Desperately Need James Or Remus To Make All My Decisions For Me. I Dont Want To Think At ALL

Desperately need James or Remus to make all my decisions for me. I don’t want to think at ALL😭

Remus has your hand in his as he leads you towards the bookstore.

You’d been anticipating a new read for the last couple of weeks and wanted to see if the bookstores finally got it.

“Do you think they’ll have it Remmy? I really don’t want to get it online.”

You swing your interlocked fingers, walking in step with your boyfriend as the October winds whip past you both.

It’s not biting cold, no sting in the wind yet but it’s cold enough to chill you.

“They’ll have it dove.” You don’t know that Remus had called ahead and had made sure they had the book and another you’d been looking forward too as well.

You’re still swinging your hands when Remus stops in the road, your body stilling a second later.

“Why’d we stop?” You ask, face a little red from the cold as you look up at him.

“Light’s red, dovey.” Your eyes follow the finger pointing to the stop sign and you nod.

“Didn’t notice.” You shrug, your hand moving from his palm to his bicep while you wait.

You don’t see it, but Remus beams when you tuck your face into his arm. It was a throwaway comment to you, but to Remus it means that you have full trust in him, in what you’re doing together and he can’t help but feel his heart speed up because of it.

I love it

Ok what about a lil fic of Remus being snappy with his gf leading up to the full moon? Just some angst and then fluffy ending with them reconciling

thank u for ur request! —remus says something he shouldn't before the full moon, and later campaigns for your forgiveness with affection and a confession. fem!reader, 1.2k

Remus lays on the couch with his forearm pressed to his eyes. It's the day before the full moon, and he feels the hours approaching like a death sentence every time. You hover in the doorway, watching, unsure of how to help. He gets the same every month (or rather, every cycle). 

Irritable. So anxious he can't breathe properly, let alone enter conversation. 

You hate seeing him like this. Your Remus, who spends every moment you're together trying to make sure you're as happy as you can be. 

Cautious, you round the sofa to crouch by his face. You hold out your hand, trailing a gentle fingertip down the length of his arm, tripping over pinched skin ridged by scars. He's beautiful no matter what, but he gets insecure about how he looks every full moon. You know he thinks he's a monster. You've no way to prove it to him beyond this. 

"Hey, handsome," you say softly. "I know you're not hungry, but I made dinner anyway if you feel up to it. And I know," —you drop your voice to a near whisper— "I know you're not in the mood, but I'm here. I can sit here and stroke your hair in silence all night if that's what you want, my love. I'll do whatever you want." 

"Then leave me alone," he says. 

Half snap, half firm defeat. You wince at the ire in his voice. It won't ever be nice to have someone you love speak to you like you're getting on their nerves, but you know what it is he's facing. You know this is hard for him to cope with. You can forgive him for everything if he makes it through this in one piece. 

"Okay. I'm sorry. I love you, Remus." 

He turns his head toward the sofa cushions. 

You leave the room with a heavy heart. In the kitchen, you try to eat, but every mouthful makes you feel sick, your eyes welling with tears as you chew. You're hurt, he's hurting, and this really, really sucks. 

The smell of dinner starts to amplify the nausea. You grab your plate and carry it to the back door, scraping your leftovers straight into the rubbish. You wash your plate and leave it to drip dry on the draining board, your eyes burning. You sniff, wiping your nose in your sleeve. 

You're hoping desperately that Remus will come around before bed, but he stays where he is. Thinking he's finally found sleep and wanting to leave him to that blissful reprieve, you creep through the living room and down the hallway into the bedroom. Tears fall as you change into your pyjamas. You're so tired that you barely have time to cry yourself to sleep. 

You're not sure how much longer it is when you wake. A familiar hand cups your cheek. 

From the warmth of your skin, he's had his hand there for a while. 

"I'm so sorry," Remus says. 

You don't know how he knows you're awake. He must have been watching you long enough to spot the difference. Honestly, you're not sure you want to see him yet, because you love him so much, and it breaks your heart to be at the end of his disdain even when you know the cause. 

You struggle to see him in the dark. 

"I should never have spoken to you like that." 

Your eyes close of their own accord, exhausted and sore from crying. "You didn't mean it." 

"I wish you'd shout at me," he murmurs, sliding his hand over your ear. His thumb draws along the shell of your ear. 

"I'm too tired," you mumble. 

Remus' head shifts closer to yours. Sharing the same pillow, his hand falls to your shoulder, his arm wrapping around you, a firm bicep pressed to your front. 

You let yourself lean into it. His breath warms the space between your brows. 

"It's no excuse, but I… I can't think of anything else but the pain, sometimes. I get so angry about it, because I'm–" He stops short, swallowing audibly in the otherwise silent room. "I'm scared. But I would be a hundred times more terrified if I didn't have you, knowing you're there for me, unflinchingly, before and after it happens, it helps me get through it. It's not fair that you give me so much peace and I just… 

"I'm sorry, dove. I don't mean to take advantage of your… heart." He says heart like he's been winded. He hadn't sounded finished, but everything stops at that word. 

You force your eyes open. He's looking at you with an unspeakable amount of love, kind to keel you over if you were standing. His eyes are pitch black in the lack of light, irises melded with pupils, giving him an even sorrier gaze. You raise a sluggish hand to his where it rests behind your back and pull it back to your face. You miss his touch. 

"I love you," you say. 

"I know," he says, his jaw tensing in an attempt to stage off tears. "I love you, too." You watch them collect in the corners of his eyes, following one as it slides to rest in the dip of his nose bridge while he lies on his side like this. 

"So don't be sorry." 

"But I am sorry. I can't fathom why I think it's okay to treat you that way." 

"You don't think at all, Remus. I'm not being flippant, but you're busy worrying about the worst of it." You shake your head gently. His hand twitches against your cheek. "I don't blame you." 

"I know," he utters. 

You stare up at him as he sits enough to tower over you. His smile is sorry, in love and ashamed. You want to tell him how it doesn't matter, that it's okay, but you're thinking maybe you need him to say it first. 

"I'm sorry." 

"Remus, you only told me to leave you alone." 

"I need you to know that any other time, you're all that I want. You're everything. I couldn't ask for more than you. Please don't think I'm cruel," he pleads in a whisper. 

You lift your chin incrementally. "I'd never think that." 

His apology kiss is coddling. Like he's worried he'll hurt you, like he's holding back, he kisses you like you can't handle more than a chaste press of the lips. 

"I love you," he says into it. 

You lift your head to kiss him harder. You love him, and you won't break. You can be exactly as strong as he needs you to be, so long as love waits at the end of the night. 

"I love you." A huff of a laugh escapes him. "Does this mean I'm forgiven?" Caution has his joke falling flat.

You nuzzle your cheek against his, knowing you'd forgiven him just as soon as he'd snapped. "If you let me stroke your hair. Did you eat your dinner?" 

"I'll eat it tomorrow," he says. A white lie, you both know, but he slides down further under the sheets so you can reach his head. 

You card your fingers through his hair until you've both fallen asleep. 

·̩͙ ₊ ᨦ ♡ ᨩ ໋₊ ·̩͙

oh to be rafe's kook princess so he can take me golfing

⋆

lovelovelove!!!!!!!!!

ahh i want to give spencer a million kisses!! like just hold his face and kiss him awwhhh! he deserved so much love <3

you don’t have to write anything on this if you don’t want ofc!!

Ugh, he deserves all the kisses in the world!! Also, I apologize for taking so long to answer this. I know you said I didn't have to write anything, but I just couldn't resist <33 wc: 612

---

“You okay?”

You blink up at him from where you’re tucked into his side, suddenly aware that you’re staring. Your cheeks warm, “Hm?”

His brows crease. You watch his gaze flit over your face briefly before he asks again, “Are you okay?” “‘Course, why?” The corners of his mouth quirk up in a knowing sort of way that makes it hard to fight off your own smile, “You’ve been staring at me.” You blow a sheepish puff of laughter out your nose. He lifts his arm from your shoulders to let you shift onto your knees, his hands finding your hips as you toss a bare leg over to bracket his lap between them. Thumbs sneak up the hems of your sleep shorts and find the divot where your thighs meet your pelvis, massaging a line into the flesh there.

Brushing his hair out of his face, you take a second to really look at him. The shape of his lips, the curve of his jaw. How he looks up at you with those sweet brown eyes full of nothing but love. You trail the tip of your middle finger down the bridge of his nose and they close. His lashes kiss the perpetual dark circles under his eyes.

“It’s so unfair.” 

His eyes open and his mouth pouts in that subtle way it does on the rare occasion he’s confused, “What’s unfair?” “How pretty you are all the time.” His cheeks pink. You grin at your victory, “I mean seriously, how are the rest of us supposed to compete when you look like this all the time.”

His throat bobs a little as he fights off a smile, “Not– Not all the time.” You gawk at him dramatically and he snorts.

“Yes, all the time.” He simpers and looks away, shy under your praise. You dip your head to catch his gaze, unrelenting, “Of all people, I think I’ve stared at you long enough to know.”

He makes a little half-hearted sound of protest as he drops his head into the crook of your neck and you chuckle, “What, you don’t believe me?”

He doesn’t reply, only noses at the curve of your jaw. You take that as his answer and decide you won’t have it, “I can be very convincing, you know.”

“Mm-hm?”

Before he has any time to react, you start peppering small pecks over the side of his face. Quick, sweet things that have him laughing and scrunching his ear to his shoulder when you trail them down his neck. He pulls his face away in an attempt to escape your attack but only makes it easier for you to hold his face in place to kiss just about every inch of it.

He yelps your name, cheeks dimpled and burning red. Your own smile makes it hard to keep kissing him. You’re undeterred.

“Baby–,” He tries. Your lips find his forehead, “Y/n!”

He catches your face between his palms, cheeks smushed between as he pushes you back to look at you. His eyes are wide. His smile incredulous, reeling from the sudden onslaught of affection.

“You believe me now?” You grin after he’s deemed you trustworthy enough to return his hands to your waist. “Yes!” He nods, eyes creased with his laughter, “Yes, I believe you.”

“Told you.” You beam, cradling his face in your hands as you lean forward to kiss him as best you can when you’re both smiling so wide. You pull back to sing-song, “Very convincing.” “Mm-hm.” He hums and laughs again, pulling back to rest his forehead against yours when his smile grows too wide to keep kissing you, “Very convincing.”

this is so good and cute!!

44 and Steve because you KNOW Steve would be the mom to kiss his girl in front of the gang because he knows they hate it

You’re so right bestie

44. public kisses

Warnings: F!reader

The summer of 1986 was shaping up to be a good one. Hawkins was in the middle of a heatwave that had everyone flocking to the outdoors to enjoy the sunshine, and Steve was no exception. He had his favourite sunglasses perched in his hair, the cut-off denim shorts that you had helped him make when his favourite jeans got ripped on his legs, and the new Queen album playing quietly through the car stereo.

And a car full of sugar-rushed teenagers.

“-listen to something else now? This song sucks,” Mike was complaining.

Steve glared at him in the rear view mirror and opened his mouth to reply, but Max beat him to it.

“Shut the fuck up, Wheeler. You’ve got no taste.”

“Says the one who listens to Kate Bush on repeat.”

“Anyone slanders Kate Bush and they’re walking to the lake,” Steve warned without taking his eyes off of the road as he turned into your street.

A chorus of mocking “oooh”s came from the kids, and he barely resisted rolling his eyes. He still wasn’t quite sure how his life had turned out this way, spending his summer chauffeuring for a bunch of nerds, but the sight of you coming out of your front door was the perfect distraction.

Your face lit up at the sight of him and he felt his stomach flip pleasantly at the delighted wave you sent him as you came down the path. Your eyes were obscured by your sunglasses, an oversized T-shirt almost slipping off of your shoulder under your dungarees and giving him a tantalising glimpse of the strap of your bikini.

He wasn’t sure how he had gotten lucky enough to spend his summer as your boyfriend either, but he certainly wasn’t complaining.

His smile only widened as you ducked your head bashfully as you came down the path, feeling the warmth of his adoring eyes on you. It never ceased to amaze him how surprised you always seemed by how much he loved you, how beautiful you were to him, how-

Dustin’s face appearing from his periphery and blocking his view of you pulled him harshly from his reverie.

“You disgust me,” the boy announced.

“Like you don’t stare at Suzy,” Steve shot back.

“I don’t actually, because my love is too far away for my eyes to reach,” Dustin replied loftily.

“Cry me a fucking river, Shakespeare.”

You had reached the car by that point and, spotting Dustin in the passenger seat, went to open the back door. Steve’s eyes widened.

“Nope, absolutely not. Henderson, move.”

Dustin stared at him incredulously.

“What the hell, Steve? I was first to get picked up, ergo I get to ride shotgun.”

“But now we’re picking up my girlfriend, ergo you need to move.”

“Do you even know what ergo means?”

“I know you can ergo sit in the back or you can ergo home, dipshit.”

You were watching in amusement from outside the car. You wouldn’t have minded sitting in the back but your boyfriend’s antics were so cute.

As Dustin got out of the passenger seat and slipped under your arm to get to the back door, grumbling, you gave him an apologetic look before climbing into the front seat.

“Hi, baby,” Steve greeted you sweetly as you fastened your seatbelt.

As soon as you were secure, he leaned over to give you a soft kiss that warmed you from the inside out. The moment was only slightly ruined by the kids’ disgusted groans from the backseat.

“Gross, you guys.”

“There are kids here!”

“In public? Seriously?”

Steve broke the kiss with an annoyed sigh and you bit your lip to stop yourself giggling at him.

“The next person who tells me what to do in my own car is getting kicked out. Clear?”

He was met with polite silence, and he grinned at you.

“That’s what I thought.”

he holds his hand out for you… and with a smile you take it and hop up, swinging your leg over so you’re straddling the back seat on his bike.

taking the extra helmet from his hand you admire the silver engraving of your first initial and his last initial on the side of the black helmet, looking up at him, your cheeks flush bright pink and he smiles cheekily.

sliding the helmet over your head, you tighten the band so it fits on your head and clip the band to keep it secure as he tightens the gloves on his hands, flexing his fingers.

once you’re seated comfortably, you guide your arms around his waist, tapping on his chest softly to signal that you’re all ready. he looks back to check once more and you nod with a smile, even though he’s unable to see it through the helmet

rafe leans forward and grips the handle bars tightly, reving the engine a few times before kicking up the kickstand up and slowly pulling out of your driveway

he was sure to keep his bike as steady as possible when driving along the dirt roads, as to not scare you.

you were surprised to say the least, remembering how he drives when he’s by himself or with his friends

tapping his shoulder, he looks back flipping the viser on his helmet up, “everything okay?”

flipping your own viser up, you nod “great,” leaning forward some so he could hear you better, you smile, “you don’t have to be so careful, you know.”

“i won’t break.” you add with a devious smirk, he nods, his lips curling up to match yours, “i know that baby,” — “but you’re just too special for me to risk it.”

heat rises in your cheeks and you turn away with a smile, “go a little faster? for me?” you plead, he nods, “hold on tight for me, yea?”