Wonderweasley - If I Am A Sword, I Am Made Of Glass

Look...

do you ever go:

😪🙄😪🙄😪🙄😪🙄😪🙄😪🙄😪😪🙄😪🙄😪🙄boys🙄😪🙄😪🙄😪🙄🙄😪🙄😪🙄😪men😪🙄😪🙄😪🙄😪🙄😪🙄😪🙄😪🙄

but then:

💕💖💗💫💘💞✨💕💖💗✨💘💫💞✨💞✨💘💫💗💕💖💗💘💞💘💗💫fictional characters 💞✨💗💘💕💖✨💗💘💞💘💖💗💫💞💕💗💖💘💫💖💞💗💖💘💞💫✨💞💕💖💗💫

my favorite trope is when someone believes they’re hard to love and someone who loves them like it’s breathing.

Close for Comfort

Harry Potter x Reader

Plot: You and Harry comfort each other after Moody demonstrates the Unforgivable Curses in class. 

Warnings: none per se, use of Unforgivable Curses/mentions of death may be uncomfortable for some

(This will be based off of the book more than the movie, for anyone wondering. Also, didn’t have a lot of time to proofread this so...oops? Feedback is welcome as always! Enjoy!)

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All fourth years were beyond excited to attend their first Defense Against the Dark Arts class with Professor Moody, what with the older students (especially the Weasley twins and Lee Jordan) ranting and raving over the class. Naturally, you were curious about what Moody could possibly do to get the twins actually interested in a class. 

You definitely did not expect to witness the use of the Unforgivable Curses.

The class chatted excitedly until a distinctive ‘clunk clunk clunk’ could be heard echoing down the corridor.

“You can put those away,” Professor Moody grumbled. All at once, the class shoved their textbooks back into their bags. He took attendance, his magical eye rolling around to look at each student, and minutes later pulled a glass jar from his desk. Inside, three large spiders scurried around, seemingly in terror of what was to befall them. 

“Imperio!” he cried. The entire class watched with bated breath as the spider Moody had placed in the palm of his hand began doing all sorts of flips and tricks. The classroom filled with laughter. 

All but yours.

“Think it’s funny, do you? You’d like it if I did it to you?” Moody growled. “Only one person in this bloody classroom with any common sense,” he muttered, his bright magic eye landing on you. 

You’d never had the displeasure of witnessing any of the Unforgivable Curses before today, and frankly, you were quite glad. The Imperius Curse made you uncomfortable; you weren’t by any means fond of spiders, but you couldn’t help but pity the poor creature. Certainly no one would enjoy losing complete control of their mind and body and being forced into acting as a show pony. 

And it only got worse from there. 

Neville, surprising the entire class, and undeniably himself as well, raised his hand and offered Moody the next curse - “the Cruciatus Curse,” he all but whispered. 

Moody lifted the next spider from the jar, enlarged it using Engorgio, and then cast “Crucio!” 

The spider’s legs curled into its body and it began to twitch and rock back in forth, gradually shuddering more and more violently. Tears filled your eyes as you imagined how much pain the poor thing was in. You felt sobs ready to escape your body and you watched the spider, and even more so once you realized poor Neville was visibly distraught as well. You were ready to put an end to this when- 

“Stop it!” cried Hermione. Moody raised his gnarled hand from the spider, reduced it to its normal size, and placed it back into the jar. 

The time came for the final curse. The Killing Curse. 

Professor Moody raised his wand and the entire class hushed in an equal mix of anticipation and horror. You closed your eyes, unable to watch the scene unfold. “Avada Kedavra!” 

Green light flashed, signaling to you that the deed was done; though you still dreading opening your eyes to witness the aftermath. Ron had nearly fallen out of his chair, and Moody proceeded to swipe the spider’s lifeless body onto the floor. Tears filled your eyes once again; death in general upset you more than you could explain.

“Not pleasant. And there’s no counter-curse, no blocking it. Only one known person has ever survived it, and he’s sitting right in front of me.” Everyone turned to look at Harry Potter. The Boy Who Lived. Sitting at the desk to his left, you could see him squirm under the watch of so many eyes. And you could see the pain behind his own. You could only imagine the pain he felt, having watched his parents die trying to protect him. Even though he was so young when it happened, you were sure he had some recollection of it all. 

Once class had ended, you rushed to meet him in the hallway. “Harry!” you called after him. He motioned for Ron and Hermione to continue on without him and turned to you.

“Oh, (Y/N),” he uttered. “Um, is everything okay?”

“That’s what I wanted to ask you actually. I know watching all that couldn’t have brought up good memories, so I just wanted to check on you.” Harry’s eyebrows rose in surprise. He’d only talked to you a few times before, nothing major, so this was rather unexpected. Although, if he knew one thing about you, it was that you had a kind heart; you were even kind to Slytherins. Well, most of them. 

“Well...if I’m being honest, I am a little shaken, I suppose. Seeing the Killing Curse in person definitely isn’t my idea of fun,” he admitted, rubbing the back of his neck.

“Would you like to join me in the Astronomy Tower after dinner? With Halloween coming up my parents sent me some sweets a little early and I won’t be able to eat it all on my own,” you offered, smiling as sweetly as the candy stashed in your nightstand. “Plus, I could use a little pick-me-up as well.”

Harry thought for a second, then nodded. “That sounds lovely, (Y/N). I’ll see you then.”

Roughly an hour later, as you sat in the Astronomy Tower wrapped in your favorite blanket, Harry made his way up to join you. You spent hours together- talking, reminiscing, joking around with each other, and stuffing yourselves full of candy. Harry, at some point, found his way under your blanket as well, and from time to time you would brush hands or bump knees (not that either of you were complaining; you found a strange sense of comfort in each other). After yawning for about the thousandth time each, you realized it was probably time for the two of you to go your separate ways. 

“I had a wonderful time, Harry,” you told him. “It was nice to get to know you better.”

“I had a great time too,” he smiled. “We should do this more often; especially if there’s sweets involved.” Both of you laughed at his response. You bid each other good night, watching Harry as he made his way back to the Gryffindor Common Room. From that night on, he was not only the Boy Who Lived- he was the Boy Who Lived in your dreams. 

𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐬𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐞𝐝 𝐢𝐦𝐚𝐠𝐢𝐧𝐞 —send me a shy!reader request for any character (with a plot) and I'll write a >1k drabble

sirius/james introducing shy!reader to remus. and shes just like quiet and in awe, but remus loves it.

luveline's 40k party ☆ tysm for requesting! remus x shy fem!reader

James is used to your personality after months of being your lecture neighbour, unperturbed by your quiet. "It's going to be fun," he promises, handing you a cold glass of cranberry vodka. "They're nice, okay? I won't let anyone irritate you." 

He's hosting a party and had the generosity to invite you round early. He's easing you in, so to speak. It took him two weeks of steady Hellos for you to work up the courage to say Hi back, another two weeks for small talk, a month before you felt comfortable speaking to him first. If you're that shy, a party is basically torture.

"It's not about irritating me," you say. 

"I know, I'm messing." James lists his head to the left. A second later, there's a knock at the door. "Aha. Wait here, shortcake, there's someone I want you to meet." 

"James," you say after him, wet from your glass leaking down to your sleeve, "what?" 

"I asked him to come early and say hello! He's quiet and handsome and you'll love him, just don't stare at his nose." 

What's wrong with his nose? you think, alarmed. 

James opens the door. Two new voices emerge, one scratchy and a little high, the other smoother. "I need to pee so bad," the scratchy one declares, followed by bounding footsteps up the stairs. 

"You alright?" the smoother asks.

You think there's patting, a hug, "I'm brilliant! You smell really nice, Remus, like a garden." 

"Lovely."

"In a good way! Come and meet my Y/N, you remember I told you about her nice gel pens?" 

James leads the smooth-voiced Remus into the living room. You hurriedly put down your drink and stand, wiping your wet hands in your shirt. You cringe at the darkening fabric but hide your grimace as they stop in front of you. 

"Remus, Y/N. Y/N, Remus," James introduces you both. 

Remus has a scar across his nose that seems cruelly cut. There's another beside it that starts in his upper lip, both of which end in his eyebrow. You know how self-conscious it feels to be looked at, so you manage to smile and offer your hand without too much of it. He's handsome with his scars, a nice nose with a ridge and brown eyes the colour of caramelised sugar.

"Hello," Remus says, shaking your hand. His is big enough to make yours feel small. 

"I invited her early because she's more fun than the rest of our lot," James says, throwing himself down on the sofa and kicking his legs out on the coffee table. 

Remus taps your elbow very gently as if to usher you to sit and sits down beside you, enough space to be casual but too little to stop the rampant nerves that blossom in your stomach. 

Remus asks about your life. What you're studying, where you're from, if James is being nice to you. While James is touchy in the rough older brother way, scrunching your shoulder and shaking you when you're not expecting it. Remus is touchy in a different way, you find, almost as if he doesn't know he's doing it. His shoe bumps your shoe, his hand falls down between his outer thigh and your own, his knuckles touching your jeans very lightly. He spins in his seat to talk to you. 

You don't notice other people arriving, nor the scratchy-voiced friends return. All you can do is look up at Remus with wide eyes. Your nerves meld to something warmer. 

"And what do you do?" you ask him. 

He smiles like you've wandered into a secret. "I'm trying to write a book." 

"He's being a bit much," Sirius says to James, the two now loitering in the doorway with matching beers. You and Remus chatter on, unaware of their running commentary.

"It's a very strong reaction. I knew she'd like him, but I didn't think she'd like him like that." James takes a sip of his drink. Remus asks you a quiet question. You duck your head, playing with your sleeves, and Remus, the bastard, ducks his head to follow your gaze, smiling at you all the while. 

James almost chokes, pointing his bottle toward you both as though Sirius isn't already looking. "He's eating it up. I forgot how flirty he is."

"She'll be nice to him, won't she?" Sirius asks, like it's a done deal. To be fair, Remus seems enthralled with you. 

"Definitely. She's very nice. Oh, look, that's sick, she's gonna pass out." James winces as Remus takes your arm into his hand. 

Remus wouldn't do anything cruel, but James wasn't joking when he told Remus that you were exceedingly, achingly shy. He's about to step in and rescue you, but you turn into Remus' touch and pull your leg up on the sofa to make yourself comfortable. Your voice is animated, if quieter than the average person's.

"Woah," James says, beaming.  

Remus flirts almost as a defence, like he wants to get the rejection over and done with so he can move on. You've yet to reject; you're looking up at him in moderate awe, your lips quirked into an easy smile. 

"Boo!" James calls, flicking his bottle cap at Remus, who brushes it away. "Took me three weeks to get a smile out of her," he mutters. "What a dick." 

Lee Pace sitting on Thranduil’s throne for the first time.

How glorious a greeting the sun gives the mountains.

fucking hate it when the stuff everybody says "actually works" does actually work.

hate exercising and realizing i've let go of a lot of anxiety and anger because i've overturned my fight-or-flight response.

hate eating right and eating enough and eating 3 times a day and realizing i'm less anxious and i have more energy

hate journaling in my stupid notebook with my stupid bic ballpoint and realizing that i've actually started healing about something once i'm able to externalize it

hate forgiving myself hate complimenting myself more often hate treating myself with kindness hate taking a gratitude inventory hate having patience hate talking to myself gently

hate turning my little face up to the sun and taking deep breaths and looking at nature and grounding myself and realizing that i feel less burdened and more hopeful, more actually-here, that i am able to see the good sides of myself more clearly, that i am able to see not only how far i have to grow - but also how much growth i have already done & how much of my life i truly fill with light and laughter and love

horrible horrible horrible. hate it but i'm gonna do it tho