#Depression is a bitch I swear I'd do anything I can to help him fight it and not allow it to take him from us

[vinegar-doppio-official]

*Sighs and smiles dreamily while watching a still image of my boyfriend on my phone as if he weren't snoring right next to me*

[tarisilmarwen]

Whumptober 2023 - "Secluded"

(WHUMPTOBER TIME AGAIN BITCHES. I dunno about any of you but my RL situation is sucking right now so I was only too happy to take it out on a few of my favorite characters.

First up, Hiro Hamada. Sorry kid.

This can be considered a Bad End AU of "Countdown to Catastrophe", basically exploring what if Globby wasn't able to free Hiro.

Prompt used:

No. 3 - "Like crying out in empty rooms, with no one there except the moon": Journal/Solitary Confinement/"Make it stop."

Warnings for depression and self-harm ideation.)

---

Day three. I think. There aren't exactly windows so it's a little hard to tell time, but the lights in here have been shut off twice.

Not like I could sleep any.

Found this notebook in the desk drawer. Dunno why I'm doing this. Maybe just in case... in case I die in here, so someone can find it and tell Aunt Cass and my friends and Professor Granville and everyone else that I'm sorry. If they're even...

Hiro stopped, his pencil scratching to a halt, his fingers and chest tight. The breath shuddered out of him, rattling all through his body.

He dropped the pencil and pushed back from the desk, out of his seat and pacing again as the familiar gut-churning panic and fear coiled in his stomach. His shoes tapped softly on the metal floor as he paced from end to end of the small room—the small cell, his brain unhelpfully reminded him—trying to work though the clenching tightness squeezing his diaphragm.

He couldn't think about that. Don't think about it, he told himself, scoldingly. Don't think about everyone and everything being gone, wiped out by the invention he helped make.

After a long four minutes his insides finally loosened. He stopped walking, pressing hands up against his face, dragging his fingers through his messy hair.

He returned to the desk and grabbed up the pencil, biting his lip to hold back the heat stinging his eyes.

I can't get out. I've tried. Bruised up my whole arm bashing against the door.

I don't know what happened. I think my friends managed to stop Obake's device. There was a loud rumble and I could hear a lot of shouting. Obake sounded pissed . I haven't seen him at all since he locked me in here.

He won't tell me what's going on.

That was the worst part, Hiro thought, feeling acutely again the cold shallow pool of dread that was now a permanent fixture in his stomach. The silence. The not knowing. Not even the echoes of Noodle Burger Boy's bright chipper voice gave any clue or hint as to what was happening outside his prison.

His left hand drifted up to gingerly touch his sore right shoulder, tender from his fight with the door.

He sighed and scratched out a final, miserable line.

I miss Baymax.

Getting up again he crossed over to the flat cot that served as the bed, both arms crossed now, fingers curling tight into the folds of his blue jacket. He sat and scooted back to the wall, knees up by his chest, angling his head to look towards the door and the single porthole that was his only view outside. He watched for a long hour for a flash of shadow, a flicker of movement, something, anything.

But there was nothing.

***

Day four. Obake must have a camera in here somewhere, watching me. Swear I only drifted off for ten minutes but when I woke up there was a food tray waiting for me on the desk. Don't understand why he waited 'til I was asleep; he couldn't stop talking my ear off before. I'd almost take that, right now. The quiet is killing me.

Hiro stared down trepidatiously at the plate of food sitting there on the metal surface of the desk.

He should eat. He should. Starving himself wasn't going to help.

But the spit tasted like ash in his mouth and his stomach rolled over, queasily.

Swallowing thickly, Hiro stepped back away from the desk, wandering to each of the far corners of the room in turn.

***

Day four still. It's late, I think, but the lights haven't been shut off yet. Finally ate a few things off the tray. I feel fine so I guess it's not poisoned or drugged.

Worked at the door again for a while, but the wheel doesn't budge, and I can't access the lock from this side.

Checked the bars on the air vent, no luck there either.

If he was just a little bit scrawnier he might've been able to slip through the narrow gaps between the bars, assuming he could pull himself up high enough. Hiro stared at the vent, wondering if the dresser would be tall enough to reach if he shoved it up against the wall underneath.

His ears pricked at the sound of footsteps in the hall and then he jolted as the metal bolt in the door scraped back.

Hiro whirled around, tingles of fear pricking around his head, buzzing his ears. He felt very cornered as he looked towards the opening door.

A long silhouette stood there. Obake stepped into the room and Hiro swallowed. This had been what he wanted—a break from the oppressive silence, a chance to confront Obake and demand to know what had become of San Fransokyo and his aunt and friends—but now that he had it... he wasn't sure he wanted it anymore. His heart raced with cloying fear and his throat was so tight he couldn't make himself speak. He trembled as he gaped at the villain, who looked back at him with impassive, eerie calm.

Hiro forced his voice past the claws tearing at his lungs. "What-" he attempted, words hitching in his throat. "What happened to the city? Are my friends—?"

"The city remains standing and your friends are making a nuisance of themselves," Obake interrupted, turning his gaze clinically towards the desk. He stepped into the room and placed something on it—the broken pieces of Hiro's energy amplifier. "For now," he said. He stepped back again, hands clasping behind him. "I need you to rebuild it," he ordered, a terse edge in his voice.

Hiro shuddered with a small sense of relief, then firmed his eyes and glared as he crossed his arms.

"There is... no way I'm doing that," he emphasized.

Obake's mouth twitched, the hints of a creepy smile playing at his lips. "We'll see," he said simply. "I'd like to point out, I can make your stay here very unpleasant if I have to, Hiro, though I'd much prefer not to. Do try to be cooperative," he said, patronizingly, putting a hand on the door's edge as he stepped back across the threshold.

Belatedly, Hiro lunged for the door, tramping across the room only for it to slam in his face, the lock clicking back solidly into place. His fists thumped against the solid metal block, his heart sinking, the weight of his guilt and despair dragging down his head.

Hiro inhaled shakily as he looked at the floor, then pushed up from the door.

He pointedly ignored the broken parts on the desk as he went back to the cot, curling up on its meager cushion.

***

Day five. The lights weren't turned off last night. Obake waited until I was right about to fall asleep and then he pumped a FREAKING ALARM into my room. It's been going off for hours now.

Hiro groaned miserably, clenching hands over his ears as the shrill screech of the alarm echoed in his tiny cell. His eyes blinked blearily. Every limb was tired. But the sterile white light and the blaring ring wouldn't just let him close his eyes and drift away.

He blinked back tears. The lack of sleep was getting to him. Clenching his hands tighter around his ears he grit his teeth and tried to endure.

How early was it now? 1AM? 3? He couldn't tell; the alarm had been going for an eternity it felt like, and he didn't exactly have a watch.

Feeling a scream building up in his chest, Hiro stood from the chair, journal entry forgotten, trying to block out as much of the horrible sound as he could with his hands.

The alarm continued, unceasing. Uncaring.

"Stop it..." he muttered. Louder, he cried, "Stop it!" He stumbled back, thighs hitting the cot. "Make it stop! Make it stop!" he begged.

The alarm didn't stop, but a squeal of feedback sounded in hidden speakers before Obake's voice piped in.

"You know what I want, dear boy," the villain said pleasantly, disturbingly cheerful.

Hiro clenched his teeth, glaring at the pieces of the energy amplifier on his desk. Defiantly, he took his hands off his ears, grabbed one of the pieces and hurled it into the closest wall, bouncing it off the side and shattering flakes off.

"Suit yourself," the voice in the speakers said, and the alarms seemed to grow even louder, pounding inside his head with painful pressure.

Hiro's face screwed. His eyes squeezed tight, mouth firming until he couldn't feel it.

He sank to the floor and scooted up under the cot, trying to escape the awful noise.

***

Day five six?

I caved. He threatened Aunt Cass. I'm sorry, Tadashi, I can't... I can't lose anyone else.

Hiro blinked hard, willing away the threatening blur tearing at his eyes. His hands shook on the grip of the screwdriver as he tried very hard to twist back in a bolt.

He hadn't been given many tools. Obake had apologized for what was on hand, promising to give him whatever he needed, sounding uncharacteristically concerned.

Hiro couldn't think about that. He couldn't think about anything.

He focused on the ringing still reverberating through his ears and the meticulous motions of his hands as he tried to piece back together the broken parts of the amplifier, the pinch and click of metal the only sounds in the now-silent room.

***

Day ????

Amplifier's almost fixed. I don't remember when Obake was in last, but he sounded pleased with my progress.

Ears finally stopped ringing.

This is all my fault. I'm sorry, Tadashi, I'm so, SO—

Trembling fingers dropped the pencil, and Hiro covered his face, sobbing through his hands harshly.

***

The journal lay open and unupdated on the desk, next to the nearly-repaired amplifier. Hiro stared morosely at it from the cot across the room, ear pressed to the pillow, too depressed to move.

Maybe if he sat here long enough, Obake would just get fed up and kill him.

Emotion welling up his throat, he turned and pressed his face against the thin pillow, holding back the tears that wanted to steal from him.

He hated being here. Hated this cell. Hated himself.

His clothes were starting to stink. He wanted to hurt himself, force Obake to let Baymax in to see him.

He couldn't bear to lift a finger. He just sat there.

Unmoving. Unblinking.

In the utter silence.

***

There was a noise at the door.

Hiro lifted his head groggily, confused, pulling out of some fitful sleep. There seemed to be voices, frantic and worried, out in the hallway.

Blue light stabbed suddenly through the door and Hiro yanked upright, sleep falling rapidly off him. His heart lodged straight in his throat, windpipe threatening to crush itself from the strain in his neck as he stared in guarded, fearful hope at the plasma laser blade slicing through the metal.

Great pieces and chunks of the door fell away, and Hiro flung himself up, stumbling on shaky feet until he hit Wasabi's chest and flung arms around his middle, openly sobbing into his friend's stomach.

Wasabi was frozen for a moment, plasma blades held up awkwardly as he glanced towards the others, all wide-eyed with worry and pinched with concern.

He dispelled the blades, dropping arms around the quivering, shaking shoulders of the fourteen-year-old and squeezing tight, ignoring his own quibbles about open PDA and how rank and disheveled Hiro was.

"Hey, it's okay," he reassured the boy, hugging harder. "We've got you."

The others crowded in, arms joining the embrace and holding the youngest member of their team with fervent emotion.

"We've got you," came the whispered repetition, echoing around the group.

Hiro just cried in relief.

---

*whispers* I'm sorry.

[moons-and-stars-and-shit]

It worked! Sorry to bug you with a message! But I'd like to request a cake now!

So, about me. I have an actual name but I don't think I've heard it in months😃, instead I have a bunch of nicknames! (Rion, ri, oreo, onion, o, etc), I'm actually nb so I chose that name, however I 100% consider naming myself Arson💀My pronouns are they/them and I'm about 5'5, I have short, fluffy brown hair that I usually dye the front blue. I'm Asian hispanic, but I really don't look like either- my favorite foods are either really spicy and salty or sweet. Not the overwhelming chemical sweet tho, like a natural sweet flavor. My personality type is infp, and ig when I first meet people I can be shy (that's an understatement, I was mute for the first week of school🕳🏃‍♂️) but once I get to know people I can be pretty chaotic (once again, arson). I'm not a 100% demon spawn though, I don't really like making scenes in public and I probably will cry if I do- but I still have fun lol. I'm also the person who copes with severe mental health issues using humor, to an alarming degree 😔 I'm the therapist friend when really I'm the one who needs therapy. I also have a social battery that can die at random times, so I really like/need friends who can handle random mood changes of me going from energetic to silent in seconds. Academically, I'm really book smart, I'm a tutor, but my grades don't reflect it. I tend to procrastinate a lot and avoid studying, usually I catch myself last minute or trust memory on tests, but every now and then there's something that tanks my grades. I'm not very athletic, but I still try to play sports. I enjoy the feeling when I do something right, but the rest of the time I usually beat myself up for messing up.

And now just random facts 😃👍

My favorite color is yellow, not the bright eye sore shade that makes you want to throw up, but the nice softer, light shade. And I like anything that comes with that color! (Sunflowers, flowy sundresses and flip flops, summer activities, burning concrete, warm rain, etc). Nobody knows my music taste, it changes weekly, however I usually come back to mitski/cavetown or summer themed songs a lot! I enjoy playing music, but I have the curse of being a fast learner so that usually leads to be being bored and learning a new instrument at any given chance. And my birthday is a weird date that fucks with zodiacs so I can be considered either a leo or cancer, my personality changes a bunch, so take your pick lol. (Though emotionally I tend to be cancerous, I just express it and show it in a way a leo would) And someday I wanna be a long term traveler, or a florist. Just a job that makes me happy :). And I guess if I had to classify my aesthetic it would be bloomcore or soft grunge. I like wearing big sweaters and if I could I would wear a bunch of butterfly clips in my hair and wear mom jeans. (I would also wear man crushers, I mean, platforms if I was confident)

Aaaannnnd that was really long sorry!

To sum up, I'm just a bipolar bitch with depression and anxiety 👍

Thanks a bunch for just taking the time to read this!

@oririon

Romantic Matchup

Bokuto Koutarou

How Y’all Met

IERJNDJS

I’m getting a classic summer love vibe from this matchup 👀

Ok so I just Hc that Bokuto LOVES flowers

So he would always just go to the local flower shop to look at them

Pls hes to precious I cant-

But anyways you we’re working a summer job at the flower shop

And you grew fond of our little owl boy

You would always talk to him whenever he visited

He just made your job that much more enjoyable :)

So one day you stopped him right before he left and told him he could pick a bouquet of flowers if he wanted

He BEAMED at you and picked a bouquet of flowers he always looked at whenever he came

But what shocked you was instead of walking out with them

He gave them to you!

He then went on talking about how he really liked you but didn’t know how to tell you

At this point he was just rambling

So you laughed and asked him if he would like to go to the ocean with you after your shift

He agreed and you swear you saw stars in his eyes

After your shift you met up with Bokuto and went to the beach

You guys literally spent ALL day there!

And even some of the night 👀

Being the gentleman he is offered to walk you home

And when you two got to your house he asked you to be his s/o

What They Love About You

Ok starting off with a strange one

He loves the fact that your favorite color is yellow 💛

He just thinks it fits you so well 😊

He loves that you have to ability to turn your trauma into humor

Now I’m ngl...

Ye found it extremely concerning at first 🥲

But once you explained it was like a coping mechanism for you

He was super supportive!

AAAAAAAA

He LOVES your aesthetic!

He thinks it’s so cute

And once again he thinks it fits you 👀

He appreciates the fact that your smart

If he doesn’t understand something in class

He’ll just go to you!

And honesty going over the material with him has helped your understanding as well 👀

Bokuto s grades:📈

Your grades: 📈

Favorite Things To Do Together

Oml he loves summers with you

Any summer activity

Beaches

Ice cream

Flower meadows 👀

Summer night drives

The whole shtick

But when it’s not summer

He loves doing classic seasonal activities

Examples:

Fall - Jumping in leaf piles, coffee dates, preparing for Halloween, etc

Winter - Snowball fights/Making Snowmen, Christmas movie marathons, hot cocoa/ baking, etc

Spring - Dancing in the rain, picnics, gardening etc

It’s a vibe year round with bf Bokuto

Random Hc

His favorite season is summer

And his second is winter

Ik...polar opposites

Oof

He TOTALLY gets your mood swings

Although they may not be the same as his

He still understands them and respects them

Every year on your anniversary he buys you the exact same bouquet he gave you at the flower shop

Speaking of the flower shop 👀

He got a job there with you the following summer

So you guys basically spent most of your days together

Bokuto is REALLY bad at dark humor

But for some reason he still tries 😭

It’s either TOO dark

Or not dark at all 💀

Astrology

(We’re gonna go with your cancer zodiac 😂)

When Cancer and Virgo make a love match, a strong, down-to-earth relationship with staying power is the happy result.

This is a relationship with great potential to get better and better over the passing years.

Both Cancer and Virgo are goal-oriented and disciplined.

They are sincere and devoted to one another and share a strong sense of purpose.

No lightweight love here: These two were not really built for flings!

Cancer and Virgo deeply admire one another: Virgo respects Cancer’s quiet strength and dedication while Cancer appreciates Virgo’s keen adaptability and intelligence.

These lovers may get off to a slow start, but over time, bonds will only grow stronger.

The Cancer-Virgo love match prides itself on common sense and strong principles over fluff and inconsequential or fleeting connections.

They enjoy the material comforts of life, but they will only feel good about their bounty if it has come as a result of honest hard work.

There could be tiffs if Virgo becomes too critical for Cancer’s easily bruised feelings; Cancer needs to understand that it’s just Virgo’s nature to point out what they observe, that it’s not a personal attack.

A Virgo may bristle at their Cancer mate’s stubborn streak, but it’s a trait that a patient and understanding love partner like Virgo could come to appreciate.

Also, Virgo’s urge to serve suits Cancer’s affectionate, nurturing nature well.

Their dedication to working toward the same goals.

Both partners in this love match enjoy a stable home life and nice things, and Virgo truly enjoys helping Cancer along the way to achieving their goals.

Their shared goals and desires make theirs a highly compatible love match.

Overall Aesthetic

Bloomcore 🌸

Bloom - Jesse

This Side of Paradise - Coyote Theory

Flaming Hot Cheetos - Claire

Mystery of Love - Sufjan Stevens

[ashes-and-ashes]

Confession time... I live for people treating Remus like shit because of his lycanthropy, and Sirius (and the others) being really protective and losing their temper when they see it. So if you were to write that, know that it would end me, but I'd die happy 💙

Whoops. I got carried away. Hope you like this Rosie (and I hope it is angsty enough!!)

tw for alcohol, implied self harm and depression

~

Bar fights

Sirius stares down into his glass.

He scowls. It was called the Dragon, supposedly the “fiercest drink in all of Wizarding Britain” and he can already tell that it wouldn’t be strong enough. Firewhisky and gillywater and something that made it turn bright blue, all mixed into a glass. It steamed slightly, bubbles floating to the surface and the barkeeper smirks over at him.

“A little young to be drinking eh?” He laughs. “You sure you can finish that?”

Sirius just raises an eyebrow, downing the drink in one shot. “Not strong enough,” he mutters, rapping his knuckles on the bar.

The barkeeper blinks at him, then turns away. Sirius sighs.

He supposed it wasn’t fair. He’s a Black. Judging by the amount Walburga drank, he’d been ingesting alcohol in the womb.

Sirius scrubs his hand over his face, staring down at the bar. It’s stained, from the rings of some drink long dried, and he picks at the marks with his fingernail.

He had sworn to himself, a few years ago when he was 12 that he would never drink again. Sworn it while huddled in his room, biting back his sobs as he tried to heal the gashes in his back and the waves of pain all over his body. Walburga was bad enough sober - the cuts on Sirius’ arms and legs were proof of that. But she only ever used Crucio when she was drunk.

He snatches the glass from the barkeeper, downs it again. He had only really started drinking a month ago, to keep away the nightmares and the thoughts and the images. Sobriety was hell. Better to wash it away in the haze of drink then linger on what his life had become.

The Prank. Even thinking the words made him shudder. He had replayed that night in his head, over and over again, turning over every second until the memories were seared into his brain.

If only I hadn't read the letter. If only I was strong enough to resist the torture. If only I was faster, smarter, quicker. If only I hadn’t been so stupid.

He slumps in his chair. It was over now. Him and Remus were done. He still couldn’t help but feel that it was punishment, punishment for running away, punishment for leaving Reg with his parents.

And it was Remus’ birthday today, his 16th. Sirius’ heart aches as he imagines it. Everyone crowded around Remus, everyone singing Happy Birthday to him. He had spent ages planning the events for Remus’ birthday, the picnic and the candles and the secret spot by the lake.

He laughs bitterly. Everyone thought they’d be forever, him and Re. The Prank had torn them apart.

Good, he thinks, tightening his grip on the empty glass. He’s rid of me now. He’s free.

Sirius knew he could never be free of Remus. He loved him too much, a burning, aching pain inside of him, so much that it hurt. There would always be a part of him that loved Remus, no matter how many days passed, a part of him that could never be filled by anyone else.

How many moments did they have together? How many whispered secrets and shared kisses, how many times had they traced each other’s scars?

He’d thought they’d last forever.

Sirius hears the door bang open, the sound of laughter filling the bar. He turns on his stool, half-paying attention when he freezes.

Remus stares at him, surrounded by people. James and Lily chatting animatedly, Dorcas and Marlene with their arms around each other, Gideon next to Fabian who was holding Kingsley’s hand, Peter talking to Mary. His best friends, all of them, the ones who he’d die for and they all hated him.

Sirius curses under his breath, standing in a fluid motion. He turns, grabbing his cloak, hoping that Remus would ignore him, would look away.

He’s wrong. Halfway to the door, Remus steps in front of him. “What,” he hisses, “Are you doing here?”

Sirius drops his gaze. He’s heard that steel in Remus’ voice before, heard it used on Snape and the Slytherins, to his mother and his father and everyone else who crossed him. But he’s never had it directed at him before.

Sirius swallows, hard, trying to clear the lump in his throat. “I’m….I’m sorry. I didn’t know you were coming here - “

Around him, he can feel the life going out of the party, near-identical glares being turned in his direction. He looks down. “I’ll leave now.”

Part of him still hopes. Hopes that Remus will shake his head, ask him to stay. That he can celebrate the birthday of the boy he loved most, that he could pretend just for one night that everything was okay again.

But instead, Remus just nods. “I think you should.”

Sirius bites his lip, walking towards the door. He slips out then closes it behind him, managing to make it to the alley behind the bar.

He drops to the ground, perched on the balls of his feet, his head in his hands. The night is cool, the air crisp, and he takes a deep breath.

He can feel it, the numbness, the way he was slowly drowning in it. It was as if a sheet of plastic had been placed over the world, blurring everything together, muting out all sounds. He supposed he deserved it.

Sirius lets his head rest against the wall. His lungs burn, a blinding headache forcing its way into his head and he wishes he had a cigarette.

Sirius clenches his fists, his nails digging into his palm, carving bloody half-moons into his flesh.

He scared himself sometimes, when the numbness came down and his heart ached and all he wanted to do was bleed. Something stronger, deeper than just a blade against skin, when he wanted to fight.

There’s a flurry of movement to his left, two guys walking into the alley. They’re sketchy looking, dirty and high, and Sirius ignores them. Behind him, a window opens, and he can hear laughed pouring into the alley.

He recognizes the laughs - Kingsley’s low rumble and Lily’s high-pitched giggle, James’ snort and Peter’s squeak and Marlene howling as someone banged the table. And Remus, the huff of breath as he smiled, the way his eyes crinkled at the corners when he laughed. He would recognize Remus’ laugh anywhere, would recognize him even if he was blind.

The two guys on his left are mumbling, and Sirius barely makes out a few words.

“Piece of shit…”

“Just mug him then…”

“Nah don’t want to get busted….”

He ignores the words, yanking on his hair with his hands, so hard his eyes begin to water. His feet ache from crouching, his neck stiff and he winces as he he forces himself to his feet. He turns, snarling as he starts to exit the alley.

“Asshole. Won’t pay up.”

“At least he’s not a queer.”

There’s a low laugh. “Well. Or a werewolf.”

The other person snorts. “Werewolves. Filthy half breeds, ought to be put down the load of them. Always biting people and rutting around everywhere.”

“As if they’re good for anything else.”

The anger rises in Sirius, so fast he almost falls over. He turns around, clenching his fists together. “Don’t talk about werewolves like that.”

The two men pause, then look up at Sirius. The first one smiles. “What the hell you doing kid?”

The other one laughs. “Trying to be tough. Spoiling for a fight.”

“Fucktard.” The two of them snort. “Go away kid. Won’t ask again.”

Sirius doesn’t. He carefully widens his stance, one foot in front of the other. “I said. Don’t talk about werewolves like that.”

“Why?” The man winks. “Ahh. I see. Fucking one are you? Taking it straight up the ass like the fag you are, I’m sure. Probably enjoy it too.”

“Is it beastiality if he’s in human form while you fuck?” The man shrugs. “Or is it just - “

Sirius snaps.

His wand is in his hand in an instant, pointed directly at the first man. “Stupefy!” The man crashes backwards, directly into a bunch of boxes, and Sirius whirls. “Diffendo!”

Gashes appear in the floor and in the man’s skin, blood welling up from the cuts as he snarls. “Bastard. What the fuck?”

Sirius laughs, the sound slightly unhinged. His heart is pounding in his chest, his muscles tense and he loves it because finally. Finally he’s free, not thinking about Remus or Snape or the Prank, finally his head is clear. He just smiles back. “I warned you. Don’t talk about werewolves like that.”

“Fucking son of a bitch.” The man spits at Sirius’ feet. “Gay fag.”

Sirius raises an eyebrow. “Flipendo!”

The spell hurtles toward the man, who just flicks his wand. “Protego.”

Sirius steps to the side, the bolt careening past his leg. He raises his wand, fire dancing at the top. “Incendio!”

He’s not sure how long the fight lasts. The man is good, handling multiple spells with ease, managing to slice Sirius’ arm, repel his spell and revive his unconscious friend on the floor. Sirius curses, blood running down his arm, pouring into his eye from a cut on his forehead. He blinks furiously, trying to get the thick liquid out, anger burning in his chest. Without thinking, he points his wand straight at the man, right at his chest. “Cru - “

“Sirius no!”

And suddenly a hand is wrapped around his wrist, the crimson jet at the tip of his wand flying wide. He turns, yanking his arm away, about to curse the person when he stops dead.

Remus stares back at him, panting and covered in blood, the moonlight making the lines on his face glow. Sirius swears. “Shit, Re, I….” He trails off. “Re. Re, there’s blood all over you - “

“It’s yours.” Remus’ voice is steady. “I’m fine.”

“But…” With a start, Sirius remembers the men. He turns around, his wand raised, only to have Remus step in front of him. “Sirius. No.”

Sirius whirls, fury burning in his chest. “What the fuck do you mean, no?”

Remus glares back at him. “No.”

There’s a bang. Sirius whips around, in time to see the man’s fingers close over the handle of his wand. With a pop, both men disappear, vanishing to god knows where, leaving nothing behind but a trail of blood.

“This close.” Sirius’ throat is tight, like someone was slowly strangling him. He coughs, swallowing hard. “I was this close to defeating them Re, this close! I had them!”

“You were about to use Crucio on them.” Remus’ voice is cold. “You were going to use an unforgivable curse on them.”

Sirius looks down. He feels something wet on his head, on his face. Rain starts to trickle from the sky in steady streams, darkening the pavement where he stood. He meets Remus’ gaze. “Yes.”

“God Sirius.” Remus runs his hands through his hair. “How could you? You know what it was like, being tortured. How could you wish that into someone else?”

Sirius bites his lip. He can taste blood, coating his tongue and cheek, salty and metallic. “They were insulting werewolves.”

Remus stares back at him, his face draining of colour. Sirius continues. “Saying things like...like they deserved to be put down. That they were monsters. That - “

“No.” Remus’ voice is shaking. “No. Y-you.”

“Re - “

Remus shakes him off. “No. Not for me. Never for me.”

Sirius frowns. “What are you talking about?”

“I’m not worth it.” Remus is trembling, his voice cracking on the words. “I’m not worth it Sirus, I’m not worth you attaching them! I’m not worth a fucking unforgivable curse, God, Sirius, you could have been thrown in Azkaban for that!”

“I don’t - “

“Don’t you dare.” Remus glares at him. “Don’t you dare say that you don’t care about going to Azkaban, don’t you dare say it. I am nothing, Sirius, I am nothing but a half breed, and you are a Black! You are practically a Prince and I swear, you cannot throw your life away for me!”

“I’m not throwing my life away.” Sirius keeps his voice calm. “I love you Remus, I know you don’t anymore but I do. I love you so damn much - I would go to Azkaban in a heartbeat if it would make you happy - “

“We are over,” Remus spits and the sound breaks Sirius’ heart. “We’ve been done for a month! How can you - how can you risk your life for something so stupid - “

“You’re not stupid! You mean something - “

Remus shakes his head. “I mean nothing. I am nothing in this world, nothing in this story! I am a small mark on your book Sirius, and you should leave and forget about me.”

Sirius closes his eyes. It’s pouring now, plastering Remus’ hair to his head. It soaks the ground, washing away the blood, rivlets of water dripping down his back.

“How can I forget about you, Re? I still love you.”

Remus closes his eyes. “Do you think I don’t?” He laughs bitterly. “It’s been almost a month now and I still find myself longing for what we had before.” He looks up. “But you see why we can’t, right? It’s not just...just what you did. You’re a prince, Sirius, you have your whole life ahead of you. As soon as I’m 17 I have to register. I’ll be put into a Werewolf Camp. I’ll probably die alone and starving in some alleyway somewhere.”

“Bullshit.” Sirius shakes his head. “I don’t give a damn about you being a werewolf, Re, I still love you - “

Remus just shakes his head. A small, choked noise escapes his throat, maybe a sob or maybe a laugh, and Sirius’ breath hitches. “Re - ?”

Remus just presses him against the wall and kisses him.

The rain pounds against the sidewalk, filling the air with the scent of rain, and Sirius leans back. Hungry, open mouths and roaming hands and God he’s wanted this for so long, wanted to feel Remus against him again, their lips pressed together, the steady rise and fall of the scars on their skin. He feels Remus’ fingers on his back, moving unfalteringly over the gashes, and Sirius closes his eyes.

Slowly, carefully, Remus pulls away. He steps back, his arms falling to his side, his hair sticking up in spikes. It’s hard to tell from all the rain, but Sirius thinks he sees tears in his eyes. “God. I’ve wanted…”

“Me too.” Sirius swallows. “Re - “

“No.” Remus takes another step back. “We can’t - we can’t do this - “

“Yes we can!” Sirius shakes his head. “I don’t care, Remus, I don’t give a damn that you’re a werewolf or that you’re not high-born or that you’re poor!”

“How could you fall in love - “

“I fell in love with Remus Lupin.” Sirius closes his eyes. “The kind, brave, beautiful boy who comforted me on my first night away from home. The boy who helped me with my projects and let me copy his homework. The one who taught me stitching spells when my mother started cutting me, the one who came when I woke up screaming from nightmares. I fell in love with the boy who kissed me for the first time just before a transformation, who always gave second chances. I fell in love with you, Re. Fuck the werewolf.”

“You - “ Remus’ voice cracks. “You deserve the world, Sirius. I...I don’t know if I can give that to you.”

Sirius just reaches forward. He presses his palm against Remus’ cheek, the fluttering in his heart growing as Remus leans into the touch. “You are my world, Re. I don’t need anything else.”

Remus bites his lip. “Sirius - “

“I love you.” He laughs. “God. I love you so much.”

Remus swallows, hard. He nods, pulls Sirius up closer against him. “I love you too.”