trinaveva
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“I'm dying, guys help!” Sirius panted out, as he weakly stood to try and open a window, only to collapse on his first step. Remus was there, his arm reaching out to grab him firmly and stop him from falling.
“God, Pads, why do you guys do this to yourselves?” Remus’ voice broke through Sirius' ringing ears, but the first thing he noticed was the touch.
Remus went to let go of the hot arm, but Sirius held it there, “Wait, Moony, don't let go. You're so cold.” Sirius could feel the burning sensation slowly draining from his arm, with a sigh of relief.
Or: Sirius eats a charmed biscuit that causes him to heat up, and the only thing that cools him down? Remus' touch. Which would be fine, if Sirius wasn't in love with him.
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A breakup could be solved with a shot of something that made your nose wrinkle, and a divorce could be solved with a shot that made your brain shoot out of your skull and onto the floor.
The pain it had caused Sirius was devastating, life-shattering at only 22, and it hurt just as much at 27, but some life experience acting as padding around the bullet wound meant that the ache was subdued until angered.
It was angered.
It was flaring inside of him, leaking blood and crying out at the sight of him. Across the room. In a jumper. Who needed a suicide note when your ex-husband was wearing a jumper? Not Sirius, that was for sure.
The grounding hand on his back was doing a very bad job at grounding. He felt ten foot of the ground floating above the crowd of the bar, screaming out Look at me! Look at me! James hadn't said anything. Or maybe he had, Sirius couldn't tell you either way, seeing as all he could hear was a buzzing in his ear and a distant ringing of wedding bells…
Actually, that might have been the bell above the door opening because a blast of cold air pulled him from his stupor.
Or: Wolfstar got divorced at 21, and we meet again.
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They had only ever spoken once, Barty ordering a drink, when he looked at the name tag, he smiled at Evan, and took in his appearance. He had actually fucking stuttered, Barty never stuttered. But, in his defence, the guy had smirked at him, in doing so revealing pearly whites, and another fucking silver piece of jewellery. He had his tongue pierced. Okay, that was… Okay.
Barty had never spoken to him again, instead forcing Regulus to order all their drinks, and just sending him the money for it. It was a hassle and unneeded, but Barty couldn't risk it. He had a reputation to uphold. A dark horse, a stone-cold stallion, with an enviable body that he chose to flaunt whenever he wanted. He had a pile of guys on his phone, probably had texts on it at that moment, asking him, begging him, to come over. But here he was, staring at a guy, a guy he had spoken to once, a guy he didn’t know, that didn't know him, with heart-eyes and drool dripping onto the table below him.
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The last name Evan also knew, Barty Crouch Jr. He was in Evan’s year and was known about as much as Christian. Evan knew him, had known him for a while. Barty and Evan rarely spoke, but then again Evan rarely spoke to anyone. Barty was cool, Evan thought, with his cool hair, and his cool piercings, and his cool tattoos. And he was attractive, Evan knew that. Evan would find himself looking at Barty across the room, and would think about every conversation they had for days after. Maybe Evan had Barty’s freckles burned to memory, and maybe Evan had a small thing for Barty.
Or: Evan gets assigned to be the detention monitor and is stuck with none other than Barty Crouch.
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Barty wanted to say hello, but his voice was nowhere to be found. He quickly grabbed the bottle of tequila on the table beside him, downed a good three shots for confidence, and approached Evan. The second he moved, Evan looked up and saw him. Barty felt self-conscious suddenly, as Evan’s eyes trailed over his bare skin. He hoped Evan liked it, he certainly liked Evan’s costume.
"You came! And you came in a great costume!" Barty pulled Evan into a hug, who was still looking at Barty with an open mouth, an indiscernible look on his face. "You look…" Evan leaned into the hug, bare skin on bare skin where he held Barty’s waist, it burned, but that could have been the tequila, "...incredible."
That was all Barty had wanted to hear, and the tequila was kicking in because his confidence was up. He had gotten Evan to come to a frat party. Evan who had never been to one despite years of pestering. This was a night to celebrate. "Let's get a drink."
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In which Barty is Google definition of an 'obnoxious frat boy', and Evan is his cool friend from chemistry, when Barty finally gets Evan to come to a party. What could ever go wrong?
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James was naturally a touchy person, but Regulus wasn’t. Truth be told, Regulus couldn’t remember the last time someone touched him so gently; it made him want to gnaw off his foot like a trapped animal, just as badly as it made him want to curl into the touch like a lost child.
or
Regulus didn't know he was touch starved until James started touching him.
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Bookmarked by trinaveva
13 Nov 2023
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His fingers are slowed down by the speed bumps of Mark’s spine, and Donghyuck wants to hold him, the weight and the warmth that comes with it, only one breath longer.
Keep him. Donghyuck wants to keep him.
“Get off. Come on. Off off off—”(or, Donghyuck knows Mark and him will never hear the end of it if their friends were to find out they hooked up after breaking up. So, if anyone asks, Mark and Donghyuck are very much back together.)
Bookmarked by trinaveva
07 Sep 2022