Lettres-de-aphrodite - Igual Que Un Angel

In denial (Pansy Parkinson x reader)

Warnings: none

Summary: for years y/n denied her feelings for Pansy and tries to push them away

It all started when you were 5, you and Pansy lived next door to each other so it was rare that you weren’t playing at each other’s houses. Your favourite game to play was house, you and Pansy always argued about who would be the mum. Both of you were as stubborn as ever and not much has changed in that sense. But even at that time you were wrapped around her finger no matter how stubborn you were, so eventually you let her be the mum and you be the dad.

Neither of you thought at the time that two girls could be married and have a family (made up of stuffed animals and dolls). You loved pretending to be married to each other.

You got into your early teenage years at Hogwarts, Pansy had multiple boyfriends before you even got your first one, you’d not wanted one for a long time. You’d convinced yourself that boys weren’t all that bad and at some stage you’d have to settle down.

You had a couple short term relationships but you weren’t in love with any of them. You saw them as good friends.

Throughout it all you insisted you were straight, that there was no feelings towards Pansy. You thought that up until a couple weeks ago when you and Pansy were left alone in your dorm room.

Pansy climbs onto your bed, you move over making room for her but she gets closer to you, cuddling into your chest.

“I’m cold and lonely” Pansy complains “you broke up with Draco” “I know but I miss our cuddles” Pansy sighs.

“You are terrible at keeping to a decision” “I never said I wanted him back I’m just craving some attention” you put your book to the side and wrap your arms around her.

Pansy looks up at you admiring your features. The way she looked at you, you desperately wanted her lips on yours.

You slowly made your move, your lips ghosting over hers giving her time to object but she invites you in. You close your eyes and press your lips to hers, you could feel her soft lips kissing you back.

Your hands move to her cheek and in her raven hair. Her hands slide underneath your top moving up your back nearing your shoulders. You pull away your lips still close to hers.

“Why’d you stop?” Pansy mutters against your lips “I wanted to give you a chance to back out” “If I wasn’t into this I would’ve backed out” she presses two soft kisses to your lips before she kisses you again.

You’d never kissed someone and felt such a connection. You were both hungry for each other, you never wanted her to let go of you.

Her lips move from yours down your jaw and to your neck sucking light hickeys on your skin. “That feels nice” she sucks a bit harsher catching you off guard, your fingers tangle in her hair pulling on it.

Pansy’s lips detach from your skin and she nuzzles her face into your chest. “Pans, you’re not doing this because you miss Draco, are you?” “No, I want you, only you” “Me too.”

You didn’t want to admit it but Pansy telling you she wanted only you was comforting. If you had Pansy, you could try to come to terms with your sexuality instead of hiding it.

Yasss Jamaica🇯🇲🇯🇲🇯🇲

entry wound.

summary : remus promised never to leave you, but youth is not eternal and his love for you proved to be just as fickle.

warnings : angst! + ridiculously prosey (if that’s a word)

notes : so weird and terrible but i found it in my notes app from forever ago! like or rb if you enjoy this mess at all <3

⇨ remus lupin masterlist.┊ marauders masterlist.

enjoy your youth — the rallying cry of the adult nation. it’s a well meaning mantra repeated by parents and kin to every young fledgling about to fly the nest.

you had always sworn to yourself you would never be damned to such an empty faith; the religion of broken bottles and burnt polaroids littered across a neutral-toned carpet, bitter and angry over the events of your teenage years. and yet you had become exactly what you had most feared. a shell, a receptacle, a husk, an adult. because for you the years you had spent at school were not saturated with beauty but instead snared within the roots of misfortune, turning you into a hollow vessel for pain.

you had always sworn to yourself you would never be damned to such an empty faith; the religion of broken bottles and burnt polaroids littered across a neutral-toned carpet, bitter and angry over the events of your teenage years. and yet you had become exactly what you had most feared. a shell, a receptacle, a husk, an adult. because for you the years you had spent at school were not saturated with beauty but instead snared within the roots of misfortune, turning you into a hollow vessel for pain.

you had always sworn to yourself you would never be damned to such an empty faith; the religion of broken bottles and burnt polaroids littered across a neutral-toned carpet, bitter and angry over the events of your teenage years. and yet you had become exactly what you had most feared. a shell, a receptacle, a husk, an adult. because for you the years you had spent at school were not saturated with beauty but instead snared within the roots of misfortune, turning you into a hollow vessel for pain.

your memories were of a brown-eyed boy. the way the hair at the nape of his neck curled gently around the back of his throat like the tenderest of snakes. the scent of the books he feasted upon, gorging himself on words and printed inky pages. the curve of his mouth, adorned with his hand-rolled cigarettes and expensive alcohol in glasses that gleamed in the aura of wonder that beamed down upon him. the tears in his eyes as he promised you he’d always remember you. that the war wouldn’t change anything. that you’d always be able to close your eyes and picture his arms encircling you, a cage you would willingly submit yourself to, as he twirled you around the room. that uptown girl would always be your song. that he didn’t kiss sirius at the slug club parties and the truth or dare games or on the top of the astronomy tower, and that he would never leave you.

but he forgot you. the war changed him in ways unexplainable with any words in the human dialect. closing your eyes now conjured the picture of a boy defeated, a boy has broken as he broke you down into stardust and bones. told you that love couldn’t, wouldn’t, shouldn’t be enough anymore. you hadn’t felt the caress of those arms in years, the press of his biceps around you, the rhythmic twirling that lulled you into security. uptown girl brought nothing but a sense of agonising loss. and perhaps for you, the relationship had turned sour, a bitter taste in your mouth, the remnants of poison —but that of the holiest concoction, whose saccharine mixture slips down the throat with all the ease of a skater upon the ice. for even though remus has chosen sirius, chosen to destroy the palaces you built with him and shoot your castles out of the air — you were infatuated with him. obsessed with the mere idea of him. everything you’d dreamed was gone, but your burnt polaroids brought you grim satisfaction and your alcohol numbed the overwhelming beige that you were drowning in.

for long ago, the first time remus lupin had told you that he was in love with you, you’d built him a ten-foot-tall pedestal. you’d seized your messiah with an iron vice and distilled him within an orb of crystalline, a clandestine object which you’d claimed to be your heart. all this time you kept him there. and every time the yearning to become a skeleton slinks like a shadow down the soft curvature of your spine you peer in, and observe your angel, your light, your most glorious addiction. you were never one to deny yourself the most delectable of delicacies, and in your foolishness, you had fallen into a trap disguised as a beautiful morsel, and now all you were reduced to was a gaping entry wound.

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