Regulus Black Everyone!!!

Regulus Black everyone!!!♡

Regulus Black: “It was I who discovered your secret.”

Secret Boyfriend

Summary: Keeping secrets seem to run in the Lupin family but one of the two twins has a bigger secret than the other can imagine.

Loyalty’s

Summary: Instead of Regulus obeying the Dark Lord his loyalty’s lie with his girlfriend and becomes a spy for the Order.

Lavender

Summary: Sirius Black escapes Azkaban and Professor Black’s students have a lot of questions about it.

Runaways

Summary: Regulus refuses to lose yet another sibling after Sirius leaves.

Whistle

Summary: The Black twins have a way to communicate despite their different houses.

Help

Summary: At first it was for him, now everything he does is for her. 

One in the Same

Summary: Reader notices Draco going through the same pain as her ex lovwer and desperately wants fix her faults.

Annotated Books & Sleek Hardcovers

Summary: Everything told them to be apart, but they said fuck the world.

He’s Safe With Me

Summary: A little boy brightens Regulus’ days after his brother leaves him.

Nothing Left

Summary: Everything crashes within seconds and Sirius doesn’t know where to go.

Second Choice

Summary: Regulus doesn’t talk much, but his actions do it for him.

Accusations: Part One, Part Two, Part Three

Summary: Sirius and Remus come to the wrong conclusion that changes someone’s life forever.

Choices

Summary: Some choices are harder than others.

One Day

Summary: An unexpected guest ruins the wedding of Lily Evans.

"Words are writers most inexhaustible source of MAGIC."

You are an amazing author. And all your works are so wholesome and awesome.

Lots of love ❤

Puzzle Pieces

Part 2

Pairing: Billy Russo x Reader

Summary: Billy slowly begins to recover from the damage done by Rawlins’ men, and you’re with him every step of the way.

Warnings: mentions of injury and blood

Part 1

My Masterlist

You don’t wake with a jerk. Or a scream. Your mind simply throws itself back to reality, forcing you to deal with the fact that you’re no longer in the clutches of your nightmare. Heart pounding, you try to ground yourself, ignoring the itch of anxiety crawling over your skin.

Billy’s arms around you help. His presence reminds you that he’s back home with you.

Frank and Billy had dealt with the last of Rawlins’ men, putting an end to their Punisher mission in the same place it started - the carousel at Central Park. They had both fought hard, and were badly injured. Billy more so than Frank.

Billy was in surgery for just over eleven hours. You had spent the first few pacing in the hallway. When the exhaustion became too overwhelming, you had slumped down onto the hard floor and sat waiting for any news.

After six weeks Billy woke up from his coma, though it took another six months for him to even begin to recover properly.

When the therapy provided by the hospital wasn’t garnering any results, you had suggested bringing Billy home. All his medical issues had been resolved for the most part. His physiotherapy was mostly up to himself, so you knew Billy would keep up with it. He’d been frighteningly frail when he had first woken up, and you know he’ll never want to feel that helpless ever again.

You press your forehead against your pillow, trying to even out your shaky breathing. Billy whimpers in his sleep, and your heart aches for him. Billy hates people’s pity. But what you feel is far deeper than pity - it’s pain. The pain of seeing him so distraught, so anxious, and confused.

»»---------------------►

Small shards of memory had returned to Billy over the months. At first, you kept your distance, afraid that you would somehow hurt him, or ruin his chances of recovery. After the news of another fruitless therapy session, you went to visit him.

His therapist had told you that his thought process was still limited, but from one look at Billy you knew she was wrong. Familiar dark eyes had looked you up and down, and even from behind his mask you could see the calculating edge in them, assessing whether you were a friend or foe. With one look, you knew your Billy was still there.

From that first visit onwards, you went to see Billy every day. Only for a short amount of time, you didn’t want to stifle him with the presence of someone he couldn’t remember. You had told him that you were a friend of Frank’s, which wasn’t a lie. It just wasn’t the whole truth.

Billy didn’t remember you. But he liked you. You were patient with him. Not like the patronising manner that he felt around Dr Durmont. With her he felt like he was scrambling in the dark, feeling the edges of the jigsaw pieces and frantically trying to get them to fit. Only for the light to be turned on, and for the pieces to haven been forced into the wrong place - creating a damaged, nonsensical picture.

But with you it was different. He felt better about himself. You didn’t sigh when he became distressed about his missing memories. If anyone else was as quietly optimistic as you were he would been irritated by their presence. But with you he only felt reassured. Whenever he got upset about what he couldn’t remember, you reminded him of all the things he had remembered.

This optimism was epitomised by the notebook you gave him.

“I didn’t want to write notes during our talks, like Durmont, but I tried to remember every memory you told me about, and I wrote it down.” You explain as you run your fingers nervously down the spine. Billy’s eyes are on you, as usual. He watches you, from where you’re sitting on the bed in front of him.

The hospital staff never liked you being so close to him during your visits. The majority of them were afraid of Billy, and you always made your disapproval of this very clear during your interactions with them. You loathed his bed restraints, and made sure to remove them every time you visited. As Billy became more and more used to your company, you had begun sitting on the bed next to his legs.

You flick through the pages, and Billy eyes your handwriting hungrily, eager for that familiar feeling in his chest whenever he learns anything new about you. Though something inside him tells him that these pieces aren’t new.

“I wrote about Frank, and some of your stories from the marines. I thought that whenever you feel down about what you can’t remember, you could look at this.” You close the notebook, gesturing to it slightly before holding it out to him. Billy’s eyes flicker down to the notebook, before taking it from you. “And it would show you everything you do remember.”

He’s quiet as he stares down at the book. There’s something in his eyes which you don’t recognise, so your gaze settles back down on the notebook.

“I bought you this.” You look up at him frowning. Did he? You look back at the notebook as he taps his finger against the cover. Billy watches your expression carefully, as you remember. Then it hits you.

With a shuddering breath, you withdraw slightly, your eyes wide. Billy adjusts himself, reaching a hand out to tentatively rest on your side. You don’t know why you’re panicking, this is a good thing. He’s slowly remembering you.

But after months of nothing, this tiny glimpse seems far too overwhelming. It’s proof that the life you lived with Billy actually existed. That the moments you shared together weren’t all in your head.

“Billy,” you whisper with tears in your eyes and a bittersweet smile on your face. “I didn’t even remember that.” You know he doesn’t remember you. That the memory of this notebook is just a tiny fragment that has finally clicked into place - but it’s a start.

His fingers curl around your hip, and the pressure of it helps pull you back to the present. You rest your hand on his forearm, your fingers fitting perfectly over his skin. He stares hard at you, trying to figure out the meaning behind your reaction, along with deciphering the new memory he had uncovered.

“Who are you?” He asks, his grip on you becoming firmer.

“I told you, I’m a fr-“

“Who are you to me?” You look away from his eyes, as you tighten your hold on his arm.

“Billy I can’t.” His voice breaks slightly as he whispers,

“Please.” The two of you remain clutching onto one another, to the point of pain. But you don’t care, you need to hold onto him. With his other hand, he moves to pull off his mask. You rest one hand against his chest, and he freezes.

“You don’t have to.” You say softly, despite your hammering heart. Once your eyes lock with his, you see the determination there. There’s also stubborn acceptance. That he was taking the mask off, and he didn’t care about your reaction. Though deep down he knew that your rejection would shatter him like the broken glass from his nightmares.

When the mask is finally off, you can’t help but smile at the sight of your Billy. Some tears spill out over your cheeks, but you wipe them away quickly. There’s an ache in your heart, as you briefly look over the scars. You can’t even imagine how much pain he must have been in.

You watch the muscle in his jaw tense, and his nostrils flare slightly as he directs his questions in a wounded plea,

“How can you look at me like that? Look at me. Why are you happy to see this?” His eyes are frantic, and he’s gesturing wildly as his breathing begins to pick up.

“Because I love you.” You say quietly, and he stills. You swallow hard. “Because that’s who I am to you. Someone who loves you.”

»»---------------------►

From that point onwards, Billy’s memory began to improve. Small bits and pieces were remembered, and he always recounted them eagerly to you.

Despite this, Dr Durmont insisted that Billy’s condition was still fragile. At one point she tried to convince you that his supposed memories were figments of his imagination. It was at that moment you knew she was no good for Billy. You knew his memories were real, you were the one with him when those memories were made.

You decided to request an investigation into Durmont’s practices, and a high ranking psychiatrist planned to meet with you to discuss Billy’s progress.

After this, you’re feeling rather positive as you make your way to see Billy. That is until a security guard stops you from entering Billy’s room.

“Excuse me?” You remark.

“Dr Durmont’s patient is having an episode.” Your stomach drops, and you push by him forcefully, ignoring his protests.

The first thing you see is Durmont. She’s sitting on the bed, far too close to Billy for your liking. He’s strapped down and Billy’s eyes are wide behind his mask. His muffled breathing comes in erratic gasps.

“Get away from him. Now.” You snarl at her. She usually counters your words with smug remarks but this time, seeing the fire in your eyes, she backs down. It’s appears she has a strong sense of self preservation. “Out. Both of you.” You snap at Durmont and the security guard that had followed you into the room.

After a pause they both leave, and you move towards Billy and begin to undo the straps of his restraints.

“Billy, I know you’re angry, and scared, and upset. I am too. But we can figure this out.” You reassure him as you yank the last of his restraints off. He practically dives out of the bed, and begins pacing at the end of the bed. As you sit at the end of Billy’s bed, you see the security guard eyeing Billy warily through the window in the door, and you narrow your eyes at him with a scowl.

You turn back to Billy as he paces. His breathing is still laboured, and he runs his hands over his head forcefully. He grasps at the mask covering his face, throwing it to the floor. You’re the only one he takes his mask off around. You call out his name softly, but he seems too caught up in his thoughts.

“Billy can you look at me?” He turns to you sharply, his chest still heaving as he wrings his hands together. “What am I wearing?” You ask, wanting to help ground him. After a few gasps, he manages to choke out,

“A hoodie.” You nod kindly, encouraging him to continue. “My hoodie?” A soft smile tugs at your lips, and you nod. His head tilts, and whatever thoughts had triggered his spiral seem to be returning.

“What colour is it?” You ask, attempting to draw him back to the present.

“Blue.” You nod again, and he continues to list your clothing, piece by piece. “Black jeans. Grey shirt.” He takes a step closer towards you with each word. “Black boots.” His breathing is much more even now as he nears you. He leans forward, his hands resting on the frame at the end of the bed. His eyes flicker over you again, before noticing something. “A necklace.”

Your head drops down to look at the sliver of metal peeking over from the neckline of your shirt. He frowns, recognising the familiar type of chain.

“Dog tags.” You nod, and he asks in a small voice, “My dog tags?” You nod again, pulling at the chain to retrieve the metal tag.

“You can have them back if you want.” You say quietly, and a flash of hurt flickers in his eyes. “I don’t want to part with them.” You add hurriedly, as you hold them tight, the metal biting against the skin of your palm. “But most of your memories are from the marines, so they might make you feel better.” Billy’s heart nearly bursts out of his chest. You are always so thoughtful.

Billy has always been cautious of people’s words. He knows firsthand that everyone lies, and that very few can ever truly be trusted. But your actions speak of your care for him. And the tentativeness in your voice when you offer him his tags couldn’t be faked. They genuinely meant a lot to you, but you’re willing to give them up for the sake of helping him.

You duck your head, about to take the tags off, before Billy rests his hand over yours.

“Don’t. Want you to keep them.” He can see the spark of happiness in your eyes, though your expression is still concerned.

“You wanna talk about what upset you?” He looks away, but doesn’t withdraw his hand. He rolls his shoulder, a familiar habit you haven’t seen from him in a long time. The pieces of Billy’s mind are falling into place, even subconsciously. He shrugs lightly,

“I shaved my face by myself, for the first time today.” You try to meet his eyes but his gaze stays fixed on your thighs. “Had to look in the mirror.” He swallows hard, backing away from you. “And I don’t get it. I don’t get what you see when you look at me.”

“Billy.” You call out softly, trying to stop him from spiralling again. But he shakes his head and tears well in his eyes.

“Look at you. You’re so kind and good. And I’m all broken pieces and sharp edges. How can I ever be good enough for you?”

Your heart breaks at his words. The old Billy always had a layer of self consciousness hiding under the surface. He had used his looks and charm to hide it, but it was always there. The lingering fear that he wasn’t good enough. If he was enough, wouldn’t his mother have kept him? If he was enough, would a nice family had adopted him?

Now Billy had lost his pristine face, and his mind was scrambled, leaving him with no defences. He was vulnerable. He was back to the scared little boy who hid himself away in corners.

You pat the space next to you, and he hesitates, before walking around to the other side of the bed and sitting down to face you.

“I know you won’t believe me. But you’re just as handsome as you were when I first met you.” His eyes flicker up to yours, his gaze uncertain, but he’s listening to your words, and that’s all you can hope for.

“Then why won’t you touch me?” He asks in a tiny voice, and you freeze. His dark eyes are fixed on yours, and you can see the pain and anger there. “You say all that, but this is closest we’ve been in weeks.”

“I don’t want to hurt you.” Billy’s face hardens, he doesn’t believe you. How could you possibly hurt him? It must an excuse. You can see the doubt on his face. “You complain about your headaches. The doctors tell me your injuries are healed. Your therapist tells me to keep my distance. I don’t know what to do Billy.” You tell him, your voice breaking. His face softens as tears well in your eyes. “I want to do what’s right for you.”

He takes your hands in his, the same resolute look of determination in his eyes as when he first removed his mask. He guides your hands to his face. He your fingers brush delicately over his cheeks. He shudders at the contact and you withdraw slightly.

“You’d tell me if I hurt you?” He nods.

“Course.”

Actions speak louder than words with Billy. He knows your reassurances are heartfelt, but in this state he needs something tangible. Smoothing your thumbs over his cheeks, you trace the edges of his scars there with care. You lean closer, until Billy can almost feel your lips against his skin.

“Tell me when to stop.” You murmur, and he pleads,

“Don’t stop.” A tear falls down Billy’s cheek as you press the first kiss against the scar on his left cheek. You trace the scar with soft tender kisses, your eyes never leaving his. Moving up, you trail your lips over the scar that covers his temple. Billy’s hands grip the fabric of the hoodie you’re wearing - his hoodie. You nuzzle your nose affectionately against his temple, before asking softly,

“Doing okay?” He nods hurriedly, a few more tears falling with the motion. As much as you hate the sight of his tears, you know how much he needs this.

You move to the first scar on his forehead, the one that stretches up into his hairline. He chokes back a sob, his grip tightening as the familiar feeling of your lips against his forehead. It was something you would always do when he was in need of comfort. Whilst Billy can’t quite remember that, he recognises the action. You shift slightly, your lips pressing softly against the second scar on his forehead.

You look down to meet his eyes, checking that he’s still okay. Despite the tears, and the death grip he’s got you in, he looks more at peace than he has in quite some time. You wonder how long this has been weighing on his mind.

His right cheek holds the biggest scar. The first part of it curls just under his eye and you follow the path of it tenderly. Then you move down over his cheek before your lips meet the edge of his freshly shaved stubble.

Offering him a small smile, you press a kiss to the tip of his nose, before leaving several over the scars that sit on the bridge of his nose. His smile wobbles as you lean back to look at him.

He’s already holding onto you, so it isn’t hard to bring him into your arms. He presses his face hard against your collarbones, so hard that it aches. You cup the back of his neck, keeping him close. His body shakes with small sobs, and you wonder if he’s allowed himself to cry about everything yet, or if this is the first time.

Hot tears fall down your cheeks, and Billy feels them on his hair. He wants to comfort you, the same way you comfort him. But he can’t figure out how. He doesn’t know that, after months of separation, this is all you will ever need. Your Billy in your arms. Though you’d prefer it if he wasn’t crying.

It’s quite some time before the two of you can pull yourselves together. Now that you’ve gained Billy’s permission, your hands are never going to be far from him.

There’s a knock at the door, and a man’s voice calls out your name. You recognise the voice from several phone calls. It’s Dr Greene, the psychiatrist that offered to assess Billy’s current state. You turn to Billy and explain the situation.

“You don’t have to see him.” You insist. “But I don’t trust Durmont to tell me how you’re actually doing.” Billy nods, holding tightly onto your hand.

“I trust you.” You swallow hard. Those three words aren’t often said by Billy Russo. You nod, squeezing his hand in reassurance before calling out,

“Come in.”

»»---------------------►

Dr Greene had agreed with your idea to bring Billy home. It allowed the two of you to create a familiar routine, and to give Billy a more normal life than the one given to him in the hospital. He saw Dr Greene for his therapy sessions, and he was steadily improving.

Of course, Billy’s nightmares don’t just go away, and neither do yours.

Billy jerks awake, whimpering as his mind still processes the nightmare, his breathing erratic. He relaxes a little when he feels the bed beneath him, and his arm curled around you. He draws in a shuddering breath as he tightens his hold on you.

Some nights you would sleep with your head on his chest, his arms wrapped loosely around you. On the bad nights his body would curl around you, pressing tight against your side, and clinging onto you. His fingers would often dig into your skin, but you didn’t mind. It was a reassurance to you both that the other was still there.

Billy shifts carefully, not wanting to disturb you but not wanting to lie in bed with his thoughts hounding him in the dark. He thinks he’s successful. Just as he’s about to throw back his side of the covers, you reach out and turn on your bedside lamp. He observes your tired eyes and assumes he kept you up.

“I’m sorry.” His voice is hoarse with sleep and distress. “I woke you up.” He adds harshly, his tone accusatory towards himself. He rubs his hand over the short fluff of his hair that’s beginning to grow out from his hospital buzzcut.

“You didn’t. I was awake already.”

“Don’t lie.” He mumbles, not meeting your eyes. You sit up, leaning back against the headboard as you rub at your aching eyes.

“I’m not. I was awake.” You retort with a scoff that’s directed more at yourself than Billy. He looks over at you sharply. Crossing your arms, you stare down where your feet are sitting under the duvet.

You’re still staring at the patterns on the fabric when you say,

“You want know what I see on the bad nights?” The weight of Billy’s eyes on you is ever present, but you’re sinking back into reliving your own nightmare. Layers of emotion hold your words hostage in your throat, but you force yourself through them to whisper, “You. Covered in blood.” You clear your throat before adding, “I wasn’t there that night. As usual, you insisted on protecting me.” You shift, your hands moving to sit clasped on your lap.

Billy doesn’t like the distant look in your eyes. He’s never seen you like this - or at least he thinks he hasn’t. His memory was still in pieces, and he had trouble remembering what piece went where sometimes.

“But in my dreams I’m there. You know, I watched the footage of what happened. It was grainy, and the sound was poor, but I watched it. Can still hear you screaming, even now.”

A shuddering gasp rattles from your lungs, and you become aware of the tears flooding down your cheeks.

“There was so much blood. And in my dreams, it’s on my hands, and you’re bleeding out. And I can’t stop it.”

Your hands are shaking from where they’re sitting in your lap. Billy wants nothing more than to hold your hand, to stop the shaking. But he can’t move. Not when he’s hearing his own nightmares mirrored by your mind.

His nightmares make him angry, they make him feel weak. He hates waking up with the never ending anxiety, that someone will come to finish him off because that’s what he deserves. He can’t even begin to fathom the thought that you’re just as haunted by this as he is.

The tears continue down your cheeks as you force the words out.

“And I see it over and over again. Different every time. Sometimes I’m right next to you, being held back while you scream and bleed out on the floor.” You close you eyes, your head beginning to ache. “Sometimes I see it from a distance, and I’m running to you but I never get there.” At the sound of your voice breaking, Billy shifts back towards the centre of the bed. You look up at him, your cheeks tearstained in the lamplight. He hates it when you cry.

Wordlessly, he wraps his arms around you, gently pulling at your body until you head is pressed into the crook of his shoulder. His arms are tight around you, and he can feel you melt into his hold. Every muscle aches, you hadn’t even realised how tense you were. He presses a kiss to the top of your head, and you choke back another sob.

“I don’t want to lose you.” You whisper against his skin. He runs his hands down your sides in an attempt to comfort you. He’s been slowly relearning and remembering what you like and don’t like, and he’s confident enough now to know how to reassure you.

He nudges your forehead, prompting you into looking up at him. You rest your chin against his chest, meeting his dark eyes. He presses a kiss to your forehead. Then your nose. You smile softly and hope blooms eagerly in his chest. He can still make you smile. He hooks a finger under your chin, and you lean closer to him.

Nothing will ever make you happier than kissing Billy. His kiss is soft at first, as he seeks to comfort you. He puts every ounce of his love and care for you into the movement of his mouth against yours. When he hears your sigh of relief, he takes the opportunity to further the kiss. You grip tightly onto the tiny strands of hair on his head, urging him closer as his lips slow down. The two of you exchange long, passionate kisses that have shivers running over your skin. Billy’s hands cup your face, holding you in place for him to work his lips against yours.

“I’m not going anywhere.” He whispers, before he plunges himself back into your kiss. His lips are firm and confident, making you feel the truth of his words.

You and Billy were meant to be. Nothing could ever tear you apart, and the two of you would prove it to each other, time and time again.

»»---------------------►

Billy Russo Tag List: @blackbirddaredevil23 @restingbitchsblog @tiredbeebo @rafaelakelley @theysayitscrazy @hummelmi @nyx2021 @dragon-of-winterfell @skybridgerton

Tony, to Y/N: I dare you to-

Natasha: Y/N isn’t allowed to accept dares.

Y/N, sighing: Apparently I have “no regard for my own safety”.

*the team laughs while nodding*

it's like I want to write... but also I don't... and I want to read, but... I also don't... and I have a bunch of ideas in my head but... they won't come out?

This is so cute and wholesome ☺ 💗

Bad Days and Cuddly Mornings

(Geddit?)

A/N: I don’t usually write for Rhys. Usually I don’t write for males that already have mates in their series but since this is a reaquest I know this reader happens to be really into Az so I am writing that instead. And don’t argue “Oh Lucien has a mate” or “Oh Azriel is technically taken” No if Lucien and Azriel had a relationship status it would be “it’s complicated” That’s not taken bitches. Also before you ask “Why haven’t you been posting anything?” Writer’s block. I have four drafts in my file. Writer’s block people.

Ship: Azriel x Illyrian!Reader

Requested: Yes! Thank you for making this request @cityofidek but I don’t really write for taken males unless it’s Cassian or Az. (I’m so sorry) But I knew you liked Az so I hope this is okay! Based on this request!

The anger was practically roiling off him.

Shadows danced around him as he stormed through the room, removing his weapons belt and different leathers. His Hazel eyes were blazing as he huffed and plopped onto the bed. I knew this was serious, not from the lethal calm rage on his face but because of the flicker of sorrow behind his .

I approached the bed and sat beside him, my own wings tucking into my back as I rubbed his shoulder. Are you okay? I asked in his mind.

It’s just that Cassian was being a prick but we got attacked and people died. Azriel’s voice, even mentally, sounded like it was cracking. I shifted myself to sit in his lap as I faced him and kissed his cheek lightly.

That’s never your fault, you know that. I replied in his mind. He sighed outwardly as he gripped my waist so I wouldn’t fall. I hummed as I wrapped my arms around his torso and buried my face into his neck.

My sweet Illyrian mate, always knowing what to say. His voice sounded amusing but darkness still guttered in his eyes. I pushed him down on the bed as he hugged me and switched our positions so that he was hugging my waist as he lay his head on my stomach. I giggled but rubbed his scalp lightly, hoping to coax him to fall asleep. It wasn’t until his breathe steadied and slowed did I finally stopped, tilting my body to kiss his head as I bid his sleeping form goodnight.

DA NEXT DAYYY (No it was not a typo it’s an inside joke)

Rising to the early morning sun, I was surprised to Azriel still there since Cassian usually dragged him out of bed by dawn, especially after an incident like yesterday. I reached out to caress his cheek but decided against it, afraid to wake him. His hand shot out faster then light as it grabbed my wrist and led my hand back to the path to his face. I chuckled as he cracked one eye open and grinned.

“To think you’d be brawling with Cassian right now,” I laughed as his lips twitched. He tugged me towards him as he buried his face in my hair. My hands were flat against his chest.

“You are so incredible, you know that?” “I know,” I smiled as his voice was muffled, his face still hidden from my view but I knew he was grinning wildly now. As I tilted my head I still saw a flicker of the horrors from yesterday but he looked better.

“I love you, more then you know,” I mumbled as I traced circles on his chest. He kissed my temple as he smiled softly, “I love you too, to whatever end,” He whispered. I smiled as he tugged me closer, fully determined to spend the rest of the day at home.

A/N: Again, I know this isn’t really what you asked for and I can’t express how sorry I am. This fanfiction is kind of terrible cause I’m having serious writer’s block problems. I have four drafts in my files. Four. I have a problem. @cityofidek I know you asked for Rhys but my morals won this debate for me I am so so so sorry.

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