#boys dont cry blood

[bubblingsteam]

[carpwood]

(shitty) mta i SWEAR this is the last time im remakinf it

[pekoeboo]

"It's okay, Khalan. I'm right here. You're safe."

some Pain based on a few new developments within the SMP story. got a decently long explanation under the cut, for anyone interested.

so @cookieg122 and I decided that Khalan and Aya eventually find themselves in Aya's home dimension - a world ruled by a race of powerful fairies who are hell-bent on eternal conquest and proudly declare their violent Empire as the strongest in the world. Aya was their princess, having disappeared under mysterious circumstances (aka when she arrived in Drehmal), and her older brother had been searching for her ever since.

her sudden return ended up placing Khalan under suspicion though - as Aya's brother wrongly assumed that Khalan was responsible for "kidnapping" Aya and had him arrested as a result;; the corrupt king also got involved, hearing terrible rumors that were quickly circulating about Khalan and believing that he had hurt his daughter, so he made the swift decision to have Khalan publicly tortured and executed the next morning (multiple times over; since Khalan is immortal) as a way to make an example out of him to the Empire's subjects and remind them of what happens if they step out of line and threaten the royal family.

so of course Aya saves him!!!! she convinces her brother that Khalan is innocent so he also helps out with the rescue, and between the two of them they manage to stand up to their dad and save Khalan from a terrible situation ;n;;

there's like. so SO much more to this concept that I can't really explain, but that's roughly what's going on within the feelsy art here;; I kept thinking of just. the intense emotions happening within that moment, of Aya stepping up and taking on the role of comforter even though that's normally Khalan's thing. role reversal tropes always get me, and tbh Khalan just needs a moment to break down and process just how terrifying that whole situation was before he can help Aya deal with everything too;;

srry this got long, I wasn't sure how else to explain this pic without going into some detail. but I hope y'all can appreciate the feels anyway ;o;

Aya Armas belongs to @cookieg122 also on deviantart

[arataka-reigen]

Percy and Bianca are just casually talking and i'm fucking crying because I know she is gonna die in the next chapter

[cyeayt]

Back on my bullshit answer my questions

while doing some rudimentary research for this poll it has come to my attention that pins and needles are a feeling felt while the limb is asleep, not the period of intense sensation/tingling/sensitivity experienced while it comes back online. or maybe it's both? the stuff i read referred to it as tingling that happens while the limb is pinned/under pressure/numb. i cannot find anything that references what i have come to think of as "the agony" but ive referred to it as the pins and needles in the options for this poll anyway.

Mild: limb has muted sensation but can be moved and used carefully, pins and needles begin almost immediately after limb is moved from whatever position caused it to fall asleep. Pins and needles not painful and do not appear painful, and last a few seconds, person affected is capable of speech and moving other parts of their body during pins and needles, which last a few seconds.

Middle intensity: limb is numb or partially numb and can twitch but not be moved precisely. Pins and needles begin a few seconds after limb is unpinned or when it is moved. Pins and needles not painful but intense and appear uncomfortable, taking a lot of the affected person's attention/capacity. they last between 5 and 7 seconds.

Intense: limb is numb and cannot move/be used, pins and needles begin 5-7 seconds after the limb is unpinned. pins and needles are intense and may be painful or not painful but 'unbearable', causing the affected person to cry out, grimace, or otherwise appear to be in pain. Person cannot speak or move their other limbs during pins and needles, which last 10 or more seconds (without shaking) and have residual tingling for a few seconds after limb regains movement/becomes bearable to move

obviously this all depends on how long the limb was pinned but just answer whichever is the most common for you, and if you want you can put in the tags what positions make your limbs go numb/how you deal.

[earthyleo]

so... hotd is oficially a comedy series now?

[feywildfox]

Jason Todd is the only one up in this bitch who understands both sides of the morals batman "lives" by and the way in which they will inevitably fail those around him.

[puppmeo]

Have you ever been assumed to be romantically attracted to someone and even just the thought of that makes you want to throw up . Anybody

[synthetic-sonata]

its awesome being into a thing with a small cult(??? ig) following but it also means if you dont like someone's characterization you can outright talk about it or else youll be a dick . Except almost everyone has bad characterization of your favorite character and you're about to kill someone

[thestarsarebrightertonight]

whos afraid of little old me? // mattheo riddle x fem hufflepuff reader

playlist: whos afraid of little old me - taylor swift

summary: mattheo riddle isnt scared of anything , but when you blew up at him for messing up your potion. he felt fear for the first time. fear of a usually bubbly hufflepuff.

y/n used , comedy, short , female rage x

masterlist

"WHAT THE FU-!" you screamed loudly as bright green liquid dripped down your face and onto your uniform , your mouth open in shock and your hands trying to wipe the liquid. mattheo beside you mirrored the same appearance , covered head to toe in the slime like thing.

"miss y/l/n i suggest you dont finish that sentence before you lose hufflepuff house points. wait here, i will go alert madame pomfrey." snape said monotonously as he walked out the room, uninterested as ever.

the whole classroom stayed in a stunned silence as you desperately wiped yourself down , mattheos laugh breaking the tension , "why did he leave to get madame pomfrey when its just a small mess-"

he was cut off by theodore , who stood on the other side of him gulping and staring at something behind mattheo in horror.

"i think i know what shes going to be needed for..." theodore said quietly as mattheo looked at him confused before following his eyes , his gaze landing on you as you looked down at the floor with clenched fist and a shaking body. you looked like you were going to explode just as the potion had.

"are you okay love-" mattheo started before being cut off by you jumping on him , legs wrapped around his torso and hands pulling fiercely on his hair as mattheo screamed.

"IM GOING TO KILL YOU MATTHEO RIDDLE , I TOLD YOU NOT TO PUT THE PHEONIX FEATHER IN YET YOU STUPID SHI-" you shouted loudly , rage boiling your blood as the boy spun around , desperately trying to push you off.

"someone get her off!" another slytherin girl said as lorenzo scoffed.

"im not quite sure i want to get involved in that-" enzo started bluntly before panicking when your legs and arms began hitting mattheo.

it had taken lorenzo , draco and blaise to get you off mattheo. the immense battle had ended with you held back at the arms , legs and waist by the three boys. mattheo falling to the floor dramatically.

"its broken! its broken!" mattheo screamed , kicking his arms and legs around like a toddler.

"whats broken...?" theodore asked in confusion.

"i-...." mattheos crying response was cut off once he realised that he was infact surrounded by his classmates, and he couldnt allow his cold demeanor to slip. eventhough his bad boy persona had been long forgotten the second a shrill scream left his mouth.

he simply stood up and pretended to brush himself off , ignoring the pain in the back of his leg , somewhere you had kicked successfully. mattheo looked at you , seeing you breathing heavily and eyes burning holes through him.

"i wish i could be mad but you look really cute when youre angry." mattheo said with a smirk , his words surprisingly genuine.

however you didn't like that one bit , wrestling the three boys who held you back and going to pounce on mattheo again- who had started running away in pure fear.

"GET HERE YOU SNAKE!"

"SOMEONE GET MADAME POMFREY!" mattheo screamed as he ran out of the potions classroom, you hot on his case.

this is one of my fav one shots ive ever written LMAO

[ellecdc]

DONT TEASE ME WITH PLATONIC BARTY AND BIG BRITHER SIRIUS STOP IM ON MY KNEES PLEASEE 🪩

okay so this accidentally ended up being almost 5.5k words??? whoopsie daisy.

this concept was a collaboration with @unstablereader and also intertwined a few requests for best friend Barty, big brother Sirius, and poly!moonwater hurt comfort!!

poly!moonwater x fem!reader who was bitten over the winter hols

p1 // p2

CW: Best Friend Barty (i.e., swearing, chaos, slight insanity), Big Brother Sirius (i.e., coddling, bad cop, certified dumbass), swearing swearing swearing, slight muggle blasphemy, description of wounds/blood/injury, discussion of Sacred 28 Pureblood Families, etc etc etc - hurt/comfort, angst with a happy ending

Barty Crouch Junior was a plethora of dichotomies and contradictions. 

He was a good friend and a bad son. He was a smart boy who made horrible ideas. He was a rational person with unreasonable reactions. He was a menace and very reliable. He was a good lay and a bad boy. 

Barty liked that about himself though; he liked that no one ever knew what to expect when it came to Bartemus Crouch Junior. 

Though, he supposed to those who knew him, it would have been completely predictable for him to have stayed at Hogwarts over the winter holidays. Maybe he should have gone home – really surprised everyone then.

His nightly routine of trying to incendio Daily Prophet articles of his father with nonverbal and wandless magic was interrupted by an awkward thump on his dorm room door. 

“Come in?” Barty called awkwardly, unsure who might be at his door seeing as his friends were all home for the holidays and the staff here tended to avoid him like Dragon Pox.

The doorknob began to rattle but it sounded as if the person on the other side of the door was struggling to turn it.

“Salazar’s saggy balls. WHAT!?” He seethed as he ripped the door open, determined to teach whoever was stupid enough to bother him a lesson when he came face to face with you.

Except...except you were crying, and bloody, and so pale.

“Treasure!?” Barty squawked, awkwardly catching you as you began to slide down the door frame which you were leaning the entirety of your weight on. 

“Barty...I-” you started before a pained sob tore through your teeth. “I need help.”

“What happened?” Barty asked breathlessly, moving you from the door to his bed without your help after your left leg gave out on you.

“Barty...”

“What. Happened. Y/N?” He demanded.

“Barty, you cannot- cannot tell Reg and Remus. Pl- hnggh - please promise me you won’t tell them.”

“Tell them what, Treasure? What’s wrong!?” Barty pressed, beginning to panic when his bedding quickly became saturated with your blood. 

“Promise me!” You shrieked, your voice carrying the most clarity since you had arrived.

“Okay! I promise!” Barty agreed readily. You didn’t seem convinced, however.

You shakily held your pinky out to him and stared intensely at him. “Promise me that y-, that you will not tell Remus or, or Regulus.”

Barty looked between your eyes and your pinky before finally interlocking your pinky with his. “I promise I will not tell Remus or Regulus.”

More tears fell as you began pulling your long winter robes off. You were wearing a long sleeved shirt and long trousers, but Barty could tell most of the bleeding was coming from your leg. Your fingers were shaking too much as you unsuccessfully tried unbuttoning your trousers, so Barty silently asked for your permission before undoing the button and zip for you.

You pulled the pants to your knee to expose a large...werewolf bite on your left thigh.

“Treasure.” Barty breathed out horrified, looking back up at you with tears in his eyes. “What...what happened? No, I ... I can see what happened. How did this happen?”

“I...I just-”

And you passed out.

“No! No no no. Nononononono.” Barty chanted as he tried to rouse you awake.

“Okay Barty, come on, think. You didn’t achieve all twelve O.W.L’s for naught.” He berated himself, lying you down on his bed and pulling your trousers the rest of the way off.

He turned you onto your right side and tried elevating your leg to stop the blood flow after he realized a simple episkey was not going to close the wound.

He realized that the reason you’d been struggling to open the door was that your wrist appeared to be broken, and you’d been leaning onto the doorframe to keep your weight off of your injured leg. That he could fix with an episkey, so at least he wasn’t completely useless. 

His sweet, sweet Treasure. Bitten. By a werewolf!? Your parents...

Oh gods, your parents.

That’s why you were here.

You couldn’t go back home, not as a werewolf; your parents would kill you. The only thing worse to a Sacred 28 Family than a dead daughter would be a werewolf one.

Fuck. 

Fuck fuck fuck fuck.

And why couldn’t he tell Lupin and Regulus!? Lupin was probably the only person who could actually help you right now. Barty hated that – hated that someone else could help you and he couldn’t – but he also loved that you had people who loved you and could help you.

Fucking fuck, he was supposed to be burning moving pictures of his father right now, not trying to bring his best friend back from the brink of death.

“That’s enough Treasure, you need to wake up.” He muttered, shaking you by your shoulders gently. When that still didn’t work, he cast a quick rennervate. 

You groaned in pain and tried rolling onto your back. 

“No, Y/N, you need to stay like this. I need you to tell me what happened.”

You moaned again and turned back towards him; eyes shut tight in pain. 

“I...I needed to leave I, I – ugh.”

“Okay, okay. So you left, that much I can understand. How’d you get bitten?”

“I didn’t, I didn’t know it was there until it was too late, Barty. I swear it. I was following the trail behind my-my house and it just appeared! I fell back- backwards onto my arm when it lunged and I apparated once I realized what was happening, but it was...it was too- too late.”

“Where were you trying to go?”

“The Potter’s.”

“And why can’t you go there now?”

You opened your eyes at that, and Barty felt his heart fall out of his ass at the amount of pain that spilled from your eyes that had nothing to do with any of your various physical injuries.

“Rem... Rem hates himself. He hates The Wolf, he ha- hates his lycanthropy; he thinks he is a m... monster and deserves nothing. Barty, he’ll hate me.” You broke into a sob at the end of your sentence and Barty was very close to joining you.

He didn’t think you were right at all, mind you; he thinks it’d be rather impossible for anyone to hate you, least of all Lupin who seemed completely lovesick for you and Regulus. He didn’t think it was worth your energy to argue with you about it though, seeing as he already pinky promised not to go to the lycanthrope or your other boyfriend about this.

He didn’t know what to do, though. He needed to close this wound and stop the bleeding, he needed to pilfer from the infirmary, he needed to pilfer the potions supply closet, and he needed to figure out how to help a werewolf. And he needed to do all of these things whilst somehow not leaving your side at all. 

“I’m tired, Barty.” You murmured quietly, startling him from his internal panic.

“You can’t sleep, Treasure. Not until we close this wound and stop the bleeding.”

He pulled out his third year DADA textbook to find the chapter on werewolves. 

“Dangerous creature this, loss of moral sense that, right then – powdered silver and dittany applied to a fresh bite wound.” Barty recited as he read off his textbook. He looked over to your wound, still oozing and bleeding, though the new angle and elevation did seem to be helping staunch the blood flow at least a little.

“Right... fresh enough I suppose.” Barty sighed, making you promise to stay awake long enough for him to raid the potions supply closet and the infirmary to get the necessary ingredients.

Barty had been feeling quite confident in his plans.

Except something was very, very wrong.

The dittany and powered silver bubbled slightly where it interacted with your blood and flesh but didn’t seem to be sticking to your wound at all; it seemed that it was just causing you to moan in agony as Barty uselessly tried spreading it over your leg.

“You’re sure it was a werewolf that bit you?” He asked again. Barty was certain that if you were feeling better, you would have kicked at him.

He wished you could have kicked at him.

“Yes, Barty.” You cried.

“Oh, Treasure, I’m sorry.” He lamented, putting down his bowl of useless silver paste and brushing sweaty hairs away from your forehead.

“Salazar, you’re burning up, Y/N.” He commented, cupping your heated and flushed face with his hand. 

“I’m cold.” You argued, awkwardly trying to pull at his bedsheets to cover your arms. Barty hated to add more layers on you when your fever was this high, but he couldn’t really bring himself to deny you, either. 

Unfortunately, it appeared that Barty needed help. 

Unfortunately, Barty made you a promise.

Fortunately, there were ways around that. 

Unfortunately, that meant having to resort to a fate worse than death.

“Oh! Hello there.” Mrs. Potter greeted Barty as she rounded the corner after being alerted by the house elf that there was a student at the floo. “Are you looking for Regulus?”

Barty adorned his most charming (and least maniacal) grin as he bowed politely to Mrs. Potter like the proper Pureblood he'd been beaten raised to be. 

“Euphemia Potter – looking as smashing as ever.” He said before returning to his full height. “Actually, I’m here for the lesser Black brother today.”

Mrs. Potter narrowed her eyes at his comment but pursed her mouth as if fighting back a smile.

“Am I to assume you’re referring to Sirius, Barty?”

Barty sighed in admiration. “Smart and pretty, Euphemia; how do you do it?”

“I’ll be right back, Mr. Crouch.” Mrs. Potter called over her shoulder as she left the floo reception room. Barty quickly pulled out the charmed compact mirror he had connected to a hand mirror which he had set up beside you before he left. You were asleep and shivering violently, but you were alive.

Help is coming, Treasure. 

“Oh.” Barty heard, causing him to close the mirror and look up to see a confused looking Sirius pausing mid-step into the room. “Sorry, I’ll go get Regulus for you.”

Barty scoffed derisively. “Oh, come off it Black – give the woman a little credit, yeah? I asked for you. Now let’s go.” He barked, turning towards the floo flame.

He turned back when he realized Sirius wasn’t following him.

“Hello??” He called sarcastically. “Did you not hear me? I said let’s go.”

Sirius looked Barty up and down and crossed his arms in front of his chest.

“Why in the hells would I go anywhere with you?” Sirius asked bemusedly. 

“Black!” Barty seethed. “I do not have time for this, we have to go now.”

“I’m not going anywhere until you tell me what this is about.”

Barty sighed and looked down to the hells for patience or possibly extra strong demonic powers to get through this conversation with Sirius. 

“Where is Regulus right now?”

Sirius considered Barty skeptically but answered, nonetheless. 

“Upstairs with Remus.”

Barty looked at Sirius at that. “Is it safe to assume he is helping him recover from last night?”

Sirius’ face fell and he levelled Barty with a hard glare. “What the hell are you on about, Junior?”

“Black, please believe that there is absolutely nothing in this realm that I’d rather be doing than sitting here asking for your help but I’m here doing just that.”

“For what?”

Regulus was here, and Regulus was helping Lupin, which meant that Lupin was also here with his supernatural hearing. Barty made you a promise – he would not tell Regulus or Remus what has happened.

“I need your help, because I’ve found a lost Treasure that seems to be in some Trouble.” Barty explained slowly, praying to every god that Sirius would pick up on his not-so-subtle clues.

Sirius’ eyes stayed narrowed at Barty before they grew comically in understanding. 

“Where is-”

“Not here.” Barty interrupted. “Grab your things and come with me.”

“I have so many fucking questions.” Sirius muttered as he stepped through the floo, somehow ending up standing in the Slytherin common room. 

“Like?” Barty asked in a bored tone.

“How the hell did you manage to connect the floo network to the Slytherin common room?” He started, realizing that it probably wasn’t the most important question, but it seemed to take precedence in his mind.

Barty turned to sneer at Sirius, though his steps never faltered as he sped towards what Sirius could only assume was his dorm.

“Really, Black? I tell you that your future sister-in-law is in dire need of your help, and that’s what you’re- you know what? I’m not surprised. The floo network is easy to manipulate so long as you know how to dismantle ancient wards.” Barty explained dismissively.

 Easy. Dismantle ancient wards. Sure.

“What’s wrong with Y/N?” He asked much more seriously. Most (though not all) of the contempt drained from Barty’s face as he stopped in front of a door. 

“She...she was bitten.”

Sirius just stared dumbly at the absolute last person he imagined he'd be spending his morning with as he let that information process.

He wasn't given much time, however, as Barty quickly opened the door and disappeared into the room, clearly unbothered to see if Sirius was following him in or not.

“Treasure? Hey, hey; it’s okay. Look? I brought some help, okay? You’re alright.” He cooed at a curled-up form on his bed – your curled-up form.

“Oh, Trouble.” Sirius breathed out in disbelief, surveying your shaking and battered body before his gaze paused on your exposed thigh – clear as day was a large canine bite, still bleeding. 

“Oh, my girl.” Sirius cooed, feeling like he might be sick at the sight of one of his favourite people in the world in so much pain. It was very different from post moon care with Remus; Remus was seasoned, he was prepared, they were prepared.

You looked like you were dying.

“What’s wrong with her?” Sirius asked quickly, shaking himself and trying to force himself into action.

“Other than the very obvious werewolf bite?” Barty sneered. “She has a fever that won’t quit.”

“Take the blankets off.” Sirius ordered, earning him a whimper from your form.

“S’cold, Siri.” You whined.

“I know, Trouble, but you’re burning up.” He replied apologetically, pulling the blankets out of your currently much weaker grasp.

Barty looked like he was just as heartbroken as you were at the loss of the warmth, but clearly agreed with Sirius enough not to argue. 

“Mean.” You pouted; eyes still screwed shut in pain.

“I know, I’m the worst.” He whispered, casting a quick auguamenti and glacius on a rag and placing it on your head, earning him another protesting groan from you.

“Why’s her leg still bleeding?” Sirius asked, eyes still on your face as he used the cloth to wipe away the sweat from your features. He quickly prepared two more rags and placed them on the back of your neck and your chest. 

“I don’t know. I followed the instructions from our DADA textbook on werewolves – three tablespoons of powdered silver mixed with four tablespoons of dittany to create a paste. It did nothing but hurt her and aggravate me.” He admitted, sounding horribly dejected.

“Where’s the silver from?”

“Slughorn’s supply closet.”

Sirius groaned. “That’s why. The school buys the cheapest ingredients they can to keep costs low. That won’t be pure silver.”

“Well, where in the hells are we supposed to find pure silver then?” Barty groaned. 

Of all the times for Sirius to not be at Grimmauld Place anymore – that place was teeming with pure silver.

Pure...

Toujours pur. 

“Regulus.” Sirius whispered no louder than a breath. You didn’t seem to hear him, your lucid moment clearly over; but Barty did.

“I promised Y/N I wouldn’t tell Lupin or Regulus.” He explained plainly, causing Sirius to groan.

“Then what are we supposed to do?”

Barty turned his face to glare at Sirius. “I promised Y/N I wouldn’t tell Lupin or Regulus.”

Sirius rolled his eyes. “I heard you, Junior. So, what are we going to do then?”

Barty let out a long-suffering sigh. “I promised Y/N I wouldn’t tell Lupin or Regulus.”

Sirius’ brows furrowed and he cautiously lifted his hand to press the back of it to Barty’s head, checking for fever of his own. Barty aggressively swatted him away.

“Are you quite alright, Junior? Is this a stroke?”

“I need you to listen to me very carefully, Black. Okay? Are you listening to my words?”

Sirius nodded at him as Barty grabbed Sirius by the shoulders and stared imposingly into his eyes. “I – Bartemus Crouch Junior – promised that sweet, lovely Treasure you call Trouble over there, that I – Bartemus Crouch Junior – would not tell Remus Lupin or Regulus Black. I promised her.” 

Now, Sirius feels it’s important to note that it was currently maybe seven o’clock in the morning, and he’d only just stepped out of the shower after washing away a night of romping in the woods around Potter Manor with Moony as Padfoot to be told there was someone at the floo for him; in other words, he was fucking exhausted. And to add to that, he had one of his least favourite people tell him that one of the worst possible things happened to one of his favourite people. So, sue him for what he said next.

“I don’t understand.” 

“Fucking son of a mother fucking cunt, I swear to that fucking muggle-religion-wizard-guy-that-caused-the-whole-brew-ha-ha-in-that-big-ass-muggle-tome I will shave that fucking head of yours and wear your hair as a wig; I cannot tell Lupin and Regulus.” Barty spat, though somehow managed to keep his voice low enough to not gain your attention.

“Yes, yes, yes. You promised her.” Sirius lamented. “You p- wait... you promised her. You promised her.”

“Thank Merlin and Morgana.” Barty groaned as fell to his knees in exhaustion, clearly more than thankful that Sirius had finally gotten it. 

“I’ll be back.” Sirius announced and started towards the fireplace in the Slytherin common room in order to retrieve his brother. 

Regulus looked up from the pages of his novel to survey Remus’ form again. His boyfriend laid on his back with his head propped up on two pillows and his eyes closed as the soft morning light filtered its way through the sheer curtains and painted his features in its warm glow.

Regulus knew Remus was likely exhausted and sore and perhaps feeling awfully sorry for himself right now, but Regulus wasn’t sure he ever looked more beautiful. 

“You should take a picture; it’ll last longer.” Remus commented dryly, never bothering to open his eyes as a smile danced on his lips.

“Ha ha.” Regulus deadpanned, returning his gaze to his book with a blush taking over his face.

“You worry too much, love. I’m okay.” 

“I know you’re okay.” Regulus argued.

“Yet you still worry?”

“Yet I still worry.” 

Regulus heard Remus’ head turn against his pillow, and he looked back up to see Remus regarding him.

“Have you heard from her by chance?” Remus whispered as if fearing the answer he knew was coming.

Regulus knew it was you who Remus referred to; they’d been waiting quite impatiently for your owl for the past few days.

You had promised to write as often as you could - every day if possible – over the winter holidays. The last correspondence they had with you was four days ago as you told them of some family gathering at your home.

He hated to be the bearer of bad news, but he could tell he was caught at the disappointed sigh from Remus.

“No, mon loup. I’m sorry.” Regulus admitted.

Remus let out another sigh and leaned his head back down on the pillows, squishing his eyes shut as if the pain of not knowing how you were was more painful than the current aching in his bones.

“Hey, Reg?” Regulus heard his brother call from the door. 

“He’s awake.” Regulus called back simply.

“How’re you feeling, Moons?” Sirius asked, walking towards the end of the bed with his hands in his pocket.

“Been worse.” Remus answered.

“I...” Sirius started, cutting himself off with a sigh.

“Spit it out, Sirius. We’ve not got all day.” Regulus drawled and put his book down. He couldn’t stop his heart rate from picking up when he noticed Sirius’ discontent, however; sudden flashbacks of Sirius standing in Regulus’ doorway begging him to pack his things and leave with him bombarding his mind.

“What is it, Pads?” Remus asked, seeming to pick up on his friend’s anxiety as well.

“I need your help.” He admitted. “It’s...it’s Y/N.”

Remus sat up all too quickly and winced at the cracking of his back.

“What is it? Where is she? Is she okay?” He asked, trying to free himself from the bedding that Regulus had tucked him into hours earlier.

“No, well, yes...she-”

“Where is she?” Regulus whispered in horror.

“With Junior. At Hogwarts.”

Regulus relaxed slightly to at least know you were safe at Hogwarts and with Barty, though that raised more questions than answers for him.

“How do you know that?” Regulus asked, all the while Remus continued struggling to dress himself despite his various aches and pains. 

“Junior told me.” Sirius admitted, finally taking pity on his friend and helping him dress whilst his boyfriend sat their uselessly. 

“Why did he tell you? When did he tell you?”

“This morning!” Sirius barked, clearly growing agitated, “listen, I just-”

“What happened to her, Sirius?” Remus begged, finally taking a moment to catch his breath and stare at his friend imploringly. “What happened to her that Junior told you and not us?”

Sirius swallowed thickly before he answered.

“She was bitten, Rem.”

All colour drained from Remus’ face and Regulus sat stock still.

“Was it me?!” Remus asked through a choked sob. This seemed to snap Regulus out of his uselessness and he reached for Remus’ shoulder to squeeze it affectionately.

“No, no. Moony, no one was there last night. I swear it.”

“What...why do you need my help? What do you need?” Regulus asked quietly, standing to pull on his own jacket and retrieving his and Remus’ wands from the dresser. 

“We can’t get the wound to close, and she’s got a wicked fever that we can’t bring down. She’s barely lucid, she's lost an insane amount of blood, and the silver at the school didn’t work to close it and-”

“No, it wouldn’t.” Remus agreed breathlessly.

“Why not?”

“Too costly to give pure powdered silver to a bunch of students who make throw away potions – they only use what works in the brew but not in practice.” Remus explained, groaning as he stood and quickly transfigured his suitcase into a cane on account of his hip after the transformation. 

“So, you need pure silver? Like... the ring!” Regulus whispered, hastily ripping the Black Family signet ring from his thumb and passing it to Sirius.

“We need to go now. She can’t afford to lose any more blood, and it should have been closed immediately.” Remus pressed, making his way to the door albeit a little shakily. 

Regulus was sick with worry; for you, your life, your future, your family, for Remus and how upsetting this must be for him as well, but something still wasn’t making any sense.

“Why did Barty tell you?” Regulus asked as they stepped through the floo into the Slytherin common room, making a mental note to ensure that it was closed before the rest of the students returned from winter holidays.

Sirius grimaced slightly and turned to look at his friend who he was supporting as they followed Regulus to the dorm room.

“She...she made him promise not to tell you guys.” Sirius admitted.

Remus’ steps faltered and Regulus turned, ready to help Sirius in catching him, only to notice that he wasn’t falling but rather had stopped walking all together.

“Why wouldn’t she want us to know?” Remus asked mournfully.

“I never did hear why.” Sirius admitted, encouraging Regulus forward with a nod of his head.

The three of them entered the room to find Barty sitting on a low stool beside you with his pinky interlinked with yours. Your eyes were still shut tightly and your breathing was shallow, but Regulus could hear Barty talking lowly to you and your occasional responses. 

“I like that song about the fighter, the writer, and the ruler.” Barty murmured quietly to you.

Your brows twitched as you gritted out “it’s Soldier, Poet, King.”

“Ah, right you are, Treasure.” Barty responded, looking over his shoulder at the new additions to the room. “You always know everything.”

“How is she?” Sirius asked as he dropped the signet ring inside the mortar and pestle and traded seats with Barty who began to grind it into powder, and Regulus and Remus moved to stand near the end of the bed to take in your form.

“Hanging in there, Black.” Barty responded to Sirius, though he looked at Regulus as he said it.

Sirius must have noticed Regulus’ death glare being pointed at Barty and opted to intervene. 

“Hey, Trouble?” Sirius asked you gently, brushing some of your damp hair away from your forehead. You hummed in acknowledgement without opening your eyes.

“Why didn’t you want Remus and Regulus to know, sweets?”

You whimpered as your face morphed into agony, eyes finally opening to look at Sirius through fat tears.

“Remus will hate me.”

Remus actually whimpered at that, clearly itching to move towards you, but not wanting to interrupt you.

“Why would he hate you?”

“He hates werewolves.”

Remus’ head dropped in shame as Regulus rubbed soothing circle into his back. 

“But he loves you, Trouble.” Sirius pressed, watching Remus all the while.

“Not anymore.” You sighed in resignation, closing your eyes once more.

“Always, dove.” Remus insisted. You squeezed your eyes tightly as if you were trying to convince yourself that he wasn’t really there. 

“Do you hear me? I will always love you. There is nothing that could ever happen that would make me hate you, okay?” He carried on, slowly making his way to the other side of the bed in order to curl up behind you and pull your back into his front. 

You whimpered, though Regulus was sure it was less from physical pain and more in distress.

“What about Reggie?” You cried as Sirius continued rubbing his thumb across your forehead. 

“It’s almost ready.” Barty interrupted as he began measuring out the silver and dittany. 

“Reggie thinks the world of you, dove.” Remus murmured into your hair, looking over at Regulus imploringly. 

“You’ve got a lot of people who care about you, Trouble.” Sirius added. “We’re not going to let you do this alone.”

“It’s done, Treasure. We’re gonna fix you up.” Barty said as he made his way over, keeping his eyes trained on Regulus. 

“Dovey, this is going to hurt an awful lot, okay? But you’re so brave, you’re so brave and then you’ll feel better, okay?” Remus spoke into your hair, keeping you pressed tightly to his form as you began to struggle against his hold. 

“Regulus, you need to be brave for her.” Sirius ordered, looking as severe as Regulus ever remembered his older brother being. 

What could Regulus have ever done to make you think it was at all possible for him to feel anything but love for you?

How could Regulus ensure that you never thought such things again?

“I’m right here, amour. Okay? You’ve got four of us here who love you, we’re not going anywhere.” He pressed, moving to take over Sirius’ place on Barty’s short stool as Sirius positioned himself close to your feet.

“I don’t want to hurt.” You cried, breathing becoming slightly erratic as Remus added more pressure in keeping your arms pinned to your sides.

“I know, amour. It’ll be over soon, okay?” Regulus tried, brushing hair away and pressing his lips to your overly hot forehead.

“You’re so brave, Y/N. We’ve got you, okay? Such a brave girl, come on babylove, you’re okay.” Remus chanted, looking over at Sirius as he pinned your ankles to the bed and Barty transfigured a stirrer in an applicator.

“Please. I don’t want to.” You begged.

“You’re so brave.” Remus repeated, pressing his mouth to the top of your head as his own tears fell into your hair.

“Do it.” Regulus insisted, not wanting to prolong this anymore.

Regulus nearly dropped his wand in his haste to throw up a silencing charm around the dorm room as your screams bounced off the stone walls in time with Barty’s first swipe of the ointment. 

Regulus couldn’t hear the words spilling from Remus’ lips, but he knew that he was whispering sweet encouragements to you as he cried in sympathy. Sirius looked to be using all his strength to keep your legs pinned down as you struggled, and his eyebrows furrowed on your behalf as well.

“You’re okay, amour. You’re okay.” Regulus insisted for both of your benefits, watching as Barty applied the last of the paste to your leg.

“Now what!?” Barty shouted over your agonized cries.  

“Breathe dove, breathe. The pain will fade, just breathe.” Remus coached, rocking the both of you gently back and forth as you sobbed.

“You’ve done so well, amour, so well. Ma courageuse fille; you’re so brave.” Regulus praised, taking both of your hands into his and pulling them from Remus’ grasp to press kisses to your knuckles. “Tu as si bien fait, tu es la personne la plus forte que je connaisse.”

It took some time and many more encouragements before your sobs decreased into pitiful hiccups and whimpers as you looked towards Regulus. 

“You don’t hate me?” You asked pitifully.

Regulus used his thumb to wipe away the tears that were still falling as Remus caressed your arms.

“It never even crossed my mind, cheri. I could never; non.” Regulus insisted. 

“I’m so sorry, dove.” Remus whispered into your head. “I’m so sorry this has happened to you.”

“Remus.” Sirius warned. 

“Not because it makes her any less lovely, Sirius. But because she doesn’t deserve it.” Remus explained. 

“I’m scared.” You admitted timidly.

“I know, dove.”

“Lucky for you, Trouble, you’ve got some seasoned professionals here.” Sirius added, nudging Remus’ foot. 

“Can I start the animagus process now, Rem?” Regulus groaned, looking at Remus pointedly. 

“I guess it wouldn’t be fair to make you sit out on full moons now.” Remus relented – he’d always hated the idea of putting the two of you in any undue danger, but he couldn’t deny Regulus of the two of you, nor you of Regulus; not when you would need him most.

“Wait, wait, wait.” Barty interrupted, moving his skeptical glance between the four of you. “You’re telling me that animagi can romp around with the likes of werewolves?”

Remus nuzzled his face impossibly further into your head as Sirius chuckled. 

“Werewolves don’t care about animals. In fact, it makes them quite happy to have a ‘pack’.” Sirius explained.

Barty laughed conspiratorially. “Well, sign me the fuck up. Regulus, I’ll buy the first mandrake leaf; my treat!” He called as he grabbed his jacket and wand and headed for the door, likely heading to Hogsmeade for supplies in his excitement. 

“Moony is not going to like him.” Sirius proclaimed flippantly, finally falling into a chair in exhaustion after Barty was gone.

“It’s not just about him, anymore.” Remus responded, pressing a kiss to your head. Regulus could tell your fever was reducing, though your cheeks were still flushed.

You had a lot to discuss; what happened, why it happened, and where to go from here. But for now, Regulus was just happy you were alive, currently safe, surrounded by people who loved you, and agreeable to him running you a bath. 

[fettuccin-e]

Hey noodle! Congrats babe, you deserve it ☺️ what are your thots on “just a little more” and our messy boy Steven Grant? 😈

Hi Mona!!! omg thank you sm!!! and thank you for requesting!!! and for steven?? PRECIOUS HUSBAND STEVEN??? how could i refuse ESPECIALLY because i know this boy is filthyyy and fucking needy as all hell okay ilysm thank you again!!

Tags: Steven Grant x Reader, afab!fem!reader, fingerfucking (r!recieving), unprotected piv, riding, uhh squirting pls dont fucking look at me i am ashamed, overstimulation, light degradation, so much praise holy shit (w/c: 1.1K)

Prompt: "Just a little more."

It’s honestly not that Steven likes to edge himself, or has some kind of fucking superhuman stamina in bed with you.

No, you’ve sucked him off in five minutes flat before, Steven twitching beneath you while he whined, “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, fuck it’s so good, you’re so fucking perfect, shit-” while he spilled down your throat. Marc never let him live that one down.

But you swear that sometimes, when he’s got his face or fingers or cock buried deep, so deep inside your cunt, Steven forgets that he has to cum at all.

He gets lost in it, mumbling about how gorgeous you are, how wet you get for him, how good you taste. It doesn’t matter how many times you’ve cum, how you cry and wail with every orgasm he wrenches out of your heaving body, he just wants more and more and more. Ravenous.

“Steven, please, I ca-I can’t, oh please-” your pussy makes noises that are utterly obscene, squishing against his hand as he works his fingers into you, jamming relentlessly against your g-spot. You aren’t even sure what you’re begging for at this point; for him to make you cum again, for him to fuck you like you’ve been begging for, for him to show some mercy.

But even then, it’s like he can’t hear you, eyes focused on the way you spread and leak over his fingers, mesmerized by the way you clench around his fingers. He’s been like this since the first orgasm of the night, maybe the second, but God, he just keeps going. He keeps pressing soft kisses to your trembling thighs, using his free arm to brace over your twitching hips while he plays relentlessly with your aching cunt.

It’s too much, he’s been at this for too fucking long, God, you’re leaking everywhere, the bedsheets damp with it. He just won’t let up, your beautiful, treacherous lover, and your whole body locks again with the force of your orgasm, the squeeze of your pussy nearly forcing his fingers out.

His gaze snaps up to your face in an instant, and you can hear his voice through the rush of blood in your ears, murmuring, “That’s it, darling, my God you’re beautiful, so pretty, this pussy’s so tight for my fingers, imagine how it’ll feel around my cock, yeah? How much I’ll stretch this gorgeous cunt apart, right love?”

And it’s so sweet, so gentle, the way he speaks to you, a complete contrast to how he rips you apart with orgasm after orgasm after orgasm.

“Fuck me,” you whine, high-pitched and needy, absolutely desperate. “You- you said it, that your cock would feel so fucking good, please Steven, need-need you.”

But all Steven does is chuckle darkly, stretching his fingers out inside you again, and you nearly scream. “Just a little more, darling, one more time for me, yeah?” You can only clench your eyes shut and throw your head back into the pillows.

And when you finally wear him down enough to ease his sticky fingers out of you, you immediately roll him onto his back. If he’s going to fuck you, you’re going to be in charge. You’re going to be the one to make him cum.

You ease his cock into you, hot and throbbing in your hand, and you almost want to cry as he stretches your pussy so good, so perfect, just like he said he would. He moans beneath you, the sound ripping its way out of his chest, as if he’s suddenly realized how worked up he’s gotten himself by playing with your pussy for God knows how long.

You work your hips into his, plunging his cock into you just the way you know he likes. He nudges into your sweet spot just perfectly this way too, and the sensitivity from Steven’s earlier ministrations has lighting arcing up your spine with every nudge, every grind of his cock into your sensitive pussy. 

A mewl escapes you, unabashed and louder than you meant it to,  when you slam down on his cock just right, the hair just above the base of his cock pressed against your achy clit. Steven’s hands fly to your hips immediately, holding you there with an iron grip.

That look is in his eyes again, pupils blown wide and brows furrowed as he rakes his gaze over your quaking body. He punches his hips up, making his hair grind against your clit in a way that makes your head spin, his fat cock somehow reaching deeper into your pussy.

“That’s it, love,” he says, “let me make you feel good. Let me take care of you, fuck, you look so pretty like this, writhing on my cock like a desperate little whore.” Your eyes roll to the back of your head with his words, your hips working of their own volition, on pure instinct as you work his cock into you again and again and again. It’s like you can’t get him deep enough, bouncing on his cock just like he told you to. Making yourself feel good.

When you cum, Steven groans, his fingers digging into the fat of your hips hard enough to leave bruises in their wake as you clamp down on his cock. A shaky moan rattles out of your throat at the feeling, your body aching with exhaustion, your pussy too sensitive as you clench and pulse in his hands. You feel like you could shake apart with the force of it, wrung dry under his unrelenting touch.

“Look at that,” he murmurs, and you open your eyes to see his gaze trained on your pussy, and oh shit, his stomach shines with your wetness, the sheets soaked with it. You’ve never done that before, never-

“Fuck, you made me squirt, oh my God, Steven-” your body burns with embarrassment, and you start to pull off his cock in search of a towel, or something, anything to clean up the mess you’ve made of him. But his hands hold you firm in his lap, using an unseen strength that he keeps under his button-downs and jumpers, his biceps flexing in a way that makes saliva pool in your mouth.

“Don’t you dare, darling,” his voice is a rasp, all dark and ripped apart and feral. Fuck, if it weren’t for the accent, you’d think it was Jake. ���One more time, sweetheart, just one more for me.”

“Steven,” you start, but he thrusts his hips up into yours, and the movement of his still-hard cock in your sloppy, sticky cunt makes you choke on your spit.

“Just a little more, sweet girl, just-” he thrusts into you, hard and unyielding, “one more for me.”

[robintherobiner]

I like to imagine Bruce hates guns. i dont think its like "flashback/panic attack" level considering he lives in gothams and he probably hears/sees guns every night and he probably trained himself to not flinch at them.

But i think he hates them. its why he never talks about Alfred willingness to kill, because that would mean acknowledging that there are guns hidden in his house. he and Kate have arguments about it every month. He refuses to let Jason into the cave unless he leaves his guns outside.

And none of the kids figure it out for years until one day, Bruce is sick and sleep deprived and walks in on the kids watching an action movie. theres a gunshot and Bruce just screams. he's too sick to think straight, he's too busy being teleported back to being 8 years old with blood on his suit. he' sceaming and crying and all of his kids are panicking because wtf-whats-wrong-with-him??!?!?

Alfred comes rushing in and whispers "Master Bruce, it's alright. Come back to me, dear boy. You are in the manor. You are fourty years old. You are alright. Open your eyes, it is not dark, you are not in the alley."

All the kids silently watch as their dad, the strong brave batman, sobs in Alfred's arms, begging, "Alfred, I want mom and dad. Please, you have to help them. They're bleeding, Alf. Make it stop."

[tinakibed]

selling my phone for homophobic crimes (<- delayed taking the only photo someone (karl) posed for so i only got the bottom of my face after bringing it down)

[liketolovexx]

heyyy, can i request good old enemies to lovers with so much angst but ends with fluff with sirius??? maybe they used to be friends before and Sirius just suddenly turned cold? and the reader was giving the same energy and all they do is bicker and one time the reader just burst out about how siri is being a prick and then it ends with confession?? it's very long 😭😭im sorry

Hey guys!!! Sorry I’m going through requests VERRRRY slowly atm but please feel free to leave requests in my inbox for me to get round to <3 love u all so much

Also, I included reader seeing Regulus as a little brother figure and looking after him, because I can’t not :-( sorry if it puts u off the fic!!

(CW: LOTS of angst, child abuse from walburga, sad Sirius, sad Regulus, Sirius being cold and cruel to cope with loss, basically the reader being the black brother’s best friend, ends with fluff<3)

“I used to love you.” ~S.O.B

{you were from a pure blood family, best friends with Sirius Black. You comforted him through his mother’s cruelty, and fell in love along the way. Until Sirius ran away, leaving you to protect his little brother from harm out of the love you still held. Now, when you see him in school, you give him a reciprocated glare. But why does he hate you?}

“Sirius, come here!” Came the harsh, threatening voice of Walburga Black, she sounded angry, really angry, and you watched Sirius tense, looking up from the book you were reading together. His eyes were wide, face whiter than usual, holding much more terror than a little boy should ever have to endure. You put a hand on his shoulder, warming him in this cold house. “Hey, it’s fine. Whatever happens, you can come back up to me after. I’ll take care of you.” You told him. You may have been only children at the time, but the way Sirius nodded and his silver eyes softened and glittered with tears, you knew you had a certain way with him.

Alone in Sirius’s room, you played with your hands, shoulders stiff as you listened to the mother scream ruthlessly at her son, trying not to picture the broken, guilty, vacant expression you knew would be adorning Sirius’s tear-stained face. You couldn’t hear Sirius’s responses to Walburga’s yelling, you knew he froze up when he was scared, so he’d be mumbling in response. “I DONT CARE IF YOUR FRIEND IS UPSTAIRS. YOU ARE A DISGRACE ALREADY!” She yelled. You had to cover your ears when gut-wrenching cries and wails started to echo up the stairs. Walburga was using the crucio curse on her son. Again.

~~~

Soon, the screams ceased and Sirius rushed up the stairs and into his room where you still sat. He slammed the door desperately, and crumbled to the floor beneath it, shaking like a leaf and loud sobs starting to make his small back heave. You leaped off of his bed and knelt beside him. Hesitantly, you reached out to touch his back, but he flinched away from you with a sharp, choked gasp. That was when the first crack painfully sliced its way through your heart. To see your best friend weak and bawling on the floor of his bedroom, scared of even you, was an agonising feeling. Eventually, Sirius realised you wouldn’t hurt him, and wiggled into your lap, crying quieter now. His head found its way into your neck as he cried, and you could feel his wet tears snaking down your skin.

“Sirius, I’m here.” You whispered into his disheveled black curls. At that, you felt his body weaken in your lap. Before you knew it, he was asleep ontop of you, your arms wrapped around him. He stirred, turning slightly, slipping down your body so his head lay comfortably on your chest, and your face scrunched in both pity and guilt. A puddle of thick crimson blood stuck his hair to his pale forehead. You hated yourself for not being able to stop his mother from hurting him. Watching his body rise and fall with each peaceful breath he took as he slept, you spat on your sleeve and wiped the blood away, earning a harsh twitch and broken whimper from the raven-haired boy. He deserved nothing but peace.

With Sirius draped over your body like a snow-white blanket, hair splayed over you like he’d claimed you as his own bed, the door creaked open. You tensed, holding Sirius tighter, ready to give anything to protect him if Walburga showed in the door, but instead, a small frame appeared. Regulus. “Oh, Regulus.. did the shouting scare you?” You ask softly. The boy nods. He’s the spitting image of his big brother. “Is Siri okay?” He murmurs, rubbing his eye. You nod. “C’mere.”

Regulus tucks himself into the crook of your arm, head laying on the flesh of your shoulder. With big eyes mirroring Sirius’s, he peers up at his brother. “Heard mama shouting at him. He breaked something, I think.” Regulus explains shyly. “Mh. Your mother isn’t kind to Sirius. She isn’t kind to you either.” You say, more to yourself than him. He still nods in agreement. You stroke Sirius’s hair as he shifts in his sleep. “I’ll get you both out one day. And… and me and Sirius can get married. And you can be the best man-“ you describe your fantasy to the small boy, who has a wonderful smile creasing his little face, eagerly listening to each and every detail of the life he hoped to one day live.

~~~

You were now both in hogwarts. Over the years, Sirius had become rebellious, learning to fight back to his mother, but this always resulted in the crucio curse, which resulted in him collapsing in your arms. You were, admittedly, all he had. You and his little brother, who he’d noticed following the path of his parents. He hated the fact that regulus was so obedient to their inane beliefs. He hated it. It was only you who could calm his rushing mind.

It took only one night for everything to change. You weren’t over at his house, so he was alone, and he had a particularly bad row with his mother. After using the crucio curse on the boy until his thin limbs were tangled and trembling on the ground, his jet black curls tangled and his bitten-raw lip quaking like a child’s. While he was in this state, his mother mocked him. All he wanted was to be in the safety of your arms right now. He knew that although you came from a pure-blood family, you were not evil. You were good. You were like him, but braver. Kinder.

That night, Sirius knew he couldn’t live in this house anymore. He packed a bag full of clothes, essentials, and was unable to resist taking Regulus’s old teddy bear, an old shirt of yours and a necklace that was matching with you. He tied up his dark hair and slipped on his leather jacket. He’d grown out his hair because his parents didn’t approve of it: he wore the jacket simply because his parents didn’t like the 70s-rocker look. He’d do anything to escape those sleek black suits, hair styled tidily, silver and jewels everywhere he looked. In this house, he was nothing but a decoration, so he vowed to make his appearance undesirable to his parents. But, you always thought it suited him. While he crept silently down the corridor, boots hardly making a sound on the fancy patterned carpet, he heard a creak. His heart stopped. Fuck, he thought. Its mum. I’m never getting out. Oh, god, I’m never getting out.

“Siri?”

A small voice asked. It was Regulus. Sirius spun around where he stood to see an unruly mop of black curls matching his, framing a pale, soft face that didn’t at all suit the bitter yet elegant brutality of his family. “Reg.” was all Sirius could squeak.

“…you’re leaving aren’t you?”

“…yeah.”

“Oh.”

Regulus looked at his feet. He looked back up at his older brother.

“I’ll be by myself, Sirius.”

Sirius’s jaw clenched. He fought back the tears.

“I’m sorry, Reggie. I love you.”

Regulus’s daintily perfect face crumpled. “You can’t go, Siri, I don’t-.” He swallowed. “I don’t want to be alone. Not with them.” Sirius opened his arms. His little brother crashed into them like he’d disappear if he wasn’t fast. “I’m sorry, reg. I love you, but I can’t stay.” He murmured. Regulus was now sobbing into his shoulder. Sirius felt like the worst person on earth. He needed to get to James’s house before his mother woke up. “Regulus, I have to go.” He told him, petting the back of his head. Regulus suddenly pushed his brother back. Sirius recognised this; the anger that reg was displaying. When he was the same age, when he felt vulnerable, he disguised it with anger. He still did. “F-fine. Go. I don’t need you.” Regulus spat, his glistening silver eyes betraying him. “You’re… you’re really… really mean, Sirius, you know that?” He tried to hiss, but it turned out as a cracked whimper. Sirius felt his heart shatter in his chest. Stinging tears dripped down his cheeks.

“I love you, Regulus.”

“…”

Regulus walked to his room.

~~~

Sixth year.

Sirius had decided that he couldn’t hurt you anymore. With him leaving home, being a blood traitor, he knew he’d only cause you trouble. He couldn’t bare the thought of it. Little did he know he’d be doing just that.

When break had ended, you’d gone to greet your best friend. “Sirius! I’m sorry I didn’t see you much over the holiday, god, how’s regulus? Are you-“ your shoulders clashed together as he continued walking. much to your confusion, he walked straight past you with the icy glare of his father. “…Sirius?” You tried again, catching up with him and grabbing onto his shoulder. The physical contact from the person he loved most hurt like the touch of searing iron, and he flinched away. “Fuck off! Can’t you just.. just fucking go away?” He growled. His silver eyes were a stormy grey, he hated himself more as he watched your face fall. “What..?” You breathed, looking so heartbroken. He hated himself for making you hurt as well as his little brother.

He hated himself, he hated himself, he hated himself.

Trying to soothe the ache in his chest, he rushed past you. He left you standing in the ruins of what he had torn down.

From then on, everything changed.

~~~

Sirius Black was not your best friend anymore. He was cold and unresponsive, shooting you murderous glares whenever you saw him. He’d make offensive comments at you when he came close enough to communicate with you, and it confused you immensely. What happened to the boy who came to you for comfort? Who cried in your arms and begged you to keep him safe and warm? What happened to your boy? Your best friend? Only god knows.

You didn’t even know Sirius had run away until your parents informed you that you couldn’t go around to the Black’s house anymore. This had sparked a heated argument. “What? He ran away? He didn’t tell me!” You’d exclaimed. “Yes. To the Potter’s house, we hear. Walburga has burned his picture off of the tapestry, and-“

“Wait, what? I can’t go round anymore? What about Regulus?”

“No. Walburga doesn’t allow guests to see her children anymore.”

“What? No, no, no, I need to see Reg. come on, Dad, he needs me!”

Long story short, your argument was to no avail. You couldn’t see Regulus. You couldn’t protect him from his parent’s wrath like you had his brother. Alike Sirius, you spent some of your nights lying awake thinking about Regulus, alone and cold in that hellish house, and most of your night thinking about Sirius, and what you did to make him despise you so.

Soon enough, You and Regulus had fixed your relationship, and many nights you’d find yourself singing the youngest Black brother to sleep. You could comfort him from within the walls of hogwarts where his mother couldn’t hurt him. Even when Sirius hated you, you cared for his brother like he was your own.

~~~

At first, you’d tried to coax Sirius into talking to you. You’d stood with tight lips while he insulted you, and listened to his hateful, meaningless rants. You noticed how his friends, James, Peter and Remus, stopped egging him on when it came to you, and started nudging him or trying to distract him, as if he’d say something he’d regret. But you’d come to think that Sirius black was remorseless.

You weren’t sure why he’d switched up on you, become so mean. You did, however, decide that you would be just as harsh right back to him. You knew you could never bring yourself to hate him. He owned your heart, whether you liked it or not. You learned to hate that you couldn’t help that.

It had soon been a year. One torturous year of finding your spells book torn to shreds, looking at dark eyes that you once knew so well only to see an unrecognisable boy. The smirk that once brought warmth to your chest now opened a bottomless pit in your stomach. With each day, you ached more and more. So did he. Sirius loathed himself indescribably. He knew that if he told you, even after the torture he’d subjected you to, you’d kiss his forehead like old times and tell him it was okay. Tell him that he was good, and he’d never be like his parents, and that you were there for him. You were an amazing person, and he was horrible. But he couldn’t drop his facade now.

You were just trying to study when a voice you’d come to find agitating and grating permeated the silence of the library. “Ooh, little blood supremacist… what you studying? Dare I say dark magic?” Rolling your eyes, you slammed the textbook shut. “shut up, Black. You came from quite the same roots.” “Maybe: but I was brave enough to get out. I was good enough to get out.” He retorted with a grimace. Looking up to meet his cold gaze, you noted that his creased white shirt was unbuttoned, his crimson and gold tie hanging loose over his shoulders, only curls pinned up carelessly with his wand. A dangerous hairstyle, for sure.

“Would you give it a break? I was the reason you didn’t go crazy in that house.”

“I did go crazy in that house.”

“Yeah, I can fucking tell.” You said with a scoff. He pulled away your notebook. “So, have you got the dark mark yet? Godric knows you’ll be ecstatic-“ “why are you such a dick, Sirius?!” You yell hoarsely, jumping to your feet. His eyebrows furrowed at your outburst. Slightly, his eyes softened at the sight of your glassy ones, brimming with unshed tears. He said nothing, lips parted. “You’re.. you’re a fucking prick. I never did anything to you.” Turning away to hide your face which had turned pink as it did when you were about to cry, You started upstairs to your dormitory.

~~~

knock, knock, knock.

Someone rapped on your dorm’s door.

Knock, knock, knock, knock. Knock, knock. Knock.

Someone was incredibly impatient. You used the palm of your hand to dry your eyes slightly and sniffled. “What? Who is it?” You croaked. A voice answered, “please can I come in?” You frowned. This time, it was a voice you knew. You recognised it, broken and weak, pained, yet honey-smooth all the same. That was your Sirius. Your heart hurt again knowing you’d never have him back, not fully. You fully believed this was another of his cruel pranks.

“Come in.” You mumbled.

As Sirius muttered your name, you felt you were transported back to your childhood. When you’d play and read together. Laugh and smile. “What do you want, Black.” When you said that, his lip twitched, face scrunching slightly. He looked as if the words physically pained him. With that expression painted on his face, he looked just like he did as a child. Except now, his hair was longer, his face more angular, more beautiful. “Don’t call me that. Please.” He begged, voice cracking with emotion. You looked up at him with a waning expression of anger. “Why not? You have been awful to me, I will call you what I choose.” You say. He whimpers pitifully.

He shuts the door behind him. You hear him mumble something. “What did you say, Black?”

“I’m in love with you.”

Your body is tense. Everything is silent. You have one question.

“Why were you so angry with me when you left?”

He hesitated, before answering as raw and truthful as he can. “Because I was stupid. I knew nothing but that I loved you. And I hated myself, and I couldn’t hurt you any further.”

“What? Hurt me? Hurt me how?”

“I burdened you all those years, with my weeping and pathetic pleas for comfort after my mother hurt me. When I could only feel safe shrouded in your warmth. I needed you. And I need you now. I’ve loved you since the moment I met you.”

Nothing felt real. You reached a hand out, and Sirius lowered himself so that his cheek rested in your palm. It was cold.

“You’re cold.” You stated blankly.

“I’m fine.” He protested.

You pulled him into your bed. Seconds later, you stretched out your arms. With a sob of relief, Sirius fell into your embrace. He cried silently into your neck for a while, reminiscent of the time you helped him as a kid, except this time you were both much bigger. You pet his hair affectionately, a tear sliding from your eye. “I missed you so much. I’m so, so in love with you. You don’t even need to love me back. I just… need this.” He said, voice muffled as he presses his face into your shoulder.

“…I never stopped loving you.” You admit, pulling him in closer.

~~~

You both spoke through the night, smiling and laughing and talking, telling secrets and jokes and all of the inbetween. He was so beautiful in the dim light of the lamp in your dorm. He was so beautiful anywhere. “You’re so beautiful.” He whispered, sounding lovesick and dazed. You laughed softly. “You don’t even know how beautiful you are. But that doesn’t matter to me.” You kiss his forehead, before pulling back and looking deep into his eyes. “You are good.” He practically melts into you.

Sirius falls asleep safe in the crook of your arm, and you fall asleep with one arm under him and the other around his waist, with the peace of mind that you can protect him always, now. Your boy. Your Siri.

You looked down at him, running your fingers through the roots of his hair. He moans lowly in satisfaction, practically purring as he presses himself against you. “Now we can get married: with Reggie as the best man, just like we dreamed. With a pretty house and a four-poster bed.” You said, a sweet, hopeful smile gracing your lips.

“Mmmh.” Sirius groaned sleepily. “As long as we can christen that bed.” He added, eyes still closed, with that stupid Sirius Black smirk on his face. You scoff, hugging him closer, before falling asleep yourself.

~~~

(Please don’t copy or share any of my writing anywhere else!!)

[erwinsvow]

can we have rafe try to grovel ?? :((((( shy reader deserves better !!! <3 https://www.tumblr.com/erwinsvow/751213087399510016/what-if-rafe-ever-hit-shy-reader-from-built-up?source=share

he will grovel!! side note i dont know how i feel about this its just for the sweet anon who wanted part two

the moment rafe shuts the door and traps you in the room, between his body and the wall, you know some part of you has just broken that you'll never fully be able to fix.

everything in your body tells you to look up at rafe and do something. slap him back, push him away, turn around and storm out of the room and try to at least show him you're just as mad as he is—but none of that actually happens.

hot tears keep spilling down your cheeks, and you stay frozen like that for what feels like forever, staring at the floor of rafe's bedroom. the sound of rafe's heavy breaths fills the space, though you can barely detect it over the way your heart is pounding in your ears.

you want to leave. but you don't know where you even would go. before the events of the last hour, there was no where you wanted to be more than wherever rafe was. and now, staring at the floor instead of up at the boy who you had gladly given your heart to only for him to snap it in half with his bare hands and deliver it back, you stay frozen, waiting for rafe. you are always waiting for rafe.

"kid, i-" you finally look up, through wet lashes and almost painful eyes fluttering slowly, and rafe stops talking the moment you do. you don't know why, but it doesn't take you long to figure it out. there's a mark on your cheek the size of his hand, probably an imprint from his ring too.

it's such a shame—you always loved that ring.

you snap out of your thoughts when rafe keeps talking, though there's still blooding rushing in your ears. he sounds muffled, his mouth moving and expression looking, you can only imagine, somewhat close to yours—sad and angry all blended together. you keep blinking slowly, listening but not really listening, waiting for him to finish so you can leave.

how stupid you must seem to him, and to yourself, you think pathetically. he just hit you, and you're waiting for him to finish, so you don't impolitely interrupt. you should drive straight from tannyhill to a therapist's office—though you think not even a licensed professional could help you figure out what exactly is wrong with you.

the thought makes you laugh, corners of your mouth turning up and a rush of air leaving your throat. half a laugh, half a sob. the gutting realization has just hit you—whatever was wrong with you, rafe was the only one in the world who seemed to understand you.

"baby?" rafe asks, and you actually snap out of it this time—looking up at your boyfriend, wondering if he knows you haven't heard a single thing he's said so far.

"i think i should go home," you reply, wondering where your keys are and where your wallet is. you don't keep track of these things anymore, usually since rafe drives you everywhere and pays for everything.

"okay. i'll bring you, just let me go get-"

"no, i-" you stop yourself—about to apologize again. everything running through your mind makes you choose your words carefully. "i'm gonna go home."

"you didn't drive here, kid. i picked you up, remember?" rafe looks back at you and you feel a fresh wave of tears take over. you hadn't remembered.

"oh."

"listen, kid, i'm so-"

"i'm going home," you repeat firmly, mostly to yourself. "i'll just-i'll walk."

"y'not walking. it's dark and-"

"rafe, stop." the way you say it, he actually listens. you don't sound like yourself, you can tell from the way he looks at you, rafe's face doused with concern and apprehension. you look away, turning to face the door. "i'll be fine. i need to go."

"c'mon, kid, don't go," he says, and every bone and muscle inside you wants to listen, to do what he says like you always do. you feel more hot tears coming up, stopping them seems impossible yet you know crying is useless. it already happened and the damage is already done.

you turn around from your position, knowing it's a mistake. rafe gets closer, his hands coming up to cup your cheeks. he holds your face like he always does, except there's one big difference—you flinch the moment he starts moving.

"baby," rafe says quietly, and everything in you stops for a moment. brain lagging, breath catching, even the tears stop for a second while you look up at your boyfriend. "i'm so sorry. i am so sorry. i fucked up, okay? i know i did, but please don't go."

"rafe, i can't stay," it comes out just as quietly, a notch above a whisper. "you hurt me." it comes out wrangled in a sob. rafe wipes away some of your fresh tears with his hands.

"i-i know. and i'm gonna regret it forever, but-" rafe stops, and you stop too. you chew on your lip nervously, realizing it's going to bleed from how much you're biting down. "can-can i at least bring you home? please?"

"okay," you give in-but you shouldn't have.

you don't even know how you're gonna explain the mark on your face to your parents, or why you're home so early when you said you were sleeping over. every movement feels exhausting—grabbing some of your things and walking down the stairs to getting into rafe's truck. the drive to your place isn't very long, only ten minutes, and you stare out the window the whole time. it feels like hours with the way rafe looks at you at each red light.

rafe pulls into your driveway and you look up at him expectantly, though you're not sure why.

"can you-can you turn the headlights off? i don't want them waking up," you say, after what feels like ages of silence.

rafe turns the lights off but doesn't say anything. it's not until you reach for the doorhandle that he does—it's almost muscle memory for him. he leans over you to pull the handle and open the door for you, but you flinch so hard when he moves that he can't even get the door. instead he looks back at you while you stare up at him. without any words, you both know what the other is thinking.

"goodnight, rafe," you say, your own hand on the door now.

"wait, kid," he says, and you stop your movement immediately. even in this situation, you can't help but listen. "can i see you tomorrow? please?"

"i don't think that's a good idea."

"c'mon. we-we have to talk about this. i can't just.. not see you. i'm gonna go crazy."

"i need to go rafe." the second you say it, you start feeling bad about it. it's so engrained in you—trying to avoid hurting rafe in any and every way possible, that the very idea of not giving him what he wants makes your chest ache painfully. "i.. i have to think about it."

he leans over, slowly this time so you don't get scared again, opening the door for you like he always does. you climb out, getting your bag and trying to pretend everything's fine until you get inside your room.

"good night, kid. i'll talk to you tomorrow."

without replying, you walk inside. rafe's truck stays in your driveway until you lock the door, and he doesn't drive away until minutes after.

surprisingly, you make it to your room before you start crying. and you don't stop crying until the sun comes up.