before quickly standing up and leaving the library, leaving you alone with the weight of the conversation.

ᯓᡣ𐭩

later that evening, you found james in the common room. he was laughing at something sirius had said, but when he saw you, his expression changed instantly.

"what’s wrong?" he asked, rising to approach you.

you hesitated for a moment before collapsing onto the couch next to him, the words spilling out in a rush. you told him about regulus, about his hesitant confession, and the fear that seemed to control him.

james stayed silent as he listened, his jaw clenched and his brows furrowed. when you finished, he ran a hand through his hair, clearly struggling with his own emotions.

"I don’t like this, you know? you and him. I don’t think it’s a good idea."

"I know," you said, tired. "but I care about him, james. and I think he cares about me too, even if he’s too afraid to admit it."

james let out a long, heavy sigh, shaking his head. "you know, sometimes you’re just as stubborn as I am."

you smiled faintly but didn’t say anything, waiting for him to continue.

"if you really believe he’s worth it, then go ahead. but if he hurts you..." james stopped, his expression darkening. "he’s going to have to deal with me."

you nodded, touched by your brother’s protectiveness, even if he didn’t fully approve of your choices.

ᯓᡣ𐭩

the library was nearly empty, the sun sinking low on the horizon, casting long shadows between the shelves. you found him sitting at the same table as always, but something was different. regulus appeared drained, his shoulders slumped, his hands gripping the parchment in front of him as though it were the only thing anchoring him to reality.

you approached slowly, the sound of your footsteps the only break in the quiet. he didn’t lift his head until you were seated, his eyes meeting yours with a mixture of guilt and resignation.

"I didn’t think I’d see you here anymore," he said, breaking the silence, but not the tension that lingered between you.

he didn’t meet your gaze, his fingers tapping on the parchment. "I didn’t plan to come."

you waited, sensing there was more beneath his words. regulus black never did anything without a reason, and something in his expression suggested he was teetering on the edge of something deeper.

"I don’t know how to start," he admitted, finally looking at you again. his eyes were darker than usual, heavy with something he couldn’t share.

"then don’t start. just say it," you encouraged gently, your voice soft but firm, urging him to break down the walls he had built.

he let out a short, humorless laugh, the sound hollow in the stillness of the library. "you make it sound so easy."

"because it is, regulus. you just have to be honest."

he shook his head, his lips pressed into a tight line. "honesty isn’t something I was taught to value. I was raised to lie, manipulate, hide. and now... now, I don’t even know who I am anymore."

the words hit you like a blow, and you could feel the raw pain in his voice. but you didn’t pull away, didn’t flinch at the vulnerability he was offering, however painful it was for him.

"maybe it’s time to find out, regulus. maybe it’s time to stop being who they want you to be and start being who you really are."

he closed his eyes, his shoulders trembling slightly as though he were fighting something inside. "I tried to push you away because I thought it would be better that way. I thought if i didn’t care, I couldn’t hurt you. but the more I push away, the more I realize that... I can’t. I can’t forget you."

the words came out with such intensity that they almost stole the breath from your lungs. you knew regulus had feelings for you, but hearing it directly from his lips, laden with so much pain and hesitation, was overwhelming.

"why do you think you’d hurt me?" you asked, leaning forward slightly, as if you could bridge the emotional gap he’d created.

"because it’s what I do," he replied, his voice low and rough. "everything I touch shatters. my family, my brother, my future... everything. I’m not someone who deserves... this."

"this what?" you pressed, your voice breaking slightly. "reg, tell me. be honest."

he hesitated, his eyes locking onto yours with a kind of unbearable intensity. "you. I don’t deserve you."

the silence that followed was suffocating. you could feel the weight of his words, the pain behind them, and above all, the fear that regulus carried with him like a shattered shield.

"don’t you see?" you whispered, trying to keep your voice steady. "I chose you. with all your imperfections, your fears, your insecurities. I chose you because I see who you really are, and that’s more than enough for me."

he laughed again, but this time, there was something broken in the sound. "and what if I can’t live up to that? what if I fail you, just like I failed everyone else?"

you moved closer, reaching out to touch his hand. he hesitated, but didn’t pull away, his eyes locked on the gentle touch of your fingers.

"then fail," you said, your voice full of emotion. "fail as many times as it takes. but stop hiding, regulus. stop pushing me away, because I’m not going anywhere."

he finally broke, his shoulders slumping as a tremulous sigh escaped his lips. "I’m so scared..."

"I know," you replied, squeezing his hand gently. "but you don’t have to face it alone."

and in that moment, something shifted. it wasn’t a dramatic break or a sudden revelation, but a quiet understanding that passed between you. regulus was still broken, still battling his own demons, but for the first time, he was allowing you to help him carry the weight.

when he finally looked up at you again, there was a new determination in his eyes. a glimmer of hope that, though small, was enough to begin with.

"I don’t know how to do this, I..." he admitted.

"then let’s figure it out together," you said, and for the first time, he didn’t pull away.

the touch of his hand on yours felt like the only bridge between fear and desire, between pain and hope. regulus was vulnerable, more exposed than he had ever allowed himself to be, and you could feel the fragility in every ounce of courage he was trying to summon.

he didn’t pull away, didn’t shy away from the touch, and for the first time, something inside him seemed to give way. the look he gave you, full of insecurity, was also a silent plea. "don’t let me go."

without a word, you leaned in slightly, your face only inches from his. the rhythm of your hearts seemed to align, as though the world around you had faded away, leaving only the two of you in that moment of pure vulnerability.

regulus’s breathing was uneven, as though the weight of his own uncertainty was choking him, but there was something in his eyes—something deep and desperate—that made you hesitate for no longer. your gaze dropped to his lips, the same lips that were so close, yet so far away, like a promise that had never been kept.

he swallowed hard, his eyes flickering between your lips and your eyes, the tension in the air almost palpable. you could see the inner struggle on his face, the battle between the fear of surrendering and the desire to finally give in to what you both knew was inevitable.

"I’m not sure if..." he started to say, but his words trailed off as you, gently and softly, pressed your lips to his.

the kiss was tentative at first, a light touch, as though you both were testing the boundaries of what was safe. but soon, the tenderness grew into something more urgent, more profound. regulus, hesitant at first, began to surrender to the kiss, his fingers tightening around yours, and the kiss deepened, as if every movement was an attempt to unravel the knots of fear that had bound him for so long.

the taste of his kiss was both familiar and new—a blend of frustration and yearning, of insecurity and hope. it was as if, in surrendering to you, he was allowing himself, for the first time, to be more than the expectations placed on him. more than the mistakes of his past.

regulus’s hands, once tense and restrained, now moved with greater confidence, his expression, once closed and distant, now open in quiet surrender. he pulled you closer, as if to reassure himself that you were there, that you weren’t leaving, and you gave yourself to him with the same intensity, meeting his desire and his fear with the same certainty.

when you finally parted, your breath was heavy, ragged, and the world seemed to pause for a moment. regulus kept his eyes closed for a beat, as if allowing himself to feel that moment completely, before opening them and looking at you with something that, for the first time, was pure.

"I don’t... I don’t know what this means," he murmured, his voice trembling.

you smiled softly, your fingers brushing his face gently. "we don’t need to know right now, regulus. we’ll figure it out together."

and, for the first time, he didn’t pull away, didn’t try to protect himself. the insecurity was still there, but there was something new—an inkling that maybe, just maybe, the fear was no longer stronger than the connection beginning to grow between you.

hi, my dear! thank you so much for the request. i’m truly sorry for what you’re going through, and i sincerely wish you all the strength and peace. i don’t mind writing about this at all, and i did it with great care—i hope it resonates with you!

୧ ‧₊˚ gentle whispers

₊⊹ summary: on a quiet afternoon in concord, laurie and reader share tender moments of affection and care. as they navigate the challenges of the reader’s journey, laurie’s gentle love provides a comforting and safe space, where every touch and gesture speaks of patience, understanding, and a love that doesn’t rush. ogether, they find solace in each other’s presence, and in that, a little peace.

₊⊹ pairing: theodore laurence x fem!reader

₊⊹ warnings: mentions of anorexia, emotional support and comfort. no explicit content.

the afternoon in concord unfolded with a soft serenity. sunlight filtered gently through the window, casting warm, golden beams across the room. the comforting scent of freshly baked cake filled the air, mingling with the soft strains of music that laurie had set to play in the background. he was in the kitchen, preparing something simple yet imbued with his careful touch—a touch that made everything feel loved. meanwhile, you nestled into the couch, wrapped in the blanket laurie had given you last winter, your favorite spot in the house, where you felt most at ease.

laurie soon appeared in the living room, a cup of hot tea in hand, just as he always did on days like this. his steps were measured, his expression soft, and his smile—the one that always made you feel like you were home—spread across his face. there was no rush, no expectation, only the quiet understanding that you were there together, in that peaceful moment.

“I brought you something,” he said, his voice gentle as he placed the cup in your hands. his fingers brushed against yours for a fleeting moment, and you felt the familiar warmth of his touch, grounding and comforting.

“thank you, laurie,” you murmured, your voice soft, but filled with gratitude. his gesture, so simple in nature, felt like the entire world in that moment. laurie didn’t need grand declarations to show how much he cared; he spoke through his actions, every little thing he did reflecting his love for you. he did it all quietly, without fanfare, yet every moment felt significant.

he sat beside you on the couch, his body leaning in close. without saying a word, his arm draped around your shoulders, pulling you gently toward him. you leaned into him, feeling his warmth, the scent of his cologne—a mix of comfort and familiarity. laurie never pressed you; he simply let you be, waiting with quiet patience to offer the care and affection you needed in your own time.

the minutes slipped by in an easy silence, one that was neither awkward nor strained, but one that spoke volumes—each breath, each small touch filled with an unspoken understanding. laurie’s lips brushed your forehead in a soft kiss, so tender that it almost felt like a promise. you closed your eyes for a moment, feeling his gentle affection seep into you, as if it was enough to soothe everything inside.

"are you alright?" he asked, his voice soft, his gaze filled with concern. he looked at you with such attentiveness, aware that sometimes words were unnecessary, but he needed to make sure you were truly okay, that you were feeling as comfortable as you appeared.

“yeah,” you whispered, clutching the warm cup a little tighter, as though its stability offered you a sense of calm. “I'm just tired, that’s all.”

he nodded, his understanding clear without any further need for explanation. laurie didn’t demand answers; he simply knew that sometimes silence was the most honest response. he respected that. he was there for you, unconditionally—no judgment, no rush. he understood the importance of allowing space and time, and he was more than willing to provide both.

“I'm so glad you’re here,” you said quietly, turning your head to look at him. “sometimes, when everything feels heavy, I just want to hide from the world. but with you... I feel lighter.”

laurie’s smile was soft, reassuring. there was a tenderness to it that made you feel protected, cherished. without a word, he leaned down, his lips meeting yours in a gentle kiss. it was not a kiss of urgency, but one of quiet affection—a kiss that conveyed more than any spoken words ever could. you felt his love in every delicate touch, in the way his lips lingered for just a moment longer than usual, as if he wanted to make sure you knew how much he cared.

“I’ll always be here,” he whispered when he pulled away, his fingers tracing the curve of your cheek, a touch so gentle it felt like a caress for your soul. “you’ll never have to go through this alone.”

you felt the truth of his words settle into your chest, and in that moment, it felt as though the weight of the world had been lifted, if only for a while. you nestled into his side, the steady rhythm of his breathing a comfort against your ear, his arms wrapping around you, pulling you in closer. it was an embrace that spoke of safety, of love—unconditional, unwavering. he enveloped you not just with his body, but with a quiet, unspoken promise to always care for you.

“I love you, laurie,” you murmured, your voice full of warmth, your heart aching with the depth of the feeling.

he smiled softly, a smile that reached his eyes, and kissed the top of your head. “I love you too, sweetheart. and I'll always be here, supporting you in everything.”

the rest of the afternoon drifted by slowly, wrapped in a gentle cocoon of affection. there were no expectations, no pressure—only shared moments of laughter, whispered words, and soft caresses. laurie didn’t need you to be anything other than yourself. he didn’t rush you. he was just there—present and loving, offering a kind of love that made everything feel softer, safer.

at one point, laurie took your hand in his, gently bringing it to his face and pressing a soft kiss to the palm of your hand. “I know it’s not always easy,” he murmured, his voice low and tender. “but I want you to remember, even when things feel hard, you always have a home with me. you have my love, and with that, you’ll never be alone.”

and in that moment, nestled against him, you felt at peace. with laurie, the struggles felt more manageable, the weight of the world just a little less burdensome. he knew when to offer comfort and when to give space, how to offer both silence and support in ways that made everything feel just a little more bearable.

laurie kissed you again, this time with more intention, with all the love and affection he had to give. it was a kiss that spoke of everything he felt for you—the tenderness, the care, the devotion. and as you kissed him back, you knew, with every fiber of your being, that despite the difficulties, despite everything, life would always be softer, more beautiful, with him by your side.

as the day slowly came to an end, and the sun began to set, you and laurie were still on the couch, entwined in one another’s arms. soft touches, shared smiles, and the kind of love that felt vast and comforting, like it could fill the entire world. laurie held you once more, and you let yourself surrender to the warmth of his embrace, feeling, in that moment, that you had truly found your home.

(Also, sorry if it’s kinda off, this is my first time requesting something 😅)

thank you for your request—it means a lot! I hope you enjoy it!

୧ ‧₊˚ something different

₊⊹ summary: your quiet kindness catches james potter’s eye, leading to an unexpected conversation and an offer that might change everything.

₊⊹ pairing: james potter x hufflepuff!reader

₊⊹ warnings: maybe one...? use of y/n, besides that, nothing!

it was a lazy autumn morning, and the great hall was bathed in golden light streaming through the stained glass windows. you were sitting at the hufflepuff table, the smell of toast and coffee mingling with the cheerful chatter of students around you.

lily evans, as always, was beside you, gesturing animatedly as she talked about the upcoming arithmancy class, something that seemed to excite her more than anything else that week.

"I need to finish this reading before class, but the library is unbearably crowded." lily sighed, turning the page of her notebook impatiently.

"we could go earlier, if you want." you suggested, taking a bite of the apple on your plate.

before lily could respond, a noise from the gryffindor table caught her attention. it wasn't uncommon for the marauders to be the center of attention in the hall, but that particular morning, it seemed sirius black was exaggerating even more.

he was laughing loudly, gesturing as he told some absurd story to peter pettigrew, who could hardly contain his tears from laughing so much. remus lupin seemed bored, focused on his coffee, but james potter...

you knew james potter was always noticed. tall, with messy hair and that confident smile, he seemed to radiate energy.

but that morning, he wasn't looking at sirius or peter. he was looking at lily.

"you're aware that james has been staring at you for the past ten minutes, aren't you?" you said, trying to sound casual.

lily rolled her eyes, "he's always staring."

you chuckled softly, but couldn't help but glance at james. he quickly looked away, as if he didn't want to be caught. there was something about him you could never fully understand. james was a force of nature, but he also seemed to carry something more. something he rarely let show.

that afternoon, you and lily went to the library as planned. the place was quieter than usual, which was a pleasant surprise.

while lily got lost in books on ancient runes, you decided to explore the herbology section. you were so focused on a volume about magical plants that you didn't notice when remus lupin appeared beside you.

"this one's good, but the author exaggerates the properties of mistletoe." remus's voice was calm, almost musical.

you looked at him, surprised, "you've read this book?"

remus shrugged, a small smile on his lips.

"I read everything."

it was easy to talk to remus. he had a calm presence that made you feel at ease, and his observations were always interesting. you ended up spending more time talking than studying, exchanging comments about the professors and classes.

"you're different from the rest of them, you know?" you commented at one point, referring to the marauders.

remus laughed, but there was something melancholic in his gaze.

"they're not as bad as they seem once you get to know them, trust me."

before you could respond, sirius appeared.

"moony, are you stealing evans's friend?" he teased, leaning against the shelf beside you.

you felt your face heat up, but remus just rolled his eyes. "cease it, sirius. don’t bother her."

sirius smiled mischievously, but then his gaze fell on you.

"careful, darling. staying too close to us can be dangerous."

there was something in the way he said that that seemed half-serious, but before you could ask what he meant, sirius was already pulling remus away.

it was late afternoon, and the castle corridors were bathed in warm light filtering through the stained glass windows. james potter was alone, something rare. he had left the quidditch practice early, claiming he needed to fetch a book from the library.

as he walked down the corridor, something caught his attention. a first-year student was kneeling on the floor, desperately trying to gather a handful of scattered papers.

she seemed frustrated, almost crying, but no one around seemed to notice her struggle.

then he saw you.

you were coming down the stairs and stopped immediately upon seeing the scene. james stood where he was, curious, watching.

you approached the girl carefully, without haste, and knelt beside her.

"hey, need help?" you asked, your voice soft and gentle.

the girl looked up, hesitant, but eventually nodded.

as you gathered the papers, you organized them carefully, murmuring words of comfort.

"don't say that, everyone makes mistakes sometimes," you said when she apologized.

james stood still, his heart beating faster than he expected. there was something different about you. something he couldn't ignore.

and, for the first time in years, lily evans was not the only person on his mind.

in the days that followed, james couldn't get the scene out of his head—you helping that first-year student as if it were the most natural thing in the world. he didn't know why, but there was something about that gesture that seemed to encapsulate everything he had begun to notice about you.

in transfiguration class, he saw how you bit the tip of your quill while listening attentively to professor mcgonagall's explanations. during breaks, he noticed how you always made sure to divide your time equally among friends, ensuring no one felt left out.

james didn't know how he had never noticed these things before. or maybe he did. but had been so focused on lily for so long that he had never allowed himself to look around.

now, he was looking.

it was a particularly cold night, and you were leaving the library with lily. the hours had slipped by as you reviewed for the upcoming charms exam, and now the corridors were almost deserted.

"I thought my fingers would fall off after writing so much." you said, shrinking against the cold wind that passed through the slightly open windows.

lily smiled, adjusting her scarf around her neck. "don't complain, at least you know you'll ace the exam."

before you could respond, the sound of footsteps echoed down the corridor, and an unmistakable voice caught your attention.

"evans! thought I'd find you here."

it was james. he had that mischievous smile on his face but seemed less intense than usual. lily sighed, but he ignored her and looked at you.

"hey, hufflepuff," he said, his eyes shining for a moment before turning back to lily. "I need to talk to you about the prefect meeting."

lily hesitated but eventually nodded. "okay, but make it quick, potter."

as they moved away to talk, you leaned against the wall, watching the torches flicker in the darkness of the corridor. a few minutes later, james returned alone, his face slightly flushed from the cold.

"she's always like that with you?" you asked, without thinking.

james chuckled, a low and genuine sound. "always. but I guess I've gotten used to it."

"you're persistent, that's for sure."

he raised an eyebrow, surprised by the comment. "is that good or bad?"

you shrugged, a small smile on your lips. "depends on who's on the other side."

james fell silent for a moment, just watching you. it was as if he was trying to figure something out, as if, for the first time, he didn't quite know what to say.

"you know, you're different," he said finally, his tone softer than usual.

you frowned, confused. "different how?"

"I don't know. just... different. good different."

before you could say anything, lily called for you from the other end of the corridor. you gave james one last look before joining her, leaving him standing there, alone.

that night, as you tried to sleep, the conversation with james wouldn't leave your mind. there was something in the way he spoke to you, something that felt... different.

meanwhile, james was sitting in front of the fireplace in the gryffindor common room, lost in thought. sirius tossed a crumpled piece of parchment into the air, clearly bored.

"what's with you today?" sirius asked, tossing the parchment in james's direction.

"just thinking."

"about who?" remus asked, raising an eyebrow.

james hesitated for a moment before answering. "y/n."

the silence that followed was brief but loaded.

"y/n?" sirius repeated, surprised. "no offense, she's great, beautiful too, but... she's not evans."

james sighed, running a hand through his hair. "I know. and that's what's confusing me."

remus smiled but didn't say anything, leaving james lost in his own thoughts.

in the following week, james began to approach you more, subtly but noticeably. he asked questions about classes, helped you carry your books when he saw you were overloaded, and even started showing up in the library more often.

at first, you thought it was a coincidence, but soon you realized it wasn't. and, to your surprise, you didn't mind.

one afternoon, as you walked together through the gardens, james looked at you with a smile that seemed to carry more meaning than he was willing to admit.

"you know... these days, you’ve been the brightest moment for me without even realizing it." he said, straightforwardly, a faint flush of color warmed his cheeks.

you stopped, surprised, "what?"

"I'm serious. I... I don't know how to explain it, but... you make things seem easier."

there was something in his sincerity that made your heart beat faster.

"james... I..." you began, but he interrupted you, gently holding your hand.

"I know we have our differences, but... how about we go out tomorrow night? just the two of us. we can have dinner in hogsmeade, maybe. what do you think?"

you looked at him, feeling a warmth spread through your chest. you never imagined that james potter, the mischievous and sweet boy, would make such an intimate invitation, specially to you.

"I'd love to," you replied, smiling shyly.

he smiled back, squeezing your hand.

"then it's a date. tomorrow night, at seven o'clock, at the main entrance. don't be late."

you laughed, shaking your head.

"I'm not the one who's late here, potter."

"true," he agreed, "but I'll wait for you anyway. I always will."

'is it better to speak or to die?'

₊⊹ summary: after years apart, reader returns to the villa, where memories and emotions intertwine. in the presence of elio, the air thickens with unspoken words and lingering glances. as they navigate the delicate dance of reconnection, every shared moment becomes a step toward rediscovering a bond that time had only deepened.

₊⊹ pairing: elio perlman x reader (no use of y/n)

₊⊹ warnings: none! maybe bad writing... sorry...

₊⊹ author's note: this was requested by someone, but I accidentally lost the request. I’m really sorry! :(

the villa stood at the edge of the world, nestled among the hills where the sun lingered a little longer, painting the landscape in shades of gold. it was a place that felt out of time, a retreat where days unraveled slowly, where the air seemed to hum with the weight of memories. you had come here, seeking solace from the pressures of life, yearning for the quietude that this place promised. yet, it was hard to ignore the quiet unrest stirring within you, an undercurrent that had been with you since you first learned that elio would be here.

the news, shared by beatrice, your childhood best friend, in her usual casual manner, had come as a surprise. elio. you hadn't seen him in years. not since that summer that was now little more than a distant blur of moments—half-remembered touches, stolen glances, the sharp, fleeting intensity of youth. yet, somehow, hearing his name again felt like stirring something you hadn’t fully understood. your pulse quickened, and there was a knot in your chest that you hadn’t anticipated. still, you didn’t let it show. you couldn’t.

beatrice greeted you warmly when you arrived, her embrace familiar and comforting. her smile had that same warmth that always made you feel at ease, as if nothing had changed. but there was something different in her eyes, a quiet knowing that you couldn’t quite place. she spoke of the past, of summers spent in this very place, but also of the present—of elio’s return. as her words floated in the air, you couldn’t shake the feeling that this summer, too, would be different, though you had no way of knowing how.

as the evening stretched into twilight, the villa came alive with the sounds of laughter and the clinking of glasses. you found yourself sitting at the long wooden table outside, the soft murmur of conversation rising and falling around you. the air smelled of fresh bread and herbs, and the distant chirping of cicadas added a certain melancholy to the moment. yet, amidst the simplicity of the evening, your thoughts were preoccupied with one thing: elio.

when he finally appeared, it was as though the world shifted just slightly on its axis. you knew he was coming, of course, but seeing him again—after so many years—felt like an unexpected revelation. the lines of his face had changed, though subtly, his youth softened into something quieter, more restrained. his hair still fell in dark, unruly waves, and his eyes—those eyes—still held the same sharpness, the same depth. but there was something more in them now, something unspoken.

he met your gaze across the table, and for a moment, everything else faded. it was as if time itself held its breath. elio’s smile was slight, but it reached his eyes in a way that felt like recognition, though neither of you had spoken a word yet.

"hello," he said, his voice a quiet warmth that felt familiar and distant all at once.

"hi," you replied, your voice faltering slightly more than you'd intended.

there was a brief silence, but it wasn’t uncomfortable. it was more like a question hanging between you two, something you both sensed but hadn’t yet articulated. you found yourself wondering if he felt it too—the way the past lingered between you, the quiet pull that had always been there, unspoken and unresolved.

beatrice, ever the matchmaker in her own way, made a casual comment about elio’s return, and soon enough, you found yourself sitting beside him. the evening unfolded around you, and while you spoke with the others, your attention kept returning to elio. there was an intimacy to the way he listened, the way his gaze would occasionally flicker toward you, as if he were silently observing, waiting for something. you couldn’t quite name the feeling that stirred within you, but it was there, lingering in the background, growing with each passing moment.

the days that followed were less defined by any particular event and more by the subtle shifts that took place between you and elio. he would appear at the oddest moments—alongside you in the garden, casually leaning against the stone walls of the villa, or walking beside you on the narrow paths through the vineyard, his presence an almost tangible thing.

one afternoon, you found yourself wandering the olive groves, your thoughts far away. the light was soft, filtering through the thick branches, and the world seemed to hold its breath in the stillness of the afternoon. you paused, running your fingers over the rough bark of a nearby tree, when you heard elio’s voice behind you.

"you ever feel like you’re not really anywhere, like you’re just waiting for something to happen?" he asked, his tone light, though there was an undercurrent of something deeper.

you turned to face him, meeting his gaze. there was a vulnerability in his eyes that hadn’t been there before, something raw and unguarded.

"I’ve always felt like that," you admitted, your voice softer than you intended. "like there’s always something just beyond reach. and I keep waiting for it to come to me."

he studied you for a moment, and you could feel his words hanging in the air between you, unspoken but understood.

"I think," he began, his gaze dropping for a moment before meeting yours again, "I think I’ve always been waiting for something, too. I just didn’t know what it was."

the silence that followed was not awkward, but filled with a quiet understanding. it was as if, in that moment, you both realized you had been circling around the same feeling for years, though neither of you had ever found the courage to voice it.

later that evening, you found yourself once again seated with luca, your best friend over the years, who had a mischievous grin on his face as he observed you from across the table. his laughter was infectious, and though you had become accustomed to his teasing over the years, this time, there was something different in his eyes. he had always had a way of cutting through the tension between you and elio, whether intentionally or not.

“so,” luca began, casually leaning back in his chair, “how are things with you and elio?”

you glanced at him, surprised by the directness of the question. you hadn’t expected luca to address it so openly.

"what do you mean?" you replied, trying to keep your voice neutral.

luca raised an eyebrow, his grin widening. “oh, come on. you two have been inseparable. spending all that time together, wandering the vineyards, talking about... who knows what.” he gave a playful wink. “it’s pretty obvious, don’t you think?”

you felt your cheeks flush, and you quickly looked away, feeling both defensive and strangely exposed. “there’s nothing going on,” you insisted, though you weren’t entirely sure you believed your own words.

luca chuckled, clearly not buying it. “sure, sure. if you say so. but just so you know, I've got front-row seats to this little drama of yours.”

“drama?” you echoed, raising an eyebrow.

“yeah,” he said, his grin turning sly. “you know. the one where you two pretend you don’t like each other, but we all know it’s only a matter of time.”

you laughed, trying to dismiss the thought, but part of you couldn’t ignore the way your heart raced at luca’s words. it wasn’t the first time someone had mentioned the chemistry between you and elio, but something about hearing it from luca—who had known you both for so long—struck a chord.

the evenings became more like small islands of time, moments you cherished in their simplicity. elio seemed to gravitate toward you in the most unexpected of ways. there was no hurry between you, no rush to define what was happening. but the air between you was thick with the weight of unspoken words, a quiet tension that neither of you could ignore.

one evening, as the sun dipped below the horizon, you found yourself once again alone on the terrace. the villa was quiet, save for the distant rustle of leaves in the wind. the night was cool, and you held a glass of wine loosely in your hand, the faint taste of it lingering on your tongue. you had been lost in thought when you heard elio’s footsteps behind you.

“can we talk?” he asked, his voice hesitant, though his presence was steady.

you turned to face him, surprised by the weight of the moment. elio rarely asked for conversations, and when he did, it was as if every word mattered. he stepped closer, standing just within reach, his gaze intense.

“I... I think I've known for a while,” he began, his voice soft, almost as if he were speaking more to himself than to you. “I think I've known what this is. what I feel when I’m around you. but I never knew how to say it.”

you felt your pulse quicken as you took a step toward him, the distance between you almost nonexistent now. you could feel the heat from his body, the rhythm of his breath, matching your own.

“I’m not sure I know how to say it either,” you whispered, your voice catching in your throat. “but I feel it, too.”

and then, there was no more need for words. his lips met yours softly, tentatively, as if testing the waters of this new reality between you. the kiss deepened slowly, like a slow burn, until it felt like the world had shifted in that single, quiet moment. there was no rush, no need to speak; the silence between you was enough.

when you pulled away, breathless, elio rested his forehead against yours, his eyes closed. “I’ve always known,” he murmured, his voice barely a whisper. “I just never had the courage to admit it.”

and for the first time in years, everything felt perfectly in place.

'it was james, who had an ego the size of a lake, but a heart to match it.'

⋆⁺₊❅. caramel mornings

₊⊹ summary:  james potter, a barista in a quiet café, is used to the routine of early mornings and regulars. that is, until you start coming in every day. as he perfects your caramel latte, the connection between you both deepens—slowly, sweetly, and with a few unspoken thoughts lingering between the conversations. in the simplicity of coffee and shared moments, james begins to realize that what started as a casual encounter might turn into something much more.

₊⊹ pairing: james potter x reader (no use of y/n)

₊⊹ warnings: coffee shop au, nothing just pure fluff! that's my first fic ever, let me know what you think!

james potter hadn’t expected to spend this chapter of his life as a barista. it was supposed to be a temporary gig, something to keep him busy while he figured out his next steps. but after a while, the warm smell of coffee beans and the familiar hum of the shop became a strange kind of comfort, anchoring him in a way he hadn’t realized he needed.

there was a rhythm to the job: the hiss of the espresso machine, the soft murmur of costumers chatting over their drinks, and the occasional chaos of a long line of orders that kept him on his toes. james liked it more than he thought he would, though he’d never admit it to his friends.

and then you walked in, shattering the monotony of his carefully structured days.

the first time he saw you, it was raining. not the light, misty kind of rain that made everything look cinematic, but the kind that came down in sheets, soaking anyone unfortunate enough to be caught outside. you stumbled into the shop, water dripping from your coat and hair, and james’s first thought was that you looked completely out of place in the best possible way.

“hi,” you said, breathless and a little flustered, “can I—uh—just get a coffee, please? whatever you recommend.”

james had blinked at you, his usual confidence momentarily short-circuited. “sure,” he managed, fumbling for a cup. “you trust me with that decision?”

your smile was soft, almost teasing. “why wouldn't I? you look like you know your coffee.”

james grinned despite himself, and as he made your drink—something sweet, with just enough espresso to cut through the rain-induced gloom—he felt a warmth that had nothing to do with the steam rising from the cup.

when he handed it to you, your fingers brushed his for a brief moment. “thanks,” you said, meeting his ocean-colored eyes.

james wanted to say something clever, something to keep you at the counter a little longer, but you’d already turned away, heading for a corner table by the window.

it was only after you left, your empty cup abandoned on the table, that james realized he’d forgotten to ask for your name.

you became a regular after that.

every morning, without fail, you came in at the same time, your arrival as reliable as the sun breaking through the clouds. it didn’t take long for james to memorize your order—a caramel latte, extra foam, with the occasional cinnamon scone if you were feeling indulgent.

at first, you’d linger just long enough to grab your drink before disappearing into the bustle of the day. but over time, you started staying longer, settling into the corner seat that had quickly become your own. you brought books, a notebook, sometimes even a laptop, and james couldn’t help but wonder what you were working on so intently.

“still caramel today?” james asked one morning, flashing you his signature grin.

you glanced up from the menu you were pretending to read, the corners of your mouth quirking upward. “what can I say? I’m a creature of habit.”

james chuckled as he turned to make your drink, his movements fluid and practiced. “I’ll have to come up with something new to tempt you. change things up a bit.”

“oh?” you said, raising an eyebrow. “think you can outdo my usual?”

james slid the cup across the counter with a flourish, a foam heart swirling in the center. “try me.”

you laughed softly, your eyes crinkling at the edges as you took a sip. “hmm. not bad. I might have to start trusting you more.”

james felt a surge of pride, even as he tried to play it cool. “high praise. I’ll take it.”

the days blurred into weeks, and before james knew it, you were as much a part of the shop as the mismatched chairs and the ever-changing chalkboard menu.

he looked forward to seeing you, even on the busiest mornings when the line stretched out the door. he found himself saving the best pastries for you, making sure your latte was always just right, even if it meant starting over three times.

but for every moment of warmth, there was an undercurrent of doubt.

james didn’t know much about you, beyond the small snippets of conversation you shared. he didn’t know what brought you to the shop every day or why your smile sometimes seemed a little forced, like you were carrying more than you let on.

one day, he worked up the nerve to ask.

“rough day?” he asked softly as he handed you your drink.

you hesitated, your fingers tightening around the cup. “something like that...”

james wanted to press, to ask what was bothering you, but he didn’t. instead, he watched as you retreated to your corner table, your shoulders hunched slightly as you opened a book.

he hated seeing you like that, and the helplessness gnawed at him for the rest of the day.

james’ friends loved to tease him about you.

"she’s got you wrapped around her finger, mate,” one of them, sirius black, more specifically, said one evening as they closed up the shop.

james rolled his eyes, but his flushed cheeks gave him away. “it’s not like that.”

“right,” sirius drawled, smirking. “that’s why you’ve been drawing hearts in her lattes.”

james groaned, burying his face in his hands. “shut it, t’s not a big deal."

but it was.

he’d never felt like this before—this nervous, this unsure of himself. he wanted to get to know you, to make you laugh, to be the reason your eyes lit up when you walked through the door.

but what if he wasn’t enough?

the rain was relentless that evening, pounding against the windows in a steady rhythm. the shop was quiet, most of the usual crowd having opted to stay home.

you were the only customer left, your book open on the table as you sipped your latte. james had been stealing glances at you all day, his chest tightening with every passing minute. finally, he couldn’t take it anymore.

he grabbed a fresh cup and started on another latte, pouring the foam with extra care. when it was done, he hesitated for a moment before carrying it over to your table.

“for you,” he said, setting it down gently.

you looked up, startled. “what’s this?”

“call it a… thank you,” james said, scratching the back of his neck. “for being the best part of my mornings.”

your eyes widened slightly, and james felt his pulse quicken. for a moment, neither of you said anything, the sound of rain filling the silence.

“james,” you said softly, your voice barely above a whisper.

he braced himself, his stomach twisting with nerves.

“would you like to sit?” you asked, gesturing to the empty seat across from you.

james blinked, caught off guard. “yeah. yeah, sure, I’d like that.”

he slid into the seat, his heart pounding as he met your gaze. and for the first time, he felt like maybe—just maybe—he wasn’t imagining things.

james sat across from you, fidgeting slightly, uncharacteristically nervous. the rain outside drummed against the windows, a comforting backdrop to the tension building between you.

“thanks... for the coffee,” you said, breaking the silence. you traced a finger along the edge of the cup, your expression thoughtful. “you didn’t have to do that.”

james smiled, a little lopsided, and shrugged. “I wanted to. you’ve been keeping this place interesting.”

you raised an eyebrow. “interesting? is that a good thing or a bad thing?”

“good,” james said quickly, then laughed at himself. “definitely good. I just mean… it’s nice, seeing you here every day. feels like I’ve got something to look forward to.”

your cheeks flushed, and james couldn’t help but notice the way you looked away, shyly smiling. it was a vulnerability he hadn’t seen from you before, and it made his chest ache in a way he didn’t quite understand.

“I could say the same thing,” you admitted softly, your voice almost drowned out by the rain.

james blinked, his heart stuttering. “yeah?”

“yeah,” you said, meeting his eyes. “you’ve made my mornings a little brighter, James.”

he grinned, the boyish charm that always seemed so effortless now lighting up his face. “well, now I feel like I’ve got to up my game. can’t have you thinking I’m getting complacent.”

you laughed, the sound warm and genuine, and james realized he could get used to this—the easy rhythm of being around you, the way you seemed to make the world feel a little less heavy.

the shop closed earlier than usual that night, the storm outside growing too fierce to keep customers lingering. james finished wiping down the counters while you gathered your things, your umbrella still dripping onto the floor.

“let me walk you out,” he said, grabbing his coat.

you hesitated, looking out at the downpour. “you don’t have to do that. I’ll be fine.”

“I know,” james said, holding the door open for you. “but I’d like to.”

you smiled, and james thought he’d do just about anything to see that look on your face again.

the two of you stepped into the rain, your umbrella doing little to shield you from the relentless drops. james stayed close, his shoulder brushing yours as you walked.

“thank you, james...” you said after a while, your voice quiet.

“for what?”

“for caring,” you said simply.

james stopped walking, turning to look at you. “of course I care,” he said, his voice softer now. “I—”

he paused, the words catching in his throat. he wanted to tell you everything—that you were the best part of his day, that he thought about you more than he should, that he’d been falling for you since the moment you walked into his shop. but he didn’t know how to say any of it.

instead, he reached out, his hand brushing yours. “I’m glad you came in that day,” he said finally.

you smiled, your fingers curling around his. “yeah... me too.”