#noble!reader

[delicatebarness]

winters widow | prologue

Summary: In the land of Avengard, House Romanoff's future hinges on the three sisters: Natasha, Yelena, and you. Their paths intertwine with power, heritage, and alliances. A tale of familial duty and the complexities of the kingdom's fate.

Warning: Mentions of forced marriage. Swords/Blades.

Word Count: 743

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A/N: I'm in my GOT/HOTD era again. - Please feel free to leave feedback or let me know where and how you want the story to continue, this is just as much yours as it is mine. - B

winters widow: Let me know if you want to be tagged specifically for this series.

Everything: @hallecarey1 | @pattiemac1 | @uhmellamoanna | @scraftsku35 | @ozwriterchick

In the land of Avengard, your house stood tall as one of the Greats. House Romanoff was revered and feared in equal measure. Their lineage, storied and ancient, bore the weight of triumphs and tragedy. A true testament to the unwavering strength and indomitable spirit. Yet, as the sun was setting over an age of male dominance, your House found itself at a crossroads, the legacy hinging on the shoulders of three formidable sisters. 

Natasha, your eldest sister, was the beacon of resilience and cunning. Her beauty was only matched by her lethal intellect, and it was those qualities that sealed her fate. She was to be betrothed to Prince Steven Rogers, the future King of Avengard. Promising stability and power, the union would create an alliance that would see House Romanoff’s influence grow stronger within the kingdom. 

“Do you ever feel the weight of it all, Natasha?” you asked, as you stood on the balcony overlooking the sprawling lands of Belova.

Her red hair flowed in the evening breeze, and she turned to you with a knowing smile. “Every day, sister. Yet, it’s a burden we were born to bear and, we will bear it with pride and strength.” 

“Do you trust him?” you ventured, your voice barely a whisper as your mind wandered. 

“Prince Steven? With my life,” your sister replied without hesitation. “He understands duty as we do. We will forge a new, brighter path for this kingdom.” 

Yelena, the middle child, possessed an independence as fierce as her heart of unyielding fire. She would remain in Belova, the seat of House Romanoff. In time becoming the First Lady and head of the house. Her presence in Belova ensured that the Romanoff name would endure and thrive. Her leadership was destined to carve a new chapter in their history.

“I still think staying here is a curse,” Yelena muttered as she sharpened the blade of her sword. “While you two get to roam the kingdoms, I’m stuck managing this place.” 

Natasha laughed softly. “Someone has to keep the home fires burning. And, who better than you, Yelena? You have the strength to keep Belova safe and prosperous.” 

“And you,” Yelena playfully pointed her blade at you, “you get to be married off to House Barnes. I hear their heir is quite the enigma.” 

And then, there was you. The youngest of the sisters, known for your gentle heart and compassion that touched all who know you. Your path led you to the loyal House Barnes, The most steadfast supporters of the crown. Your marriage to their only male heir, James Barnes, was not merely a union of families but a binding of fates. He was to be the future hand of the king, however he was as enigmatic as he was loyal. His past is shrouded in mystery and his future is entwined with the throne. 

“I wonder what James is like,” you mused aloud one night.

Nashasa chuckled. “From what I’ve heard, he’s as loyal as they come. However, sister, he’s been through much. You’ll have to be patient with him.” 

You nodded understandly. “I want to make sure he feels respected, and comfortable with me around.” 

Natasha placed a reassuring hand over yours. “You have a compassionate nature, a kind heart, dear sister. James will appreciate that.” 

The day grew shorted and the night's longer as the lands of Avengard trembled with whispered changes. Alliances form in the halls of power, determining the fate of the realm. The Romanoff sisters stood poised in this intricate dance of power and destiny. Their legacies were forever changed by the crown and the blood-soaked soil of their home. 

“Do you remember the stories Mother used to tell us?” Yelena asked. “About the ancient queens of Avengard?” 

“How could I forget?” Natasha said, her eyes distant as she looked toward the horizon. “She always believed we were destined for greatness.” 

“Greatness or tragedy,” Yelena added, her voice softening. “The line between the two is often thin.” 

“Then we’ll have to make sure we land on the right side,” Natasha replied firmly. “For the honor of our House.”

Determination burnt in your heart as you looked out upon the sprawled lands of Belova. The journey ahead was fraught with danger, but you were ready. The destiny of House Romanoff depended upon it. Guided by the love for your family and the commitment to your noble house, you were prepared to face whatever awaited.

---

Series Masterlist | Next Chapter

[just-here-for-writing]

(This is a first time trying to write anything kinda COD related)

You ride through the town feeling weary, this last political outing had been more than tiresome and you were ready to be back at the manor and curled up in your own bed. So when carriage lurched to a stop you already felt a groan leaving your lips before you heard the commotion. There was yelling and you could hear your own guards shouting.

Curiosity had always been your weakness.

You lean to look from the carriage window and see a giant of a man being beat in the street. Your own guards are trying to clear the path so that you might safely reach your manor but another man with a switch seems enraged and unwilling to move.

The man you could only describe as a giant is on his knees, his arms up, trying to cover his head from potential blows.

The scene causes anger to bubble into your chest and despite your handmaiden's warning you step from the carriage with your head held high and a tight expression.

"What is the meaning of all this?"

The man with the switch stops arguing seeing you and ducks his head. "Just putting some things to rights my lady, I apologize for causing you delay."

"And what exactly are you putting into right?" Your gaze lingers over the man on his knees.

"My purchased help is anything but. He has broken many of the projects I've had him handle. He does not learn, a beating is the only language he knows, the only one we have in common."

"So you intend to mistreat your help in public?"

"He ran my lady. I used good money to purchase help and I won't let him just leave and waste that."

Anger festered. Lashing a man in the street was something you wouldn't stand for.

"And you would behave this way in public, in my town?"

His eyes widened. "My lady I swear to you I'm only doing what is necessary. He can't listen and when I'm lax he feels he can do as he wants."

"I have been gone from this town for to long then. I didn't realise the rules of decency were changed in my absence. Because here you are doing as you wish while my attention was lax. Should I treat you as you have treated him?" You gesture to the man.

The certifiable giant had slowly stood to his feet while this exchange was taking place. He seemed uncomfortable not just from the lashing but also from the attention of everyone around the square.

The man dropped his switch as he stammered. "I am allowed to oversee my property as I see fit."

"And I am allowed to oversee my town and it's citizens as I see fit. You said you purchased this man?"

He stammered more before telling you yes.

"How much?"

"What does..."

You cut him off. "How much? I intend to take him off your hands, since you are unable to control him and he is unhelpful to you. So how much? I will purchase him for the same amount you originally paid."

Your tone and expression leave no negotiation and you leave a guard to settle up with the man. You step towards the hurt man and gently tuck his arm in yours. He looks down at you with suspension, his slightly wavy locks stick to his forehead. You tug him towards your carriage and wave off the concern your guards give at your actions.

"Come we'll get you cleaned up and taken care of."

He mutters something in a language you don't know.

"Ah. I see." You speak to him with a soft voice as you coax him into the carriage behind you, propriety be scorned.

Your handmaiden eyes you and chastises your recklessness. But you ignore her and continue to speak assurances to the man that has to hunch awkwardly to fit in the seat across from you both. Even if he can't understand your words hopefully he can understand your tone.

When the man seems less unsure you try to learn his name. You point to yourself and say your name and then point to Lucy, your handmaiden and say her name. You repeat this a few times and then gesture to him.

He seems to understand what you want and simply says, "König."

Part 1/?

[demigoddessqueens]

Can you please write something about each member of Vox's reaction to discovering their s/o is royalty, next in line for a throne in fact. This concept has been eating away at my brain all weekend.

Like reader is just this proficiency marksman with a boyish humor, who is just as much as little sh** as the rest of the group, you'd never think they were royalty. However, when their partner is threatened to be arrested or something, with few peaceful alternatives, they use their title.

This feels like Trevor Belmont energy and I love it 😍 😆

Vex’ahlia

Well you’re more fun than Percy, that’s for sure! But she does appreciate you “pulling rank” to get her out of a snag, and also gives you a bit of grief about being short on gold when it was needed.

Vax’ildan

Surprised like his sister, but does appreciate the fact that you didn’t throw your title around like that. It’s a refreshing personality, aside from the bond he has with Percy, and you’ve done more than enough to make him smile.

Grog

A smug type of surprised. Goes on a whole “why didn’t you tell me you were fancy like that?”. He’s proud to have a significant other like yourself!

Pike

Well, better to have friends everywhere, but she does get more curious about you. Wants to learn more about you, and maybe entice a shopping trip

Keyleth

Does get a kick out of the fact that you’re similar to Percy in a way, laughing about how others took to remembering you, but also wants to know about your family and history.

Scanlan

A kinship with someone who understands him! Puffs out his chest and proudly states that he knows friends in high places so everyone listen to him.

Percy

Saving the best for last! A whole sputtering Oh, ok! So diplomatic immunity never works in Vasselheim FOR HIM? But for you, it’s not a problem at all! It hurts his ego for a while, but he soon he gets over it. Truth be told, he cracks a smile at your crude jokes.

[undermine-the-instinct]

Title: Across the Ballroom

Part of the Prince!Al Haitham reader poll I did. Witch reader won and is canon, and Noble reader came in last at 7.5%.

Noble | Head advisor | Civilian | Royalty |Librarian | Witch (canon)

Not proofread, I just wanna get this out there.

Wc: 2k Warnings: Talks of arranged marriage(??)

☆ ° ◇ °☆ ° ◇ ° ☆ ° ◇ ° ☆

"Well met. Prince Al Haitham of the Sumerian Kingdom." The prince bowed and you return his greetings, subtly trying to check him out.

You suppose the rumors are true, he really is quite handsome. You've never quite seen such intense eyes, or such an impressive build from a prince who was not a warrior (and thus a meathead). 

He does not seem to be cursed either. There are no marks or outward tellings of a curse or spell, and you wonder if it's just his insanely good looks at play here.

If he is cursed, it's hidden especially well.

You're curious, and he seems intelligent, so you hope to speak to him more as this night goes by. 

Unfortunately, that's not the case.

The other nobles and royals are swarming him, like bees to honey. All high class elite, you cam never hope to breach or approach. Once he finishes talking with one lady another shows up batting her eyelashes, or another prince puts a hand to his shoulder, elbow.

You have enough people in your day to day life touching you and demanding your attention, your time, your skills, so you're not sure how he does it, how he does not shake off their holds or keeps such a stoic face.

He just seems…unbothered. Like they were all blades of grass he couldn't be bothered to sweep away. Like a puppet, he goes through the motions, says the right lines, makes the right gestures and gives the right amount of attention. It's…scary, how he can do that. Shut down everything else off but the necessary, or maybe this really is how he is. Doesn't seem like much of a person, to you. 

But beyond being scary, it's boring. It seems the rumors really have painted him as a dreamboat, when he's really not anything interesting. What a disappointment.

His eyes suddenly cut towards you, like he heard your thoughts. You, out of anyone in the room. And, oh, not so composed then. There is an anger there, in his eyes, and a challenge, and you do not rise to meet it. It does not entice you. You return to your champagne glass, stick to your little corner of the ballroom.

You're going to mind your business, and enjoy your time here. Your father pulled some strings to get you to such a high class ball, so above your station. You're wearing your most expensive outfit and jewelry yet, and the food looks amazing.

You'd have better luck talking to the people here. Making acquaintanceships, and networking, than trying to woo the prince. You're ordinary (no you're not, but you're trying to be), so you doubt you'll catch his eye.

You forget you're a witch (no you're not, you just know some things). You really shouldn't tempt fate.

Because Gods and Stars above, the Crown Prince is walking towards you.

"Your Grace." The room goes silent, and you turn fully to see the crown prince behind you, holding out his arm. Goodness, he's not going to ask…in front of all these people?

"A new song is about to start. May I have this dance?" You'd rather magick a hole in your hand that lets out hornets, but alas. Who are you to deny the crown prince? You take his hand.

He's not wearing gloves. His calluses aren't fully formed, like he doesn't use them for work often, but he has little indents on his index and thumb. They are so imperceptible that you wouldn't have noticed them if you didn't have the same thing, from years of holding a wand, or a quill.

Both of you are silent and stone faced as you take your positions on the dance floor. You suppose you don't make a very pleasant looking pair. There is a sizable clear space around you two that the other dancers leave, and you do not pretend to not notice the stares you are getting. 

"Tell me," he begins, as the music starts, "what brought you here?"

"Me, Your Highness?" You move with him, smooth, graceful. 

"It is the beginning of the social season, Your Highness. It's more strange if I am not here." 

"Forgive me, you don't seem like you very much want to be here." 

"I could say the same for you, Your Highness." You are awarded with a slight, dry chuckle as you move along the dance floor.

"Oh, so you noticed?"

"...I do not mean to be rude, Your Highness." Cats and dragons know that your mother and your father would kill you if you were to get on the bad side of the prince. 

"You are not. To be honest, I grow weary over droll conversation about the same things, over and over. But my Father made me swear to be on my best behavior. So what can I do?"

A chuckle escapes your lips.

"Even at our age, we are still held to the whims of our parents."

"But of course. I adhere to it though."

"Blink twice if you're being held hostage, Your Highness." He looks at you, and you think your joke was not very well received, until he very obviously blinks twice. You chuckle.

Okay, this is going good. Much better than you thought you would have, when his eyes cut across the room.

Almost like he was searching for something, a lifejacket to hold onto.

"Pardon me, Your Highness, for this question but…why did you approach me for a dance?"

"Hm? Because I wished to. Nothing more or less." And put all this pressure on you? With the wide space you've been given, the stares, you've never put this much thought into making sure your steps are absolutely perfect. You can't make a fool of yourself here, you will not.

"I've never met you before. We have no history."

"No…?" You draw out the word.

"And yet you don't seem infatuated with me."

A million thoughts flood through your head, and a thousand emotions, but you decide to wait until he clarifies. 

Even if a hot bolt of incredulity (rage) shot through you.

"Haven't you noticed there's mainly women at this ball? They are all hoping to win me over so I could make one of them my wife. Not much different for the other nobles either. 

I've never seen you at none of these events, and I recognize plenty of the people here. You must be here for the same thing as they. Though I don't see you making much of an effort."

You want to scoff, and it's getting incredibly hard to keep being polite."Would you believe me if I said I was not attracted to you, or wished to court you? At all?"

"I'd be highly skeptical, and hopeful. What a relief that would be. Even so, that wouldn't explain why you look so upset to be here."

Was your face that telling? No, you're pretty sure he just has a crazy intuition. 

Alright, how can you say this without being too rude, or look like you're scheming…

"Well, I very much don't appreciate my Father sending me here to try and seduce you, Your Highness." There goes any tact. 

"Oh? Is that what you were sent for?" He sounds like he is just humoring you, and you try not to wince. You hope you aren't digging your own grave. He looks down at you, assessing, and he doesn't look impressed. Your anger flares.

"You don't seem to be doing a very good job. By choice, I presume?"

"Of course. You don't seem very enthused either, with all these suitors being thrown at you. Why add on when I don't even want to?"

He twirls you, away from him. You pivot on your heel and twirl back into his arms.

"No, I don't appreciate it. And I'm feeling desperate, so let's cut the small talk and make a temporary deal."

A what? The sudden topic change sounds so sudden, and gives you whiplash, but…you're bored.

 "Pardon me, Your Highness?"

"You are pardoned. Quickly now, the dance is almost over."

True, the tempo was reaching its crescendo, and then it's end, you nod at the prince.

"Let me hear, before I agree." After the words leave your mouth he pulls you so much closer, and you don't think you misheard the room gasp when he leans closer to whisper in your ear.

"I pretend to entertain you, and be enamored, and you follow suit. That way I won't have to deal with these lovelorn fools and you…"

"And I…?" You try not to sound breathless.

"Have something to report back to your Father." A huff of breath escapes your lips before you catch it, and you shake your head with a smile.

"I thought you were good at negotiations, Your Highness. I don't need to report back to my Father on anything. And I don't think I'd want the attention I'd get, plenty of folks here are already sure to gossip on this, alone." With your hand still in his, you gesture between the two of you. The prince's expression doesn't change.

"I understand your Father is in a bit of a bind, and you are of eligible age and stature, and, forgive me, breeding, for marriage. It's why you were sent to such a high class ball, in the hopes of meeting and wooing me." You purse your lips, not wanting to affirm his thoughts. 

"I'm a capable person. Even if in the worst, absolute case scenario, my family falls into ruin, somehow, I could make a name selling spells and such. I'm talented enough to bring us back to high society"

"Oh, a witch? You seem very confident in your abilities."

"Of course, I'm very capable and I am self taught."

"Tell me witch, am I cursed? Spellcasted, hexed? Or could you curse me to never find love?" Is he joking? His face is set like stone but his voice carries some mirth when you frown at him.

"I couldn't detect anything then or now. And I could curse you, but then my family would really fall into notoriety and we don't need that." He chuckles, so he was joking. 

Good.

"Even just this you could report back, and I'm sure it would do much to delay your Father's attempts to marry you off. I need an appropriate excuse, not exactly a proper one, to escape these suitors. So what say you?" 

The dance is nearly finished now, and you can already see said suitors waiting at the outskirts, waiting for their turn, or to question you. You frown at the prince, having come to a realization.

"Even if I refuse, you have made it so I'll gain some notoriety just from your actions here alone. You've pressured me."

Al Haitham looks at you. And strangely enough, he smiles. Those eyes of his are really…something. The music stops and you both still, but he still doesn't let you go as you look about, as whispers start to rise.

"To make negotiations, preferably in my favor, I need to create a situation where the other party is more inclined to meet my demands." He releases you save one hand, and lowers himself down to kiss it. The room definitely explodes into gasps, and your eyes blow open.

"I'm sure you'll be able to find me if you take up my offer."

You hiss, annoyed. "I'll put a spell on you, prince."

"I don't care. As long as it gets these people away from me," he mutters under his breath, that pleasant smile slipping ever so slightly.

He bows and slowly turns away, as if longing to stay with you.

"Till our next dance, Your Grace. I do hope you bless me with more of your time." And he walks away. You only have a moment to glare and curse him in your mind before a group of ladies descend upon you, hungry for all the gossip.

That swine. 

Tagging @escapeis !!!

[luxthestrange]

TWST Incorrect quotes#707 Church boy

Idia: Who would you kill out of the four of us, Yuu?

Yuu: Azul, easily.

Idia, laughing: What the fuck, Yuu

Yuu: Well, Rollo would be too easy. He’d probably be into it.

Rollo, now standing in the doorway: What the bloody hell, yuu!?

Yuu & Rollo's song as they dance:

[ellecdc]

Hi! I’ve never requested to anyone before, but I really love how you write Regulus. Could I request an arranged marriage with Regulus, where Regulus was head over heels for Reader at Hogwarts but kept her at arm’s length knowing he was bound to an arranged marriage? And him not knowing what to do now that they are finally married. With a calm and observant Reader. I hope it’s not too much trouble 😬😊Thank you!

such a sweet idea! thanks for your request!! I hope you do again 🫶

The Arranged Marriage of Regulus' Dreams

Regulus Black x fem!reader - arranged marriage (no Voldemort AU)

“You’re fucking with me.” Regulus hissed to Narcissa as he watched you and your parents walk through the door of 12 Grimmauld Place.

Narcissa smirked and nudged her younger cousin out into the hall. “Nope, now go on cousin, say hello to your fiancée.”

Regulus thought he was dreaming. No. Certainly he was dead. Would he have gotten into heaven though? Surely not. But if he wasn’t in heaven, then what were you doing here?!

“Mr. L/N, Mrs. L/N. Miss. L/N.” Walburga Black greeted the family as the Black family house Elf, Kreacher, took their outer robes.

“Ah, not Miss. L/N for much longer though.” Your father laughed as he jostled your shoulder a little too roughly, causing you to teeter slightly in your heels.

Regulus wanted to kill him.

“Of course! Tomorrow’s the big day, hm? The most important moment in a young woman’s life.” Orion Black proclaimed as he ushered everyone into the dining room. Regulus noticed your slight grimace at his father’s words, but your face softened as you made eye contact with him.

He smiled softly and bowed his head, taking your hand in his to place a chaste kiss to your knuckles – just like a proper pureblood heir ought to when meeting their betrothed.

Regulus had no idea it was you he was bound to marry. 

Most noble and high-ranking pureblood families partook in arranged marriages. The heir of the family was the most important – most coveted. Regulus wasn’t always the heir – so his engagement wasn’t announced to him until his 5th year – the year that Sirius ran away from home.

The Black’s were readying their new heir; getting their affairs in order.

Regulus could admit that he didn’t really agree with everything his parents stood for. Sirius may have been able to escape his parent’s clutches, but Regulus wasn’t as lucky. 

He found the idea of arranged marriage to be a little archaic, but he was nothing if not a loyal, devoted son. No matter how much it hurt. 

No matter. Regulus understood his duty.

He had been crushing hard on this pretty witch in the year below him at Hogwarts for years, but he never felt confident enough to act on it. By the time he was confident enough to act on it – he’d been promised to someone else, so he never ended up pursuing it. What was the point of falling in love when you were bound to be married for business?

And here that witch was…with her parents…in his home…the evening before his wedding…as his bride. 

No…certainly this was a prank. A joke. A stroke? He was dead. In heaven? Maybe this was his hell.

He must have been running on autopilot, because suddenly he was seated beside you at the formal dining room after he had tucked your chair in under you, listening to the adults the parents discuss business.

He didn’t feel much like an adult right now.

He felt like a prepubescent schoolboy with a crush. 

How humiliating. 

“So, Orion and I will be leaving tomorrow immediately after the wedding.” Walburga announced. “Regulus will be the official head of the Ancient and Most Noble House of Black along with his wife Y/N, and we will leave the affairs to them.”

“What are your plans for after the wedding?” You father asked Walburga.

Regulus wanted to roll his eyes. Isn’t that the kind of question people are meant to ask the bride and groom?

“Where’s the honeymoon? What are your plans afterwards? Where will you be living? Do you plan on having kids?” 

Regulus had to stop his train of thought – getting a little too excited thinking about his marriage…to you.

Surely he was dead. Surely.

“We have a few properties in France.” Orion interjected before Walburga continued.

“We’ll be residing in a vineyard in the South of France. Retirement will be good for Orion.”

“How lovely. You’re resigning from your position in the Wizengamot?” Your mother inquired.

You and Regulus shared a look and a shy smile before returning to your plates.

“Regulus will be overtaking my position in the courts, as well as the Black’s affairs in the Ministry. We donate a lot of money to keep that government running.” Orion stated proudly. Regulus fought the urge to grimace. 

“It’s a good thing too – Salazar knows that place would be run by mudbloods and halfbreeds if we weren’t careful.” Walburga added.

Regulus had to hand it to you – the only sign you even heard his mother was the slight raising of your eyebrows before the returned to their rightful place above your eyes.

He was smitten.

“Well, our darling Y/N will be a wonderful addition to the Black legacy. She was top of her class, she’s a powerful witch, and loyal to her kind.” You father proclaimed, jostling your shoulder once again.

Regulus couldn’t help himself; he gently placed his hand on the same shoulder your father’s hand was and brushed it – effectively shooing your father’s hand away. He rubbed your shoulder consolingly before returning his gaze to the table.

But not before he caught Narcissa’s knowing smirk as she eyed the two of you.  

“Marvellous. I think this will be a very wonderful match.” Walburga proclaimed.

Regulus didn’t often like agreeing with his mother – but he couldn’t help but feel the same.

The house was disturbingly quiet after the affairs that took place today. 

The trip to the ministry to get your marriage license. Your ceremony on the grounds of Malfoy Manor, and the reception that here at 12 Grimmauld Place, where your image and name were added to the Black Family tapestry. 

This is where Regulus found himself now, in the formal living room – hiding from you.

Not hiding from you.

Sort of hiding from you.

Regulus never grew up expecting much; at least not much of what he wanted. He lucked out getting to play quidditch, but everything else had been decided for him.

His house at Hogwarts was decided for him. His friends were decided for him. His marriage was decided for him.

But now that he had this? A marriage with you – the one witch he would have actually chosen for himself?

Well, he just didn’t know what to do with himself.

So, he was hiding in the formal living room, staring at the Black Family tapestry where your name and portrait was woven in beside his. 

He had never felt this lucky before.

His eyes, as they often did, wandered over to the place where Sirius’ name and portrait had been blasted off some years ago.

Regulus got what he wanted in you… he only wished his brother had been there too.

This is how you found him, standing against the back of a settee with the sleeves of his button-down rolled up, shirt untucked and tie loosened. 

“Oh, hi L/N…erm…” he trailed off awkwardly as you smiled kindly at him.

“I supposed you’ll have to call me by my name, now that we’re married.” You stated plainly as you moved to stand beside him to look at the tapestry.

“Did you know?” Regulus asked quietly after a few moments of silence.

“Know what?”

“Know that it was going to be me? That you were to be married to?” He clarified.

You shook your head in the negative. “I never bothered asking. Didn’t think there was much sense, seeing as there was nothing to be done about it.”

Regulus nodded in understanding. “Are you disappointed?”

“That it was you?” You asked. Regulus nodded. “Not at all.”

Regulus hoped his relief wasn’t as evident on his face as it felt. 

You turned your head back to the tapestry before pulling your wand out and stepping towards it. You pointed it gently at the place Sirius’ name was and murmured something quietly. 

Regulus watched in awe as the strands of the portrait stitched themselves back together, proudly displaying his big brother again.

“Is this alright?” you asked as you turned to observe him. He nodded dumbly as he swallowed against a painful lump in his throat. His eyes flitted to Andromeda’s burn mark. 

“Do you mind doing that one too?” He asked quietly.

You smiled softly and turned back, repeating the spell until Andromeda’s name was once again displayed on the wall.

“The Black’s can be whoever you want them to be now, you know?” You murmured quietly, eyes intent on Regulus’ form.

“I’m happy with the newest addition, so far.” He admitted shyly, wishing he was bold enough to proclaim exactly what he thought of you.

You smiled bashfully, and Regulus delighted in the slight flush that coloured your cheeks. “What else should we do?”

Regulus thought for a moment before a devious grin grew across his face.

“I say we start by pulling the funding from the Ministry. What do you think, my dear wife?”

Your smile looked like it was trying to be as wicked as Regulus’, but you fell painfully short. Regulus doubted you could ever manage looking anything but sweet.

“Sound’s perfect, darling.”

Regulus was in heaven – surely. 

[misstycloud]

Isekai’d yandere x f.reader

We’ve all heard about reader getting isekai’d into another universe and bonding with the characters, but what if it was the opposite and the yandere was isekai’d while reader’s just a background character.

————-

You were the mere daughter of a baron. You were pretty, yes, but nothing to gape in awe at. To summarise, you were nothing special. Then how come the heir of a grand duchy followed you around like a puppy seeking its masters attention? Especially since it was only the day earlier that he smitten with another young miss, who he’d declared with his actions was to become his future fiancée.

Yandere! Noble who suddenly approached you out of nowhere one day. You weren’t friends and had hardly ever spoken; to ask directions or work in pairs, perhaps. He was way too cheery speaking to you. It was completely out of character for him. Where did the normally stoic and unphased young man go? He was certainly not to be found here. No, this man chatted your ear off and did not understand that you wished to be left alone. It didn’t feel very safe anymore when all his admirers glared daggers your way. There was one you were especially afraid of. He was head over heels in love with her before. What has changed? You always saw them together and she was the only one he’d smiled at genuinely. Now he didn’t even spare her a glance.

Yandere! Noble who sought you out whenever he had free time. He wanted to accompany you in breaks between your classes at the academy, he wished to escort you to town and he even showed up outside your estate. His change in behaviour was puzzling, but not as much as the shift in his speech. What were these ‘bruh’, ‘sigma’ and ‘I’m cooked’? You didn’t understand any of it, no matter how much he used it around you. You suppose you were thankful he did turn it down a notch when in others company. You already had a hard time with it, you didn’t think it was necessary for others to suffer as well.

Yandere! Noble who had been shocked when they died and woken up in the world of their favourite romance game. They had read a lot of isekai novels but never once thought the thing was actually real. Wait, if this was their favourite game, then wouldn’t that mean that you were there too? Yes! Maybe they should thank Truck-kun for hitting them on their way to work. This was much better than any ordinary life a citizen could have. At first they thought they’d be stuck in the body of a villain or a side character, but they were pleasantly surprised to find themselves being the male lead of the game. He was rich, noble, influential and devilishly handsome. He had everything.

Yandere! Noble who immediately went to the academy to find you. When playing the game, they never found themselves attracted to the female lead, despite the fact she was modelled after the general population’s preferences. It just didn’t work for them. No, they liked you. Loved you even! It didn’t matter that you were nothing more than a simple background character. You were way better and cuter than any other love interest! You kept to yourself and didn’t have many friends, however you were still very kind and modest. On top of that, you were also an animal lover- exactly like them! The two of you also shared one other interest. They wanted to know if you shared more, but unfortunately the information on you was limited(not created because you’re not important).

Yandere! Noble who wrote an email to the game developers about how they should make extra content that should only feature new information and updates on you. They insist it would sell well(no one except them would buy). Sadly they never got a reply back. Rude ass company. Maybe they should’ve claimed mental health damage because the love interests were bad, so they could sue.

Yandere! Noble who couldn’t care less about the female lead. Unfortunately they got isekaid to at the point of the game where you’d have to enter a relationship with the female lead, that you could break off eventually if you wanted to chase after someone else. And sadly for her, you were the only option. The look on her face was laughable as they told her they could give rats ass about her and how they’ve found someone much better than her in all ways.

Yandere! Noble who then realised they were not bound by any rules. In a lot of isekai the person would have to follow some original rules at least in the beginning, but there was no system or points you needed to collect. They could do whatever they wanted. They had the power, the looks, the wealth and what they wanted was you.

There is no way you’d ever say no to a future grand duke, right?

[tilbageidanmark]

[cheesus-doodles]

Letters

Yandere Rollo

Masterlist | TWST Masterlist

‎

i like my repressed christian boys a lot if yall can't tell ;-;, couldn't pass up on this....tr will be back on schedule next!

Rollo Flamme never imagined himself as simply ordinary. He had always been destined to be extraordinary, committed and focused, willing to put in the work to achieve perfection. Yes, there was no doubt that there were ways to go to meet his goals, seeing as his fire lily plan went up in flames on first contact with that wretched Malleus Draconia and his Night Raven buddies despite his months of meticulous planning and careful scheming.

Yet here he was, walking at a speed Rollo hoped didn’t divulge how fast his heart was pounding away, your letter carefully tucked away deep within his robes, pressed right up against his chest. Green eyes concentrated on nothing but his next step, his poker-face and overall reputation as the Student Council President a god-sent for keeping unwanted attention away as he cut a path through the school towards his room, hands clasped in front of him as they always were. 

Outside the gates of Noble Bell College, Fleur City was as lively as ever, the hustle and bustle of a city coming back to life under the gentle evening sun echoed throughout the conversely silent campus as people enjoyed busking in the remaining sunlight after a long day of work. It was an exceptionally cool day too, the white-haired boy noted to himself, the breeze sweeping down the hallways and bursting forth into the open air strong enough to lift the ends of his robes.

A respectful mumble of “Rollo-kaicho” rose from the scatter of students milling around as he walked past, though nothing that a returned nod of acknowledgement couldn’t settle.

The peacefulness that blanketed the stately campus as the sun sank further and further down the horizon reminded him much of the night of the Young Mage’s Social ball, and more so, you. Rollo could recall that particular evening with perfect clarity, the sights and sounds replaying again in his head as the purple-clad mage made his way indoors, the old wooden door swinging shut behind him with nay a creak, shutting out both the wind and the sounds of the city.

‎

His own footsteps were the only sound ringing across otherwise empty corridors as the boy turned the situation he had found himself unexpectedly stuck in over and over again in his mind. It had never been his intention to fall over his own set trap, yet how was it he did so anyway despite all his wariness and discipline?

This had all begun as a plot for revenge right after he had been bested, by villains no less. It would be hard for Rollo to even admit that he had come to terms with the beating he received several months ago, let alone the night after it happened, and his next plot had already begun to hatch the moment you swept into view dressed in your masquerade costume, accompanied by none other than Malleus himself. From everything he witnessed, it was clear that the Draconia housewarden cared greatly for you, and dare he guess, maybe even had some unexpressed feelings for you. 

Not that he hadn’t noticed you before that night, but it was certainly the first time that he had come to realize just how central a place you held among the Night Raven College students, and how crucial a card you would be in his next plan to wipe that smug smirk off of that wretched fae prince’s face.

The night of the Young Mages’ Social ball had been surprisingly ordinary, given what had just happened. He had been exhausted and dead on his feet, even if he showed no sign of it outwardly; the orderliness of the hall that he painstakingly cleaned after the last fire lotus had withered was a welcomed sight. Alas there was no time for sleep, not that it would matter given his already heavy eyebags. But despite his state, you had instantly caught his eye at the start of the ball, quietly huddled towards the back of the Night Raven group, trying your best to look anywhere but at him or at the rest of the crowd as you and your friends were singled out as the saviors of Fleur City. And it was obvious that you were feeling even more out-of-place as the dance began in earnest, though whether it was from the crowds or just general awkwardness, Rollo could not say.

Taking his leave from the merrymaking, the white-haired Council President could find no surprise within him when he found you sitting alone later outside of the hall, enjoying the peace and quiet that had fallen over the city with the arrival of night, looking up at the blanket of stars, a glass of what looked like juice in your hand.

“May I join you?”

You had jumped at his words, though you did settle quickly upon realizing it was just him for reasons unbeknownst to Rollo. “By all means,” you replied, waving him down to join you. After all, he did just try to essentially kill your friends and all mages in general. Perhaps you knew something he didn’t, the purple-clad student mused to himself, subtly watching you from the corner of his pale green eyes. Or perhaps you were just presumptuous, given you hadn’t been affected as badly as the rest.

The dark sky was clear of clouds, the dark of space dotted with twinkles as far as the eye could see, the moon hanging alone amidst the barren sky; an alluring sight for weary souls - and judging from how discreetly you had excused yourself from the social, you definitely were tired. 

A pause as Rollo took a seat a respectful distance from you. “Too much?”

You nodded. “Too much.”

Whatever it was, you seemingly held no ill will towards Rollo, simply accepting his quiet company. And so the two of you sat in comfortable silence as the young mages danced and laughed the night away just a stone’s throw away. The minutes melted into hours as the world continued to turn, though the calmness of the reality around him was a far cry from the turmoil of thoughts within his head. 

When the night started to grow old and the cacophony of noises began to die down, it was as if an unheard bell had gone off, and you reluctantly stood, empty glass now in hand - your friends were bound to come looking for you should they notice you were missing. And with you leaving soon and that night being the last one you were spending at Noble Bell College, it was finally time to launch the first phase of his plan.

”I would like to write to you,” Rollo started, immediately cringing internally as the words left his lips, but there was no going back now. “If it is alright with you.”

He held his breath as you considered his request, your head cocking to the side as you contemplated. “Sure, why not?” You shrugged, shooting him a light smile, your hair gleaming in the waning moonlight. “Goodnight, Rollo.”

Exhale. And that was that.

‎

But now here he was, Rollo mused, eagerly anticipating the opportunity to read your letter alone. Has his plan gone astray? He shook his head, attempting to clear his thoughts of you, just till he could be alone. For all his routine and self-discipline, you were the one temptation he couldn’t seem to get squash down.

Coming to a pause at the fork in the hallway, the Noble Bell Council President paused. The last thing he wanted was to be interrupted tonight in the midst of his much-needed analysis of your letter, so against the burning desires of his heart and the weight of your letter heavy in his robes, he forced himself to take a detour, his feet carrying him down sparse corridors towards the councilrooms. It was easy to spot his Vice President still hard at work amidst the otherwise empty room, scouring through a stack of papers at his desk, head down and pen scribbling away.

A quiet clearing of his throat was enough to get the attention of the occupant inside. “Rollo-kaicho!” Said student rocketed up from his seat, hurriedly adjusting his slipping striped cap. “What brings you here at this time of day?”

“I wanted to check in before I retired for the day,” replied the white-haired boy, giving a courteous glance to the rest of the unoccupied desks before returning his gaze to the other. “Is there anything I should know about?”

The Noble Bell Vice President stuttered for a moment, lost for words and wrecking his tired brain in an attempt to find what to say. “I-uh-“

Pulling out his celestial-patterned handkerchief, his movement just barely managed to cover the disgusted look that fell over his expression, eyes narrowing and eyebrows furrowing as the stench of magic overwhelmed his senses, though Rollo still managed to keep his tone neutral. Even if he was the one to initiate contact, that hardly made a difference with his nausea. “It’s fine,” the magic-adverse mage managed to grit out without a hint of distaste, his tone as neutral as it always has been. “Please have the points ready for me tomorrow morning.”

“Of course, Rollo-kaicho. I apologize again.”

‎

Finally being able to lock his room door behind him brought a relief much like cold water over hot iron, ending the depraved pulsing in his mind that the mere presence of the envelope in his robes against his chest brought on with every passing second. Tossing the heinous paper carelessly onto his well-worn table top, Rollo instead hurriedly picked it back up again, pale green eyes scanning for any further damage he had caused, though fortunately there was none to be found.

Letting out a sigh of relief, the white-haired boy settled into his chair. Now, to satisfy both his curiosity and anticipation.

Trembling fingers carefully peeled open the envelope, revealing a slightly yellowed, unevenly folded paper much to Rollo’s chagrin - he would have much preferred if you used a perfect white piece of paper, quality stationery instead of this random piece you must have had left over from your homework, and if you had folded it the same way he did all this time. But he supposed he couldn’t expect that high a standard from you, given the riff-raff of mages you found yourself in the company of. As he gently freed your letter from its paper enclosure, his sensitive nose caught a whiff of a familiar scent, the smell probably having lingered on from when you first mailed it out.

The light fragrance of your favorite shampoo, Rollo deduced, bringing the paper up to his nose. He recognized it, no matter how faint it was. You must have just finished showering when you wrote and sealed the letter if the aroma still endured. A breath of fresh air amidst the rank odor of magic and mages.

And then he began to read.

Dear Rollo, the letter began as it always did, those two words enough to have his heart skip a beat like nothing else could. But this time, the next few that followed were even better. Your letter came late, and it was sorely missed.

Line by line, you spelled out your daily ongoings, your interactions with your fellow schoolmates, your inner thoughts. Rambling about anything and everything that came to mind, thoughts spilling out without filter straight onto paper. About how Grimm (that filthy magic cat) nearly failed his test again and about how Deuce and Ace got into their latest spat of trouble with their housewarden Riddle. About how Jack and Epel were like to work with on your history project, and how you felt about one of your lunches being stolen by Leona.

Just like that, the minutes slipped through his finger, and with a pang in his heart, Rollo came to the end of your letter.

He placed the paper down on the paper, taking a breath.

How was it that he could feel so attached to another person through a simple piece of paper? How did you ensnare him so effortlessly, bypassing his hard-fought discipline as if it didn’t exist? Did all this mean that his revenge plot against Malleus had already gone awry?

‎

The night was cool and quiet, the moonlight that shone through his stained glass windows bringing the Noble Bell Council President back to that fateful night. A light gust of wind seeped in through a small crack, creaking the old wooden panels in the floor as it blew through his room. 

Your writing had improved, Rollo noted, as per his guidance in his previous letter. You were using a ruler to ensure straight lines, and your handwriting had neaten greatly; a far cry from your first reply to him, the memory of those scrawling letters that ran up and done and every-which way except straight across the paper still causing shivers to run down his spine. That was bad.

Carefully and painstakingly refolding the paper, Rollo stood, returning it to its envelope before moving to stow the letter within his secret compartment above the fireplace, with previous letters neatly arranged upright according to date received. His fingers lightly brushed past all your correspondence with him, his chest fluttering at your willingness to speak with him, his mind already churning with how and what he should reply to you. Would you be interested in perhaps coming back to Noble Bell? Maybe he should visit Night Raven College? Even if that blasted Draconia was there, it would be worth it just to have some private, personal time with you, the white-haired mage calculated, his hand tapping an unknown rhythm across his desk that he now leaned against.

‎

There was no point in denying his obsession with you, not at this point - it had been awhile since you started to occupy his every waking moment and thoughts, and being as organized and detailed as Rollo was, he could pinpoint the exact moment when he began to spiral. Sure, his first letter had been full of nothings, meaningless pleasantries and stories that he polished to perfection over the course of a night of restlessness. But what he got back was your heart on your sleeve, your mind like an open book for him to pick apart and examine.

As things turned out, the more he picked, the more he found. Questions he sent always came back answered, with you evidently letting slip more than you intended to originally say, sometimes directly and sometimes when he read between the lines. 

A single line in your third reply to him was all it took to begin his unending slide. 

You were from a different world.

The more he sat on it, turning it around and round in his mind, the more his chest grew warm, and you began his center of focus. Even the mere passing pondering of what you were doing now was enough to grip Rollo’s entire being, to have his heart rate increase and his thoughts to jumble. After all, in this foul, tainted world, there could be no purer person than someone who came from a place where no magic exists.

You were perfection embodied. 

In a twist of fate, you turned out to be pure, a shining beacon amidst the foul-smelling heathens. A gift from the heavens, a blessings from the divine meant for none other than him, that no one could properly appreciate except for him. Sure you weren’t the most orderly, and you did have your moments where you were occasionally wowed by magic, especially the inhuman feats from that wretched Malleus Draconia, but you remained untainted despite your constant proximity to the taint of magic that surrounded and cloaked you as if a heavy fog. Never indicated anything more than a passing interest in the magic that your companions wielded and an admiration that Rollo was sure he could rid you off. All you needed was time away from those mages, spent instead in his company.

‎

Stepping away from his desk and moving now towards his personal bathroom, Rollo came to the answer he had been looking for as the boy moved to undress himself for a nighttime shower. It had been in front of him all this time.

The answer was no. 

No, he hadn’t forsaken his plan to wield you against Malleus; sure the exact details had changed as the months went by, but everything he did was as he had schemed. Just that now, you didn’t have to be a means to an end, you didn’t need to be just another casualty wrecked up amidst his crusade against the villains. Stealing you away from the fae prince would be one of the largest blows he could deal with to that condescending prick, the beginning of his downfall - the excitement tingling at Rollo’s arms as he imagined the crestfallen expression that would twist Draconia’s face, the streak-free bathroom mirror reflecting the pale green eyes that lighted up in callous pleasure.

It would be glorious.

But for now, Rollo determined, schooling his face back into its usual neutral look as he turned to step into the shower room, what he needed to concentrate on was his next letter to you.

[cherryslyce]

Unearthed | Regulus Black

Synopsis: You felt your world turn upside down at the revelation that your husband was a wizard, and you get a sense of deja vu when three teenagers appear on your doorstep seeking him out about a locket.

Pairing: Regulus Black x Muggle!Reader

Notes: Not canon-compliant! Word Count: 3.3k

The warbling of sparrows stir from the swaying trees and into your open window, bristles of morning wind brushing against your night clothes. You stare intently at the stove to your side, back pressed against your kitchen island as you mentally count. The glistening finish of your sage-colored tea kettle shone at you as you pace forward to remove the instrument off the flame.

Regulus was still asleep and the last thing you needed was to interrupt his rest because you wanted a cup of tea. As you steadily pour the water into your mug, your mind spirals into a wave of nostalgia. 

It had been nearly two decades now since the man stumbled into your life with proper-fitted clothes and a closet of skeletons. You hadn’t met Regulus by any conventional means, having found him stumbling around blindly in front of your house, clutching at his head. You remember that it took a few days for the boy to wake after that night, his lithe figure draped across your couch as the sun rose and set. Those days of waiting felt like centuries now that you thought about it. You had been springing back and forth, debating on running over to the closest town for a doctor, but luckily, the boy woke just as your resolve hardened. 

The first thing you had done when Regulus managed to sit up in your living space was offer him a cup of tea, trying to give yourself time to formulate questions as he steadied himself with reality again. He had informed you that night that he had been mugged, and had escaped into the fields within an inch of his consciousness. You had known that he was lying, recognizing that no one was even within a mile radius to do such a thing to him, but you somehow grew to care for him despite your suspicions. After many months of coexisting in your home, with Regulus taking on a good heft of the house chores, he had opened up to you about his family and home life. 

You both sat staring into the streaks of flames stirring in your fireplace, the room gradually becoming enveloped in a blanket of grey as the sun sank further along the horizon. 

“My parents were not good people.” Regulus murmured into the darkness, eyes trained on the pillars of heaty orange lapping at the blocks of wood and bark. 

You gulp and nod along, “Dead like mine, too?” 

“Dead to me,” Regulus supplied, hand reaching up to push his curls back as he continued, “I was not pulling your leg when I told you I had been mugged that night. My parents… they stripped me of my freedom and choices. There wasn’t a day that passed by where I could pinpoint my true aspirations or future. Not a day where I could lift the veil that disillusioned me since birth.” 

Your lips slant down at the abrupt confession, and you could feel your fingers itching to rest on his hand for comfort. Heaving in a tense breath, you bite the inside of your cheek as you let your curiosity bleed through, “And the rest of your family?” 

“The same, but my Uncle Alphie, he was different,” Regulus hesitates for a few moments, and you see his face darken, “so was my older brother.” 

Another year after that, he finally cleared up a majority of your suspicions by demonstrating his magic. You went to bed in denial for a week, unable to maintain eye contact with him the whole while as you felt your world flip inside out. Once the reality sank in, you had demanded answers about the secret society that he fled from, trying to wrap your head around the influx of information. 

“So… magic.” You breathe out, eyes flying around the perimeter of your kitchen as you lean back against the faded wooden counter. 

Regulus allows himself a small small before he drops his gaze down towards his dinner plate, “Yes, magic.” 

“Tell me more.” Your tone splintered into brusqueness, leaving no room for Regulus to dodge away.   

Regulus, to his credit, seems hardly perturbed by your request. Nodding jerkily, he takes a sip of water before motioning for you to sit across from him, “What would you like to know?” 

“Everything. Start from the beginning.” Your words are coated in anticipation, eyes glittering brightly as your mouth sets into a firm line. 

Laughter bubbles in Regulus’ throat and he shoots you an indecipherable grin, “As you wish.”

It was a slow process of acceptance, one convoluted with your developing feelings for the boy, eyes no longer seeing a stumbling, comatose boy, but a dependable and bright partner—a life partner. 

You both stewed in silent pining and agony for a few more months before the tension boiled and tipped over the precipice one night with a silent kiss by the fireside. As your relationship continued to bloom, you both decided to move toward the city with the last of your savings. 

“Are you certain?” Regulus whispers against your lips, eyes trailing across the plane of your face. 

You nod and bring a hand to thread through his hair, “I have the money. Besides, a change of scenery would be nice.” 

Regulus hums and catches your lips in a swift kiss, bringing his arms to wrap around your figure. 

Once you both edge back to breath, he gives you a boyish grin before musing, “Thank you.” 

“Good morning, love.” A groggy voice cuts through the air as you squeeze your tea bag against the side of your cup with a spoon. 

Swiveling your head over your shoulder, your mouth tugs upwards as you take in Regulus’ disheveled appearance, “Hello, dear. You’re up early today.” 

Regulus draws his arms around your waist before kissing your temple as he hums, “Couldn’t sleep without you.” 

You huff out a laugh before dropping a hand down to pat his arm, “You don’t have work today, right?” Your eyes drop down to your mug as your head flits through several thoughts about Regulus’ work duties, pleased that the company was flexible, yet you still vied for more. 

“Yeah, got the day off,” he murmurs, burying his face into your shoulder, “how should we spend it?” 

“The new bookstore around the corner?” You hum as you sip on your tea, noting that the brew of jasmine was much more potent than usual. 

Regulus shifts from behind you and maneuvers his chin over your shoulder, “Sounds like a plan. Which reminds me, I should get our bookcase built today, too.” 

“Lots to do.” You murmur absentmindedly, not bothered by the fact that Regulus was now inching to take a sip of your tea. 

He takes a small mouthful of the cooling beverage before brushing his lips against your cheek, “We have all the time in the world, love.” 

“That we do.”

The day seems to speed by in a blur, shrouded with an atmosphere of serenity and bright clouds. Your walk with Regulus through the idyllic streets is bundled with small lingering touches and peaceful silence. As you drift through the bookstore with your husband, you find yourself suppressing a smile as Regulus opts to carry the growing collection between you both, not a peep of complaint slipping past his lips as the sea of pages lengthen in height. 

He had always been good to you in that way, and at first you had chalked it up to him repaying you for providing sanctuary, but you soon learned that such manners were practically instilled in his bones. 

As you both trail towards the check-out line, an idea strikes you and causes you to hum audibly. Regulus peers over at you with an inquisitive gaze, curiosity barred by the need to shuffle forward in line. 

“Dear, we should invite Severus over for dinner.” You mutter in hopefulness, feeling a familiar mawkish pang bud in your chest. Regulus maintained few ties to his life before you, but Severus had been a near constant presence in your life ever since you encouraged him to invite someone to your wedding. You had initially been nonplussed by the doleful man, aware of the turmoil and despair that practically radiated off of him, but you grew to care for him nonetheless. 

“We have to build our bookshelf, no?” Regulus hums with consideration, eyes steeling as he notices a fussing customer holding up the line. 

You wave him off and lift a finger to run along the spines of books in his arms, “Severus can help us if anything. It’s good to get things done without certain abilities every once in a while.” 

Regulus’ lips flicker into a minute grin as he nods, “I’ll send for him when we return home, but he did say he would be rather occupied for a while last time we corresponded.” 

You bite the inside of your cheek at the thought, a tidal wave of unease washing over you, “I hope everything is alright.” 

“Severus is quite capable, he’ll be okay.” 

The lingering traces of worry that pervade your mind fail to dissipate as you walk hand-in-hand with Regulus, the both of you intent on heading home as quickly as possible as streaks of grey clouds roll across the sky. 

A sense of foreboding coils around your nerves as you tread closer towards your destination, head thrumming as the sound of your shoes clicking against the concrete permeate into the air. Regulus seems to share your feelings of inexplicable unease as you feel his grip tighten on your hand. 

As you both round the corner of the street and near your front door, you feel yourself stop in your tracks as three figures come into view. 

“Reg?” Your words are barely above a whisper as confusion ousts your previous apprehension. 

Regulus mirrors your feelings, and his perplexity is palpable as he slowly inches forward, “Just some kids, I think.” 

You both mutely compose yourselves as your pacing resumes. As your footsteps echo into earshot for the trio, they all spin around with wide eyes. Your eyes drop down towards the redheaded boy’s hand, gaze narrowing as you discern the outlines of a wand. 

Regulus seems to draw the same conclusions and he steps in front of you as his eyebrows furrowed together, “Hello, can we help you?” 

The three kids, probably no older than 18, share silent looks before the curly-haired girl steps forwards and nods, “Yes, hello. We’re looking for Regulus Black, do you happen to know where we can find him?” 

Your thoughts sputter and whirl as your gaze burns into Regulus’ head, trying to correctly assess the situation at hand. It was entirely possible that these newcomers were enemies seeking to drain Regulus of his life, but it was also plausible that they were completely harmless and you were overestimating the danger and animosity of wizards in general. 

Regulus seems to stew over the same dilemma, and you catch the calculative look that flashes across the girl’s face as she considers your husband’s hesitance. You decide to interject into the tense silence, not wanting to see the situation escalate, “Hello, I’m Y/N. Sorry, we don’t get many visitors in the neighborhood. Are you all a part of a youth group? A church? Unfortunately, if this has to do with fundraising, I don’t think the Black’s are interested, neither will most residents on this street. Perhaps, you can try with the Miller’s down over at that blue house.” 

You plaster on an assuring smile as you point over to yonder, feeling Regulus inch towards you until he was practically pressed against your back. The girl hesitates and looks over her shoulder at her companions as they silently begin to communicate again with wide eyes and emphatic eyebrow raises. 

Finally, one of the boys steps out and into direct view. Your eyes run across his face, catching against his round glasses and black fringe. Regulus tenses against you as the boy peers towards him with striking green eyes, and you’re almost too entranced by their vividness to stay on guard. 

“My name is Harry Potter.” 

The announcement does absolutely nothing for you, but you feel Regulus’ breathing hitch before he relaxes. Your husband brings his hand to rest atop your shoulder as he adjusts the paper bag in his grip, “I see the resemblance now, Harry Potter. Why don’t we all head inside?” 

You mask your bewilderment at the invitation, turning to send a questioning glance at Regulus. The man merely shoots you a look of conflict before he guides you towards the front door. 

As the trio awkwardly shuffle into your house, lingering in your entryway, you shoot them a small smile before beckoning them inside. You still had your reservations, but it seemed that Regulus recognized them — or Harry, to some extent. 

The girl slowly walks further into your home, stopping in front of your living room as she glances at the large box propped up against the wall. 

“Ah, we were planning on building a bookshelf.” You supply, bringing a hand to run across the nape of your neck. 

The girl nods and sends you a shy smile, “I’m Hermione Granger.” 

“Y/N Black.”

Your name seems to drop some intangible bombshell on the three young wizards as they all peer at you with wide eyes. Clearing your throat you turn towards the ginger as you gesture towards the couch, “You can all sit. And I don’t believe I got your name earlier.” 

They all trudge towards your couch and the boy nods towards you, disbelief still painting his face, “Ron Weasley.” 

“A Weasley and a Potter. Interesting.” Regulus’ voice emits from behind you, evidently finished with putting your newly purchased books away. He approaches the living room and stops to stand beside you, eyes assessing the three as they shuffle uncomfortably under your husband’s scrutinizing gaze. 

You turn to look at him, nudging your hip against his, “Care to explain?” 

“After we get answers,” Regulus murmurs, eyes trailing towards the loveseat, “Come, love.” 

As you both settle on the cushions, Regulus immediately bypasses formalities, still uncertain about your guests’ presence, “So, there must be a reason that we’re meeting this way, Mr.Potter.” 

Harry visibly gulps at the intense look in Regulus’ eyes, clearing his throat as he leans forward, “Yes, we’ve come because of this,” you tilt your head to the side as the boy fishes out a pendant from his pocket before he holds it up to you both. 

Regulus’ hand drops to your thigh as he hums, “I see.” His tone indicated a lack of surprise, yet an unwillingness to indulge. You knew Regulus’ ways of dancing around conversations well. 

“You have the real one.” Harry’s words are firm, eyes stormy as he seems to drift into thought. 

“So you have come to find me, and pray tell, how did you find me?” Regulus’ flinty words have Harry retreating back imperceptibly, eyes flickering away to consider his answer. 

“Well, you used quite a bit of magic to make this.” Harry clears his throat, slowly retracting the dangling locket from the air. 

Regulus quietly huffs through his nose, leaning back as he hums, “Tracking spells. Of course. I assume you’re here for the real deal then?”

Your mind was spinning in circles as you tried to keep up with the conversation, having half the mind to be disconcerted by how you both were effectively tracked down by three kids. Hermione licks her lips before leaning forward to address Regulus, eyes scanning him with confusion, “How did you survive that night, sir? If what Harry told us was true, that cave…” 

“You lot aren’t the sort to dawdle, are you?” Regulus muses, fingers brushing down to your knee, “To answer your question, Ms.Granger, I received some help that night.” 

“Help?” Ron interjected, eyebrows raised in perplexion as he glanced at Harry for an answer. 

At Regulus’ admission, you redirect your attention to him, lips furling into a faint frown as you question all the hidden facets of his life. Of course, you knew the foundational details about the magical world, and perhaps tidbits of his past, but the avenue of conversation unfolding before you was completely foreign. 

Regulus peers at you for a brief moment before he nods, “Yes. Severus helped me. He gave me the antidote for the potion inside of the basin.” 

Ron sputters at this. “Severus? As in Snape?” He spins to look at Hermione who looks equally dumbstruck, yet she steadily caps away her shock with a hum of acknowledgment. 

Harry nods slowly as he runs his thumb over the pendant in his palm, “He’s a traitor.” 

You gape at the uninhibited jab, wanting to insert yourself into the exchange to defend your friend. Regulus pats your knee before steadily riposting, “Self-servitude finds companionship in loneliness.”

“Is that the life motto for all you snakes?” Ron mutters, hands clasped together as he leans his elbows on his knees. 

Regulus seems hardly fazed by the boy’s acrid tone, eyes slowly rising to gaze away, “You know us Slytherins. Self-preservation and then some.” 

“To see the right and not to do it is cowardice.” Hermione blanches, mouth set into a thin line as she examines the wall opposite of her. 

“Confucius.” You muse, hand trailing down to cover Regulus’.

Regulus nods and gives Hermione a look of consideration, “Gryffindor, then.” The girl nods in confirmation before tilting her head, causing Regulus to continue his train of thought, “I was a bit partial to betting on Ravenclaw. I suppose you hear that often. That being said, I implore you to examine the nuances to Severus’ situation. I can assure you, he is not your enemy.” 

The three teenagers seem to sink into their thoughts and Regulus takes this as his cue to slowly push himself up, giving your knee a parting squeeze as he huffs, “I do hope you all know how to destroy it, and I hope you’re able to accomplish your endeavors, Harry Potter.” 

Without waiting for a response, Regulus cascades out of the room and up the stairs, only the sound of his muffled footsteps occupying the hushed atmosphere. You slap your palms against your knees as you begin to get up too, mouth slanting into a small smile, “Would any of you like some tea?” 

The shock from the impromptu visit from the three teens stew in the air long after they departed from your home, eyes glistening with determination as Regulus relinquished the mysterious locket to them. A lingering itch of curiosity occasionally swept through your head, but you figured that there would come a time when answers would be granted to you.   

You just hadn’t figured such a time would arise so soon after. Not even a week after meeting Harry Potter, Hermione Granger, and Ron Weasley, another novel face was taking residence by your front door. 

“Hello, may I help you?” You asked pleasantly, propping your hip against your door frame as you balanced a stack of towels by your side. 

The man surveys you with poorly concealed anxiety before he clears his throat and nods, “Hi, I’m looking for a Regulus Black. I was told he lives here.” 

You tilt your head and look over your shoulder at the clock, “Yes. He won’t be home for another hour or two. May I ask how you know him?” 

“My name is Sirius. Sirius Black. I’m, uh, his older brother.” 

Shock flashes across the forefront of your mind at the man’s words, and you barely thread together any semblance of composure as you nod, “Please come in, I think a much needed chat is in order.” 

“Thank you.” He breathes out, straightening his coat with a gulp. 

“My pleasure, Sirius. I’m Y/N Black, by the way. Which, I suppose, makes you my brother-in-law.” 

“Wait—I'm sorry, what?” 

masterlist

[strawberrystepmom]

yami: “c’mon little bird, we’ve got other things to do don’t we?”

me: “yes but i can get there myself with my own two fe —“

then this occurs and the rest of the black bulls look at us like: 🕴️

cannot thank @petite-sami enough for her work on this beautiful piece! i get giddy every single time i look at it fkdndmdmmdmddndm

[thechaoticdruid]

Astarion x Chubby reader/Tav Headcanons because I'm tired of reading about Tav's perfect petite or hourglass body.

Some of the Headcanons get quite sexual so MDNI 18+ People ONLY. There's also some slight gore and mentions of Astarion's trauma.

Chubby Tav is going to be mentioned to be a Wizard with a noble background because that makes the most sense for a chubby adventurer in my mind!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Astarion wasn't really attracted to your body at first.

Not that he found you ugly or anything it's just your physical appearance really wasn't that relevant to his plan.

What mattered to him was how well you carried yourself in a fight and how easy you'd be to string along.

You were a skilled Wizard with a tendency to be mercilessly cruel when you came across the most vile of villains.

Some asshole was murdering children? You cast a spell that caused him to slowly inflate until he exploded into bloody bits.

Some crazy bitch was torturing and using innocents for blood sacrifices? You took control of her own body and made her stab herself over and over.

And Astarion just ate that up.

Not that he cared for the sad pathetic welps in peril mind you.

But the bloodlust in your eyes as you dealt with those you considered unredeemable villains honestly made him feel a bit hot and bothered.

And the sheer magical prowess you displayed was rather impressive.

Plus you didn't bore him half to death with magical lectures like Gale did so that was nice.

As he began pursuing you, your insecurities became rather evident.

You would often dismiss his flirting or straight up ignore it.

Being told you were sexually unappealing all your life had really gotten to you. To the point where you just couldn't wrap your head around someone as beautiful as Astarion coming onto you.

But determined as ever to have you as his protection Astarion persisted.

Perhaps you'd never had a lover or perhaps you'd had far too many whom left you for someone they found more appealing.

Either way you were convinced Astarion's advances meant nothing.

That either he wanted something from you or he was simply mocking you like so many others had done in the past.

So when he finally is blunt enough to say he wants sex with you it's a big shock.

Your first response is to push back.

You tell him to quit messing with you because it was not funny!

He swears to you that his desire to sleep with you is genuine and begins to go so far as to list everything he finds alluring about you.

The taste of your blood.

The way your eyes sparkle when filled with bloodlust.

How gods damned sexy you looked covered in the blood of your foes.

When it was clear that he hadn't made any comments about your figure, you actually began to think perhaps he wasn't making fun of you.

It took some time to think about it, but eventually you decided to accept his offer the night of the tiefling party.

At first you're very hesitant to remove your clothes in fear of him immediately backing out once he was able to fully take in your plump form.

At that point Astarion strips down first and seductively coaxes you out of your clothes.

If you're AFAB he immediately becomes enamoured with your plump breasts, his first instinct is to start sucking on them like his life depends on it as his hands grope and caress the deliciously thick cushy curves of your hips and ass.

If you're AMAB he's a bit more grabby with your ass than anything else. He also makes flirty remarks on how big you are while teasingly grabbing your cock.

Either way on your first night together you let him take the lead, evil voices in your head telling you that if you were on top you'd crush him like some disgusting monstrous beast.

He doesn't press you to do anything that makes you uncomfortable and focuses mostly on your wants and pleasure.

Leaves a trail of kisses and licks all over your body, worshipping every inch of it.

If you express your insecurities with him, claiming you didn't think he'd want you because you were fat he brushes it off.

"Nonsense darling, there's just more of you to nibble on.~"

And he is sure to nibble on every inch of you.

Especially those thick thighs.

He loves drinking from you there before eating you out or sucking you off.

As he begins to develop actual feelings for you he feels the need to comfort you more about your insecurities.

Of course Astarion doesn't quite understand how to do comfort. Not having any of it himself for the past 200 years.

He tries to fix it with sex. Thinking perhaps if you felt desired these pesky insecurities would just go away.

He'd grab your ass and whisper lustful remarks about your body when no one was watching.

Sometimes it helped and sometimes it didn't.

Eventually however things became much more complicated once Astarion came to the realization he was falling for you.

He found himself unable to 'perform' any longer. The guilt of manipulating you began to eat away at him.

Not to mention it was becoming harder and harder to come up with an excuse for why he didn't always seem fully present during intimacy with you. You were becoming more and more concerned. Which just made the guilt he felt grow.

You were too good for him!

He just knew you'd be crushed! Finally finding one person who actually desired you, only to discover it was all a lie!

You'd hate him for sure he just knew it!

But he couldn't do it any longer. You were kind to him. You actually cared about him.

And Gods damnit he knew what was like when people only care about your looks more than most.

You deserved better.

So he came clean and poured out his heart to you. Fully prepared for your anger and resentment.

But when it happened you just looked tired.

You confessed that deep down you knew it was all a manipulation.

Gods, the idea that someone as attractive as him would want you for your body was just ridiculous to you.

You really just wanted to pretend for a while.

To feel wanted and desired.

So in a way you used him too.

But then you too began to fall for him as well and began to dread when you'd eventually have to stop playing pretend.

After confession however you'd both agreed to start over, take things at a much slower pace.

And for the most part things were great!

Your late night trysts turned into cuddle sessions.

Astarion particularly loved using you as a pillow and snuggling into the warm, soft, cushion of your body.

If you ever felt the demons of insecurity eating away at you Astarion would immediately insist he didn't care what you looked like. He liked you for you.

Because you're you.

He had a little trouble wording it but it was sweet nonetheless.

When you finally reached Baldur's Gate there were a few hiccups in the road.

You were back amongst society and the eyes of the nobility who were a constant thorn in your side growing up.

Your father, the head of your family was intent on marrying you off to strengthen an alliance between another noble family and your own.

But despite his efforts most of the other patriar families were far too stuck up to accept his offer.

Deaming you as too unappealing to marry.

You didn't have any interest in an arranged marriage anyway, much too invested in your magical studies, but the rude comments from some of the other nobles still stung.

"My child is not being married off to a deep rothé!" One of them had actually said.

Now that you were back home the demons of your past began to plague your mind once again.

Astarion was there for you now however and tried to keep your mind off of things by reminding you that you both had a quest or two to finish!

If anyone were to make a rude comment out on the streets or sneer at you behind your back about how Astarion was way out of your league he would be quick to comfort you.

He'd pull you to the side and plant a wet kiss on your mouth right in front of any possible offenders.

And if any of them were to mysteriously disappear amongst the shadows of the night...

All the better.

[tiyoin]

god he wants me so bad

[luxthestrange]

TWST!Memes #89

Yuu telling whoever is on the other side all that happening to them...Rollo...was...never the same...

[ellecdc]

Black!reader that is “I don’t smoke” (mitski) because if their parents ‘you need to be mean be mean to her me, she I can take it and put it inside of me’

hi babes, this was my take on Black!reader who was always hurting on behalf of everyone else. this fic is very angsty compared to my usual standards, so please keep that in mind before reading, and mind the warnings. of course, as typical on ellecdc we have a happy/hopeful ending

Remus Lupin x Black!sister reader after The Prank™ [4.7k words]

CW: The Prank™, Black family trauma, the Marauders aren't speaking to each other, depressive episodes and self-loathing, siblings get quasi-violent/threats of violence? but for a good cause?, Remus' typical self-loathing, discussion of forgiveness and hatred, breaking up [not pictured] and making up [pictured]

The worst part-

Though, even the thought caused Sirius to scoff humourlessly, because what could possibly be the worst part of this? What could possibly be any ‘more worse’ than the worst thing he’d ever done?

Still, Sirius supposed, wand to his head, the worst thing about all of this would be the fact that Sirius didn’t regret it. Not really.

If anything, he only felt stronger in his conviction that Snape deserved to be mauled violently to death.

Yet…

Yet he didn’t find he felt particularly good about it all; about the way Remus woke up with new, deep, angry scars across his face courtesy of The Wolf who finally had a chance at a meal only to have that stolen before he turned on himself, about the way he looked at Sirius with an expression of pure unadulterated betrayal and then fury when he realised what he had done, about the three well aimed hits he took from James, nor about the way he had to listen through the door as Remus ended your relationship with you, officially giving into all of his deep-seeded self-loathing and beliefs that no one could or should possibly accept him.

And all Sirius managed to do was prove that to be true; that Remus couldn’t trust anyone. And as a result, he robbed you of the only love you had access to save what little you received from Regulus and Sirius.

So perhaps Sirius regretted that, but without access to a Time Turner, there was nothing to be done. 

There was nothing to be done. 

James had told him that “until he made things right with Remus, he wanted nothing to do with him”, and while he didn’t blame James, Sirius knew he was officially on his own because there would be no ‘making things right’. There was nothing right, not with Sirius, at least. 

Everything about Sirius was wrong.

There was nothing to be done. 

He brought the cigarette back up to his lips, the sensitive skin at the corner of his mouth cracking painfully as he took a drag. He appreciated the sting as his teeth started to taste like iron; the pain was both a welcome reminder and a distraction of his inner turmoil as he kept his gaze on the grounds below him.

He couldn’t look at the common room; the red and gold that once felt like home had faded into shades of grey. He couldn’t look in a mirror; his permanently downturned lips and angry eyes found him looking more like his father than he did himself. He couldn’t look at his hands; they were blistered and cracked from his tryst in the forest where he emptied his lungs by screaming until he was choking on air and punching uselessly at a tree.

He couldn’t look at any of his friends, because they couldn’t even look at him; they hated him.

He was hated. 

Sirius began to wonder how many more classes he could miss before McGonagall followed through on her threats to write home when the portrait hole opened.

He couldn’t look, though. Because he was hated.

“Aren’t you meant to be in class?” He heard you call to him, listening to your measured steps as you made your way to his spot on a windowsill. 

“I could ask the same of you.” He gruffed; voice cracking from disuse, from chain smoking, and from the perpetual tightness he had felt since That Night. 

“What are you doing, Sirius?” You sighed; you were exhausted. Exhausted of him. 

He was exhausted too.

“I’m minding my business, Y/N.” He spat back, stubbing out his smoke before lighting another one with a snap of his fingers. “You should try it sometime.” 

With a wave of your hand, the smoke was gone.

“What the fuck?”

“Get up.” You ordered simply, and Sirius shook his head at you.

“Go back to the dungeons.”

“No.” 

“I’m not in the fucking mood, Y/N.”

You shrugged your shoulders. “Great, neither am I.” 

“I don’t want you here.”

“And I don’t want to be here,” You agreed, voice rising at Sirius’ petulance, “but I’ve got a brother who decided to stop functioning a few weeks ago, so here I am.” 

“I’m perfectly fine.”

“You smell.”

“Yeah well, you’re ugly.” Sirius sneered, pulling out another cigarette only for you to vanish the entire pack. 

“When was the last time you showered?” You demanded, and Sirius refused to look at you.

“Hm? Or changed? Or ate? When’s the last time you brushed your teeth?”

Sirius kept his gaze pointed at the grounds outside. 

“Sirius. Your hair is greasy, you smell stale, you look gaunt, and…they’re going to write home.”

“Good.” Sirius spat quickly. “As they should.”

“Is that what you want, Sirius? You want more people to be mad at you? More people to punish you?”

He didn’t answer.

“You’re already doing that enough for the rest of us.” You sighed, attempting to grab him by the arm only for him to shove you away. 

“Get away from me, Y/N, I mean it.” 

“No, get up.”

“Fuck off.”

“Now.” You nearly growled, and Sirius turned to see you aiming your wand in his direction, surprising a sarcastic laugh from him.

“What? Gonna hex me? Or are you gonna skip right to the Unforgivables, hm? Maybe an imperio? Or are you going to try some negative reinforcement? A crucio for disobedience? Salope stupide, de plus en plus comme ma mère chérie chaque jour.” (translation: stupid bitch, more and more like mother dearest every day)

Sirius flinched as you quickly raised your hand, prepared for a blow that you never landed. 

He looked back to see you standing there, hand poised like it was ready to hit him as you stared at him defiantly; your cool, piercing eyes so much like his own, but the displeased pinch of your mouth was that of your mother. 

“Is that what you want, Sirius? Huh? You want to be walloped a few more times on the nose so that everyone knows what a bad dog you are? You want to be punished for your misdeeds? Maybe get a few more of these?” And you punctuated your question by roughly grabbing at his jaw, fingers pressing into the painful bruises still colouring his cheeks courtesy of James. “That’s why you haven’t bothered healing them, yeah? So that everyone who sees will know what a right bastard you are."

He smacked your hand away with one arm and shoved you away from him with the other. 

“Or,” you continued - rather unphased by Sirius’ aggression - grabbing his balled up fist and bringing it up to your own face, “is it me you want to hit, hm? You want everyone else to hurt just as badly as you are? The world has been just terrible to you Sirius, you were dealt an awful hand! You just want everyone to suffer for it; to pay for the wrongs done to you.”

“Stop it.” Sirius hissed, trying to yank his hand away from you to no avail. 

“Hit me then, Sirius. Hit me. You wanna give into that Black Darkness? Want to be just as bad as they are? Just as bad as they’ve painted you to be? Go ahead.” 

“Stop.” 

“Then get up.” 

“Y/N…” He warned.

“Get up, Sirius.” 

“I hate you.” He spat, and your jaw tightened but you rolled your eyes as if you found him to be quite tiresome.

“Yeah, well, I don’t like you very much right now either.” 

He stood then, giving you no time to get out of his way before he was towering over you. You never faltered, though. He let you grab him by the sleeve of his shirt, he let you drag him up the stairs towards his dormitory - somewhere he hadn’t been since That Night, opting instead to sleep on the couches, a time or two in the room of requirement, and one night in the Shrieking Shack as Padfoot - and he let you bodily shove him into the boys’ bathroom. 

“Get in the shower, Sirius.”

“Sunny, please.”

“I’m not asking.” You said firmly. “Get in the shower.”

“I can’t.” 

You swore under your breath as you dragged him over to the shower stall, said nothing as he went no bones and sunk to the floor, and simply turned the shower on, soaking you both.

“Y/N, stop.” 

“Sirius, if you’re not going to take care of yourself, I will. Those are your choices.” You said defiantly, staring down at him as your school uniform became more and more drenched and your hair started sticking to the side of your neck.

Sirius let out a sigh and rested his head against his knees, and you accepted his relenting as the acquiescence it was. 

You pointed the shower head at him and began lathering soap into his hair before doing much the same with the conditioner. 

Sirius let the soap burn his eyes; welcomed it, even. He did nothing to help you with your tasks, though you didn’t ask him to. He did, however, draw the line at you trying to disrobe him.

“These need to come off, Sirius.” You said, pulling at his uniform shirt like something disgusting you found in a gutter.

“And I will take them off once you’re no longer staring at me.” He growled, causing you to scoff a humourless laugh.

“Like hells I’m letting you out of my sight again.”

Sirius simply groaned. 

“How are you going to wash your body, Sirius? Please don’t tell me you’re going to make me do that too.”

Sirius ripped the bar of soap out of your hands and glared at you as he shoved it beneath his clothes, washing himself the best he could under his sopping wet uniform. 

Though he was more than likely still sudsy, you shut the water off and vanished what water you could from both of your beings; each of your heads and uniforms still dripping wet as you flung open the bathroom door and marched across the hall.

Sirius’ mouth ran dry when you knocked on their dormitory door; somewhere between you confronting him in the common room and forcing him to bathe, classes seemed to have ended. 

He should’ve flung himself out of the common room window when he had the chance; he couldn’t see Remus, James, or Peter. They hated him.

He was hated.

Remus wouldn’t talk to any of them, and James and Peter weren’t talking to Sirius. Even though Remus had told them he didn’t want them “taking sides”, he didn’t seem too bothered watching Sirius get iced out. 

Because he hated him.

Sirius was hated. 

“Oh…hi, Y/N…” James offered awkwardly as he opened the door. 

You barely spared him a glance. “Potter.” You greeted simply as you dipped under his arm which had been holding the door open and marched towards Sirius’ bed. 

Remus pulled his head through the hole of his jumper as he watched you start digging through Sirius’ trunk, sharing a quick glance with James and Peter before his gaze moved to Sirius all but cowering in the doorframe. 

“Are you…wet?” Peter asked cautiously then, all three boys staring at you in bemusement as you packed up a duffle. 

“Yeah.” You responded simply, throwing Sirius a towel that he (thankfully) caught as everyone’s eyes fell to him. 

Sirius quickly ran the towel over his person as you let his trunk close with a loud thunk, hiked the bag you packed for him over your shoulder, and stalked out of the dorm room without sparing any of the boys - including your ex boyfriend - a passing glance. 

“Don’t you hate me?” Sirius whispered as he allowed you to lead him to the Slytherin dorms.

“No, Sirius. I hate what you did.” You sighed, never faltering in your steps but strengthening your hold on your brother's wrist. “I love you, that’s why I’m here.” 

Remus had tried telling Peter and James to leave him alone; he wanted to be alone. 

Yet somehow, every morning, the two of them would sit across from him in the Great Hall, say hello, and then talk amongst themselves whilst pretending he wasn’t there. 

That was fine, though. Remus was sort of pretending he wasn’t there, too. 

But while Remus could ignore James and Peter’s existence, Sirius’ existence, and even his own if he really tried hard enough, he couldn’t ignore your existence. 

He’d been more than slightly confused when you stormed into his dorm room last night completely drenched without your eyes ever cutting to him and packed up a bag for your equally drenched brother. 

He’d been more than slightly hurt when you left without sparing him a glance, too. Though he figured perhaps he deserved that. This is what he wanted, right?

Scratch that, actually, what he had wanted was to be safe and loved and protected by the people who promised to do that for him. That was what he had wanted.

It wasn’t until Peter and James paused in their conversation to look at Remus concernedly that he realised he had caused his tea to overflow by means of accidental magic. 

Remus threw a wad of napkins at the mess as he made to stand, but his legs felt wholly incapable of holding him up when he saw you enter the Great Hall, quickly followed by a rather dispirited looking Sirius who nearly bumped into you as you paused at the entrance.

Your gaze automatically fell to the Slytherin table where Regulus was shooting you and Sirius a perturbed look. 

You turned then towards the Gryffindor table when your gaze fell to Remus.

He found himself unable to break your gaze; he wondered if you could see the heartbreak pooling in his eyes, or the longing painted in the space between his brows.

He wondered if you could even manage to see past the new, ferocious scars decorating his face.

He certainly couldn’t. 

Your shoulders fell as you shook your head - so minutely that Remus wondered if he had only imagined it - before you grabbed Sirius’ sleeve and dragged him towards the Ravenclaw table where both Pandora and Benjy accepted the pair of you without issue. 

He was simultaneously grateful that neither of you were sitting over here and furious that the two of you deigned to sit anywhere else. You were his; his friend, and his girlfriend, you were supposed to be here with him. 

But he didn’t want either of you over here, he didn’t want… 

He didn’t…

“Moony?” James asked cautiously.

“Don’t call me that.” Remus spat before he stood abruptly and stormed out of the Great Hall. 

He never wanted any of this; sure, he wanted to go to school, but he never wanted friends. He didn’t need friends, he’d never had them before. He met some kind kids on the train who ended up being his roommates, but he was ready and willing to hold them at arm's length. 

And then…

And then he found that he rather liked their company, and that they seemed to enjoy his. And then he found that he cared for them, and that they seemed to care for him. And then they found out, and they were accepting of him. And then they did the impossible and found a way to be there for him like no one else before, they showed up for him in ways no one else had ever tried, in ways he never imagined possible. 

And then he fell in love, and then…

And then. 

And then one of the worst people Remus could imagine to know learned of his darkest secret, his biggest shame, his lifelong curse. 

And he learned that from one of his best friends; Snape learned of Remus’ darkest secret, biggest shame, and lifelong curse from one of his best friends. 

And suddenly, everything everyone had ever said about lycanthropy was true; he was a monster, unloveable, a threat and hazard to everyone around him.

And as he paused in front of a window where he could see his reflection - three violent claw marks stretching from his left eye across the bridge of his nose down over his lips - the monster stared back at him. 

He was a beast. He was a monster playing dress up; cosplaying as a wizard day in and day out when in reality, deep down, he was a vicious, disgusting freak. 

And now everyone knew it; Sirius knew it, you knew it, Snape knew it.

And for those who didn’t know it, they could suspect it; rumours flying around of how Remus managed to be mauled by some creature and survive to tell the tale, because the only thing scarier than a beast among men is a man that can take on a beast and live to tell the tale.

The worst part-

But the thought made Remus snort humourlessly, because really, how could there be a worst part of any of this? What could possibly be ‘more worse’ than the worst thing to ever happen to him, second only to being bitten all those years ago. 

But Remus supposed, wand to his head, that the worst part of all of this was losing you.

Remus let out another humourless chuckle as he let his head fall with a thunk against the windowpane. 

And the absolute fucking kicker was that losing you had been his own doing. 

For the first time in perhaps five days, you were alone. 

You sat in the farthest corner of the library near rows of tomes with enough layers of dust on them to promise you some solitude as you waited for Sirius’ meeting with McGonagall to end. 

You’d convinced him (rather forced him) to start attending his classes again, though you were certain he wasn’t exactly a delight to have in the classroom at the moment. You only hoped it was enough for the school to refrain from writing home.

You dropped your quill and pressed your fingers into your eyes hard enough to see stars. Sirius was displeased with you for ordering him about. Regulus was displeased with you for babysitting Sirius and ‘cleaning up’ after him. Your parents were displeased with you seemingly because you were born with free will. Your professors were displeased with you for submitting sloppy work because you spent the majority of your time doing Sirius’ for him in order to keep him from being expelled. Your roommates were displeased with you for smuggling a dog into your room for the past week, even though he was very well behaved and slept dutifully on the end of your bed. And Remus…

And Remus. 

He had looked so hollow and… dead when he told you this needed to end, that he couldn’t see you anymore. You didn’t think he was capable of occlusion, but that was the only thing that could possibly explain how he could manage to look at you like you didn’t even matter to him anymore.

Perhaps you didn’t.

You didn’t matter. 

Perhaps you were too much like your brother; he couldn’t forgive him, so you were unforgivable too. Perhaps you were just too much of a Black for him; perhaps he realised the mistake in keeping your kind around. 

You couldn’t blame him, you supposed.

You were a tiresome bunch. You didn’t often want to keep your kind around, either. 

You shook yourself out of your pity party and returned to your notes, only to watch as Remus pulled out a chair opposite of you at your table. 

“The library’s plenty large, Lupin; I’m sure if you looked harder you could find another table.” you offered, hoping for indignation but landing somewhere around disheartened. 

“Is Sirius alright?” He murmured quietly, and you forced your eyes up to meet his. 

He looked dead tired; his eyes were sunken and his skin was missing its warm glow. But in his eyes laid an earnestness that had you remembering just how wholly safe and full you felt whenever you found yourself pinned beneath his gaze. 

You quickly looked away.

“Not really.” You replied honestly. “But I think he deserves that.” 

Remus made a noncommittal sound as he continued staring at the top of your head; you couldn’t see it, mind you, but you could certainly feel it.

“And you?” 

“What about me?”

“Are you alright?”

“Why?” You demanded, and you looked up in time to see Remus finally look down into his lap. 

You stared at him as he wrung his hands in his lap while you catalogued the scars across his face. You wondered if where they landed over his eyes caused him any vision issues. You wondered what the ones over the bridge of his nose would feel like as you traced your fingertip over them. You wondered what the ones on his lips might feel like under your own. 

You hated them, knowing that he did too, knowing how he came to have them. But you loved them because they were his, because it was him. Because you loved him. 

“Are you alright?” You decided to ask then, and he looked up at you as if he was surprised you were still there.

“No.” He responded quickly.

“I’m sorry.” You offered, though you knew not what for. You really hadn’t done anything. 

“How-” Remus started, though he quickly looked back down at his hands as he searched for the words.

You waited for him. 

“How…can you help him?”

You felt your eyebrows furrow, because whatever you thought Remus might’ve been about to ask, it certainly wasn’t that. 

“What?” You asked dumbly. 

“How can you help Sirius? After all that he’s done?” He continued gently.

“I… because, Remus, someone has to.” 

Remus nodded as he considered your response. “There’s a… part of me that feels as though you’re choosing him over me.” 

“Remus. You chose; you made that decision for me. I didn’t choose anyone’s side.”

“So if we were still dating right now, would you have forgiven Sirius?”

“Forgiven?” You repeated incredulously. “Who said anything about forgiveness?” 

Remus simply blinked at you owlishly. 

“Remus, I cannot just sit here and let him whither away into nothing because I’m mad at him. He fucked up - big time - there’s no question about it. And deep down, I know he knows that too; that’s why he’s been torturing himself over it. There is no way in which I could treat him that would be worse than the way he’s treating himself right now. But I-”

You shook your head as you fought off the stinging in your sinuses; you did not want to cry in front of him. 

“There is no one rooting for us, Remus. No one. You’re pissed at him - rightfully so, and completely justified - Potter and Pettigrew are pissed at him too, he’s pissed at himself and I… someone has to, Remus. Someone has to root for him, I can’t…I can’t just abandon him, not when there’s no one else.” 

“I can’t… I can’t feel bad for him, Y/N.” Remus exclaimed helplessly. 

“I’m not asking you to; I’m simply telling you why I do.” 

“I don’t…I don’t know how to forgive him, dove, I don’t know how to not hate him for this.” He nearly sobbed, holding his hands out helplessly as if the grief and torment were tangible things that he could crush in the palm of his hands if only he could catch them. “Why don’t you hate him? Please tell me? Because I genuinely want to know. I need to know - I don’t…I don’t want to hate him.” 

“He’s my brother, Rem.” You said simply, shrugging your shoulders helplessly. “I hate what he’s done, I hate the choice he made, I hate the outcome of that choice, I hate what he did to you, I hate what that’s done to me, but… but I don’t hate him. I can't hate him.” 

The two of you sat in silence for a while; the only sounds coming from the odd book being magically sent back to its shelf and the odd voices from students downstairs when a study group got a touch too boisterous. 

“Do you hate me?” Remus whispered then; your eyes flit up to meet his which were already steady on you. 

“No, Remus.” You whispered back.

He nodded as his gaze fell. “Just what I did?” 

Your lip quirked in the faintest ghost of a smirk. “Yes I…I sort of hated that, I suppose.” 

“I don’t want to hate him.” He repeated.

“I know.” 

“Do you-” Remus paused, turning away and screwing his eyes shut as you realised he was crying. “Do you think you’ll ever be able to forgive me?”

“Remus…”

“I was scared, and hurt, and angry, and-” he hiccuped, reaching across the table as he nearly begged for your hand. You gave it willingly. “-and I hated him but I mostly hated myself.”

“I know, Rem.”

“Please? Do you…do you think you’d be able to forgive me? For leaving, for running, for abandoning you? You’ve never once given up on the people important to you and one bad thing happens to me and…and I just throw you away, I-” He looked at you as if he was only realising all of this now; hurt, frustration, anger, and betrayal all on your behalf flickered behind his eyes. “I’m so sorry.”

“It’s okay, Remus.” You insisted, but he quickly shook his head at you. 

“It’s not; it’s not okay, I- … I’m not as gracious as you, clearly, but I just…I just feel like if you’re strong enough to forgive me then there’s…there’s hope for me, too. That maybe I can be strong enough to forgive Sirius.” 

“You’re forgiven, Remus.” 

His eyes fell shut as more tears fell, but you were sure it was more from relief than it was from pain. 

Both boys - Remus and Sirius - were so good at torturing themselves over choices they’ve made that you were certain no one else would ever have to as long as they both should live. 

And for different reasons, you loved them both beyond measure. 

“I don’t deserve forgiveness.” Remus whispered.

“Of course you do.” You countered, squeezing his hand in yours and watching as some of the tension in his shoulders dissipated. 

“Does Sirius?” He asked quietly, keeping his eyes pointed at where your joined hands sat on the table between you. 

You’re not sure when or how you became the leading expert on conflict resolution and forgiveness; perhaps it was in refereeing Sirius and Regulus’ petty squabbles growing up, perhaps it was in shielding Regulus from your parents fury, perhaps it was in trying to tame Sirius enough to keep him out of trouble, perhaps it was in being the youngest cousin along with Regulus and watching the siblings before you find their own ways to define what was right and good, perhaps…perhaps it came from the many examples of conflict and spite that you had witnessed growing up.

“I don’t know, Rem.” You answered honestly. “I think…I think the only one who can really know that is you.”

If he was displeased by your answer, he didn’t show it.

“But,” you continued cautiously, “I don’t think you have to forgive him for what he’s done. You just have to decide whether you’re going to hate him for it or love him in spite of it.” 

His lips pursed, pulling at scars both new and old in ways you’re not sure you’d ever grow tired of watching, as he nodded. “I don’t want to hate him.”

“I know, Rem.” 

“I don’t want James or Peter to hate him either…I don’t know why they were willing to watch him wither away like that.”

You couldn’t hide your smile at that; the first genuine smile since That Night. “They don’t, and they weren’t.” You countered, only moving to explain when he looked at you in bemusement. “They were the ones who told me how bad he was getting…they wanted to make sure someone was looking after him without giving into his pity party.” 

“Always taking care of everyone else, hm?” Remus murmured at you, bringing your hand up to his lips to press a delicate kiss to your knuckles. 

You simply hummed noncommittally. 

“Can I return the favour?”

“You can certainly try, but I’m quite high maintenance.” You teased gently. 

“That’s alright.” He agreed quickly. “You’re more than worth the effort.” 

You breathed out a quiet laugh through your nose. “Whatever you say, Lupin.”

[misstycloud]

Yandere servant

Yandere!servant who is loyal to you only. Of course he has to listen to others in your family, otherwise he'd lose his job, but your word will always be his priority.

Yandere!servant who is eternally grateful that you took him in as a young orphan boy with no place to go. No one else wanted a filthy boy at their doorstep and turned him away instantly when they saw him standing there and asking for shelter. You were different though. You didn't throw rock at him or call him bad things.

Yandere!servant who can help you with anything. To repay you, he has made sure to be educated in various topics. Don't ask him how he learned all those things. It won't be what you think.

Yandere!servant who is at your beck and call. He’ll do whatever you order him to.

Yandere!servant who hates when you smile to the other servants. Why are you paying attention to them? They’re all useless. Bet they can’t even mop the floor properly while he had the ability to do numerous tasks.

Yandere!servant who wants you to only use him for your needs. He wants to clean your room, give you advice, help with documents and accompany you everywhere.

Yandere!servant who can only dream of being with you. Your relationship would never be accepted by society. A noble and a common street rat; it couldn’t work.

Yandere!servant who personally didn’t care about status, but what he thought didn’t matter to the higher class. Besides, he didn’t know what you’d think of those relationships and wouldn’t wish for you to be uncomfortable.

Yandere!servant whose sole chance of having a future with you is to attain a higher title. He definitely could with his intelligence. Perhaps he could invest in business among other things.

Yandere!servant who has to quit working for you in order to become successful and marry you. Despite the years it would undoubtedly take, he would remain faithful to you and always carry you in his thoughts.

Yandere!servant who will come back outstanding; someone worthy of your hand.