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loving-daisy · 4 months ago

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Snitches and Potions | Severus Snape x Reader

loving-daisy masterlist

summary: Merlin knows that he didn't even have to lift a finger because Y/N Black would always choose Severus Snape in a heartbeat

words: 11.3k

────────── ♱ · 𓆩🤍𓆪 · ♱ ─

Severus Snape sat in the stands, his black eyes fixed on the emerald blur darting across the sky. Y/N Black, his best friend, was captaining the Slytherin Quidditch team for the second year in a row, and as their Seeker, she was ruthless—fast, strategic, and relentless.

He knew her well enough to see past the composed mask she always wore. The way she clenched the handle of her broom just a little tighter and the sharpness in her turns. She wanted to win and she wanted it badly.

Sirius Black, her older brother and his tormentor, was in the Gryffindor stands, shouting her name in a mix of taunts and encouragement.

The contrast between them was stark.

While Sirius played for Gryffindor’s team with reckless, cocky confidence, Y/N’s approach was different. She was focused, calculating, and played to win rather than to show off.

Snape wasn’t usually one for Quidditch, but he had never missed a match she played in. He would never admit it, but watching her chase the Snitch, defying gravity with a smirk on her lips, was one of the few things that made Hogwarts bearable.

A flash of gold appeared near the Gryffindor goalposts, and without hesitation, Y/N shot forward, her broom slicing through the air. Snape leaned forward instinctively, heart pounding despite himself.

“Come on, Black,” he muttered under his breath, gripping the fabric of his robes as she closed in on the Snitch.

The Gryffindor Seeker, a wiry seventh-year, was just a few feet behind her, pushing his broom to its limit. But Y/N was faster. Snape had seen her fly countless times, had even watched her practice in secret when she thought no one was looking.

He knew her style. She didn’t lunge blindly for the Snitch. She was patient, calculated.

And then, just when it seemed like the Gryffindor Seeker might overtake her, she swerved at the last second, forcing him to adjust. That split-second hesitation was all she needed.

With a sharp dive, she stretched out her gloved hand, her fingers closing around the Snitch.

The stadium erupted into noise, but Snape barely heard any of it. His eyes were locked on Y/N as she straightened up, wind whipping through her hair, her triumphant smirk unmistakable even from a distance. She held the Snitch high as the Slytherin stands exploded in cheers.

Across the pitch, Sirius Black groaned, throwing his head back dramatically. “Bloody hell, Y/N! You’re supposed to be a Gryffindor at heart!” he yelled, though there was a grudging sort of pride in his voice.

Y/N turned her broom sharply toward the Gryffindor stands and, without missing a beat, flipped her older brother off.

Severus let out a rare chuckle, shaking his head.

That was Y/N Black. She was unapologetic, sharp-tongued, and effortlessly brilliant.

He found himself smirking as she landed, her teammates swarming her in celebration.

Part of him wanted to go down there, to congratulate her before the rest of Slytherin stole her attention. But instead, he simply watched from his spot in the stands, arms crossed, as she basked in her victory. She didn’t need his words to know he was proud. She would just know.

As Y/N landed, her teammates swarmed her, shouting, clapping her on the back, and ruffling her hair. She barely acknowledged them, her sharp eyes scanning the crowd instead.

Then, without a word, she pushed past them.

“Oi, where’s she going?” one of the Chasers muttered.

“She’s probably off to rub it in her brother’s face,” another laughed.

But they were wrong.

Y/N wasn’t heading for Sirius. She wasn’t even acknowledging the rest of Slytherin’s celebration.

She was walking straight toward the stands, straight toward him.

Severus Snape sat frozen for a moment, his arms still crossed, before hurriedly schooling his expression back into indifference. His heartbeat, however, betrayed him.

Y/N reached him, standing just in front of where he sat, her broom still clutched in one hand, the Snitch resting in the other. She tilted her head at him, her smirk sharp and teasing.

“You gonna congratulate me, or are you too busy sulking about whatever it is that you sulk about?” she taunted, breathless from the match.

Snape rolled his eyes. “As if I care about Quidditch.”

Y/N scoffed. “Oh, please. I saw you watching me.”

She leaned in slightly, lowering her voice. “You always do.”

Severus’s grip on his robes tightened, but he didn’t deny it. Instead, he exhaled through his nose, shaking his head. “You fly like an idiot. One wrong move, and you could’ve broken your neck.”

“Ah, so you were worried,” she teased, grinning.

“Hardly,” he muttered, but there was no venom behind it.

Y/N studied him for a moment before extending her hand, the one holding the Snitch. His brow furrowed in confusion as she placed it in his palm.

“A souvenir,” she said, shrugging. “For sitting through an entire match just for me.”

Severus stared at the Snitch in his hand, then back at her. His fingers curled around the cool metal, and for once, he didn’t have a sharp remark ready.

Y/N grinned, clearly pleased with herself. “Come on, Snape. Walk with me before the team kidnaps me for some over-the-top victory party.”

And just like that, she turned, expecting him to follow.

With a sigh, one that was far too fond for his liking, Severus tucked the Snitch into his pocket and stood, trailing after her.

As they walked away from the roaring Slytherin crowd, Severus fell into step beside her, hands shoved into his robes. The Snitch sat in his pocket, its tiny wings twitching now and then, but he ignored it.

Y/N strode forward with that effortless confidence of hers, broom over one shoulder, head held high like she owned the castle. And in some ways, she did.

She was a Black, a Slytherin, a bloody brilliant Seeker. Everyone either admired her, feared her, or wanted to be her.

And yet, here she was. Choosing to spend her post-victory moment with him.

They reached a quieter corridor, the distant cheers fading behind them. Y/N finally exhaled, tilting her head back against the cool stone wall. “Merlin, I thought that match would never end.”

“You made quick work of it,” Severus muttered, leaning beside her. “Wasn’t even a challenge, was it?”

She smirked, eyes glinting. “Not even close.” Then, nudging him with her elbow, she added, “You enjoyed it, admit it.”

He scoffed. “I tolerated it.”

Y/N rolled her eyes but let it slide. Instead, she turned to him fully, studying him with an unreadable expression.

“You know,” she mused, “you’re the only one I actually wanted to talk to after that match.”

Severus swallowed, caught off guard. “Why?”

“Because you don’t treat me like I’m some bloody trophy,” she said simply.

“Everyone else is off celebrating me—but you just… I don’t know.” She paused, as if searching for the right words. “You see me. Not just the captain, or the Seeker, or ‘Sirius Black’s little sister.’ Just me.”

Severus felt his throat go dry. He looked away, unsure what to say to that.

Y/N didn’t push him for an answer. Instead, she grinned, leaning closer. “So, since you’re such a dedicated fan now, you coming to my next match?”

He sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “If I must.”

She laughed. It was bright, unapologetic, and it was the kind of laugh that made even his cold, guarded heart warm just a little.

“You must.”

Y/N pushed open the door to an empty classroom, stepping inside like she owned the place. The flickering candlelight cast long shadows against the stone walls, the only sound the faint echo of the ongoing celebration down in the dungeons.

Severus followed, closing the door behind them. “Skipping the victory party entirely, then?” he asked, raising an eyebrow.

Y/N tossed her broom onto an abandoned desk and hopped up onto another, swinging her legs.

“Please. If I stay any longer, they’ll shove Firewhisky down my throat and make me listen to Mulciber’s tragic attempts at flirting.” She smirked. “I’d rather be here.”

Severus leaned against the opposite desk, arms crossed. “With me?”

“With you.” Her voice was softer now, less teasing.

He didn’t know what to say to that, so he looked down, pulling the Snitch from his pocket and watching it twitch in his palm.

Y/N’s eyes flicked to it. “Like it?”

Severus huffed. “You forced it on me.”

She tilted her head. “But you haven’t given it back.”

He hesitated, fingers tightening around the Snitch. The truth was, he liked having it. A reminder that, out of everyone in that bloody Quidditch pitch, she had chosen him to share her moment with.

Y/N grinned, clearly pleased with his silence. “I’ll take that as a yes.”

Rolling his eyes, Severus flicked his wand at the candles, dimming them slightly. The atmosphere shifted into a quieter and more intimate setting. The usual playful edge between them softened, replaced with something unspoken but heavy in the air.

She watched him carefully, then sighed, leaning back on her hands.

“You know, for someone who ‘doesn’t care about Quidditch,’ you sure looked invested today.”

Severus exhaled sharply.

“I wasn’t invested—”

“You were leaning forward in the stands.”

“I was watching.”

“You muttered something under your breath when I went for the Snitch.”

“That doesn’t—”

“You were worried about me.” Her voice was light, teasing, but there was something searching in her gaze.

Severus clenched his jaw. “…You could have broken your neck.”

Y/N’s smirk faltered just slightly. “But I didn’t.”

“That’s not the point.”

She studied him for a long moment, then hopped down from the desk, stepping closer.

“Sev.” Her voice was softer now, almost careful. “You do care.”

He swallowed hard. It was infuriating, the way she could see right through him.

“…You’re so annoying,” he muttered.

She grinned. “And you love it.”

Severus refused to dignify that with a response, but he didn’t move away when she plucked the Snitch from his hand, rolling it between her fingers before throwing it back at him. Severus put it back in his pocket.

Silence settled between them, warm and heavy.

After a moment, Y/N smirked. “So, since we’re skipping the party, what do you suggest we do?”

Severus glanced at her, at the flickering candlelight dancing in her eyes.

“…Stay here,” he said finally. “Talk. Until they give up looking for you.”

Y/N hummed in approval. “Sounds perfect.”

And so they stayed.

Severus sat on the edge of the desk, arms crossed as he fixed Y/N with a sharp look. “Have you even read the new Advanced Potions textbook yet?”

Y/N, who had settled comfortably into the chair beside him, legs draped lazily over one armrest, snorted.

“No, Severus, I thought I’d just wing it on my N.E.W.T.s.”

He sighed dramatically, pulling the book from his bag and flipping through the pages with an irritated sort of reverence. “Then you haven’t noticed the absurd number of errors in it.”

Y/N quirked an eyebrow, clearly amused. “Errors? In the Slughorn-approved textbook?”

Severus scoffed. “Slughorn wouldn’t notice an error if it exploded in his face. Which, frankly, some of these might.”

He jabbed at a particular page with his finger. “Here. Draught of Living Death. Ridiculous instructions. If you follow them as written, the potion will be unstable and potentially lethal.”

Y/N leaned forward, peering at the text. “It says to stir counterclockwise seven times.”

“Exactly.” He flipped a few more pages aggressively. “And this one—Babbling Beverage? Why in Merlin’s name would they suggest stewing the rat spleens first? That ruins the consistency completely.”

Y/N grinned, resting her chin on her hand. “You really love this stuff, don’t you?”

Severus paused, caught off guard. His fingers, which had been poised to flip to yet another grievous offense, hesitated over the pages.

“…It’s logical,” he said finally, shrugging as if it didn’t matter. “Precise. Potions do what they’re supposed to if you follow the right process.”

Y/N studied him, something unreadable in her gaze. Then, she reached out and plucked the book from his hands.

“Oi—”

“Relax, Sev,” she drawled, skimming through the pages. “If you hate this version so much, why don’t you just rewrite it yourself?”

He blinked. “What?”

“You already know what’s wrong with it. Fix it. Make notes, change the instructions, do whatever you do with your creepy little personal experiments.” She smirked.

“Merlin knows you’d probably make a better textbook than this rubbish.”

Severus stared at her, lips parting slightly in surprise.

“…You might actually be onto something,” he admitted.

Y/N laughed, tossing the book back at him. “A rare moment of brilliance, I know.”

He rolled his eyes but tucked the idea away, running his fingers over the cover thoughtfully.

Maybe she was right.

Y/N smirked as she watched Severus flip furiously through the pages of the textbook, muttering to himself.

“This is completely wrong,” he grumbled, tapping the page with the tip of his wand. “They’re telling students to add crushed asphodel before the infusion of wormwood. That completely alters the reaction time. If anything, it weakens the potion instead of enhancing it.”

Y/N continued to rest her chin in her palm, watching him with amusement. “And what would you do instead, Professor Snape?”

Severus shot her a glare, but his irritation was undercut by the slight twitch at the corner of his lips. “I’d start with finely ground asphodel. Not crushed, because consistency matters. Then, let it steep after the wormwood infusion. That way, the properties mix properly instead of counteracting each other like whatever idiot wrote this thinks they should.”

Y/N whistled. “You really do think this book is a personal insult, don’t you?”

“It is an insult,” he snapped, flipping to another page.

“This is supposed to be advanced potion-making, not first-year-level incompetence. Look at this. Elixir to Induce Euphoria. The instructions say to stir clockwise the entire time. That’s idiotic. You need to alternate clockwise and counterclockwise to balance the infusion properly, or it’ll be too volatile.”

Y/N couldn’t help but grin.

There was something fascinating about the way he spoke when he got like this. It was sharp, passionate, as if the entire world should care about potion-making as much as he did.

“I have to say, this is the most passionate I’ve ever seen you about anything that isn’t glaring at my brother.”

Severus sighed dramatically. “If I didn’t have to waste my time dealing with him, I could actually focus on things that matter.”

Y/N chuckled. “So potions matter to you, then?”

He hesitated. “…Obviously.”

She tilted her head, watching him thoughtfully. “Then why don’t you make your own notes? Your own version of the textbook? You know more than half the idiots who’ll be using this, anyway.”

Severus was silent for a moment, his fingers tapping lightly against the cover. Then, slowly, he reached into his bag and pulled out a battered old notebook, its pages filled with scribbles, corrections, and improvements in his precise, slanted handwriting.

Y/N raised an eyebrow. “You’ve already started, haven’t you?”

Severus cleared his throat, flipping through the notebook as if he hadn’t just been caught red-handed. “I just thought it would be useful to have the right information written down. For myself.”

Y/N smirked. “And for anyone smart enough to steal your book.”

He scoffed. “As if I’d let anyone get their hands on it.”

She grinned. “You’re a genius, Sev. You know that, right?”

He faltered for just a second, gripping the book a little tighter. “…Hardly.”

But Y/N just shook her head, leaning back. “Well, I think so.”

Severus didn’t respond, but he didn’t argue, either.

Instead, he went right back to ranting about the next mistake in the textbook. This time, something about a disastrous bezoar dosage and Y/N just listened, secretly enjoying every second of it.

Severus was mid-rant about improper bezoar usage when he noticed Y/N staring at him, a slow grin tugging at her lips. Her head still rested on her palm, her elbow propped lazily on the desk, eyes bright with amusement.

He faltered. “What?”

Y/N’s grin widened. “Nothing. Just enjoying the show.”

His brows furrowed. “I’m not performing.”

“You are,” she teased, tapping her fingers against her cheek.

“A very passionate, very angry performance about the dangers of incompetent potion-making. Quite riveting, actually.”

Severus rolled his eyes, closing the textbook with a sharp thud.

“You’re impossible.”

“And yet, here you are, ranting to me instead of to your cauldron in the dungeons,” she pointed out.

He exhaled sharply, leaning back against the desk. “Because you actually listen.”

Y/N’s expression softened slightly. “Of course, I do.”

A beat of silence passed between them. Severus shifted uncomfortably under her gaze, not used to being looked at like that. Like he was worth listening to.

“…You’re staring,” he muttered.

“Observing,” she corrected.

He scoffed. “And what, exactly, are you observing?”

She tilted her head, studying him like he was a particularly interesting puzzle. “Just that you get this look when you talk about potions.”

He narrowed his eyes. “A look?”

“Mhm,” she hummed, lips curling. “Like the rest of the world disappears, and it’s just you and whatever ridiculous mistake you’re trying to fix.”

Severus hesitated, unsure how to respond to that. He’d never thought about it before. But the way she said it made his chest feel strangely tight.

Y/N smirked at his silence. “It’s kind of nice, you know. Seeing you actually care about something.”

He huffed, looking away. “You make it sound as if I don’t care about anything.”

“Well,” she mused, “besides potions, glaring at Gryffindors, and being thoroughly unimpressed with everyone else…”

She tapped her chin. “No, can’t say I’ve seen you care about much else.”

He shot her a flat look. “Hilarious.”

She grinned. “I try.”

Another pause. The candles flickered, casting soft shadows across the old classroom.

Then, Y/N’s voice was quieter, more thoughtful. “I like when you talk about potions.”

Severus glanced at her, caught off guard by the sincerity in her tone.

Y/N shrugged, still watching him. “It’s nice hearing you talk about something that makes you happy.”

He opened his mouth, but no words came. Because no one had ever said that to him before.

After a moment, he cleared his throat, looking back down at his notebook.

“…It’s not happiness,” he muttered. “It’s just—logic.”

Y/N just smiled knowingly. “If you say so, Sev.”

And despite himself, Severus didn’t argue.

Severus sat back against the desk, his fingers drumming lightly against the cover of his notebook.

After a moment, he sighed and said, almost begrudgingly, “You played well today.”

Y/N blinked, then grinned. “Was that a compliment from Severus Snape? Merlin, I must be dreaming.”

He rolled his eyes, but there was the faintest hint of amusement tugging at the corner of his lips. “Don’t get used to it.”

“Oh, I definitely will,” she teased, leaning back in her chair. “Go on, say it again. Just so I know I didn’t hallucinate it.”

Severus huffed, crossing his arms. “I’m not repeating myself.”

“Pity,” she sighed dramatically. “Would’ve been nice to have it burned into my memory forever.”

He shook his head, but his gaze lingered on her, something softer in his usually sharp eyes.

“You were impressive,” he admitted after a moment. “Even Slughorn wouldn’t stop talking about how Slytherin finally has a proper Seeker.”

Y/N raised an eyebrow. “Slughorn, huh? What about you? Were you impressed?”

Severus scoffed. “I’m always impressed by competency. And considering the rest of the team is mediocre at best, it’s fortunate you know what you’re doing.”

Y/N laughed. “High praise, coming from you.”

He glanced away, suddenly feeling self-conscious. “It was… entertaining. Watching you completely humiliate Gryffindor.”

Y/N smirked. “So that’s what you enjoyed.”

“Obviously.”

She chuckled, shaking her head. “Well, I am the best.”

Severus rolled his eyes. “Now you’re pushing it.”

Y/N only grinned, nudging his knee with her foot. “Admit it, Sev. You liked watching me play.”

He sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “If I admit it, will you finally stop pestering me?”

“Maybe,” she teased.

Severus exhaled, looking at her for a long moment before shaking his head. “…You were good.”

Y/N’s grin widened. “Knew it.”

He shook his head again, but despite his best efforts, he couldn’t quite hide the small, almost imperceptible smile tugging at his lips.

Severus pulled his hand from his robe pocket, the small golden Snitch resting in his palm. The tiny wings fluttered weakly against his fingers, as if reluctant to leave his grasp.

“I believe this belongs to you,” he said, holding it out to Y/N.

She looked at it, then at him, and instead of taking it, she just smirked and leaned back in her chair. “Keep it.”

Severus frowned. “What?”

“Keep it,” she repeated, her voice softer this time. “So you’ll always remember me.”

His fingers curled slightly around the Snitch as he processed her words, his dark eyes flickering with something unreadable. “…Why would I need something to remember you by?”

Y/N grinned. “Because, Sev, someday I’ll be famous. Hogwarts’ best Seeker, a legend in the making. And when that happens, you’ll want to say you knew me first.”

He scoffed, but there was no real bite to it.

Severus looked down at the Snitch in his palm, the tiny wings brushing against his skin. He could have argued. He could have insisted she take it back. But instead, he closed his fingers around it and slipped it back into his pocket, letting the weight of it settle against him.

“…Fine,” he muttered. “I’ll keep it.”

Y/N smiled. “Good.”

And for the first time that night, Severus didn’t have a single complaint.

The next morning, the Great Hall buzzed with the usual morning chatter, but Severus barely paid it any mind. He sat at the Slytherin table, absently picking at his breakfast, still adjusting to the idea of carrying a Snitch in his pocket. Her Snitch.

And then, like clockwork, Y/N slid into the seat beside him, nudging his shoulder with hers. “Morning, Sev.”

He huffed, not looking up from his plate. “You’re awfully cheerful.”

“I did win a match yesterday,” she reminded him smugly, grabbing a piece of toast. “And, you know, got a very rare compliment from a certain grumpy Potions prodigy.”

Severus rolled his eyes. “I’m beginning to regret it.”

“Oh, don’t be like that.” She smirked, glancing at him out of the corner of her eye. “Did you sleep well? You and your new prized possession, I mean.”

He stiffened slightly, but kept his expression neutral. “It’s just a Snitch.”

“My Snitch,” she corrected, taking a bite of her toast. “Did you put it somewhere safe?”

Severus exhaled through his nose, reaching into his pocket and subtly showing her the small golden sphere resting in his palm before tucking it away again. “Satisfied?”

Y/N grinned. “Very.”

He shook his head, turning his attention back to his breakfast, but he didn’t push her away when she leaned comfortably against him.

Narcissa Black sat gracefully across from them, her sharp blue eyes scanning Y/N with mild curiosity as she stirred her tea.

“You weren’t at the victory party last night.” It wasn’t a question. It was an observation, one laced with subtle judgment.

Y/N smirked, casually buttering her toast. “Oh, you noticed?”

“Of course, I noticed,” Narcissa replied, arching a perfectly shaped brow.

“You were the star of the match, and yet, no celebratory gloating? No basking in the glory of your own success?”

She tilted her head slightly. “Very unlike you, cousin.”

Severus huffed quietly, hiding his amusement behind his goblet of pumpkin juice.

Y/N shrugged. “Didn’t feel like it.”

Narcissa’s eyes flickered between the two of them before landing back on Y/N. “You did disappear rather quickly after the match…”

Y/N smirked. “What can I say? Had better company.” She nudged Severus with her knee under the table, earning an unimpressed glance from him.

Narcissa’s gaze sharpened, her lips curving slightly.

“I see.” She rested her chin on her hand, watching Y/N with something between amusement and suspicion.

“So, instead of celebrating with your adoring fans, you spent your evening somewhere, locked away with Severus.”

Y/N gave an exaggerated sigh, placing a hand on her chest. “Oh, forgive me, dear cousin, for prioritizing meaningful conversation over drunken debauchery.”

Narcissa rolled her eyes. “Please, you love the attention.”

“True,” Y/N admitted easily. “But I love annoying Sev more.”

Severus scoffed, not looking up from his plate. “How fortunate for me.”

Narcissa observed the two of them for a moment, then smirked. “Well, I do hope he made it worth your while.”

Y/N’s grin was immediate. “Oh, he did.”

Severus stiffened, glaring at her. “Don’t say it like that.”

Narcissa chuckled, sipping her tea. “Interesting choice of company, Y/N.”

Y/N just leaned back, perfectly unbothered. “Best choice, actually.”

Severus didn’t say anything but under the table, his fingers curled around the Snitch in his pocket.

“Anyways…Sirius came looking for you yesterday. Something about introducing you to his best mate, Potter. I think he fancies you,” Narcissa said, her tone light, but her gaze sharp as she watched Y/N’s reaction.

Y/N snorted, tearing off another bite of toast.

“James Potter? Fancies me? Please, Cissy, don’t insult my intelligence.”

“I’m serious,” Narcissa pressed, twirling a strand of blonde hair between her fingers.

“Sirius wouldn’t shut up about it. He kept saying how he thinks you and Potter would ‘get on brilliantly.’”

Severus, who had been silent up until now, suddenly gripped his fork a little too tightly. His jaw tensed, but he said nothing, staring at his plate as if it personally offended him.

Y/N sighed dramatically.

“And yet, somehow, I doubt James Potter would be terribly interested in me, given the way he practically worships Evans.”

Narcissa waved a hand dismissively. “Yes, well, maybe he’s expanding his options. You are the Black everyone actually likes, after all.”

Severus scoffed, finally breaking his silence. “Potter is an arrogant, brainless git. You’d sooner find a Kneazle getting along with a Manticore than have an intelligent conversation with him.”

Y/N smirked at his tone. “Aw, Sev, that almost sounded jealous.”

His scowl deepened. “I don’t get jealous.”

Narcissa raised an eyebrow at him, her lips curling into a knowing smirk. “Right. And yet, you look like you’re about to hex your plate into oblivion.”

Severus set his fork down with deliberate care, clearly restraining himself. “I simply find it unbelievable that anyone would subject themselves to Potter’s presence willingly.”

Y/N chuckled, nudging him with her elbow.

“Don’t worry, Sev. If I ever lose all sense of self-respect and go anywhere near James Potter, you’ll be the first to know.”

His expression didn’t soften, but the tight grip on his robes loosened ever so slightly.

“See that you don’t,” he muttered.

Narcissa just smiled behind her teacup, watching them both with interest.

“As if Potter has a chance…” Y/N scoffed, rolling her eyes. “Did he really think I’d choose him over Severus? He’s literally a bully, just like that Gryffindor of a brother of mine.”

Severus, who had been gripping his goblet a little too tightly, stilled at her words. His dark eyes flickered to her face, searching for any sign that she was joking. But she wasn’t. She had said it so casually, like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

Narcissa, however, only hummed, looking thoroughly entertained. “Oh? So you are choosing Severus, then?”

Y/N smirked.

“Obviously.”

She leaned into Severus slightly, her shoulder pressing against his. “Why would I waste my time with a Potter when I already have the best company?”

Severus swallowed hard, his face carefully blank but his fingers twitched slightly against the table. He knew better than to read into her words, but for the first time that morning, the tension in his shoulders eased just a little.

Narcissa’s smirk widened. “Interesting,” she mused, tilting her head.

“You’re lucky, Severus.”

Severus huffed, finally recovering enough to roll his eyes. “If that’s what you want to call it.”

Y/N grinned, resting her chin on her palm. “It is.”

And despite himself, Severus didn’t argue.

Narcissa took a slow sip of her tea, her smirk never wavering.

“Well, that settles it, then. I suppose I’ll have to break the tragic news to Potter—he never stood a chance.”

Y/N chuckled. “Oh, please do. And be sure to tell Sirius that I’d rather hex myself than date his insufferable best mate.”

Severus let out a quiet breath, his fingers still curled around his goblet.

“Speaking of your Gryffindor brother,” Narcissa continued, setting her cup down with a soft clink, “he was in quite the mood when I saw him last night. Apparently, he’s rather upset that you’re still spending all your time with Severus instead of ‘better company.’”

Y/N rolled her eyes, stealing a piece of fruit from Severus’ plate.

“Right, because his definition of ‘better company’ consists of Potter and Lupin and that other friend of theirs. No, thanks.”

Severus sneered at the mention of them, his grip on his goblet tightening again. “Black should concern himself with his own miserable existence and stay out of yours.”

Y/N smirked, popping the fruit into her mouth. “Agreed.”

She turned to Severus, nudging him with her knee. “But if he ever tries to drag me to the Gryffindor common room, do me a favor and curse me unconscious, yeah?”

Severus gave her a flat look. “I’d do it regardless.”

Y/N laughed, completely unbothered, while Narcissa shook her head in amusement. “You two are ridiculous.”

“And yet,” Y/N said, resting her head on Severus’ shoulder, “you’re still sitting with us.”

Narcissa merely smirked, watching the way Severus stiffened at the sudden contact, his ears just barely tinged red. “Oh, I wouldn’t miss this for the world.”

Once Narcissa had finished her tea and had her fun at their expense, she stood gracefully, smoothing out her robes. “Well, I’ll leave you two to… whatever this is.” She shot Y/N a knowing look before glancing at Severus with the same amused expression. “Try not to let her get you into too much trouble, Severus.”

Severus merely scowled, but Y/N grinned. “No promises.”

With a quiet chuckle, Narcissa turned and left the Great Hall, her blonde hair swaying as she went.

The moment she was out of earshot, Severus finally spoke, his voice quieter than before.

“You didn’t have to say that.”

Y/N raised an eyebrow. “Say what?”

Severus shifted slightly, his fingers brushing over his pocket where the Snitch still rested.

“That you’d choose me over Potter,” he muttered, almost like he didn’t believe it.

Y/N rolled her eyes, propping her elbow on the table and resting her chin on her palm. “But I would.”

He frowned, clearly skeptical. “It’s not a competition.”

“Well, if it were, you’d win.”

Severus looked at her then, really looked at her, as if trying to find the punchline in her words.

But there wasn’t one.

Y/N was being completely serious.

“…Why?” he asked after a beat.

Y/N tilted her head, her gaze softening just a fraction.

“Because I actually like spending time with you, Sev.” She nudged his knee under the table, smirking. “And because you’re my favorite.”

Severus swallowed, looking away as a faint redness dusted his pale cheeks. He wasn’t used to being anyone’s favorite.

“…Idiot,” he muttered, but there was no venom in his voice.

Y/N grinned. “That’s me.”

And for the first time that morning, Severus let himself relax, the weight of the Snitch in his pocket grounding him as he sat beside the only person who had ever truly chosen him.

After finishing breakfast, Y/N and Severus stood from the Slytherin table, grabbing their books and making their way toward the dungeons for Potions class.

Severus walked beside her, his usual scowl in place, but Y/N could tell he wasn’t actually annoyed. If anything, he seemed more thoughtful than usual, his fingers idly drumming against the spine of his Potions textbook.

Y/N bumped her shoulder against his. “What’s with the brooding? Thinking of new ways to make Potter’s life miserable?”

Severus scoffed. “I don’t need to think of new ways. He’s miserable enough just existing.”

Y/N laughed. “That’s fair.”

They arrived at the dimly lit Potions classroom, where students were already filing in. Slughorn, ever the enthusiastic professor, was scribbling today’s instructions on the blackboard.

Y/N and Severus slid into their usual seats at the back, setting their books down.

“Another partnered assignment today,” Y/N observed, glancing at the board. “Think Slughorn will have the audacity to separate us?”

Severus smirked slightly, his dark eyes flickering toward the front of the room. “He wouldn’t dare.”

And, as if proving his point, when Slughorn finally addressed the class, he didn’t even bother reassigning partners.

“Excellent, excellent! You may stay with your current partners,” Slughorn announced. “Today, we’ll be brewing a Draught of Peace! A rather delicate potion. One mistake and it won’t work at all.”

Severus rolled his eyes as Slughorn droned on about the potion’s properties. Y/N, meanwhile, leaned toward him, grinning. “Bet I’ll finish mine before you.”

Severus raised an eyebrow. “You can’t even cut ingredients properly.”

“That’s slander.”

“That’s fact.”

Y/N huffed but still smirked as she flipped open her textbook.

“Fine, Professor Snape, you do all the chopping, and I’ll handle the brewing.”

Severus sighed as if this was the greatest burden in the world, but he didn’t argue. He never did when it came to her.

And so, as the rest of the class struggled, Y/N and Severus worked seamlessly, the usual banter filling the space between them as they brewed yet another flawless potion—together.

As usual, working with Severus was effortless. While other students fumbled with their ingredients, misread instructions, or hesitated over their cauldrons, Y/N and Severus moved like a well-oiled machine.

Severus meticulously chopped the ingredients, his precise, practiced movements ensuring uniform slices. Y/N, despite her usual teasing, took the brewing process seriously, stirring at the exact pace and adding the ingredients only when Severus nodded in approval.

“Steady,” he murmured as she carefully poured in the powdered moonstone.

Y/N smirked. “You act like I’m about to botch the whole thing.”

“Because you would,” he replied dryly.

Y/N gasped in mock offense. “Rude.”

Severus merely shook his head, a rare, almost amused look flickering across his features. “Just keep stirring.”

They continued working, the soft bubbling of their potion filling the space between them. Around them, students groaned in frustration as some had cauldrons emitting faint purple smoke, while others had turned a worrying shade of green.

Slughorn made his way around the room, peering into cauldrons and offering words of encouragement (or, in some cases, looks of deep disappointment). When he reached their station, he beamed.

“Ah, exquisite work, as always!” he declared, clapping his hands together. “Perfect color, perfect consistency. Well done, well done!”

Severus merely inclined his head, while Y/N grinned. “Naturally.”

Slughorn chuckled. “I daresay, the two of you make quite the brilliant team. Perhaps I should have you brewing for me.”

Y/N nudged Severus. “Hear that, Sev? We’re brilliant.”

Severus scoffed, but his lips twitched slightly. “I am brilliant. You’re just lucky you sit next to me.”

Slughorn let out a hearty laugh. “Oh, you remind me of myself in my youth, Severus! Such confidence, such talent! If you ever have any interest in pursuing Potions beyond Hogwarts, I would be more than happy to offer guidance.”

Severus gave a polite nod. “Thank you, sir.”

Slughorn turned to Y/N. “And you, Miss Black. Remarkable work as well! Though I must say, I’m quite surprised you didn’t celebrate your Quidditch victory last night.”

Y/N shrugged, glancing at Severus briefly. “Didn’t feel like it.”

Slughorn raised an eyebrow.

“Ah, well. More dedicated to your studies, I see! Excellent priorities, my dear.”

He gave them both a final pleased nod before moving on to the next station.

As soon as he was out of earshot, Y/N turned to Severus. “See? Brilliant team.”

Severus exhaled, shaking his head as he began cleaning up their workspace. “Don’t let it get to your head.”

“Too late.”

And for the rest of the class, while their classmates struggled, Y/N and Severus sat back, their potion already perfected—just as always.

Severus sat with his quill resting idly between his fingers, his gaze flickering between his parchment and Y/N as she leaned over to copy his notes.

She didn’t even bother asking anymore. She just slid his notebook closer, turned her own to a blank page, and began copying down his meticulous handwriting with lazy, fluid strokes.

Severus should have been irritated. Should have snapped at her to take her own notes, to pay attention instead of relying on him.

But he didn’t.

Instead, he watched as she absentmindedly chewed the end of her quill, her brows furrowing slightly in concentration. A few strands of her dark hair fell forward, brushing against the parchment, and every so often, she tapped her fingers against the desk in an offbeat rhythm.

She had done this a hundred times before. Stealing his notes, ignoring her own half-written ones, leaning just a little too close without realizing it. But for some reason, today, Severus couldn’t look away.

“Sev,” Y/N suddenly said, not looking up, still writing.

He blinked, straightening slightly. “What?”

“You’re staring.”

His grip on his quill tightened. “No, I’m not.”

Y/N smirked, finally glancing at him from beneath her lashes. “You are.”

Severus scoffed, shifting in his seat, his expression settling back into its usual scowl. “You’re copying my notes. I’m simply making sure you don’t ruin them with your atrocious handwriting.”

Y/N gasped in mock offense, pressing a dramatic hand to her chest.

“Atrocious? Excuse me, I happen to have flawless handwriting.”

Severus snatched his notebook back, flipping it shut.

“It’s a disgrace.”

Y/N laughed, resting her chin on her palm as she gazed at him, entirely unbothered. “Then I guess you’ll just have to keep taking notes for me forever.”

Severus rolled his eyes, but his lips twitched slightly. It was just enough for Y/N to catch.

─ ♱ · 𓆩🤍𓆪 · ♱ ──────────

The Slytherin common room was quiet that night, the usual chatter of students fading as most had either gone to bed or were off doing Merlin-knows-what in the castle. The fire crackled softly in the dimly lit space, casting long shadows across the stone walls.

Severus and Y/N sat side by side on the emerald-green sofa closest to the fireplace, books open on their laps.

Well, Severus was reading. Y/N was halfheartedly flipping through her textbook, occasionally tapping her fingers against the spine, clearly bored.

After a few minutes of silence, she let out a dramatic sigh, tilting her head to look at him.

“Sev.”

He didn’t look up from his book. “What?”

“I’m bored.”

Severus exhaled sharply, still not looking at her.

“Then go to bed.”

Y/N ignored that completely and shifted to rest her head against his shoulder.

“Nah. This is fine.”

Severus stiffened for half a second before forcing himself to relax. It wasn’t the first time she’d done this, leaning against him like it was the most natural thing in the world, but it always caught him off guard.

“You’re distracting,” he muttered, eyes still on his book.

“I’m existing,” she corrected, smirking against his shoulder.

“Exactly.”

Y/N chuckled, and the sound was warm, familiar. She didn’t move away, though, and after a moment, Severus found himself leaning into it.

They sat like that for a while, the only sounds being the flickering of the fire and the occasional turn of a page.

“I’m stealing your notes again tomorrow.”

Severus sighed, closing his book. “Of course you are.”

And when she smiled, drowsy and content, Severus simply shook his head.

The common room grew quieter as the fire burned lower, casting flickering shadows across the walls. Severus had long since stopped reading, though his book remained open in his lap.

Y/N had gone still beside him, her head slipping from his shoulder. He glanced down just in time to see her shift, curling up slightly as her head now resting against his lap.

Severus tensed.

His breath hitched, his entire body going rigid as if moving even an inch would somehow wake her. But Y/N didn’t stir. She simply exhaled softly, her face peaceful, her arms tucked beneath her head as she settled deeper against him.

For a long moment, Severus just stared.

Her hair spilled over his robes, the firelight casting a warm glow on her features.

She looked… comfortable. Completely at ease.

He should wake her up. Tell her to go to bed.

But he didn’t.

Instead, he swallowed hard and carefully set his book aside. His fingers twitched as if debating whether or not to move, to touch her, but he quickly clenched them into fists, keeping them at his sides.

Merlin, she was infuriating.

Did she even realize what she did to him? How she invaded his space so easily, so effortlessly, like she belonged there?

Severus exhaled sharply through his nose, forcing himself to lean back against the sofa. He couldn’t (wouldn’t) wake her.

Not when she looked like that.

So, instead, he sat there, unmoving, his heartbeat entirely too loud in his ears. And as the fire crackled beside him, Severus Snape did something he never allowed himself to do.

He let himself enjoy the moment.

Severus hesitated. His fingers hovered just above Y/N’s hair, as if touching her would shatter the quiet, fragile peace of the moment.

But she was there, asleep on his lap, her breathing slow and even. The firelight cast soft golden hues across her skin, making her seem almost unreal like something delicate and untouchable.

Severus exhaled, then, before he could think better of it, finally let his fingers brush against her hair.

It was soft. Softer than he expected. His movements were tentative at first, barely there, but when she didn’t stir but simply nestled deeper against him, he let himself continue.

He didn’t know why he did it. He had never been one for tenderness, never the type to comfort or soothe. But with Y/N, it felt natural.

His fingers threaded through her hair again, and his breath caught when she shifted slightly, a faint hum escaping her lips.

Severus stilled, his heart hammering against his ribs. But Y/N only sighed in her sleep, her body relaxing further against him.

His hand lingered for just a moment longer before he withdrew it, resting it tensely on the armrest.

This was dangerous.

She was dangerous.

Because if she kept doing this, kept looking at him like that, touching him like it meant something, falling asleep on him like he was someone safe, he wasn’t sure how much longer he could pretend he didn’t want her.

And that terrified him more than anything.

────────── ♱ · 𓆩🤍𓆪 · ♱ ─

The wind was crisp as Y/N and Severus made their way down the cobbled streets of Hogsmeade, the chatter of students filling the air.

It had been a few weeks since that night in the common room—since Y/N had unknowingly ruined Severus with her presence, her warmth, the feeling of her hair slipping through his fingers.

And now, here they were, walking side by side, the snow crunching beneath their feet as Y/N tugged on his sleeve.

“Come on, Sev,” she said, linking her arm through his as if it was the most natural thing in the world. “You walk so slowly.”

Severus stiffened at the contact, his breath catching for just a fraction of a second.

She was touching him again.

And not just touching but rather clinging. As if she belonged there. As if she didn’t even have to think about it.

Y/N didn’t seem to notice his internal crisis, though. She simply grinned, leaning slightly into his side as they made their way toward Honeydukes.

“I don’t know why you even agreed to come,” she teased, nudging him with her shoulder. “You hate sweets.”

“I don’t hate them,” Severus muttered, keeping his gaze firmly ahead, pretending that the warmth of her arm against his wasn’t distracting him.

“I just don’t see the point in wasting my money on sugar when I could buy something useful.”

Y/N gasped dramatically. “Excuse me? Sweets are useful. They’re essential, actually.”

Severus rolled his eyes, but he didn’t pull away.

He should have.

But he didn’t.

Because Y/N was still holding onto him, and Merlin help him, he liked it.

The second they stepped inside Honeydukes, Y/N all but dragged Severus through the shop, pointing at various sweets with an excited grin.

“Oh, you have to try these,” she said, grabbing a handful of Chocolate Frogs.

“And these—” She tossed a few Sugar Quills into her basket.

“Oh! And definitely these.”

Severus sighed, crossing his arms as she piled more and more sweets into her basket.

“You do realize I never asked for any of this.”

Y/N grinned, completely unfazed. “That’s the best part. You don’t have to ask. I just know what you need.”

Severus scoffed. “And what exactly do I need?”

“Sugar.”

Severus rolled his eyes. “I—”

Before he could finish, Y/N grabbed a small chocolate and unwrapped it. Then, before he could protest, she held it up to his lips.

“Open,” she ordered.

Severus stared at her, unimpressed. “You cannot be serious.”

“Oh, I’m very serious.” She wiggled the chocolate in front of his face. “Come on, Sev. Humor me.”

Severus pinched the bridge of his nose, exhaling sharply. This was ridiculous. Absolutely ridiculous.

And yet…

He begrudgingly parted his lips just enough for her to pop the chocolate into his mouth.

Y/N beamed.

“See? Not so bad, right?” she teased, watching him closely.

Severus chewed, his expression unreadable. Then, after a long pause, he muttered, “It’s fine.”

Y/N gasped. “Fine? This is premium chocolate, Severus. Premium.”

Severus just shook his head, swallowing the chocolate. “Idiot.”

Severus sighed, already regretting every life choice that had led him to this moment. But when Y/N lifted the next treat to his lips, he didn’t resist.

By the time they left Honeydukes, Y/N had practically stuffed half a dozen different sweets into Severus’ mouth. Each time grinning triumphantly whenever he reluctantly accepted them.

Now, as they strolled back through Hogsmeade, Y/N happily munching on a Sugar Quill, Severus still tasted the remnants of chocolate and caramel on his tongue.

“I don’t know why you’re acting like you hated it,” Y/N teased, bumping her shoulder against his. “You ate everything I gave you.”

Severus shot her a flat look.

“You shoved it in my mouth. What was I supposed to do? Spit it out?”

Y/N smirked. “You could’ve said no.”

Severus scoffed. “Like you’d listen.”

She grinned. “Exactly.”

They walked in comfortable silence for a few minutes, the cold winter air crisp against their skin.

Then, suddenly, Y/N stopped in front of a small tea shop, peering through the frosted windows. “Oh, let’s go in here for a bit. It’s freezing.”

Severus followed her gaze, immediately recognizing the shop. Madam Puddifoot’s.

His face twisted in disgust. “Absolutely not.”

Y/N turned to him, raising an eyebrow. “Why not?”

“Because,” Severus muttered, glaring at the couples visible through the window, “this is practically a breeding ground for lovesick imbeciles.”

Y/N burst out laughing. “You would say that.”

Severus crossed his arms. “I refuse to set foot in there.”

Y/N, still grinning, hummed thoughtfully. “Alright. How about The Three Broomsticks instead?”

Severus hesitated, eyeing her warily. “And what’s the catch?”

Y/N linked her arm through his again, smirking. “No catch. Just butterbeer. And maybe, maybe, I’ll stop feeding you sweets for the day.”

Severus exhaled through his nose, pretending to be completely unaffected by the way she clung to him so easily.

“…Fine.”

Y/N beamed. “Good choice, Sev.”

And just like that, she pulled him along once more, her arm still wrapped around his.

The Three Broomsticks was warm and bustling with students escaping the cold. As soon as they stepped inside, Y/N led Severus toward a small table near the corner, away from the loudest groups.

She let go of his arm (much to his dismay, though he’d never admit it) and slid into her seat.

“I’ll order for us,” she declared before he could argue, already making her way to the counter.

Severus sighed, rubbing his temples. He should’ve known letting her drag him here would mean losing every battle.

A few minutes later, Y/N returned with two steaming mugs of butterbeer, setting one in front of him.

“There,” she said proudly, sliding into her seat. “A drink and a break from my relentless generosity. You should be thanking me.”

Severus rolled his eyes but accepted the mug anyway. “I didn’t ask for your generosity in the first place.”

Y/N smirked. “Quit your whining, Snape.”

Severus huffed but took a sip of his butterbeer. It was warm, sweet, and undeniably comforting, not that he’d ever say that out loud.

They sat in comfortable silence for a while, the warmth of the tavern settling over them. Every now and then, Severus found himself watching her like how her fingers curled around her mug, how she tapped her nails idly against the wood, how her lips pursed slightly as she took a sip.

It was maddening.

She was maddening.

Y/N suddenly looked up, catching him mid-stare.

Severus immediately looked away, clearing his throat.

“What?” he muttered.

Y/N tilted her head, eyes gleaming with mischief. “You were staring.”

Severus scoffed. “I was not.”

“Liar.” She grinned, leaning forward slightly. “See something you like, Sev?”

Severus choked on his butterbeer.

Y/N burst into laughter, her eyes shining with amusement as he coughed into his sleeve.

Severus opened his mouth but before he could, a familiar voice interrupted them.

“Well, well, well. What do we have here?”

Y/N turned in her seat, her smile vanishing as she spotted the person standing beside their table.

Sirius Black.

And behind him—Potter, Lupin, and Pettigrew.

Severus clenched his jaw, already bracing himself.

“Didn’t expect to see you here, little sister,” Sirius drawled, his lips curled in amusement. “And with him, no less.”

Potter elbowed him. “Guess she has questionable taste.”

Severus scowled, but before he could snap back, Y/N spoke first.

“If you came all this way just to be annoying, then congratulations, you’ve succeeded,” she said flatly, leaning back in her chair.

Sirius chuckled. “Oh, come on, Y/N. You could be sitting with anyone—and yet, here you are, stuck with old Snivellus.”

Severus’ fists clenched under the table, his face carefully blank.

Y/N, however, just laughed.

“You’re so predictable, Sirius,” she said, shaking her head.

“You think I care what you lot think?” She gestured between them lazily.

“If I wanted to sit with idiots, I’d let you all join us. But I’d rather not lose brain cells, thanks.”

Sirius raised his brows, clearly surprised by her sharpness.

Lupin sighed, giving her a wary look. “Y/N, you really don’t—”

“I do,” she interrupted, her tone unwavering. “Now, if you don’t mind, we were in the middle of something.”

Sirius scoffed, but Potter pulled at his sleeve. “Leave it, mate. Let her sit with her pet snake if she wants.”

Y/N’s eyes flashed dangerously. “At least he’s not an arrogant, self-obsessed git,” she shot back.

Potter’s smug expression faltered.

Sirius let out a low whistle. “Damn. Didn’t realize you hated us that much.”

Y/N crossed her arms. “I don’t. But I hate this. The way you always think you can tell me what to do. Who to be around.”

“Sirius… I’m not you,” she murmured. “I never was.”

He exhaled sharply, shaking his head. “Fine. Whatever.” He turned to leave, pausing only once. “Don’t come crying to me when he betrays you.”

With that, he walked away, the others trailing behind him.

A heavy silence hung in the air.

Y/N sighed, rubbing her temples. “Merlin.”

Severus, who had been deadly quiet through the entire exchange, finally spoke.

“…Why did you do that?”

Y/N looked at him, confused. “Do what?”

“Defend me,” he muttered, his voice oddly unreadable. “Against them.”

Y/N frowned. “Severus, I’d defend you against anyone.”

The words were so simple, so obvious to her. But to him…

Severus stared at her, something unreadable flickering behind his dark eyes.

And then, slowly he reached for his mug again, taking a long sip of butterbeer to cover the unbearable warmth spreading through his chest.

“…You’re an idiot,” he muttered.

Y/N grinned. “Maybe. But I’m your idiot.”

Severus scoffed, rolling his eyes.

But he didn’t argue.

Severus watched as Y/N slumped back in her chair, exhaling a tired sigh.

He frowned. “What’s wrong?”

Y/N twirled the handle of her butterbeer mug between her fingers, her gaze distant.

“I was just thinking…” She hesitated, then let out a humorless chuckle. “I wonder how long I have before my father pushes me to some pureblood boy.”

Severus stiffened.

Her words settled between them, heavy and unspoken.

It wasn’t surprising, really. It was expected for someone like Y/N, from a prestigious family like the Blacks. Arranged marriages, strategic unions, keeping the bloodline pure.

But no lie, the thought of Y/N being forced into a life she didn’t want, with someone she didn’t choose made his stomach twist uncomfortably.

He swallowed, his voice carefully neutral. “…Do you have anyone in mind?”

Y/N scoffed. “As if it’ll matter. It’s not like I’ll get a choice.”

She tapped her nails against the table, sighing again. “I’m sure my father already has someone lined up. Probably some arrogant pureblood twat who thinks he owns the world.”

Severus’ grip on his mug tightened. Of course he does.

“You don’t have to do it,” he said quietly.

Y/N gave him a knowing look. “You know that’s not how it works, Sev.”

He clenched his jaw. Of course it isn’t.

For a moment, neither of them spoke.

Then, with a wry smile, Y/N nudged his foot under the table.

“Unless you want to marry me, Snape.”

Severus nearly choked on air.

Y/N burst out laughing at his reaction, but there was something in her expression like she was only half joking.

Severus forced himself to breathe.

“You really need to stop saying things like that.”

“Why?” she teased. “Does it make you nervous?”

Severus huffed. “It’s infuriating.”

Y/N grinned. “Good.”

But as she took another sip of her butterbeer, Severus noticed how her fingers curled slightly tighter around the mug. How her smile, bright and teasing as always, didn’t quite reach her eyes.

And he hated that.

Hated that she felt trapped.

Hated that, no matter what she wanted, the world would still try to dictate her fate.

Without thinking, he muttered, “I’d rather it be me than one of them.”

Y/N stilled.

Slowly, she set her mug down, her eyes meeting his.

“What did you just say?”

Severus hesitated. He hadn’t meant to say it. Hadn’t even realized he’d said it aloud.

But now that he had…He didn’t take it back.

Y/N blinked at him, and for the first time, there was no teasing, no laughter.

Severus exhaled sharply and looked away.

“Forget it.”

Y/N, however, did not forget it.

Instead, she just kept staring at him, something unreadable in her gaze.

Something dangerously close to hope.

Severus’ breath caught in his throat.

He turned to look at her, but Y/N was already staring at him with her eyes unwavering.

“No,” she said, voice quiet but firm.

“Tell me, Severus. Because I swear… if I heard whatever it is that I think I heard, then…”

She swallowed, her fingers curling against the table.

“I’d give it all up.”

Severus’ heart stopped.

For a moment, all he could hear was the low hum of The Three Broomsticks around them—the chatter of students, the clinking of glasses, the distant sound of rain beginning to drizzle outside.

But right now, none of it mattered.

Not when she was looking at him like that.

Like he was something worth choosing.

Severus exhaled sharply, forcing himself to speak.

“Y/N… don’t say things like that.”

“Why not?” she challenged, leaning closer.

“Because it’s impossible? Because you think I wouldn’t do it?” Her voice softened, gaze searching his.

“Because you don’t want me to?”

Severus clenched his jaw, his hands tightening into fists beneath the table.

Of course he wanted her to.

But she was a Black. She had a future already planned—one that had nothing to do with him.

But then, she was here.

Offering, choosing him, despite it all.

“Y/N… if you say something like that, you can’t take it back.”

Y/N gave him a small, lopsided smile. “Good. Because I wouldn’t want to.”

Severus hated how much that affected him.

Because the truth was—if things were different, if the world wasn’t what it was…

He’d choose her, too.

Slowly, cautiously, he reached across the table, his fingers barely brushing against hers.

“Y/N…” His voice was quiet, unsteady.

“You don’t know what you’re saying.”

But she only turned her hand over, letting her fingers lace through his.

“Sev,” she murmured, “I do.”

Severus stared at their intertwined fingers, his breath unsteady.

She wasn’t letting go.

Did she understand what she was saying? What she was offering?

Giving up her family’s expectations—for him? Throwing away a life of power, wealth, and status because of a quiet, half-spoken confession he hadn’t even meant to say?

It wasn’t supposed to be like this.

His grip tightened slightly around her hand, his voice barely above a whisper.

“You’d really do that?”

Y/N exhaled, something relieved in her expression.

“I’d do it in a heartbeat.”

Severus felt something in his chest ache.

“I don’t want you to regret it,” he murmured.

“I won’t,” she said immediately. “But you have to tell me, Sev… if I gave it all up—my family’s expectations, the stupid arranged marriage—if I walked away from all of it…”

She hesitated, then asked, softer, “Would you want me?”

Severus inhaled sharply.

The answer was yes. Of course it was yes.

But admitting it and saying it aloud would make it real.

And if he let himself have this, let himself believe that someone like her could choose someone like him…

“I—” His voice faltered, thick with something he couldn’t name. “Y/N, this isn’t fair to you.”

Y/N let out a soft, exasperated laugh. “Severus, I’m the one making this choice. And I’d choose you. Every time.”

Severus felt his world tilt.

Every time.

He looked at her then and for the first time in his life, he let himself want.

Slowly, hesitantly, he raised their joined hands, pressing his lips lightly against the back of hers.

It was the smallest, softest thing.

But Y/N inhaled sharply, eyes widening because she knew. She knew what it meant.

Severus pulled away just slightly, his lips barely brushing against her skin as he whispered, “Then I’d choose you, too.”

Y/N’s breath hitched.

He held her gaze, his fingers still curled gently around hers, his lips still tingling from where they had touched her skin.

Y/N swallowed, her voice barely above a whisper. “Say it again.”

Severus exhaled shakily. He didn’t need to ask what she meant.

“I’d choose you,” he murmured.

Her grip on his hand tightened, like she was trying to ground herself. And then, without thinking, Y/N surged forward, wrapping her arms around him.

Severus stiffened but only for a second. Because as soon as he processed what was happening, he melted into it.

His arms hesitated before slowly wrapping around her, his hand coming up to rest on the back of her head, fingers threading through her hair.

She smelled like fresh strawberry milk and ink and something inherently her, something warm and safe and entirely forbidden.

“I meant it, Sev,” she whispered against his shoulder.

“I don’t care about any of it. I just—” She pulled back slightly, her hands gripping the front of his robes.

“I want you.”

“Y/N…”

She shook her head.

“No, don’t try to push me away again. You want me too, I know you do. So tell me, Severus Snape—do you want me enough to fight for this?”

He would burn the entire world if it meant keeping her.

His grip on her waist tightened as he exhaled, slow and deliberate.

“Yes,” he murmured. “I’ll fight for it.”

Y/N’s lips parted slightly, eyes searching his. “You mean it?”

Instead of answering, Severus did the one thing he’d never allowed himself to do.

He leaned in, slowly and carefully, giving her a chance to pull away.

She didn’t.

And when their lips finally met, it was soft and tentative, like the two of them were still learning how to have this, how to believe in it.

But then Y/N sighed against his mouth, her hands threading into his hair, pulling him closer and suddenly, there was nothing hesitant about it.

Severus kissed her like he’d been waiting for this moment his entire life and didn’t know if he’d ever get it again.

Because maybe he wouldn’t.

Maybe the world would take this from him.

But not today. And maybe not ever.

Today, she was his. Tomorrow, she’ll be his.

Severus tightened his grip on her waist, searching her face as if trying to make sense of her words.

“You know you’ll get disowned for being with a half-blood,” he muttered.

But Y/N only laughed. A soft, amused sound, like the thought of it didn’t bother her in the slightest.

“At least my mother would have the pleasure of blasting my face off that stupid family tree,” she said, rolling her eyes. “She’s been dying to do it for years, anyway.”

Severus frowned. “Y/N—”

“No, Sev.” She reached up, brushing a strand of his dark hair away from his face.

“I mean it. My family doesn’t control me. Not my mother, not my father, not Sirius—no one.” Her voice softened as she cupped his cheek.

“I choose you.”

Severus inhaled sharply.

He had spent his whole life being a second choice. An afterthought. Someone people tolerated but never chose.

But Y/N… she wasn’t hesitating.

“Do you know what you’re saying?” he whispered, barely trusting his voice.

Y/N smiled. Smirked, actually. “I do.”

She leaned closer, eyes flickering between his lips and his gaze.

“Now, are you going to keep questioning my life choices, or are you going to kiss me again?”

Severus let out something between a sigh and a laugh before giving in.

He kissed her.

And this time, there was no hesitation, no second-guessing.

Because, for once in his life, someone had chosen him.

As if she hadn’t just turned his world upside down, Y/N pulled away, settled comfortably beside him, and asked,

“So, tell me about that new potion you were working on.”

Severus blinked. “What?”

She smirked. “You were ranting about it last week, remember? Something about stabilizing the Wolfsbane formula? I was listening, you know.”

Severus stared at her, still reeling from everything that had just happened. The kiss, the way she had chosen him so effortlessly. And now, she was acting like it was just another normal afternoon between them.

But that was Y/N Black. She had always been like this. Unshaken. Unbothered. Acting like she hadn’t just kissed him like she meant it.

And Merlin help him, but Severus loved that about her.

He let out a slow breath, shaking his head. “You’re impossible.”

Y/N just grinned.

Severus rolled his eyes, but he couldn’t hide the faint smirk tugging at his lips.

“Fine. If you must know…” He turned slightly, getting into his usual lecture mode. “The problem with the Wolfsbane Potion is its volatility when stored improperly. The key is stabilizing the aconite concentration without diminishing its effects—”

And just like always, Y/N listened.

She leaned her head against his shoulder, eyes half-lidded in quiet interest, and let him speak.

And for the first time in his life, Severus felt like someone truly wanted to hear what he had to say.

They had been deep in conversation—Severus explaining the intricacies of potion stabilization, his voice passionate, his hands gesturing slightly as he spoke.

And then, out of nowhere, he said—

“And did you know, for the longest time, I have had my eyes on you and you don’t even realize that I’m so in love with you.”

Y/N’s breath caught in her throat.

She turned to him, eyes wide, searching his face for any hint that he was joking. But Severus was dead serious.

His dark eyes held hers, unwavering, like he had needed to say it. Like it had been clawing at him for years. And for once, he didn’t look like he regretted speaking.

Y/N opened her mouth, then closed it again, completely caught off guard.

“You—” She let out a breathless laugh.

“You just say things like that in the middle of a potions discussion?”

Severus smirked slightly, but his voice was softer when he said, “I suppose I do.”

Y/N shook her head in disbelief, a grin tugging at her lips. “Sev—”

“I mean it.” His fingers twitched where they rested against the table.

“I have for a long time.”

Y/N’s chest ached.

Slowly, she reached over, threading her fingers through his.

“Then it’s a good thing I’m so in love with you, too.”

Something in Severus’ expression softened.

He squeezed her hand.

“Good,” he murmured.

Severus furrowed his brows as Y/N suddenly pulled away, tilting her head at him with a knowing smirk.

“Where’s my Snitch, Sev?” she asked.

Severus hesitated for a moment before reaching into the pocket of his robes, fingers brushing against the small, familiar golden ball. He had carried it with him every day since she gave it to him, unwilling to part with something so hers.

Wordlessly, he handed it back.

Y/N took it with a quiet hum, running her fingers over the cool metal before pressing it open with ease.

Severus watched as the delicate wings fluttered, revealing a small folded note inside. His stomach tightened—he had never opened it before. He hadn’t even realized there was something inside.

Y/N didn’t say anything. She simply pulled out the note, unfolded it, and turned it around for him to see.

Severus’ breath hitched.

There, in her familiar handwriting, were three simple words:

“I choose you, Severus Snape.”

His heart stopped.

And then it raced.

His lips parted slightly as he stared at her, eyes searching hers for any sign of hesitation.

But she only smiled, pressing the Snitch back into his palm.

“Keep it for me, won’t you?” she murmured.

Severus swallowed hard, fingers curling tightly around the Snitch, holding onto it like a lifeline.

He had never been given something so precious before.

And now, he swore he’d never let it go.

“…Always,” he whispered.

End.

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factual-fantasy · 2 months ago

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I've been thinking about adding Skywarp and Thundercracker to my AU for a while now. :0 I'm thinking the two of them and Screamer will be a set of triplets. Not clones or drones or whatever else they may be in other continuities. Any other "seekers" or "flight frames"...? Will not look identical to the trio.

(These are a little batch of test redesigns. I have a looot more passes to do before I'm satisfied! <XDD)

And then Jetfire... I've thought about adding him which is why I've drawn this scene for fun, buuuuuutt ultimately I don't think Jetfire has a place in my AU. It leaves too many plot holes and angst in its wake.

(A ramble on why Jetfire wont work is below! <XD)

The first reason why I don't think Jetfire (aka Skyfire) can exist in my AU, is because of this paragraph from his wiki:

"Millions of years ago on Cybertron, before the war, Skyfire and Starscream were good friends and fellow scientists. On a mission of exploration to prehistoric Earth, Skyfire was lost in a storm. Starscream searched, but there was no sign of his comrade. He returned home."

Now, Optimus does say that Earth and Cybertron have been intertwined for what seems like forever. But -unless there's something I don't know/remember- no living cybertronian ever set foot/made any contact with Earth in any way until AFTER the war began. So how and why did Starscream and Jetfire go to Earth before the war? It conflicts with canon.

The second reason is a simple one really. While it may have worked in G1, I cannot find a logical explanation as to HOW Jetfire was still alive and could be reactivated after crashing into the Arctic. It not like he was put into stasis on purpose and kept in a special pod in the warm desert, like Skyquake. He CRASHED into the ARCTIC. So not only was he wounded but there was literally a WHOLE EPISODE in Prime about how the cold has devastating effects on the cybertronian body. Within HOURS of being there, Optimus Prime and Arcee were literally about to die. There is just no way Jetfire logically survives in this continuity..

And lastly, there's where the story would go afterwards. And I don't like what I see. :(

You see, if I bring Jetfire into my AU, I want him to stay friends with Starscream and stay with him. But making that happen requires me to break at least something from canon.

Option 1: Jetfire stays with the Decepticons and supports their cause. Which wont work because his whole story arc is being an ex-con who doesn't agree with what their doing-

Option 2: Starscream has a redemption arc and joins the Autobots with Jetfire. This is a problem because I would want Thundercracker and Skywarp to go with them. And tbh I don't think any of the screamers can be redeemed. They're cons to their core. To make them switch sides would feel too forced. Plus I like the 3 idiots being cons and getting on Megs nerves XD

Option 3: The timeline is the same as G1. Jetfire splits from the cons and joins the Autobots, leaving the triplets behind. This is obviously sad and I don't want that. 🫸

So with that all laid out, I have Jetfire in the bleachers for now. If I can find a way to solve all 3 of these problems then I'll add him to my AU in a heart beat. And everyone is welcome to correct me on any of these if I got the facts wrong or if you have any ideas on how to bring him into my AU! :0 I want to add him I just don't see a satisfying way to do it yet.

Thank you for reading! :)))

#transformers prime #tfp starscream #thundercracker #skywarp #jetfire #skyfire

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mechncheese · 3 months ago

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I’ve talked before about how awful Brainstorm was to design but he was not nearly as awful as Thundercracker’s process ! I’m very happy with Thundercracker’s design now, he’s definitely one of my favorites but getting there was so much trial and error.

Science AU Thundercracker Concept Art + yapping about my process Below

References ! Reference wise, I put together an inspiration board before starting with everything I really wanted to include on Science AU TC's design

I know Kyogre seems out of left field but it made more sense in my head, the hard part was trying to find a balance between everything. I knew for sure though that wanted TC's wings to split open to this scary electrical butterfly look

The Nightmare. The first Drafts

My wants - Initially I was very determined to get the visors to work with TC, I love his TFOne design and I wanted to incorporate that part of him specifically into my TC. I also wanted big wings and big shoulders for him but I don't remember why I made his shoulders the same color as his chest. TC was always intended to be the biggest and bulkiest seeker so I tried to lean into that.

My failures - It was not looking good at ALL. I hated it a lot. The wings were too blocky and he didn't look sleek at all. I hated the way the visor looked on him but I wanted it to work so bad, I didn't want to give up on this concept so I kept pushing.

Is there a light at the end of the tunnel? Second Draft.

My failures - Took the wings out of the picture entirely to focus on his main body because I thought that might be the issue. Didn't really help though </3 He just looks naked and weird. Idk why I was so insistent on the big ass shoulders when they clearly weren't working OR THE VISORS WHICH WERE ALSO NOT WORKING OUT AUGH !!

What I learned - I had to let the visors go and I had to let the big shoulders go. I was going back to the drawing board to start from scratch and move onto my third draft

It clicked in my head. Final Draft.

I wish I could tell you what was going through my head at this point but I don't remember. Somehow something clicked in my head and I knew this one was going to be the one. After several drafts and losing my mind, I finally found my Science AU TC

my wins - No more visor, replaced it with a shadowed expression and a hollow sadness. Perfect. Got rid of those big shoulders and kept him relatively proportional, I sharpened his blocky wings and though he doesn't look that much like a jet, his wings at least look sleek and he looks like he can fly now ! I'm very happy with him now !

What did I learn - Letting go of ideas or concepts you wanted so badly to work </3 we can't all be winners. Also if you're not happy with something, start over and work small. Rough drafts are my best friend

#transformers #thundercracker #my art

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amorchai · 3 months ago

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hey ! can i request a blurb for george weasley ? gn reader of any house, reader plays quidditch and george knocked them off their broom badly with a bludger, and maybe with the prompt "here, lean on me. i can carry you"

𝐆𝐄𝐎𝐑𝐆𝐄 𝐀𝐂𝐂𝐈𝐃𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐀𝐋𝐋𝐘 𝐇𝐔𝐑𝐓𝐒 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐃𝐔𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐐𝐔𝐈𝐃𝐃𝐈𝐓𝐂𝐇.

pairing(s): george weasley x hufflepuff!reader

words: 1115

warning/tags: hufflepuff!reader, injury, pining, one sick mention ( not graphic! )

apologies it's not of any house! i feel like it's hard not to when it's playing hogwarts quidditch matches.

the well awaited hogwarts quidditch finals had arrived, and to say the gryffindor’s were full of adrenaline was an understatement. like ravenclaw, gryffindor’s were cheering for the hufflepuff team when they were up against slytherin the previous week.

george didn’t even mind the constant teasing from his twin brother when he gaped in whatever direction you were flying. you flawlessly glided past the aggravated opponents with the quaffle and scored the house sporting yellow and black seventy points while your seeker had kept a watchful eye on the snitch.

the joy he felt when slytherin lost was mixed with a slight dread from realising just how skilled hufflepuff team had become, mainly down to your amazing play. harry had never looked as tense over a match until the morning of the finals, trying to be a confident captain and lead them to the hogwarts quidditch cup.

fred and george had been making snarky remarks in the locker room the moment harry pep talks everyone up. angelina was nodding enthusiastically along while others paced around nervously. ron looked close to being sick, again.

but all words were lost on george for a split second when he stepped onto the pitch, broom in hand. and it wasn’t due to the ear-splitting cheers or the outstanding weather for such a final – but the image of you waiting beside your team.

“good idea, we’ll catch the snitch quick with your mouth wide open,” fred muses beside his brother, patting his shoulder. never had the colours black and yellow looked so good until now, you looked nervous; and from how well you played, george didn’t understand why.

you send the group a smile as they approach, and george forces himself to pull away his gaze. after the game, after. he had a final match to help his team win.

his red-robed arm bumps your shoulder, leaning down to your ear when madam hooch discloses her final wishes and rules. with a whisper, george’s breath tickles your ear, “you know. when we win you should come to our party sporting red, it would suit you.”

you try not to smile, lips pursing ever so slightly before you respond, eyes not glancing away from the quidditch teacher, “so will the quidditch cup.”

impressed, george stands tall while stealing some more glances at your pretty features before being beckoned over to their positions. “good luck, y/l/n,” his tone is teasing, flirty when he walks backwards to where he’s needed and when you lock eyes it’s replaced with a hitched breath.

“good luck, weasley.”

your soft voice echoes in his mind when he sits upon his broom and awaits the whistle, watching you kick off and aim for the quaffle madam hooch throws in the air. george suddenly realises he’s the only one still on the ground, and kicks up.

he tries not to batter the bludger too close to you throughout the first twenty minutes, however, this causes you to score twice. george looks around confused when the whistle blows moments after you score again, harry calling for a time out while moving from his seeker spot and towards the tall boy sporting long ginger hair.

“george, focus!” harry rages, gesturing to the bat he holds and has hardly used so far. you’re moving past them, on your way back to hufflepuff’s side, “i’ve seen you play, weasley. don’t go easy on me now.”

he laughs, smiling widely as you ride away. george doesn’t notice the look harry gives him until a clunk against his skull pulls him away from his reverie, fred’s own bat lightly tapping the back of his twin’s head.

“you’re gonna make us lose the final over a crush?” harry asks, loudly. george just shrugs, chuckling before responding, “i won’t go easy, then.”

throughout the game, george gradually pulls himself out his head and focuses on winning. angelina scores a few times while harry and the hufflepuff seeker woosh past at false alarms of the snitch.

for a moment, george is too focused on winning that he acts as if he’s playing against the slytherin team, seeing the quaffle nearing the goalposts that ron nervously protects and sends the next bludger burling over.

gasps fill the stadium after an echoed crack when the ball crashes into your arm. you yell in pain, tipping your broom as you lean down, cradling your arm with your uninjured side. upon instinct, george drops his bat and rushes over to descending frame, grasping the tipped broom to ease you down slower.

“i’m sorry. i’m so sorry.” he ignores the shouting from teammates and the crowd, the whistle seemingly so far in the distance as madam hooch tries to reach the ground. george watches as you cry in agony, helping you off your broom and examining your clearly-broken arm.

“i know i said don’t go easy but i didn’t mean aim for my limbs,” you quip sarcastically through sniffles. “i’m so sorry,” george says again as madam hooch approaches, tutting as she examines it herself.

with calloused thumbs peeking through his fingerless quidditch gloves, george wipes your cheek from salty tears as the teacher responds, “oh dear, straight to the infirmary for you, i’m afraid. we’ll add in someone else for the rest of the match.”

george pulls back to turn to her, your frame leaning into his, “let me take y/n there.” professor mcgonagall and sprout are running across the grass to reach them now, fearful eyes. the scottish accent of his head of house cuts in, “you have to play, mr weasley!”

madam hooch nods in agreement, “it was my foul! i hit the bludger, replace me as well, it was foul play! i’m taking y/n to the infirmary…” george rushes, gently urging your good arm over his shoulder.

“here, lean on me. i’ll carry you.” after a hesitant glance, you comply when george sweeps you off your feet, “i can walk.” he’s glad that you’re still quipping with him through the pain as he walks briskly past the teachers and towards the castle where madam pomfrey will await.

“i’m so sorry,” george ushers once more, feeling terrible at the side of your arm upon your shaking lap, continuous painful tears falling down your cheeks as you glare at him with a small, forced smile, “say that one more time, and see what happens, weasley.”

with a grin, he nods in pretend agreement. however, you quietly continue with a small, “heard you have a crush on me, then?”. george leans down to kiss your forehead while responding, “wow, i didn’t realise i also got your head injured,” his smirk telling you he’s teasing, the match far beyond his thoughts in that moment.

amorchai masterlist . taglist form

#જ⁀➴ 𝐀𝐌𝐎𝐑𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐈 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐤𝐬 #𝐡𝐩 𝐠𝐭 𝐞𝐫𝐚 ⁑ george weasley #george weasley #george weasley x reader #george weasley fanfiction #george weasley imagine #george weasley x you #george weasley fluff #george weasley x y/n #george weasley x hufflepuff!reader #george weasley fic

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darethshirl · 3 months ago

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solavellan, sharing a bed tent

"We've accomplished enough for today. Let's set up camp," the Seeker said brusquely as the sun set on of their first day of excursions, in the Hinterlands woodlands, with the green light of a healed Veil tear still veritably crackling over their skin. She tossed her pack on the ground and knelt, taking out pegs and tools with her strong hands. "Herald, help me with our tent."

Lavellan paused. She'd been in the middle of turning towards Solas—an unthinking, instinctive show of preference, one he refused to think too hard about—and so was stuck in this frozen position, unmoving as a startled halla. "Oh," she started, and failed to continue. Unable to find a tactful way to say no. Her expression, usually unreadable, now looked uncomfortable.

The silence stretched long enough to draw attention to itself. Varric raised his eyebrows with an author's—or gossip's—bloodhound instinct for intrigue. Even Cassandra eventually looked up, more confused than affronted. "Is there a problem?" she asked.

The problem is that you are a Chantry official and she is from a persecuted group, Solas thought, and you are completely blind to the imbalances of power you yourself perpetuate.

But he didn't say any of it aloud. There would be no point to it. He waited instead to see how Lavellan would extricate herself from this tangle, observing without interfering.

"I'm a light sleeper," Lavellan said, her voice taking on the laughing hue of an apologetic joke. Her mouth curled up; it didn't quite match her eyes. "Your heavy armor would keep me up at night." A subtle enough attempt, if inelegant under the circumstances. Solas approved.

Sadly, it seemed understanding subtlety was beyond the Seeker's capabilities. "I don't wear armor when I sleep," she said with a frown, painfully straight-faced.

More silence. Lavellan's smile stretched thin—Solas could see the strain on her cheeks, the way the corners of her eyes tightened. He could also see the moment she gave up, that split-second display of resignation. She really was going to agree, and spend all night tense and drawn, and pay the price for it tomorrow.

Solas drew breath to speak. "You can sleep in my tent if you'd prefer, lethallin."

Lavellan's relief was immediate. It rushed our of her in a sigh, her body completing its movement to turn fully towards him. "Thank you, Solas." Her eyes were wide and deeply green, looking up at him with more gratitude than he deserved. "Do you mind?"

"Not at all." Solas made a courtly gesture—offering her what? Crude canvas in an even cruder forest?—and schooled his face into an expression he hoped was reassuring. "After you."

"Wait!" Cassandra scrambled to her feet, looking so genuinely alarmed that Solas wondered if he'd somehow missed a step. "You can't do that!"

Lavellan stuttered in her motion again, her shoulders tensing. "Why not?"

"Because he's a man!"

The silence that descended this time had a distinct tinge of incredulity to it. Lavellan showed her most open emotion so far: honest confusion. "…So?"

Cassandra spluttered, her face reddening. "But—that's—surely you'd be more comfortable with—with another woman!"

"Elves don't care about shit like that," Varric cut in, his gaze and grin taking on a mean glint. "But I guess you've got your mind in the gutter, huh? For shame, Seeker," he added, shaking his head theatrically. "I'm suddenly afraid for my virtue."

"You shut up," Cassandra hissed menacingly—then turned towards Lavellan, stiff and blotchy-faced. "Is this truly what you prefer?” she asked, then at Lavellan’s answering nod deflated. “Very well. Then I won't get in your way."

An unexpectedly honorable response. Made in earnest too, if the Seeker's serious, guileless expression was any proof. Solas found himself reconsidering the woman, and Lavellan herself seemed both surprised and moved by the act. "Thank you," she said, and this time her smile warmly touched her eyes.

The rest of their preparations went on uneventfully enough. Solas and Lavellan worked in silent tandem together, their teamwork efficient as they ignored the bickering happening behind their backs. Before long the tent was set, the sun was setting, and goodnights were said.

"Thank you again for the save," Lavellan said with a sigh, her tension having disappeared the moment the canvas cloth flapped closed. She was kneeling, unwrapping her bedroll with unhurried, graceful movements. Her eyes twinkled when she smiled at him. "I hope this isn't too much trouble for you."

"It is nothing," Solas replied, willing it to be so. "A small thing to sacrifice for your comfort. Remember, I am here to help."

Small was also the inside of the tent; a fact he hadn't considered, back when he'd opened his mouth with such uncharacteristic impulsiveness. Even with space left courteously between their bedrolls, reality was undeniable: they were too close together, their shifting too loud, their bodies too aware of each other. Or maybe that was just Solas. He told himself he couldn't actually feel her body heat warming up the side of his arm, drawing up goosebumps. Not literally.

"Goodnight, Solas."

"Goodnight."

A steady breathing. Solas listened to its constant rhythm, slowed down his own to match it. His hands were clasped demurely over his belly. He didn't look over.

Only when nightfall had truly fallen, hours later and with the forest's sounds adding their counterpoint to the ambience, did he risk a glimpse. Lavellan slept curled in on herself, lying on her side with a hand slightly outstretched. Did she have a companion back at her clan? Someone who would grasp that hand and curl towards her, sharing her breath? Her sleeping face looked like she wouldn't reject such acts, her expression slack and defenseless.

Solas turned his gaze back to the tent's roughspun ceiling. He closed his eyes, and shut his mind.

#solavellan #solas #dragon age #dragon age inquisition #my writing #tumblr snippets

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andy-15-07 · 5 months ago

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Hii! Could you please write a pedro x reader on their first date? How nervous he is? Maybe the reader is his sister's friend's and she set them up on a blind date because she knew Pedro felt something for the reader, he's scared she wouldn't love him back. Reader thinks she's seeing Pedro's sister for dinner and so does Pedro but once at the restaurant they meet.

Maybe his sister will seat a few tables far from them to keep an eye on them realizing how happy Pedro looks around the reader

Blind Date

PAIRING:Pedro Pascal x reader

WORD COUNT: 3568| requests are open (send requests, I will gladly answer them all)

Pedro Pascal Masterlist

It started as an ordinary evening for Pedro, yet one that felt strangely electric from the very beginning. Standing outside a modest but charming restaurant in the heart of the city, Pedro’s heart was pounding as if it wanted to leap out of his chest. He tugged at the collar of his shirt for what felt like the hundredth time, trying to steady his nerves. Tonight, he was expecting to meet his sister for dinner—a casual get-together arranged by her. But as he fumbled with the door, he couldn’t help but feel that fate had something else in store.

A few minutes later, the restaurant door swung open, and Y/N walked in. Pedro’s breath caught in his throat. She looked radiant, her smile both warm and inviting. For a split second, he forgot all his nervous energy. Y/N, too, scanned the room, expecting to see the familiar face of Pedro’s sister. Instead, her eyes met his. Confusion danced in her gaze.

“Pedro?” she asked softly, a mix of surprise and amusement in her tone. “I thought I was meeting your sister.”

Pedro managed a shaky laugh, rubbing the back of his neck. “I—I was expecting her, too. Seems we’re both in for a surprise tonight.”

Their laughter mingled in the cozy atmosphere as a waiter led them to a small, intimate table near a window. Little did they know, a few tables away, Pedro’s sister had positioned herself perfectly, a discreet observer with a proud, knowing smile. Her eyes sparkled as she watched the first sparks between them—an outcome she’d orchestrated with gentle meddling over the past few days.

Once seated, the conversation started slowly, each of them testing the waters of this unexpected encounter. Pedro began hesitantly, “So, Y/N, how have you been lately? I never imagined a dinner planned as a casual catch-up would turn into… this.”

Y/N’s eyes glimmered with amusement. “I honestly thought I was just meeting your sister for a friendly dinner. But I have to say, sitting here with you is a pleasant shock.” She leaned in slightly, her tone teasing. “You’ve heard the stories about me, right? The ones that make me sound like some adventure seeker?”

Pedro grinned, his earlier tension easing as he found his voice. “Well, I might have heard a few tall tales. But tonight, I want to learn the real you. And if you’re as captivating in person as you are in those stories… then I’m in trouble.” His hand moved to gesture passionately, and for a moment, his fingers brushed hers. The contact was fleeting but electric, sending a ripple of warmth through both of them.

As the evening progressed, the conversation deepened. They talked about everything from their favorite movies to the little quirks that made them who they were. Every so often, they found themselves laughing so hard that the rest of the room seemed to disappear. Pedro admitted quietly, “I’m not usually this nervous. I’ve always been confident in my work, in front of cameras, but when it comes to matters of the heart… I freeze.”

Y/N smiled, her eyes softening with understanding. “I get that. I’ve been hurt before, and sometimes I build walls. But sometimes, a moment comes along and you realize that you’re willing to take a risk, no matter how scary it might be.”

Their dialogue was filled with both laughter and moments of quiet vulnerability. The soft music in the background and the gentle clink of glasses created a cocoon around them, making every word feel intimate. As they exchanged playful banter, Pedro’s hand slowly inched toward hers again, and this time, she didn’t pull away. Instead, she intertwined her fingers with his, a small but significant act of trust and hope.

“Y/N,” Pedro murmured, his voice low as he leaned in closer, “I have to confess—I’ve been harboring feelings I didn’t even know how to name until tonight. I’m terrified that if you don’t feel the same, I’ll lose a chance at something real. But I can’t ignore this pull I feel when I’m with you.”

Y/N’s eyes widened slightly as she searched his face, as if trying to read the sincerity in his gaze. “Pedro, I—I never expected this. Honestly, I was under the impression I’d be dining with your sister, but sometimes, the most unexpected moments turn out to be the best ones. I feel something too… something I can’t quite put into words.”

A pause fell over them as they both absorbed the weight of his admission. Outside, a light rain began to fall, the soft patter on the window adding a rhythmic cadence to their confessions. The restaurant’s ambiance transformed into a cocoon of gentle intimacy, and it wasn’t long before the conversation shifted from words to actions.

As dessert was served—a rich, decadent chocolate cake—their flirtatious banter grew bolder. Y/N laughed softly when Pedro joked, “I think I need another piece of dessert, not just because the cake is incredible, but because your company is absolutely irresistible.” Her laughter was musical, and Pedro couldn’t help but reach out, gently brushing a stray lock of hair from her face.

“Do you always charm people this effortlessly, Pedro?” she teased, her tone light yet charged with something more profound.

“Only when I’m with someone who inspires me,” he replied, his eyes locked on hers. Their gazes held a silent promise, and the space between them seemed to shrink until their hands rested side by side on the table, warm and reassuring.

At that moment, Pedro’s sister glanced over from her table, a quiet smile playing on her lips. She knew that every nerve-wracked moment, every hesitant touch, was leading to something beautiful. Even though she was miles away emotionally from their growing intimacy, she couldn’t help but feel a surge of pride for her brother, who had finally allowed himself to be vulnerable.

“Y/N,” Pedro said, his voice barely above a whisper as he leaned closer, “I’m so glad you’re here. I’ve spent so long wondering if I’d ever find someone who sees the real me—the person behind the public façade. Tonight, you’ve made me feel… free.”

“Pedro,” Y/N responded, her hand squeezing his gently, “I feel the same way. I’m scared, sure—scared of getting hurt again—but I’m also excited by what this could mean. Tonight feels like the start of something that might just change both our lives.”

Their conversation was punctuated by long pauses filled with shared glances and soft smiles. The tension between them grew palpable, the air thick with the promise of more than just words. Pedro’s gaze dropped to her lips, and without thinking, he leaned forward. Their lips met in a kiss that was both tentative and fierce—a collision of pent-up emotions and the joy of finally being understood.

The kiss deepened as if time had slowed. Y/N’s hands slid up to rest on Pedro’s shoulders while his fingers caressed the side of her face, drawing her closer. The restaurant, the mistaken expectations, the night’s surprises—all faded into the background. All that remained was the fierce, undeniable connection between them. When they finally pulled apart, both were breathing heavily, their foreheads resting together in a tender, shared moment.

“I’ve dreamed of this for so long,” Pedro murmured, his voice raw with emotion. “I was so scared you wouldn’t feel the same. But now, I can’t imagine not exploring this with you.”

Y/N’s eyes shimmered with sincerity as she replied, “I never thought a blind date would turn into something so incredible. I’m willing to take this risk, Pedro—if you are.”

With a shy smile and a newfound sense of daring, Pedro suggested they take a walk outside. “There’s a small park nearby—quiet and beautiful. I think it’s the perfect place to talk some more… and maybe steal a few more kisses under the stars.”

Hand in hand, they left the restaurant and stepped out into the cool, refreshing night. The gentle sound of rain had given way to a clear, starry sky, and as they walked along the lamp-lit path toward the park, their conversation turned from lighthearted to deeply personal. They shared stories of past heartaches, childhood dreams, and the little moments that had led them to this very moment. Every word was punctuated with laughter, thoughtful pauses, and touches that sent shivers down their spines.

“Have you ever felt like you’re just waiting for the right moment to come along?” Y/N asked as they strolled past a row of trees draped in the soft glow of street lamps.

Pedro nodded, his expression serious. “I always thought the right moment would never arrive until I stopped trying so hard. Tonight, though, with you by my side, I feel like I finally understand what it means to be truly alive.”

They reached a quiet clearing near a small fountain, the sound of trickling water blending with their soft conversation. Pedro paused and turned to face Y/N fully. “Y/N, I have to be honest—I've always been so afraid of rejection, of not being enough. But when I'm with you, I feel like I can be vulnerable. I can be real.”

Y/N’s heart fluttered as she stepped closer. “Pedro, I understand that fear. I’ve worn my own armor for so long that letting someone in seemed like risking everything. But sometimes, the most beautiful moments come from those very risks.”

Their eyes locked in a silent dialogue, the honesty in Pedro’s admission resonating with Y/N’s own guarded hopes. The air between them seemed charged, and as if on cue, Pedro reached out and brushed his thumb along her cheek. “I need you to know that I’m willing to risk it all—if you are.”

Y/N smiled softly, her voice barely a whisper. “I’m ready, Pedro. I want to see where this leads us—no matter how scary it might be.”

Their words hung in the air as Pedro slowly leaned in once more. This time, the kiss was slow and deliberate—a reaffirmation of their commitment to explore every moment, every spark of passion that had ignited between them. Y/N’s fingers threaded through his hair, and he, in turn, held her tightly, as if trying to imprint this moment into memory. The intensity of their connection grew as their kisses deepened, each touch speaking of trust, desire, and the promise of something enduring.

After a while, they broke apart to catch their breath, both smiling at the raw honesty of the moment. Pedro’s eyes danced with a mixture of relief and longing. “I can’t believe how natural this feels. I’ve always imagined love as a series of scripted scenes—but this, this is the best kind of unscripted magic.”

Y/N laughed softly, wiping a stray tear of joy from her cheek. “Sometimes the best things in life are the unexpected ones, Pedro. I never expected tonight to turn out like this, but I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

They resumed their walk, the park enveloping them in a quiet intimacy. With each step, they discovered new facets of each other—stories of past adventures, dreams of future possibilities, and moments of vulnerability that only served to strengthen their bond. As the night deepened and the park grew quieter, they found a secluded bench beneath a canopy of trees. There, beneath the soft light of a flickering lamp, Pedro pulled Y/N into a close embrace, whispering, “I’ve been so scared for so long, but with you, I feel brave enough to face anything.”

Y/N nestled closer, her head resting on his shoulder. “Pedro, I’ve always believed that true connection is worth any risk. Tonight, you’ve shown me that vulnerability can be beautiful—and that love, when it comes unexpectedly, is the best kind of adventure.”

They sat together for what felt like hours, the night holding them in its tender embrace. When it was finally time to part ways, the reluctance in their goodbyes was palpable. At Y/N’s door, standing in the dim light, Pedro’s hand trembled slightly as he reached for hers one last time. “I don’t want this night to end, Y/N. I want every moment with you to be as magical as tonight.”

Y/N’s eyes shone with unsaid promises as she replied, “Neither do I, Pedro. I want to keep exploring this connection, to see where every unexpected twist takes us.”

Their final kiss at her doorstep was slow, lingering, and full of hope—an unspoken vow to return to one another again and again. The night had been a tapestry of surprises and bold actions—a reminder that sometimes, the best love stories begin with a little chaos and a lot of courage.

The next day, the echoes of their magical night lingered in every text message and phone call. Pedro’s sister, always quietly watching from the sidelines, sent a playful note to both of them: “So happy to see that your ‘sister’s dinner’ turned out to be so much more. I knew you two had it in you!” Her message brought a smile to Pedro’s face and a blush to Y/N’s cheeks, sealing the memory as something fated.

Over the following weeks, every encounter was infused with the passion and playfulness of that first night. On a crisp autumn afternoon, Pedro invited Y/N for a walk in the park where golden leaves danced in the wind. Their conversation was a blend of teasing remarks and deep confessions.

“I still can’t get over the fact that we thought we were meeting my sister,” Y/N mused as they walked along a path carpeted with fallen leaves. “I mean, look at us now—laughing like old friends and stealing moments that feel too perfect to be true.”

Pedro squeezed her hand gently. “Life is full of surprises. I once thought I had everything figured out, but tonight taught me that the best plans are the ones you never planned at all. I’m so glad I took that leap.”

They found a quiet spot by a small pond, the water shimmering under the late afternoon sun. Sitting side by side on the grass, Pedro recounted stories from his travels and early days in the spotlight—stories that revealed a man behind the public persona. Y/N listened intently, occasionally interrupting with a laugh or a teasing comment. Each word built a bridge between them, a deeper understanding that went beyond surface charm.

“Do you remember when I told you I was afraid of not being enough?” Pedro asked quietly, gazing at the ripples on the water. “Well, every time I see you, I feel like maybe I don’t have to be perfect. I can just be me.”

Y/N’s eyes softened, and she turned to him with genuine warmth. “Pedro, you don’t need to be anyone but yourself. I love the way you’re passionate, the way you care, and yes—even the little quirks that make you so uniquely you. I’ve been holding onto this feeling ever since that first night, and every day it grows a little more.”

Their conversation was filled with laughter, playful teasing, and moments of profound honesty. With every word and every touch, the distance between them shrank until it was nothing more than a shared heartbeat.

That evening, as the sky turned a deep shade of twilight, Pedro invited Y/N to his apartment for a quiet dinner. The space was cozy, filled with soft music and the aroma of a meal Pedro had prepared with care. They sat on a plush couch, a single candle flickering between them, and continued their conversation as if time had slowed down just for them.

“I’ve never felt so at home with someone,” Pedro said, his voice low and sincere. “With you, everything feels right—like every worry, every fear, just melts away.”

Y/N reached up and caressed his cheek tenderly. “Pedro, you make me feel safe. I’ve always been so guarded, but you’ve shown me that vulnerability isn’t something to fear—it’s something that brings us closer.”

Their dialogue became a mix of laughter, soft confessions, and moments of undeniable passion. Pedro’s hand moved from her cheek to the small of her back as he drew her closer. Their kisses grew bolder, each one more fervent than the last, a celebration of the spark that had been ignited from that first fateful encounter.

In the quiet intimacy of that apartment, they discovered more about each other—more than just dreams and fears, but the physical language of love that needed no words. Y/N’s laughter, the way her eyes lit up when Pedro whispered something tender, and the spark in their every embrace confirmed what they both felt deep down: this was the start of something extraordinary.

Days turned into weeks, and every moment spent together was a new adventure. Pedro’s sister continued to be a cheerful presence in the background—occasionally joining them for dinner or sending cheeky texts that reminded them of the night it all began. And with each passing encounter, the passion between Pedro and Y/N grew, becoming a blend of playful banter and intense physical closeness that neither wanted to hide.

One cool, starry night, the two found themselves on a moonlit balcony. Pedro wrapped a warm blanket around them as they gazed up at the sky, lost in a conversation about their favorite memories and what they hoped the future might bring. “I always thought I’d be alone in all this chaos,” Pedro admitted, his voice husky with emotion. “But now, I know that sometimes, the chaos leads you to something beautiful.”

Y/N’s hand found his, and she smiled softly. “And sometimes, the best love stories are the ones that are messy, unexpected, and real.”

Their dialogue was interwoven with touches, laughter, and the quiet assurance that every moment together was a testament to their growing love. The intensity of their connection was not only in the passionate kisses or the physical closeness—it was in every shared secret, every whispered dream, every promise made in the quiet hours of the night.

In the days that followed, the couple continued to explore the many facets of their relationship. Whether it was dancing in the living room to their favorite songs, taking spontaneous trips to quiet cafes, or simply spending a lazy afternoon lost in conversation on a park bench, every moment was filled with the thrill of discovery. They learned each other’s favorite jokes, the way each smiled when they were lost in thought, and the subtle language of touch that said more than words ever could.

One afternoon, while walking hand in hand down a bustling city street, Y/N teased Pedro, “I never imagined that a case of mistaken dinner plans could lead to something so… kinetic.” Pedro laughed, his eyes alight with mischief. “I could say the same. I’m beginning to think your sister has impeccable taste in setting up opportunities.”

They laughed together, and as the day wore on, they stopped in a quiet alleyway to share a spontaneous kiss that was both playful and filled with longing. “I want every moment like this,” Y/N whispered as they pulled apart, their foreheads touching. “I want to be in every unexpected second of our story.”

Pedro nodded, his voice soft and determined. “I promise, Y/N—no matter what uncertainties lie ahead, I’m going to cherish every heartbeat we share.”

That promise, made amid the vibrant hum of the city, would become the cornerstone of their relationship—a testament to the bravery it took to embrace the unknown and trust that love, in all its messy, beautiful glory, was worth every risk.

And so, as the seasons changed and the chapters of their lives unfolded, Pedro and Y/N found that each day was a new opportunity to write another page of their story. A story that began with mistaken assumptions and a blind dinner setup, but which blossomed into a passionate, dynamic love filled with laughter, intimacy, and a series of bold, unforgettable moments.

Whether sharing a spontaneous kiss in the rain, a heartfelt conversation in the quiet of a late night, or the playful touch that conveyed volumes without a single word, they learned that love wasn’t about grand declarations alone—it was about the everyday acts of courage that transformed ordinary moments into something magical.

In the soft glow of morning light, as they said goodbye for the day and promised to meet again soon, each parting was filled with the anticipation of a reunion. Every message, every call, and every smile reinforced that their unexpected meeting was not an accident but a sign that sometimes, the universe conspires to bring two people together in the most spectacular way.

And as Pedro’s sister would later say with a knowing wink, “Sometimes, all it takes is a little meddling from those who care to see you truly shine.” For Pedro and Y/N, that meddling had led to an adventure of passion, honesty, and the kind of love that fills every moment with the promise of something greater.

So here they were—two souls who had met by chance, who had laughed, kissed, and bared their hearts in the quiet moments of a long, unforgettable night. Together, they faced the uncertainties of tomorrow with a shared determination: to embrace every risk, every unexpected twist, and every burst of passion that made life so incredibly worth living.

And with every heartbeat that echoed their newfound hope, Pedro and Y/N continued writing their story—a story of laughter, passion, and the kind of bold, fearless love that lights up even the darkest of nights.

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tillysslife · 4 months ago

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falling for you…literally—h. potter

pairings: seeker harry potter x cheerleader fem!oc

warnings: hufflepuff reader, perhaps incorrect use of quidditch terms…?

the quidditch stands were full, bustling with movement. it was horrid, but hufflepuff games never had the same amount of engagement as gryffindor and slytherin games. gryffindor was the clear favourite to win but still the crowd was evenly divided—not because of team loyalty.

no.

a good chunk of students were here for you, the head cheerleader of hufflepuff, the girl who had single-handedly turned quidditch into a spectacle beyond just the sport.

dressed in a golden and black cheer uniform that hugged your figure well as you stretched, your hair bouncing with every movement. your striking eyes sparkled under the sunlight as you guided your squad into an opening cheer, your presence commanding attention without even trying.

even from his place so high above harry could hear the chants of “y/n! y/n! y/n!” ringing through the stadium.

focus, potter.

madam hooch blew her whistle and the match began.

harry was usually lazer focused during games, his whole attention going towards finding that elusive golden snitch. but today, he was hopelessly distracted. when he passed the gryffindor stands there were students just watching you instead of the game.

and the worst part, harry was one of them.

the moment hufflepuff scored their first goal, you exploded into motion and it was mesmerising

you weren’t just leading the chants, you were really performing.

a perfectly choreographed routine of flips, spins, and wand-induced sparkles. your movements so fluid and effortless that it doesn’t even seem fair. you had a magnetic presence, an undeniable pull that had people from all houses staring, utterly captivated.

even harry, mid game, mid life threatening competition, found himself watching you instead of the snitch.

your laugh rang out as you twirled, leading a call and response cheer, your voice clear and sweet, designed to command a crowd’s attention. when you clapped her hands, golden sparks burst from your fingertips, illuminating the air around you in dazzling gold and black flares.

harry wasn’t even aware he was staring so hard until—

“POTTER, LOOK OUT!”

too late.

before he could even register what was happening, a bludger came hurtling toward him, knocking him straight in the shoulder. the sheer force of it sent him spiralling off-course, his firebolt tilting at a dangerous angle. for a split second he tried to correct it—tried to steady himself—but then his grip slipped.

and just like that.

he fell.

gasps rippled through the air as harry tumbled, the world spinning around him in a blur. he couldn’t break his fall, handing on the grass with a loud thud, his glasses turning askew and the breath knocked from his lungs.

laughter erupted from the slytherin stands. they always found pleasure in his misfortunes.

you covered your mouth, “bloody hell! did he just-“

your friend, Harper snorted “no way. did he just fall because he was too busy watching you?”

someone else cracked up “oh that’s golden.” and you for once were speechless.

the official whistle shrieked, signalling a pause in the game as gryffindor ran to check on their fallen seeker, oliver wood leading the pack frantically.

from the field harry groaned, rubbing his sore shoulder while readjusting his glasses. the world finally stopped spinning and his vision refocused.

people were flitting around him, feeling his shoulder and questioning him but all he could focus on was you staring down at him from a foot away.

he liked this view.

“enjoying the show, harry?” you called your voice dropping with tease.

harry pushed himself back, his cheeks flushing further “not at all.” he muttered, an obvious lie.

your smile widened as you hummed “sure.”

as he got back on his broom, face burning, he realised two things.

he had absolutely, without a doubt fallen for y/n y/l/n

and it had happened both figuratively and literally, in front of the entire school

#harry potter #hogwarts oc #hogwarts #quidditch #gryffindor #hufflepuff #oliver wood #cheerleading #ron weasley #harry potter x reader #harry potter series #harry potter x you #ˏˋ°•*⁀➷𝐓𝐈𝐋𝐋𝐘'𝐒 𝐃𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐌 𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐋𝐃

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latenightreadingpdf · 8 months ago

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Hold Me - James Potter

₊‧⁺˖⋆ Masterlist ⋆˖⁺‧₊

Summary: After a hard-fought Quidditch match against Slytherin, Gryffindor’s loss hits James Potter harder than anyone expected. With the defeat weighing heavily on him, Y/N stays behind to offer comfort while his friends try to lift his spirits.

⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆

The sun was high in the sky, casting long shadows over the Hogwarts Quidditch pitch. The stands were packed with students, their scarves and banners waving frantically as Gryffindor and Slytherin faced off in what was bound to be one of the most intense matches of the season. Y/N sat in the Gryffindor section of the stands, nestled next to Remus Lupin. He had a book in his lap, though he wasn’t reading it, his amber eyes fixed on the pitch below.

"Come on, James," Y/N muttered, her gaze darting between James Potter and Regulus Black. The two Seekers were neck and neck, their brooms weaving in and out of the players below as they chased after the elusive Golden Snitch.

Remus nodded silently, his lips pursed. "They’re so close." His knuckles whitened as he gripped the edges of his book, though he had abandoned any pretence of reading. He hadn’t turned a page in the past half hour.

Y/N could feel the tension in the air, thick like a storm cloud. Every single student in the stands was on edge, watching intently as the Seekers danced through the air. Gryffindor’s hopes rested on James catching the Snitch, but Regulus wasn’t going to let it go easily. Y/N's heart raced as she watched the two of them twist and turn in midair, the tiny golden ball barely a blur in the distance.

James and Regulus were neck and neck, brooms darting dangerously close as they sped through the maze of players. There was a collective gasp from the crowd as they narrowly avoided colliding with a pair of Beaters who were too absorbed in their own skirmish to notice the Seekers darting past.

“They’re going to crash if they’re not careful,” Y/N whispered, her hands clasping tightly together as anxiety bubbled in her chest. She could see the raw determination on James’s face, his hair windswept and wild as he leaned forward on his broom, pushing it to its limits. His focus was entirely on the Snitch, completely oblivious to anything else on the pitch.

Suddenly, something strange happened. James’s broom jerked unnaturally, wobbling violently as if an invisible hand had grabbed it. It veered off course, and for a split second, Y/N thought he might be able to regain control, but the broom jerked again, this time harder. It twisted sharply to the left, causing James to lose his balance. His fingers gripped the handle tightly, knuckles white, as he struggled to steady it.

The crowd gasped, and Y/N instinctively grabbed Remus’s arm, her nails digging into his sweater. James fought to steady his broom, his face set in determination, but it was no use.

“Merlin’s beard,” Remus muttered under his breath. “That’s not normal. Someone’s messing with his broom.”

Y/N’s heart sank. She had seen something like this before—the time during their second year when Professor McGonagall had to stop a match because someone had tampered with one of the school brooms. But this time, it was worse. It wasn’t just a Slytherin ploy to distract James; it was sabotage.

Regulus, on the other hand, seized the opportunity. With a final burst of speed, the Slytherin Seeker shot forward and snatched the Snitch from the air. The whistle blew, and the Slytherin section erupted in wild cheers. Their green and silver banners waved triumphantly as they celebrated their victory.

“Slytherin wins!” the announcer’s voice boomed, but all Y/N could hear were the groans and disappointed mutterings of the Gryffindors around her.

Remus exhaled slowly. “That was… unexpected,” he murmured, his eyes narrowing as he watched James struggle to bring his broom back down to the ground. Y/N's chest tightened with frustration. She knew something had happened to James’s broom—probably Slytherin sabotage—but there was no proof.

As the Gryffindor team trudged off the pitch, heads hung low, the cheers from the Slytherin stands rang in her ears. The energy in the Gryffindor stands had drained, leaving behind a dull silence, broken only by scattered conversations about what had just happened.

“Bloody cheats,” Mary Macdonald muttered, standing next to Lily Evans, her hands clenched into fists. “There’s no way that was an accident. They did something to his broom. You saw how it was jerking around.”

Lily nodded in agreement, her eyes filled with concern as she watched James descend toward the ground. “I don’t know how, but they definitely did something. James should have caught that Snitch.”

“Yeah,” Dorcas said, wrapping her scarf more tightly around her neck as the evening air grew colder. “You could see it from up here. There’s no way his broom would just do that on its own.”

The rest of the Gryffindors in the stands had already started to file out, but Y/N and her friends lingered. Marlene McKinnon, the Gryffindor Chaser, was the last to leave the field. Her shoulders were slumped, her expression dejected as she trudged toward them, her broom dragging behind her.

“Marlene!” Lily called out, hurrying forward to meet her. The group closed in around Marlene, pulling her into a big, warm hug.

“You played great,” Mary said softly. “It wasn’t your fault.”

“Yeah,” Dorcas added. “That broom business was total rubbish.”

Marlene gave them a weak smile, her eyes filled with exhaustion. “Thanks, but it still sucks.”

“It’s not your fault,” Y/N said, stepping closer and resting a hand on Marlene’s shoulder. “It was Slytherin cheating. You did the best you could. James knows it too.”

Marlene gave a small nod, but the disappointment in her eyes was hard to shake. She had given everything during that match, and losing like this felt like a punch to the gut.

“Let’s head back to the dorms,” Lily suggested, glancing around at the emptying stands. “We can have a girls’ night, yeah? Chocolate, pyjamas, the works.”

Y/N gave Marlene’s arm a reassuring squeeze. “Go on. I’ll wait here for James and Sirius.”

Marlene nodded, a bit of the sadness lifting from her face as the group began to make their way back toward the castle. Y/N watched them go, then turned back to the pitch, waiting patiently as the last few stragglers left the stands.

After a few minutes, the locker room door creaked open. Sirius Black emerged, his usual cocky grin nowhere to be seen. His shoulders were tense, and his dark hair was damp from the post-match shower. The moment Y/N saw him, she stood up and hurried over.

“Sirius,” she called softly.

He looked up, his grey eyes dull with frustration, but before he could say anything, Y/N pulled him into a tight hug. “You were brilliant out there,” she whispered, her voice soothing. “It wasn’t your fault, and you know it.”

Sirius sighed, wrapping his arms around her in return, though his grip wasn’t as firm as usual. “Thanks, Y/N,” he muttered, but his voice was distracted. He pulled back slightly, glancing over at Remus, who was watching quietly from a few feet away.

Remus stood up and offered Sirius a small smile. Sirius walked over to him, and without a word, Remus pulled him into another hug. Unlike Y/N’s brief embrace, Sirius stayed in Remus’s arms longer, resting his head on his shoulder for a moment longer than necessary.

Y/N’s heart warmed at the sight, the quiet beginning of something unspoken passing between the two boys. She could feel it, even if they didn’t realise it yet.

Once they pulled away, Sirius rubbed the back of his neck and sighed. “James… isn’t doing great. He’s pissed—mostly at himself—and he doesn’t want to see anyone. He’ll probably take a while to come out.”

Y/N frowned, worry creeping into her chest. “That bad?”

Sirius nodded. “He blames himself for losing. Thinks he should’ve been able to fight whatever Slytherin did to his broom.”

Y/N exchanged a glance with Remus. “He’ll come out when he’s ready,” she said.

Sirius gave a faint nod, looking relieved that someone would be there for his best friend. “We should head back. He’ll be fine eventually.”

As they made their way back to the castle, Y/N walked beside Sirius, linking her arm through his, offering comfort. The three of them didn’t say much, but their presence was enough to calm the disappointment that hung in the air.

⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆

Later that night, Y/N walked into the Gryffindor common room, the warmth of the fireplace casting a soft glow over the space. Sirius and Remus were sitting on one of the couches, close together, wrapped in cozy jumpers. Their heads were bent in quiet conversation, the firelight flickering over their faces.

“Is James back yet?” Y/N asked, approaching them.

Remus nodded. “Yeah, he’s upstairs. Hasn’t come down since.”

Y/N sighed and leaned down to give each of them a quick hug, planting a kiss on their cheeks. “I’m going to check on him.”

Sirius nodded, his eyes following her as she made her way to the boys’ dormitory stairs. “Good luck,” he called after her.

Climbing the stairs, Y/N reached James’s door and knocked gently. There was a pause before she heard his muffled voice from the other side.

“Go away, Sirius.”

“It’s me, James.”

Silence followed, and for a moment, she wasn’t sure if he was going to answer. But then she heard the soft click of the door unlocking, and it creaked open.

James stood there, his glasses slightly askew and his eyes red-rimmed from crying. Tear tracks marked his cheeks, his face crumpling the moment he saw her.

“Oh, Jamie,” Y/N whispered, stepping inside and closing the door behind her. She pulled him into her arms, and James buried his face in her neck, his breath shaky as he tried to hold back more tears.

“I’m sorry,” he muttered, his voice hoarse.

“You don’t have to be sorry,” Y/N said softly, running her hands up and down his back, offering comfort. She guided him over to the bed, sitting down and keeping him close. James wrapped his arms around her, holding on as if she were the only thing grounding him.

“Is there anything I can do?” Y/N asked, her voice gentle as she played with his messy hair.

James shook his head against her chest. “Just… just hold me, please.”

“Come here.” Y/N said as she leaned back, pulling him with her until they were lying on the bed. His head rested on her chest, his body curled up beside her as his arms stayed wrapped around her waist.

Y/N smiled softly, her hands threading through his dark hair, massaging his scalp in slow, soothing strokes. She could feel the tension in his body begin to ease as he relaxed into her touch.

After a while, James’s breathing evened out, his grip on her loosening slightly as sleep began to pull him under. Just before he drifted off, he mumbled in a low, sleepy voice, “Godric, I’m so lucky to have you.”

Y/N’s heart swelled with warmth, and she pressed a soft kiss to the top of his head. “I’m lucky to have you too, Jamie.”

⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆

#fanfic #fluff #james potter #marauders #dead gay wizards from the 70s #marauders era #the marauders #james potter x reader #james potter x y/n #james potter x you #james #hurt/comfort #gryffindor #james x oc #james x reader #james x you #james x y/n #quidditch

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earthsparked · 1 month ago

Text

Four hummingbirds, who also had never met

Chapter 1/2 | Chapter 2/2 (You are here) | (Story on A03)

You guys asked, so here's the continuation and finale! <3

It was an ambush, and he should have seen it coming from a mile away. A stray signal appearing at the edge of his radar while out on patrol, in an area that Decepticon activity had been reported a few days prior. But nothing concrete to give a clue at what was going on. Bluestreak had only meant to snoop around at a safe distance with his enhanced vision, then call back to the Ark for an update on his orders. Instead, the second he had passed the perimeter of the old, abandoned fuel depot, he was set on by three Vehicons.

He was a gunner, not a brawler, but he managed to damage one of the ‘cons with quick thinking, and caused a second to spin out and crash in the pursuit. He lost the third by pushing his speed into redline territory. He’d called for backup immediately, though there was a concern Soundwave had managed to tap their frequency that morning. Prowl scrambled the Aerialbots.

All that, while Bluestreak hauled aft out of the more heavily-occupied areas. Mindful the whole time that humans seeing what was happening would not only be bad for the mechs’ continued secrecy on this planet, but also dangerous for the tiny organics who called it home. There were a few close calls early on in the chase, but he’d become familiar enough with the surprisingly good human-made road system that he was able to lead the ‘cons out into the middle of nowhere.

His reaction when he spotted your vehicle coming towards him on an otherwise empty road was an ear-splitting crackle of Cybertronian expletives that most ‘bots probably didn’t even think he knew, much less used. He’d left the remaining Vehicon behind, but he had a bad feeling in his gears that he wasn’t out of the rust-pit yet. When his warning systems stopped fussing at him about pushing himself too fast and started screaming about an incoming missile lock from above, his spark sank into his tires.

No no no no! he moaned, snapping into the comms channel again with a direct line to command. Prowl, priority update! Starscream’s on my aft and there’s a human in the area! Repeat, civilian in danger! I’ll try and draw him off but this is really really really bad! Somebody’s gonna get hurt!

Blue wasn’t a strategist, but he tried his best to figure out a solution. His processors ran through a million calculations. He could pull over, transform and try to get a shot off, but that would both blow his cover and could make Screamer crash right into your oncoming vehicle, which was about as sturdy as a first-frame sparkling compared to himself. He could try and block you from going any further, maybe shield you physically – cover be damned – but that would give the ‘con a two-for-one deal with one shot. Higher chance of you getting killed, or at least seriously injured, and he’d almost certainly get slagged.

Or he could put everything he had into running and hope he could get enough distance between you that you’d be out of the attack range when it came, and that Starscream would choose to target him instead of your dinky organic vehicle.

He could run, but he couldn’t hope to outrun a seeker. Option three had the highest chance of you surviving, and the lowest chance of him getting out of this alive. As he got closer, his audials picked up the sound of human music, and your sweet little voice singing loudly and imperfectly along with it. Any other time he’d have turned around and cruised behind you, posing as a human vehicle so he could listen to you. Feel that mysterious, tiny, but vibrant EM field that he’d so far only been able to sense from a distance. He’d wanted so badly to meet one of your kind…

Whatever the others thought of him, he was an Autobot to his core elements.

Right. Getting slagged it is. He put every bit of energy his frame could muster into speed. He caught only a startled flicker from you as he passed your vehicle, and then heard the screech of your tires as you saw Starscream. No no no no you need to keep driving and get far, far, far away!

He couldn't talk to you, but that didn't mean he couldn't talk. Talking was what he was best at. He threw open a comm line.

Hey, Screamer! Think you can catch me? You’re too slow to catch a virus! You call that peashooter of yours a missile array? I’ve seen minicons with bigger bombs! he taunted, while at the same time, shooting one final SOS to the Ark. Better send a medic. Several.

You impudent little nothing! Starscream screeched back at him. You’re not worth the energon in your fuel tank! How dare you! I’ll turn you into scrap!

They were past you. Not far enough, but past you. But the jet was so, so much faster than he could ever hope to be, and there was nowhere to take cover. The trees along the road and open fields offered no respite. Oh, this was going to hurt.

In the last second before his missile lock system threw a glitch from being too close for it to properly calculate the ballistics, Bluestreak ground his gears and lost some tread off his tires, and pulled off a wild mid-air transformation that he hoped would’ve impressed even Sideswipe. He grabbed the ground with one hand, ripping some of the rubber off his servo, slowing him just enough that he can go for his gun with the other. Maybe get a riposte off –

He's not fast enough. The world explodes, and all he knows is pain.

It’s not his first time getting slagged, but eating a missile straight from a seeker at close range is definitely not an experience he’d like to repeat. If he even lives to get the chance.

Half his systems are knocked out. A quarter of the rest are so damaged they’re not making sense. The remainder are all throwing red, red, red until he finally shuts them off like a drunk trying to slam down their phone alarm.

This is bad. Bad, bad bad bad.

Time goes weird, as more and more of his senses blink out as the mechanics involved in them smoke and go black. He hopes the Aerialbots hurry. He hopes the medics hurry. He hopes –

There’s a tiny brush against his shattered EM field, which is screaming all the pain his busted vocalizer can’t. It’s fear and caution, horror, shock and dread. It takes his increasingly sluggish processor way too long to realize that it’s the human. He can hear you speak, though your voice fades in and out of his audials as things involved in his hearing, spark and sizzle.

Stay back, he tries to say, but can’t get his vocalizer to work. He’s leaking energon and other fluids, there’s so much sharp jagged armor in pieces everywhere, he is overheating from lack of coolant and his fans are down and humans’ skin is so so so fragile. He pushes his worry and concern at you, trying to get you to back away, but you can’t seem to feel it. It really is true – humans have EM fields, but they can’t pick up on his?

He forces something barely, barely intelligible through his vocalizer. Yes, he can hear you. It fritzes out before he can warn you away. To his disappointment and yet, secret joy, you come closer. Your sweet voice shouldn’t be laced with such panic. You’re asking him to move, he grasps. To show you that he’s alive. You sound so confused and upset, it sends a pang through his already overwhelmed spark.

Don’t be afraid, he tries to say, only a few of the syllables screeching out before his vocalizer entirely shorts out, and he can’t communicate any more. Or so he thought. Because all the words he might’ve said are washed away when you go still and sudden realization, surprise, joy, fear, grief blast from you like a detonation. His optics are going, but he catches a glimpse of you. You’re so tiny, and you’re so upset. He wishes he could grab you and take you away from this. That you could both go far, far away to where there isn’t a war, and you wouldn’t be leaking that red liquid from the broken glass that’s cut you.

You’re alive. He has to content himself with that, as his emergency systems begin the countdown to stasis lock. He gets a ping from Ratchet that the medics are on the way, but he ignores it, because you’ve come even closer, and you’re alive. You’re so damn cute. Even with something that must be human sparkache radiating from you…

He reaches out with the last of his strength, wanting to touch you. Just once. If once is all he gets, it’ll be enough. And by some miracle of Primus, you reach back. He would smile if he could. Instead, the soft touch of your little servo on his is the only thing that doesn’t hurt. And then nothing hurts, because it’s all gone black and silent. Stasis lock. It was a mercy, at least, that he didn’t have to see you fold over him and weep like you were the one broken.

There’s no sense of time in stasis lock. Coming out of it is always confusing, an unbroken moment of being in pain and danger to being in a medbay, surrounded by medics and friends. Instinctual programming brings weapons systems back online before nearly anything else, with the result that waking mechs often end up causing more patients, themselves, by behaving as if they were still under attack. That’s why the medics always used override codes to lock those systems down.

Bluestreak was familiar with all of that. So it wasn’t a surprise when his very next experience was that of waking up with every single one of his alarms going off in a cacophony of internal and external chaos.

What was a surprise was, the first thing he saw was you. You were there! You were in danger.

No!

He didn’t have to think about it, only act. One second you were smiling at him with wide, worried, wet little optics, oblivious to the threat; and the next you were safe in his servos, clutched to his chest over his spark where the armor was thickest. His systems fought against the medical overrides, and when they tried to push him back into stasis, he burned out several fresh repairs to override the overrides. He rolled over and came up in a defensive crouch, painfully aware of your sudden spike of fear like a blade to his spark. Unacceptable. You had to be protected, you had to be safe. He burned out several more of the fresh repairs transforming his arm plasma cannon, which whined as the capacitors charged. There was a lot of shouting and emergency codes being thrown at him, which he ignored.

Clank.

Bluestreak blasted the thing that had hit his helm the second it touched the ground. Your little voice shrieked, but he’d pressed you so close that you hadn’t even felt the heat from it.

Then his auditory processors finally kicked back in properly, and the yelling turned into words.

Primus frag it, Bluestreak, that was my favorite spanner! Ratchet bellowed. Blue reset his optics. Ratchet had another spanner in his servos, which were now on his hips, as if he’d thought better about launching another attack. There was a melted puddle of slag at Blue’s pedes where he’d destroyed both the thrown spanner, and part of the Ark’s deck plating. Teletraan wouldn’t be happy about the friendly fire.

But none of that mattered, because tiny human servos clutched at him, shivering in his grasp. A swift-beating human spark thready but strong against his chest. Shallow, quick breaths as you vented in fright. You were alive. He’d protected you. You were okay.

Then the thought hit that you were scared. Of him.

All his weapons systems dropped offline so fast that it made him dizzy, and Blue more or less fell to his knees. Blowing out even more of the fresh welds. He transformed his hand back in a rush to more securely cup you in front of him, so he could look at you.

I’m sorry! he blurted, finding his vocalizer scratchy but working again. I’m sorry, little one, I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you! Please don’t be afraid of me! I’d never ever ever hurt you. Are you okay? Are you injured? You were leaking, you looked so sad!

You were still shaking, beyond words (or worse, too hurt to speak). He looked up to quickly take in the rest of the scene. Ratchet was looking on like a looming stormcloud on Jupiter. The other mech in the room, First Aid, was frozen and watching with his EM field the kind intentionally dampened that meant Blue had scared him, too. Was still scaring him. Oh.

Take them, ‘Aid, he urges, gently lifting you up and out. Make sure they’re okay! They’re shaking and their spark is going so fast, I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to - !

With Blue back to his senses, First Aid moves smoothly and quickly to reach out for you. But you surprise them all. You burst into tears and cling on to Bluestreak’s hands as if they’re a lifeline. Wrapping yourself up in his touch like the polishing cloth draped around your shoulders. And everything in the room, all three mechs, go still. All focused on you.

First Aid had drawn a container of hot water so you could wash all the weird fluids off with a bar of soap from the 32-pack that the “scouts,” whoever they were, had gotten for you. Then with you wrapped in a giant beach towel with brightly colored cartoon fish on them, the medic had carefully given you a look-over with his sensors and scans, and some more gentle poking and prodding. Just to make sure you hadn’t burst anything inside, or broken any ribs or fractured anything else. Like, for instance, your skull.

When you’d finally admitted to having a horrendous headache, and dizziness that the hot bath had seemed to make worse, and a touch of nausea – the medic had visibly had to keep himself from freaking out. More to avoid alarming you than anything, you’re pretty sure.

With a bit of joint research and consultation, and some painless, quick scans that he said could detect changes in temperature and pressure and fluid movement inside your brain, eventually he came to the conclusion you had a bad case of whiplash. But he was going to be re-scanning you every thirty minutes for the next twenty-four hours, to check for any changes to make sure nothing worse was going to happen. If it did, he admitted with a resigned ex-vent, he’d have to hand your care over to a human doctor. That was a worst-case scenario to you, considering you didn’t want to leave. Not while Bluestreak was still in emergency stasis – something like a coma, you’d come to understand with a true sense of the gravity of his condition.

Then began the uncomfortable process of patching up your wounds. You’d had to do some of the doctoring yourself. Even First Aid’s finely-tuned servos weren’t quite able to handle tweezing out tiny shards of glass from your thin skin. There was something he could use to just dissolve the shards, he said, but hesitated to use it when he didn’t know how your body would react. Ratchet – busy tending Bluestreak’s far more critical condition – did have the extra mods to be able to do that sort of delicate surgery, but First Aid didn’t just yet. Something about a lack of resources because of the war, he said, seeming regretful. You patted his hand in sympathy, returning at least a little of the kindness he’d shown you.

You let him help where he could. You allowed him to apply a coating of antibacterial cream to the places you couldn’t reach. A little too enthusiastically, but you tolerated it. You’d realized pretty quickly ‘Aid was the type of person who needed to be needed. Not being perfectly versed in human medicine was driving him up the wall from his desire to help being thwarted.

You didn’t think it was a coincidence that he was studying you the whole while, taking readings (with your enthusiastic permission) and asking questions with the kind of medically detached professionalism that was familiar from any of your past trips to the doctor. You had a feeling he’d be rectifying his lack of knowledge from now on, and decided you’d worry later about probably being turned into a very well-treated guinea pig.

He had topped off the antibacterial cream with a mummifying level of bandages, despite you feeling pretty sure you could get by just fine with band-aids. A few of the deeper cuts on your arms probably needed stitches, but you decided not to mention that, and made do with butterfly bandages. A few scars didn’t seem that important compared to what Bluestreak had suffered.

Finally, after you’d gotten dressed in some very wrong-sized but clean clothes, First Aid had fastened a cervical collar around your neck. Insisting on it, despite your groans that it was uncomfortable. You really weren't sure whether it was necessary, but you were hardly more versed in medicine than he was. And that was when you began to believe 'Aid really was Ratchet’s trainee, because the mech could put his foot down like nobody’s business when necessary. You still couldn’t help scratching at it, feeling rather sorry for all the pets you’d ever forced into a cone of shame, when he shot you a Look every time your hand inched upwards.

A couple of pain pills and one dose of steroids that First Aid very carefully measured out, and every bit of you was just done. No more. You passed out right in his hands. And that was your first day with the Autobots.

The next day sucked. You’d been so sore and stiff you could hardly move, let alone walk. ‘Aid helped you soak in some hot water with Epsom salts, and then had to help you open the packages of food that had mysteriously appeared in a pile. (Bee and Cliff are having fun, he assures you as you tiredly thank him and whoever is running errands for you.) Then you collapse again, but wake up soaked in sweat and screaming with a nightmare. First Aid almost broke the door getting to you. The rest of the night was spent wrapped in a burrito of blankets, drifting in and out against his armor while he read a datapad on human psychology.

The day after that was more of the same, and the one after that, but finally on the fourth day since the Incident you felt sturdy enough on your feet to be up for a little walk around the rest of the medbay. Which was good, because you’d been demanding to see Bluestreak and kept being put off.

He’s still in stasis to give the major repairs time to stabilize, but he’s out of the worst of the danger, First Aid promised you. Until finally he was satisfied with your own recovery enough to give you a hand up to let you perch on the table they called a berth, where you finally got your first good look at Bluestreak.

He wasn’t actually blue, you’d commented, and Ratchet, busy with some task or other at a giant computer, had snorted in such a human way that it had just about given you a second case of whiplash. Not why he’s called that.

You sat with him, admiring what he looked like when he wasn’t that awful, struggling, smoking pile of wreckage. You could see just how much work had gone into fixing him, and had a basis for comparison now of how horribly he’d been hurt. When you wobbled over to his head – helm was the word they used – and curled up beside him, one hand tentatively touching his face, Ratchet had opened his mouth to growl something at you, then thought better of it and turned away to do whatever it was he was doing.

You felt like you weren’t quite real, like all of this was happening to someone else, or that you were seeing it through a screen. Over the next few days, your little circle of unreality expanded. You met Optimus Prime. He’d made one hell of an impression that your dizzy mind was still trying to grasp. He was huge, and deeply kind, and had treated you with a respect that for some reason was nearly shocking. He’d asked after Bluestreak’s status, then your wellbeing, and then gently explained it was too dangerous for them to let you go home just yet. Some of their team had gone out to look for your car and bring it back to base, and found it a smoking, burned-out ruin even less intact than Bluestreak had been. Either Starscream, or some other ‘con had found it and destroyed it. That they’d even bothered meant nothing at all good for you.

He'd left you to numbly process that after asking if you needed anything. You’d asked his help to take care of a few basics – letting your family in another state know you’re fine, you’d just lost your phone, mostly. And letting your job and your part-time delivery gig know you’d been in a bad car wreck and were on sick leave, regardless if it meant getting fired. Because you were not going anywhere, ‘cons or no ‘cons, until you got to finally meet your metal person properly.

You spent so many hours by Bluestreak’s side, despite Ratchet’s huffs about organic contamination, that it started getting a little bit boring. When you started peppering Ratchet with questions, at first he sourly brushed you off.

Why do you want to know? he’d glowered suspiciously.

Because he’s hurt. And I want to know how you helped him. Please?

No. He turned away, making something clatter.

First Aid had eyed him for a time, and then you were pretty sure they’d had an argument over the internal communications system you knew, now, that they all had. It made you feel weird, knowing they were talking in a way you couldn’t understand. The same way it felt strange, knowing that they had an entirely layer of communication wrapped up in some weird energy field that you also had, explaining why it seemed like they could almost read your mind sometimes.

After a few minutes Ratchet had eventually thrown his hands up in a too-human expression of frustration, and gone storming out. But hours later, he came stomping over with a handful of components and devices you’re pretty sure had never been touched by human hands. You sat up, leaning against Blue’s shoulder as he deposited them in front of you.

This is part of a hydraulic system. Bluestreak’s frame has seventeen of them. Most of them non-critical, but necessary. Sixteen of them had to be replaced. I put in emergency fixes to give me time to machine the parts to rebuild the others. I have completed fifteen of the sixteen replacements.

You hopefully hold your breath as he glowers at you. If you can follow directions, not injure yourself more than you already are, and use that crumpled wad of tissue of a processor of yours to a reasonable degree…you can help me with this last one.

You nearly trip and lose your balance as you stand up too fast, rushing over to wrap yourself around his wrist in a thankful hug. Ratchet! Thank you! So, so much. I’d love to help!

He grumbles something about organic skin oils gumming up his servos but he doesn’t pull away until you do, with a gentle pat to his arm plating. You beam up at him, the first time you’ve really smiled in days, and he’s the first to look away, blue optics turning down as if he’s embarrassed.

My medbay, my rules. Got that, human?

You’ve told him your name, and he hasn’t yet used it, but whatever. You nod enthusiastically, as best you can through the collar of shame, and he narrows his optics as you wince at a twinge of pain. You stop nodding and just tell him yes.

Over the next few days, you learned more than you think you ever did in college. Once the hydraulic replacement was done and neither you nor Bluestreak were on fire or dead, Ratchet seemed to internally upgrade you from “helpless invalid, not to be trusted with own life” to “helpless invalid, not to be trusted with own life, but good with a pair of pliers.”

It turned out that he was a fantastic teacher. Surprisingly patient for a guy who literally threw wrenches at injured mechs. Didn’t blame you for making mistakes and never put you in a position where a mistake could hurt you or someone else. And once you’d gotten past that first hurdle, he never once balked at answering a question. Even the ones that you later wished he hadn’t answered, like how they felt pain, and why they had body parts that turned into weapons, and what happened to their sparks when they died (offlined). But it was a relief that unlike ‘Aid, who was equally curious about humans, Ratchet kept his questions about you related only to your immediate well-being.

Are you refueling enough for your species? Are you recharging enough? You’re not working in my medbay if you’re not. There’s inflammation in your wrist. Does it hurt? What helps it? I’ll get you an ice pack. Take an NSAID. No, put the spanner down, you’re done for the day.

It was nice, really. Your brain fog slowly seemed to melt away as your whiplash injury began to heal, and eventually ‘Aid let you remove your collar of shame. You started feeling more aware and present in your body, and began to wonder if First Aid had had something to do with convincing Ratchet to let you help. As you assisted with small but attention-demanding tasks, all which helped Bluestreak’s recovery, the sense of panic lurking in the back of your mind began to fade. When you fell asleep in First Aid’s clutches, it was because he just felt nice and safe, and clearly enjoyed the company. Not because you’d woken from a nightmare.

Then the day came when they were finally going to let Bluestreak wake up.

You’d been allowed to perch nearby, eagerly hoping to see life come back into those optics. Ratchet had explained about the override codes, how they would keep Blue from leaping off the table and shooting anything that moved, because otherwise his defensive systems would kick in immediately and he’d pose an unwitting threat to everyone around him.

After he’d walked you through that, you’d caught ‘Aid looking at Ratchet when the grouchy chief medical officer’s back was turned. First Aid looked oddly smug and pleased, and it dawned on you that maybe he hadn’t just had your well-being in mind when he’d nudged his teacher to take on his first-ever organic student.

And then it all went to shit. One second you were letting your eyes well up with tears at the sight of blue optics flickering on. The next you had been grabbed and rolled over in a dizzying rollercoaster that had you flailing and crying out. It happened so fast and with such force you almost blacked out, your vision going grey around the edges.

Bluestreak! Slag it all, he’s overridden the overrides! How in the PIT! Ratchet snarled, his white and red armor puffed up like a pissed-off rooster. First Aid was trying to calm Blue down, terrified that he might accidentally hurt you, despite clearly trying to protect you. From them. A threat his systems were warning him about, allies that he wasn’t with it enough to grasp were his friends.

Blue, let them go. Please. They’re delicate, and they’ve already been injured once, he pleaded softly, empty servos raised in a display of surrender.

The mech was crouched over you, and when Ratchet swore something foul and did his usual routine of percussive maintenance, the thing they’d been dreading happened as Blue’s plasma cannon fired. You cried out and for an awful second the entire room went still. Ratchet grumbled over his favorite spanner, now a liquid melted into the metal decking (Teletraan crankily sending zaps of electricity to anyone unfortunate enough to be near a terminal, in retribution). First Aid sighed with relief when Bluestreak finally realized where he was and what was going on, and he couldn’t move fast enough to swoop in to rescue you from your rescuer.

Only for you to refuse.

You hold on to your metal person. Because even though he scared you, he’d also saved you. Now he was awake after that horrible attack where he’d almost died, and his first instinct is still to save you. You are shaking like a leaf, all that awful adrenaline and fear returned with a vengeance in a way you can't help. But for all that your biology is betraying you, your heart's never felt more full of joy. Because he's alive.

Bluestreak, you say, and he flinches. You don’t like that. You reach for his face, and he slowly obliges, bringing you closer. First Aid and Ratchet hover silently in the background, and you can’t begin to imagine what they’re thinking right now. It would be nifty if you could read their auras or fields or – whatever they were.

Hey, it’s okay, you say, pressing your palm flat against his cheek. A tremor runs through his hands, but you know he won’t drop you. I’m not afraid of you, you just surprised me. You saved my life, Bluestreak. I was so happy to see you for the first time, but you were hurt so bad. I thought, I thought you were dead. Offlined, and that I’d never get to –

That’s as far as you get before you learn that mechs can cry, too, as he pulls you into the shelter of his neck, holding you close and ex-venting roughly. You pat his shoulder, thinking of what the inside of it had looked like when you’d replaced the hydraulics. Wires instead of veins, sure, metal instead of flesh. But even on the inside, you’d been right all along. You’d known, and you’d been right. They are people.

You’re all right? he asks, shakily, and when you murmur an affirmative, his eyes go so bright that you can hardly look at them. You’re not scared of me? But – but you were so so scared, and I couldn’t tell you not to be, and I know we’re really different and I’m so much bigger than you, and I’ve wanted to meet a human ever since we came to earth but Optimus and Jazz and Prowl said I couldn’t, we had to hide, and then Starscream – I couldn’t let him hurt you! You’re just so little, and your voice is so sweet, and you feel so much even though you’re so small. I couldn’t let him hurt you.

He says it like a plea for understanding, and now you’re both crying. You don’t see Ratchet and First Aid share a look, and quietly leave to give you two some privacy, now that they know you’re both stable. You only have eyes for your metal person.

I tried to help you and I didn’t know how, you sniffle, trying not to be embarrassed by how emotional you’ve been the past week. Maybe you can blame it on the trauma and injuries. But your heart’s felt just as bruised as the rest of you. Ratchet’s been teaching me. Does your shoulder feel all right? I helped fix the hydraulics.

Blue rumbles something that you realize is a laugh. It feels great! You did a great job! Wow, the Hatchet really let you work on me? In his medbay?! Do you know how hard First Aid had to work to get him to take him on as a trainee? And you got him to do it in just a few cycles? Wow. You must be really smart. Um, I’m Bluestreak. But you already know that. What’s your name?

You laugh, too, through the flood of happy, confused, exhausted tears, and tell him.

That’s so beautiful! What’s it mean? Do human names have meanings? Where were you going that day? Why were you out in the middle of nowhere? What was that music you were listening to?

He stops short and looks chagrined. Sorry, sorry, I know I talk too much, everybody says I do, I just have so many feelings and questions and –

Bluestreak, you tell him, smiling, as you reach to grab his other hand. He lets you, optics bright, armor spotless. Even if he’s going to have to get yelled at by Ratchet for destroying some of his repairs, he can’t remember ever being this happy.

I’d just found you, just met you, and I lost you. I thought I’d never get to hear you speak again.

You squeeze his hands, the same shape and number of fingers as yours, and capable of both the same violence and the same gentleness. This isn’t the end. There’s a road of healing you’ll both have to walk, but now you know you really aren’t alone. You didn’t know it at the time, but you never were.

Blue, I could listen to you talk forever.

#transformers x human #transformers x reader #transformers first contact au #human distribution system #bluestreak x reader #first aid x reader #ratchet x reader

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jayflrt · 1 year ago

Text

𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫𝐬 𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐢𝐧 𝟕𝟖𝟔 19. attention seeker

welcome to the second act. warnings for this chapter include depictions of alcoholism and family issues

'BEING AN INFLUENCER WAS A REAL JOB THAT REQUIRED A TREMENDOUS AMOUNT OF WORK.'

Yeah, right.

Shin Yuna heard phrases along those lines all the time. Whenever she watched other people's content, a good majority of the influencers would rant about how difficult their life was, or how stressful their workload was when it came to recording and editing.

Sure, it took some effort to edit and upload new content. Yuna allocated several hours a week to do so, but all she had to do was set up a livestream for the cash to start rolling in. Wear something skimpy. Bat her lashes at the camera. Pout a little. Play up the damsel in distress act. It was simply too easy.

princessval***: omg girl pls stop drinking 😭 onlyyuna03: she's so messy i love her luvyuna***: you're back already? i thought you were taking a break onlyyuna03: @luvyuna*** you must be new LOL she always does this

But this—the flood of comments that poisoned her screen—was the curse of putting herself on the internet.

It wasn't like this during her first year of streaming. Back in high school, Yuna's parents were fighting every day, and since she didn't have any friends to talk to, she turned to the internet. She would stay up all night in random Discord servers, chatting with strangers and confiding in them about her family issues.

Naturally, these chats turned into voice calls, which later turned into video calls. Initiated by her, of course. No one else had their cameras on, though; Yuna quickly grew comfortable being in the spotlight, basking in the glow of praise from strangers. Comments like 'you're so gorgeous' and 'you should be a model' made her forget all about her family issues for a split second. Like that, it became like a drug for her.

Yuna, who was starved of attention, relished in the validation she got from online strangers. Strangers who wouldn't even share any personal information about themselves, going by fake names and hiding how old they were.

Soon after, she made her own Discord server, inviting everyone who wanted to see her get in front of her camera and talk about her day. She knew how to play her angles well, acting as if she was everyone's girlfriend while using them to satisfy her need for attention. It was a classic marketing strategy: Yuna knew her asset was her beauty, so she used it to her advantage.

All she had to do was send a picture of herself or talk in a cute voice, and everyone would fawn over her in seconds. In a life where Yuna's own parents neglected her, she found people who cared. Maybe their intentions weren't in the right place, but they were present and ready to listen to whatever she had to say.

She got ambitious, deciding to start live-streaming to a wider audience. Yuna started on Twitch, playing various games like Overwatch and League of Legends. She didn't have to be very good as long as people liked her face and stayed for her reactions.

As she grew a following, she moved to YouTube and TikTok, doubling her follower count in only months. Before, she would be talking to an audience of around 20 people, but now she was racking in thousands as soon as she went live.

Of course, there came drama, too. And Yuna found it exhilarating.

If someone called her out on something, all she had to do was come up with some sob story about how she didn't deserve to hear that, and everyone would come with pitchforks to defend her. She was very calculative in that way, knowing exactly when and how to turn the tide if it wasn't in her favor.

For some reason, that never seemed to work with her parents.

"You're a disappointment," her father spat at her the day she showed him her Yale acceptance letter. She had sparkles in her eyes and a bright smile all day, only for her to feel completely crushed. She couldn't understand why; it was her father's dream for her to get into Yale, after all. "This is the only acceptance letter you've got, huh?"

Yuna hesitated. The competition for all of the Ivy League schools was rough this year; she had been getting rejections left and right, but she thought her family would be satisfied with Yale. After all, it was her father's alma mater.

"Yeah," she answered in a small voice. She looked down at her acrylic-damaged nails, neglected from years of biting the skin until they bled. "I thought you'd be happy with Yale."

"Happy?" Mr. Shin barked out a laugh. "You didn't actually get into Yale on your own, you know that, right?" He scoffed when Yuna gave him a confused look. Then, Mr. Shin slammed his phone against the dinner table, causing his wife and daughter to flinch. "Five hundred thousand. I paid five hundred thousand to get you in. Mr. Nakamura only paid two to get Kazuha in, but I had to pay five. That's how useless you are."

"Sunoo? You know my old boss's son?" he would provoke her for the rest of dinner. "He got in all by himself. You know Hyejin's son—Anton—he got into Yale and Brown on his own, too."

"You need to work hard, Yuna," Mrs. Shin said before stabbing at her salad. "Your dad could only get you in as an undeclared major. You need to get into pre-med on your own."

Tears prickled her eyes, but she stayed silent. Even her college acceptance was a fraud; she had done nothing out of her own hard work.

Except her skyrocketing career as an influencer.

The high of her fame only lasted a short while, though. During the summer before her freshman year of college, Yuna's parents discovered what she had been getting up to on the internet.

Shameful, they called it, as if Yuna was committing a crime.

Yuna's parents were surgeons, and rather good ones at that. They both got their undergraduate degrees at Stanford, and then their doctorates at Harvard. The two of them became neurosurgeons after their residency and board exams, and then transferred to Mercy Health where Mr. Shin became the Chair of Neurological Surgery, which set the bar a little high for Yuna.

She was never spectacular. She was always more interested in makeup and clothes instead of science and medicine. Yuna would've rather worked toward a career as a fashion designer, often dreaming about fashion shows she could design for. She knew she would make it far, too—even Donatella Versace told her backstage during Paris Fashion Week that she had an eye for fashion, and that she could go far.

The few times she visited your house, she remembered meeting your mom, a well-known fashion designer herself, and showing off her sketches. Yuna distinctly recalled her words of approval, and she had to bite her tongue whenever your mom would offer to take Yuna on a tour of her studio, only for her parents to turn down the offer.

Her parents were so adamant about Yuna following their path to becoming a surgeon that they threw away all of her sketchbooks and colored pencils when she showed them her work. Even when she got the opportunity of a lifetime to be taken under Vivienne Westwood's wing, her parents crushed her dreams under their heels.

From a young age, she knew that hard work was only determined by her parents. Her true efforts were simply considered a waste of time.

Naturally, Yuna let out all her emotions when she live-streamed. It just so happened that her parents found out through the families of people who knew her. First, she would be grounded. When that wouldn't work, she would get all of her devices taken away. When she found a loophole around that, she would have to endure her father's rage.

Halfway through her first year at Yale, her parents disowned her.

She was on academic probation after her first semester. While she was trying to file a restraining order against someone who was stalking her (who claimed to be a fan), her grades managed to slip until she failed most of her classes. The worst part was, she had been expecting her parents to worry about the stalking incident, but they only cared about her GPA. Casting Yuna away was just protecting the Shin family's shiny status.

Everything was gone. Yuna was no longer part of the world you and Sunoo lived in. All her connections to the medical field, all her connections to the fashion industry—all out of her grasp. Still, maybe it was her flickering hope to somehow please her parents that kept her on the path to become a doctor. Not that it something she was genuinely interested in, but she knew it was the only way her parents would take her back.

Now she had to keep up her influencer career to support herself financially. There was no way she would be able to pay off tuition, even if Sunoo had generously paid the deposit for her small apartment. She had to keep up with bills, rent, and utilities all at once, and it was all too much for an eighteen-year-old to handle.

She got used to accepting help because of that. You helped foot some of her bills, Sunoo helped with tuition, Anton helped make sure she was eating, and the money she got from streaming and posting videos was enough to cover the rest of her expenses.

Even with an outlet to express her concerns to her fans, though, Yuna was struggling with barely making friends. You, Sunoo, and Anton were the only ones who lent a shoulder and an ear for her to dump all her pain and worries to. But she still had to hold them at arm's length. After all, all of their upper-crust families were in close contact with each other.

And then there was Lee Heeseung.

He was a new face in the socialite scene. No one had heard of him or his family before. Heeseung was probably Yuna's ideal type—handsome, intelligent, popular, and someone who hadn't been sucked into her world yet. Although he was alledgedly close to you and Park Sunghoon, no one else had any idea of what his family did.

Over the years, Yuna was terrified that she had built a reputation among the rich families that were in her circle. She could feel the disdain in their eyes when she was at social events, steering clear of every adult that looked as though they wanted to probe her for information about her college admissions.

Heeseung, however, was like a breath of fresh air. There was no judgment in his eyes when Yuna spoke to him, and that might have been the very moment she fell for him.

He was different. He didn't have any expectations of her nor did he feel uncomfortable when he found out she was a streamer. She liked that he came from a humble background, and he never judged her from where she came from. Even when Yuna confessed that she had been disowned, Heeseung never looked at her with pity in his eyes. He simply told her that he would be there if she ever needed him, and he left it at that.

She tried her best to get close to him, but the closer Yuna got, the more she saw under the surface—the more she realized she was heading toward heartbreak. It was clear as day that Heeseung was deeply in love with you, and it seemed as though he had no intention of considering any other woman. Even Yuna could tell he would give up everything in a heartbeat for your sake.

Yuna did her best to avoid conversations about Heeseung with you. She figured that if they never brought him up, then you wouldn't start to feel differently about him.

To her relief, you started dating Park Sunghoon.

Yuna used Heeseung's vulnerability to her advantage. As much as she liked him, he was a coward when it came to his own feelings; Heeseung could only bring himself to come clean about how he felt for you after you started dating another man. Of course, he was turned down—ignored, even. In your mind, you just wanted to keep up the fantasy of having a close childhood friend to the point where you had Heeseung bottle up everything he felt.

Yuna thought you were cruel back then, but she was even more so.

She knew that Heeseung couldn't do anything about his feelings no matter how much it ate at him, so Yuna pretended she wanted to listen to him go on and on about how miserable he was. It was all because of you, and, for a period of time, Yuna despised you for it.

Months rolled by, and Yuna found herself going over to Heeseung's dorm room nearly every day. They talked about anything and everything, and then the conversation would eventually shift to you. Yuna felt something chip at her heart every time he mentioned your name, but she braved through it all.

"Thanks for coming over," Heeseung murmured, running a hand through his already-messy hair. Yuna could smell the alcohol on his breath when she sat down next to him on the floor. Heeseung laughed. "One-month anniversary. Y/N always told me she found those stupid."

Yuna pressed her lips into a thin line. She remembered walking to class with you last week and hearing you gush about everything you bought Sunghoon for your one-month anniversary as a couple. She thought it was sweet back then, but hearing it come from Heeseung made Yuna feel sick.

"You don't have to thank me," she said, hugging her knees to her chest. "I just wanted to be here for you."

The first time she tried to kiss Heeseung was that night.

The first time Heeseung rejected her was right after he stopped her.

"I can't," he said at the time, drawing away from her. "I'm sorry, it's just—"

"You're not over Y/N," she finished for him with a twinge of bitterness.

He shook his head, saying nothing. Yuna felt a surge of misdirected anger.

Yuna knew from the moment she met you that people like you were the shiny gold coins that everyone wanted to have, and people like her were rusted-over pennies on the sidewalk to be stepped on and forgotten. She was a fool to think that Heeseung would see past that.

"I know that." Her tone was sharp as she got to her feet, and Heeseung followed suit right after. "But I suggest you get over her soon because it's not gonna happen."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"Exactly what I said. Y/N would never go out with you. She already turned you down, anyway."

"Is that so?"

When Yuna turned around to look at Heeseung, his expression was like stone. Something ugly was twisting its way around her heart, squeezing out every semblance of affection she ever had for you.

"Yeah," she replied with a simpering smile, "because she's just too nice to choose the guy who broke her friend's heart."

"Broke—?"

"And," she said louder, cutting him off, "Sunghoon doesn't know, does he? Wouldn't he feel really betrayed if he found out?"

Heeseung kept his face impassive, but Yuna could tell he was seething. She cornered him quite well.

She kept that farce up for years. It was easy keeping Heeseung in line when you only had eyes for Sunghoon, and Heeseung was just so easily discouraged by Yuna's words. It was almost like he had no hope that you would take his word over hers, and that sent Yuna on some sort of power trip.

Her relationship with you was strange. Maybe it was at that moment when she realized that she was someone important to you, and that made her feel invincible somehow. She could do anything as long as you were on her side.

She liked drinking. Not because she particularly liked the taste of alcohol, but she loved the feeling of forgetting all her responsibilities. Every rotten memory of her parents would bury itself under the sand for the time being, and all she could feel was adrenaline pumping through her blood.

But she was never exactly in control. It only took a year to slip up in front of her friend group (thankfully when you weren't around), so she begged Karina, Yeonjun, and Giselle to keep quiet about her crush on Heeseung. They weren't even extremely close at the time, but they knew better than to tread on a situation between you and Sunghoon, whose parents were far more influential than theirs.

"It's only gonna cause more problems if she finds out," Yuna told them through choked sobs. "If Y/N finds out, things will never be the same between us, and Sunghoon doesn't even know that Heeseung has feelings for Y/N." As Giselle stroked her hair gently, Yuna said, "I can get over him on my own. Just please keep this from Y/N."

Karina and Yeonjun exchanged nervous looks before they reluctantly agreed. She had always been wary about Karina. Giselle was overly-empathetic to her situation, Yeonjun was a good listener because he thrived off of drama, but Karina had always seemed more skeptical.

And, as Heeseung knew, Yuna always found a way to silence people who she felt she couldn't trust, so she played dumb when she outed Karina on live.

It was a stupid move on her part, to be fair. Yuna deeply regretted it as soon as she realized what she said. Karina iced her out for months, and everyone else was on the colder side—even Sunoo, who had been her close friend for so long. She always felt strangely jealous of Sunoo, who got the approval of her father when she couldn't, but seeing him give her the cold shoulder nearly sent her over the edge.

"I apologized so many times!" she cried to him. Sunoo kept his guard up, but he always heard her out when she needed him. "I just don't know what else to do. I keep fucking up."

Sunoo frowned. "Do you even feel bad about what you did, or do you feel bad because you were caught?"

Yuna didn't respond to his question, but she knew exactly what the answer was. Was she pathetic? Probably.

She ruined everything. She always ruined everything.

Maybe it was just easier that way. Yuna knew that if she tried her best to please everyone, it would still never be enough. Hurting them before she cared too much was just a defense mechanism, as selfish as it sounded. If you chopped down the tree before it grew too tall, it wouldn't hinder the plants under its shade from growing.

The thing was, Yuna received blow after blow all her life without any acts of mercy. She was struck over and over again, and no one delivered the final coup de grâce.

Naturally, Karina came around and forgave her. Another missed blow. It was like Yuna was drunk off the drama itself because if she kept acting out and causing all these problems, then she could keep everyone's attention on her.

And then she wouldn't have to be so alone.

But the cycle went on and on, so when Yuna found herself texting Jay and Sunghoon in her drunken stupor, she hardly considered the consequences when she mentioned the long-kept secret of Heeseung's first love. You trusted her to keep your conversation with Jay about breaking up with Sunghoon to herself, but she violated that as soon as she could, too. She wasn't sure what it was, but whenever she looked in the mirror, all she saw was that she was as bad as her parents.

Yuna was fated to fall into the same destructive cycle over and over again until it stabbed her in the back for good. Until she bled out, though, everything was fair game.

prev | masterlist | next

SUMMARY ▸ private investigator jay park just wants to complete his mission quietly and move on with his life. you, his new assignment who keeps consuming his thoughts, don't make that very easy for him.

TAG LIST ▸ @zdgx1 @smouches @heesdazed @teawithbucky @leep0ems @peachpie4you @niniissus @kgneptun @jaeyunluvr @hooniesuniverse @zerasari @enhalov @sophiko22 @iselltulips @hoondiors @baekhyunstruly @jays-property @woninluv @heerinnie @fakeuwus @yizhoutv @en-happiness @theothernads @y4wnjunz @dammit-jjk @en-happiness @mari-oclock @enhypens-baby @soonyoungblr @jakeslvt @taetaenic @jebetwo @fairysungx @hsgwrld @shmooooo @ineedsomezzz @mrowwww @enha-stars @isawritesss @seongclb @lockburn-castle @alyssajavenss @enczen @calumsfringe @w3bqrl @luvyev @uhsakusa @luvnicho @wildflowermooon @navsnct

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starlight-write · 1 year ago

Text

Attention Seeker

A/N: First TADC tk fic! lmk if you have any suggestions/prompts cause my brain is about fried atp.

Summany: Ragatha's ignoring Jax for being a prick. It's only after he brings Pomni into their little spat that she decides to do something about it.

Characters: Ler!Ragatha, Switch!Pomni, Switch!Jax

Word Count: 2004

Warnings: This is a tickle fic! Scroll if that's not your thing.

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"Raaaags! Ragathaaaaa! Rags, talk to meeeeeee!" The rabbit whined pathetically as he flopped face first to the floor to add to his dramatics.

Ragatha crossed her arms and stared blankly in front of her. She'd be damned if she gave into his theatrics after the stunt he pulled yesterday.

Pomni tip-toed her way over to the doll, careful to gauge her mood before speaking up.

"You're- uh- still not talking to Jax, huh?" The jester tried.

To no one's surprise, Jax pulled some underhanded shit during yesterday's game. Thankfully, that game was more tame than the usual as Caine decided to make all of them play a rather distorted version of 'capture the flag', only the playing field was covered in thick black tar-like substance, which made the game slower and over all less fun but Caine did say he was experimenting with ideas.

Long story short, Ragatha had gotten the other team's flag and was about to win before Jax thought it'd be clever to use poor Gangle as a lasso and trip Ragatha by her ankle. Causing her to fall face first into the gooey substance.

So yeah, Ragatha understandably ignored the purple prick for the rest of the day and supposedly the silent treatment carried onto this morning.

Ragatha scoffed at the question. "I have nothing to say to that jerk. Whatever Caine has planned for us to do today, I'm not saying a word to him." She said making direct eye contact with said jerk. Pomni swore she saw his ears go down a bit.

They both knew that wouldn't last. If there's one thing anyone knew about Jax, is that he can't survive without attention. And Lord, was he the biggest attention seeker Pomni's ever seen. Jax would just dedicate the entire day to pushing Ragatha's buttons until she snapped, earning everyone's attention as well as winning whatever sick game he'd imagined in his head.

Caine appeared not two minutes later and the cast proceeded with their little theme song as usual and afterwards, the ringmaster explained the rules of today's little adventure.

Another safe one, thank God. Pomni thought. Perhaps the man was starting to notice how strung out everyone had become and decided to cut them some slack.

Today's game was a timed scavenger hunt throughout the circus, with two separate teams taking turns in the main room to find the mising items as quick as possible while the other team waited in the hallway for their turn. They were split up into two teams. Ragatha instantly grabbed Pomni's hand and not even a split second later, Jax flung himself at the doll and screamed for Caine to team them up together.

Gangle, Kinger, and Zooble's team went first, which meant the other three were poofed into a random hallway away from the action.

Awkward.

Pomni fidgeted due to the tense atmosphere. Jax of course, took his chance to bug the shit out of the other girl. First trying to make conversation, then teasing her, then poking, shaking, singing, yelling, joking, flopping round again, but nothing seemed to break the doll's focus. Ragatha rolled her eyes at his theatrics before shooting them over to Pomni.

"Sheesh, these games have been real tame and non life-threatening lately right, Pomni? Seems like Caine's finally decided to cut us all a break!" She forced a laugh as she nudged the other girl.

Pomni looked rather taken aback by the sudden conversations but decided to play along nonetheless. "O-oh. Right. I-uh, really enjoy not being in danger for once, yknow?" She laughed nervously.

The rabbit shot up as the two continued their bland conversation, annoyed that he was being ignored completely.

Pomni felt rather proud of herself when Ragatha laughed at one of her jokes, her victory was short-lived however, letting out a yelp as she was suddenly yanked in the air by her underarms.

"HEY!-" She panicked and squirmed, having to force down a rather embarrassing noise that threatened to come out of her throat.

"Whatcha two ladies talkin' about?"Jax had that stupid smug grin on he always wore when he thought he was being smart. Ragatha, obviously, was not amused but threw in the towel anyways as it wasn't fair to Pomni to get her any more involved with their little spat any more than she already was.

"Put her down, Jax." The doll demanded.

Pomni tried to grab at the rabbit's gloved hands as she kicked her feet in the air. "Whaaaaaat? We’re just having a little fun is all! Ain’t that right, Pomni?”

The jester grunted and allowed her limbs to go limp, it was obvious she wasn’t gonna get free by herself and didn’t want to risk entertaining the rabbit any further.

“This is not fun for me. Please put me doWN!!!-“

Pomni’s entire body went rigid as soon as that prick started wriggling his fingers under her arms.

She was able to keep her laughter in for all of maybe half a second before exploding in hysterical laughter. The awful sensation causing her to thrash almost twice as hard now.

“Why laugh if you’re not having any fun, Bug Eyes?” Jax laughed along with her, pleased with the strong reaction.

Ragatha was still stone-faced, however, sighing as she moved to release the other girl.

“Jeez you really can’t go five minutes without bullying someone can you?” The doll grunted as she wrestled with the rabbits long ass arms. Jumping in the air a few times when he decided to hold Pomni straight over his head.

Ragatha was getting increasingly annoyed, Pomni was getting more hysterical by the minute, and of course Jax looked like he was having the time of his life.

But you know what? Two can play at that game.

“Gohohod! You two are hilarious. Say Rags, this almost reminds me of the time Caine had you screaming in the air for saying- OOMF!”

The wind knocked out of Jax’s throat as he was full-on tackled to the floor.

Thankfully, this gave Pomni the chance to escape but was still on top of the rabbit’s hands as she tried to compose herself.

“What the &!$@%# Rags?! I was just messing around, there’s no reason to get all pis-“

“Hold his wrists, Pomni.”

That was all the warning they got before the doll’s hands latched onto Jax’s hips and began tickling him mercilessly.

The high pitch scream that tore from his throat probably would’ve made the jester fall into another fit of laughter if she weren’t so taken aback by it herself.

Thankfully she caught up to speed in time to get a hold of the rabbit’s hands that were desperately trying to free themselves.

“WAIT!!- WAIT WAHAHAHAIT!!!- RAGAHAHAHAHAAA-“

Oh my God he’s &!$@%# losing it. Pomni thought as she observed the poor guys reactions.

It was quite a sight to see fucking Jax of all people go berserk over something as simple as tickling. It was a little unnerving to be honest.

What was even scarier was Ragatha’s face hadn’t changed from the ice cold scowl she’s had on since Jax started all this shit.

She looked kinda angry.

“pleheheheAHAHAHA!!-“ Jax wheezed. “You cahAHAHAHAN’T- You cahahahahan’t just- BWAHAHAHAHAAA!!!-“

“Oh so it’s only fair for you to pick on people huh?” Ragatha spat. “Y'know I think everyone here’s had about enough of your &!$@%#, Jax. You wanted attention that bad? Well here you go! Let’s see how you like being bullied for once.”

Her hands migrated down to his upper thighs, the doll now settling her weight on his calves. Giving the rabbit just enough leeway to twist and buck his hips like crazy.

Though he seemed to be breathing a bit easier with the change in spots, didn’t mean he still wasn’t absolutely losing his mind here.

“ahh…ahahaHAHAHAHehe- ohkahahay! Okay! I’m sohohorry! Is that what you guys wanna hear?! I’ll bahahahack ohohoff. Juhuhust- JUST!!-“

“You sure all this is okay? He’s starting to seem a bit lightheaded.” Pomni asked, more than a little concerned at the guy’s state despite what he’d pulled earlier. She knew they didn’t technically need to breathe but that only means this situation must be really messing with him.

Ragatha looked up and stilled her hands before withdrawing them completely.

“Trust me, he’s fine. We’ve put his sorry ass through a lot worse. And he would’ve kept tormenting you until Caine came in to stop him so he deserves everything he gets.” She explained as she got up from her spot on Jax’s legs and made her way over to where Pomni was stationed over their victim’s head.

The brief intermission allowed Jax to gather his bearings and a bit of his audacity too it seemed like.

“Yohohou…*huff*… You two are going to regret this. D-Dohohohon’t think for a second that you won anything. After all there’s plenty of centipedes for me to-AAAAA!!!!”

That ungodly shriek was almost worse than the first one. The jerk didn’t even get to finish his little vow for revenge before Ragatha dropped back down to scribble, squeeze, and prob rapidly over her victim’s belly.

“I know you can’t fathom the feeling, Jax, but I was going to be nice and call it quits there. But you just don’t know when to. Shut. Your. TRAP!!”

Pomni couldn’t help herself from laughing this time. With nothing pinning the poor guy’s legs down, they were flying through the air in every direction while he screamed like a little girl.

Seriously, Pomni doubted even she could reach that kind of pitch.

The whole things was just ridiculous to watch. She was sure her ears were bleeding by now but she couldn’t help the full on belly laughter that forced its way out of her.

Ragatha looked over at her friend as she doubled over in laughter. It was at that point, Ragatha truly realized how ridiculous this entire situation was and that scowl she had permanently plastered on her face finally bloomed into a smile as she too began to laugh.

Another ear-piercing screech and they were both done.

The two of them simultaneously lost their hold on their victim as they fell to the floor, rolling and clutching their stomachs as bouts of laughter poured out of them.

Jax layed there for a while, absolutely mortified at this entire ordeal. He began plotting his revenge almost immediately, if only to keep himself sane while hearing those two &!$@%# laugh at him.

Okay, maybe he wasn’t fond of all the attention he received.

Just as the girl’s laughter was starting to die down, a voice boomed through the hallway.

“Terribly sorry for the wait, friends! It appears that there’s been a rather embarrassing oversight on my part! You see, I told the others that I’ve hidden five items but instead only hid four! The fifth one was in my POCKET!-“

Caine explained as he pulled a rubber duck out of his pocket. Stopping himself abruptly seeing the state his other three guests were in.

Was it that funny? The ringmaster asked himself at hearing the two girl’s laughter finally dying down. That was before he saw Jax, still sprawled out on the floor and decided he didn’t really want to know.

“Does this mean we forfeit?” Jax slurred lazily.

“Nonsense!” Caine announced, deciding to ignore the his guest’s disappointed groans. “This just means we have to start a new game! You all seemed to LOVE playing ‘Capture the Flag’ yesterday! So I thought, why not give it another GO-“

Ragatha threw her shoe at the ringmaster before he even finished his statement. Of course, this prompted another bout of laughter from both Pomni and Jax this time.

Unfortunately, Caine took all of that as enthusiasm and prepared their little field from yesterday.

Pomni wasn’t certain if those two were gonna bring their bad energy back on the field, not to mention Jax was no doubt itching for payback right about now.

One thing was for certain, though. Pomni was staying the &!$@%# out of it this time.

#tadc tickle #tadc tickle fic #tadc tickles #tadc tickling #sfw tickling community #tickle fic #ler!ragatha #lee!pomni #ler!pomni #switch!pomni #ler!jax #lee!jax #switch!jax #ticklish!jax #ticklish!pomni

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myfictionaldreams · 2 years ago

Text

Family // Poly!Marauders x Fem!Reader

Summary: Sirius Black, the usually happy prankster within Hogwarts, had a special skill for hiding his emotions. Until one day, he's forced to face the realities of the troubles with his family.

Requested by: @bullets-from-another-dimension Thank you so much for the request and for showing me that Sirius needs a little more love! I hope you like this fic, and thanks for your support with the poly!marauders ♥

Tags: 18+ readers only, smut, angst (lots!), fluff (also lots!), emotional hurt, discussion of Sirius' abusive family, disowned, crying, hugs/kissing, polyamory relationship, nipple play, body worship, making out, oral sex (m receiving), happy ending

A/N: This is just a little PSA that I'll be going through my other Poly!Marauders fics sometime soon to change some bits to make sure that each of the boys is getting enough love! It won't be anything major for the overall story, just spreading the love equally as it appears Sirius may have been skipped a few times (and I don't want that!), so check for an 'edited' note on the story. Thank you for pointing this out to me!

Words: 4.8k

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The last 24 hours had been an emotional rollercoaster, with both positives and negatives coming to light. It had started with the ultimate showdown game of Quidditch between Slytherin and Gryffindor; with both Sirius and James on the team. You and Remus had been nervous wrecks just for the game, let alone all the tension drowning within the two enemy houses. This escalated outside of the pitch, with wands having to remain in hands between lessons to prepare for sabotage attacks from either team.

It was endlessly tiring the days leading up to the events, and it was some kind of a miracle to be standing in the Gryffindors' stands without a single injury. Now, however, you and Remus had to live through the fear of watching your boyfriends fly around with their roles as Seeker and Beater.

You were sure you’d accidentally bitten your nail down to the cuticle by the end of the match, and your throat felt as if you’d swallowed sandpaper with how sore it was with the screaming and shouting you’d been doing in support. There was instant relief as James finally caught the snitch, and everyone cheered.

“Do you think he’ll be ok?” you shout up to Remus, who, with his height difference, could see over the crowd to where the commotion was occurring on the pitch. As James had dived for the snitch, so had the Slytherin’s seeker, who just happened to be Sirius’ brother, Regulus. However, in mid-dive, Regulus accidentally knocked into one of the goalposts, hitting his head and falling from his broom. Thankfully to the Slytherins, Sirius had been close by and caught his falling brother from gaining any further injuries.

Remus was nodding to your question, “Yes, he’s walking away, well - he’s pushing Sirius away, so I’m sure he’s just fine”, he explained, watching Regulus shove Sirius, so the man stumbled away. A pang of guilt settled heavily in your stomach at the thought of the brothers arguing. You knew that the relationship between Sirius and his brother was non-existent these days, and it only made you feel more awful for your boyfriend, understanding how difficult it must have been to lose his family in the way he has.

You couldn’t ponder on these thoughts as the entirety of Gryffindor and the vast majority of Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff began celebrating the win. This included Sirius, who scooped you into an exaggerated hug, spun you high into the air, and carefully placed your feet back onto the floor.

“Was your brother alright?” You shout to Sirius over the noisy crowd forming around the winning team. For a split second, you witness sadness filling his grey eyes before he snaps out of it and a beaming smile replacing the momentary lapse in his emotions.

“Oh, he’s fine; I’m sure a quick knock to the head will bring some sense to him. Anyway, come on, let’s all go back to the common room; I have a special surprise for everyone”. Sirius was great at many things, and covering his emotions was one of them. Any attempts to open up about the situation regarding his family would change the subject within the blink of an eye. You respected that he didn’t want to talk about any of his family members, but you still kept a close eye on him, making sure that he didn’t pent up his emotions until he was at breaking point, which you feared would occur one day as there was only so much one person could go through.

The interaction with Regulus seemed to have been forgotten in the madness of celebrating, which ran into the early morning hours in the Gryffindor common room. It would have continued later, but Professor McGonagall arrived in her dressing gown and demanded everyone go to bed. Sirius needed the most help to bed, having drunk the ‘surprise’ fire whiskey he regretted deeply in the morning.

“I’m never drinking again. Who’s idea was it anyway to bring Firewhiskey?!” came the deep groan of the man lying face first beside you, his face thoroughly buried into the pillow. Your temples were pounding slightly; you’d felt worse hangovers, but it was still uncomfortable as you rolled over towards Sirius.

Your arm wrapped over his naked back, face pressed over his shoulder blade as you could feel the toned muscles adjusting to your presence as you melted into his warmth. “It was your idea. I’m never falling for your charms ever again, Sirius”, you mumbled against his skin, reminiscing on his sweet talking skills from last night that convinced you to have a drinking competition with him.

This pulled him out of the half-unconscious state as his mop of hair turned in your direction. The movement caused you to roll off him and witness the beautiful sight of his morning glow; even in his hangover, he was handsome with one eye squished closed as the room was too bright.

Sirius turned his body entirely towards you, huffing as he moved, and you refrained from trying to reach out and control the usually silky locks of hair that were now all knotted and tangled on the top of his head. “Oh yeah? I’m pretty sure my charms made you cum three times before the fire whiskey joined the party,” he commented confidently and admired the warmth that filled your face. You attempted to hide your smile at the memories but were soon fully scream-laughing as Sirius tried to break your facade by tickling your sides.

Pushing him away, you turned and nuzzled into the naked chest of James, who remained asleep even through your loud laughter, but his arms still wrapped around your shoulders protectively. Besides James, you could see Remus was awake, sitting up and rubbing the sleep out of his eyes. “Remusssss, Sirius is being mean to me”, you drawl childishly.

The man sighed, dropping his hands to give you and Sirius a pointed look, “Please, children, it’s too early, and my head is too painful for you to make this much noise”.

Sirius smirked as he spooned in close behind you, wrapping his arm around you and James as everyone tried to have a few more moments of beautiful sleep before breakfast, and class pulled the four of you from the safety of the bed.

The food helped to settle the hangovers that the majority of Gryffindor seemed to be nursing this morning, much to the displeasure of McGonagall, who was glaring at her house from the Professor’s table. Sitting beside James, you leaned across him for another slice of toast as Sirius sat opposite you with Remus next to him.

As everyone started to be rejuvenated with energy from the breakfast, the owls began to swoop in and deliver the mail for the day. An emerald-coloured envelope landed on Sirius's lap, which caught the attention of you and the fellow Marauders. You already had your suspicions about who the letter was from. Sirius mostly confirmed it, as he had hardly read the letter before shoving it into his bag and brushing off any attempts at discussing who it was from.

“It’s nothing, just some spam letter. So, who do we have first today? Is it transfiguration? I can’t imagine that will be fun with how angry McGonagall looks right now.” Sirius changed the subject, but it didn’t convince any of you as you eyed him sadly. He didn’t wait for a response as he stood, gripping his bag so tight that his knuckles turned white. “Come on, otherwise we’ll be late”.

You knew something was off just by the quipped tone of his voice, and the humour and light that always seemed to dance in his eyes had been significantly dimmed. Even as James tried to humour him with his usual party tricks and jokes, it only earned him a half-assed chuckle from Sirius. Remus even attempted to pull him aside before entering the classroom to see if he needed a moment alone to talk, but Sirius just distracted him with a quick kiss and said he was fine.

You were quick to sit next to Sirius near the back of the classroom, smiling brightly with the hopes that he would return it, but it seemed he was lost in his thoughts as he idly arranged his parchment paper and quills. Thankfully, as the class began, his hand rested on your thigh so you could link both fingers together, lifting it and kissing the back of his hand.

As McGonagall began to teach the class, you leaned closer to Sirius, savouring the warmth that radiated off him and smelling the citrusy scent from his aftershave. “Is everyone ok, Sirius?” Your voice was barely audible so as not to disrupt the class, but you knew he heard as his posture stiffened, and he nodded his head, fake smiling for a second before returning his attention to the teacher. “I know there’s something wrong. Talking might help; I mean - I want to help-”

“Excuse me at the back. Is there something more important than my lesson?” McGonagall demanded with a passive-aggressive raised eyebrow as all other eyes turned to look at you and Sirius.

As your mouth opened to take the blame, your boyfriend beat you to it, “Sorry, Professor. That was my fault I was distracting her”.

“You’re already on thin ice after last night's antics, Mr Black. See me after class to arrange a detention”.

Your mouth drops open to retort to her and tell him it wasn’t Sirius, but the hand holding yours squeezes, stopping you from saying anything. As McGonagall turns back to write on the chalkboard, you lean close to harshly whisper, “You didn’t have to do that, Sirius! That should have been my detention!”

“It’s only one detention, I don’t care”, he shrugs nonchalantly, releasing your hand to begin writing his notes. You frown so deeply that a line forms between your eyebrows as you glance towards Remus and James, who have similar expressions of worry, especially as Sirius hasn’t even attempted to have any sort of friendly banter with McGonagall like he usually did.

At lunch, Sirius had somehow managed to slip away from the group, and your head seemed to be fixated towards the entrance to the Great Hall, neck straining to see over the other students as you waited for him to walk in.

“I mean, it’s not just me, right? There’s definitely something wrong with him”, you say before nervously nibbling on your lower lip.

Remus’ hand cups your shoulder, gripping gently as he agrees, “It’s not just you. I tried to talk to him before the lesson, but he just pushed me away. He just wants to be by himself; I’m sure he’ll be just fine”.

You nod to yourself but don’t believe his words. Yes, Sirius was strong and had been putting on a strong appearance for years, but he never pushed himself away from the three of you. It was like an invisible angel on your shoulder, trying to nudge you towards him, knowing something wasn’t right.

“Have either of you got the Marauder's map?” you ask Remus and James, who then check their pockets and school bags but cannot find the map.

“Sorry, Love, he’s probably got it with him”, James reports, appearing as deflated as you felt.

Standing from the table, the anxious causing your stomach to clench with unease and unable to eat, you inform the two of them, “I’ll be back later; I just need to make sure he’s ok and safe”.

Remus and James nod in understanding and watch you go. As you stand in the entrance to the Great Hall, you’re unsure where to start and what's worse is that he could be in his Padfoot form, which means he’d be able to hear you coming and run away. There were the grounds to search, Hogsmeade, the entirety of the enormous castle; there were plenty of places for him to be.

Taking a deep breath to steady your nerves, you decided to search the dormitory first, hoping the map had been left in a draw up there.

Opening the door to the dormitory room that you shared with your boyfriends, you were welcomed to the sight of Sirius, lying face first on the shared bed, his head turned away from the doors but from the noticeable sniffling noises and his shoulders shaking, you knew he was crying. Your heart felt like someone had reached inside your chest and squeezed as the sight rocked you. Silently as you could, you slipped your shoes off and placed your school bag onto the floor.

You knew he was aware someone else was in the room as his cries softened, and he subtly tried to wipe his face into the pillow. As you began to crawl onto the bed, you could see he was spooning the pillow you usually used to sleep on, clutching it desperately close to his chest. You had to remember to breathe through your nose, remain strong, and not descend into your emotions.

Kneeling next to him, your hand gently met the centre of his back, rubbing slow, comforting circles into his white shirt, hoping the action would comfort him. “Sirius, what’s wrong?”

“What? Nothing's wrong” he tried to brush it off, but you could hear the thickness of his voice as he tried to hide his face further in the pillow beneath his head.

“Is it about the letter from earlier? Who sent it to you?” Even though you knew he didn’t really want to talk about it, you knew he’d also built a wall around his emotions and wanted him to feel like he was in a safe enough space to talk, like the many times he’d done the same for you. Reaching over with your other hand, you ran your fingers through the long strands of dark hair, brushing them out of his face that was still turned away from you. “Talk to me, my love, please. I want to help you”.

Reluctantly, Sirius turned over and began to pull you down to lie in the centre of the bed. You did so and spread your arms wide as he moved to lie on your chest, the top of his head resting beneath your chin as you hugged him closely.

“No one important sent me the letter, it’s fine. I just want to cuddle”, he admits with a sigh, relaxing into the hold, the pillow he’d been spooning now forgotten about as he had the real thing instead, finding comfort instantly. In this position, you could hold him close and do the same actions as before, stroking gently up and down his back whilst also playing with his hair.

You want to tell him that you knew who the letter was from, but he seemed content with being held instead for a couple of minutes until you felt dampness seeping across the column of your neck and down your chest as his shoulders began to shake once more.

“Sirius-?”

“It was from my parents. The letter, I mean. Fuck! I don’t know, it's so stupid.” he sits up abruptly, aggressively wiping away the leaked tears he’d been desperately trying to stop.

Sitting beside him, you rubbed his shoulders while trying to calm him down from his overwhelming emotions. “It’s not stupid, my love.” As you talk, you grip his twists to pull them away so he can look into your face and hopefully see the love there. “Your parents, they’re awful people, Sirius, and anyway, you’re perfectly within your right to show emotions every once in a while; I just need you to know that I’m here for you, we’re all here for you, no matter how you are feeling. It’ll be ok”.

Even though it was comforting for him to hear the words, it still seemed to break something within him. Like a crack had formed in the dam as he relented with his cries, openly sobbing into his hands. Whilst trying to swallow the lump that had developed in your throat, you pulled him close, kissing every part of him that you could reach whilst wiping away the cascading tears.

“You don’t have to tell me what was said in the letter, but I just need you to know that they’re not your real family; you know we’re all your family”. Sirius pulls back from the hug, and your bottom lip trembles at seeing how heartbroken he looks. The area around his eyes is swollen and red to match the shade at the tip of his nose as wetness covers the length of his cheeks.

His mouth opens to say something, but he’s interrupted by the door opening and James and Remus stepping into the bedroom. The two men pause, not expecting to find either you or Sirius here, but as they see the sadness and pain on Sirius’s face, they immediately drop their school bags.

“You missed it”, Sirius chuckled, trying to hide his upset behind humour, “She called me an emotional prick, and the waterworks started”. James and Remus gave him sad smiles, but neither fell for the attempt to change the subject as both sat either side of him on the bed. Remus reached for him first, stroking his scarred fingers through the strands of dark hair that had fallen over Sirius’ face, but only so he could kiss the area beneath. Sirius closed his eyes at the touch and leaned into it, releasing a deep sigh through his open mouth.

James grabbed each of his hands, lifting them to his lips to kiss the palms lovingly and rest them on either side of his cheeks, nuzzling into his hands. “Whatever is going on, you know we’re always here for you, Sirius”, James mutters against the palms on his face.

Sirius sighs even heavier as if trying to will the anxiety away through the breaths. “It’s my parents. I mean, should I even call them parents when they’ve already disowned me? But they’ve just sent me more threats today after what happened with Regulus yesterday. They say things like I should have let him win and wish that I had been hurt.”

He takes a moment to compose himself as you grab one of his hands from James, needing to link your fingers together and squeeze to know that it is a safe place for him to continue and talk. Sirius looked into his lap as he spoke, “They’ve burnt my face off the Black family tree. Not that I care; I expected it, but it just all feels so real now, you know? I feel like I shouldn’t even be using the surname Black with how much they detest me. I also kind of expected Regulus to have my back a little bit, but he’s young; I can’t expect that from him, especially as I know what my parents are like, but he doesn’t even say hi to me in the corridors anymore. I don’t know. I guess I’m just a little all over the place, and with the positivity yesterday, just to have my family metaphorically kick me to the curb again, I should have expected the joy wouldn’t last long”.

Sirius sounded empty and emotionless as he expressed how he was genuinely feeling, struggling to come to terms with the repercussions of the events that occurred with his family that continue to affect him.

“Fuck them”, James says with all the venom and confidence that he could muster. Sirius grunts half-heartedly at the declaration, not seemingly convinced, so James turns his face towards him so that he is looking into the stormy hazel eyes. “I’m being serious, fuck them. You’ve been my family for years now; you know my parents consider you their son as much as I am. Nothing has changed. You live with me and my parents because that is your home. Wherever any of us go is your home because we love you. We wouldn’t make you feel half as rotten as those scumbags, do you understand?”

Sirius nods, swallowing thickly, causing his Adam’s apple to bob. Before he can respond, Remus once again holds onto his face, turning him in the other direction to look at the calmest Marauder. “Sirius, next time you receive a letter from them, don’t open it. They are cruel humans who have no love for anyone but themselves and the prejudices that they live by. You had so much joy and love in your heart; don’t let them destroy you and ruin everything you cherish. And that is exactly what James has said. You’re our family. We’re each other's family. You’re ours, just like you’re mine. Get it?”

Sirius’ eyes have dried as he looks up at Remus, and briefly, a genuine smile welcomes across his face as he leans in to kiss him deeply but then pulls back.

Squeezing his hand, you draw his attention towards you. “You deserve the surname Black more than anyone because it’s what makes you, you—breaking the stereotypes of those evil people and making it mean something that doesn't symbolise hatred. However, if you want to have another surname, you can! Sirius, you’re your own person, and your surname doesn’t define you. You could even make up a whole new name! Maybe you could have one of our surnames”, Sirius laughs at the possibility of a name change. “I love you so much. Your family's opinions of you aren’t how anyone else in the castle sees you. You’re perfect the way you are, Mr Black”.

You couldn’t wait any more time to kiss him, needing to feel his lips against yours and reassure him further with these intimate touches. Thankfully, to your pounding heart, he smiles into the kiss.

“Maybe we could put all of our surnames together”, he jokes as you move to kiss each of his cheeks.

“If that’s what you want, I’d do it”, you reassure him with a kiss on his temple.

“Almost sounds like a proposal”, he casually mentions, causing your heartbeat to increase rapidly. Sirius smirks at your face but reassures, “Maybe we’ll sort out surnames once we’ve finished our exams”. You press your lips against his once more for reassurance until he looks between the three of you. “Thank you. I don’t know what I’d do if it weren’t for you three. You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me. I don’t think I’ve ever laughed before coming to Hogwarts, let alone feel love like this”.

Remus could see the tears pooling along Sirius’ lashline, so he gently cupped the side of his head, wiping away any that fell. “No more tears for them”. The gap between their lips was closed as Remus kissed him passionately, holding the back of his head carefully as they breathed each other in.

Sirius’ head dips slightly, but only to whisper against the man’s lips, “Can you make me forget? Please?”

“I’ll do whatever you want me to do, Sirius”. Remus kisses him again but with more urgency, pushing his body back until Sirius is lying in the centre of the bed with the taller Marauder hovering above him. Their mouths moved together as one, tongues twirling together, heads tilting one way and then the other.

As Remus distracts and devours him with his mouth, Sirius’ hands move around the back of his head, holding him close, which gives James the freedom to move his hands to Sirius’ shirt. With a simple flick of his fingers, James could undo the buttons down the centre of his chest, releasing the toned chest and abdomen of the man whose legs you were sitting between.

You watched with the sadness seeping away and becoming replaced with arousal as James leaned over and licked the nipples of the man who moaned into Remus’ mouth. James was calculated with his movements, making sure to leave teasing licks and bites over the areas that Sirius was most sensitive whilst then worshipping the perked nipples on his chest, his hands caressing the areas where fine dark hair was beginning to grow back from being previous shaved, mainly the snail trail leading beneath his trousers.

Smiling whilst watching them all move together, you were gifted the view of watching the tightness forming in his trousers as his cock grew hard and thick. Without any rush and admiring the desperate moans coming from the man on his back, you began to stroke up his thighs, over his crotch and pausing over his zipper.

Undoing it slowly, you waited to see if Sirius was even aware of what you were doing as he was so distracted with James and Remus. However, with the sudden lift of his hips to help you pull the material down his hips, you knew he was very much aware of your intentions.

Freeing his cock from the restraint of his trousers and boxers, you watched as Sirius lowered his hips back onto the bed, and his member now throbbed on his abdomen, thick and hard. A pearly drip of precum had already formed at the tip, and you were quick to hold the base, lifting the cock until your lips were wrapped around him.

Your movements continue to be gentle and soft. Licking and sucking without any rush to build the tension and hopefully show how much you worship the ground he walks on by paying particular attention to him when he needs it most. James continues to tweak his nipples, and Remus devours his mouth, absorbing every little moan until Sirius needs to pull back to suck in air.

“Fuck, you’re all- Fuck!” Remus distracts him with his mouth once more, dominating him entirely and causing more whimpers to burst from his chest. The veiny length that was being leisurely sucked in your mouth began to harden further, throbbing as you knew he was approaching closer to his orgasm as your hands fondled his balls.

“So good for us, aren’t you, Sirius? Say it, tell us you’re ours”, James demands, pulling on the back of Remus’ hair so that Sirius can tell the group how he is feeling.

“Yes! I’m yours, I’m all of yours! I’m cumming, holy shit!” he shouts out desperately, face scrunching up like he is in pain but is actually experiencing the opposite as overwhelming pleasure pooled in his abdomen.

You moan around his cock, causing it to vibrate slightly against your tongue as his hot seed begins to coat your throat. You swallow every salty, thick liquid drop until you’re popping off and looking up at his half-lidded, satisfied grin.

James and Remus give you room to crawl up his body to kiss him sweetly. The three of you watch and admire as he comes down from the high, carefully tucking his half-hard cock back into his trousers and doing up the zipper once more.

“Thank Merlin that we have no classes this afternoon”, Sirius jokes as he rests back on the pillows with his arm behind his head. You laugh and collapse onto his chest, hugging him closely as the four of you sit in comfortable silence. You listened to the thump of his heart beneath your ear, but after a while, it increased in speed as he became restless.

“Can I tell you all a secret? I’ve um… I’ve kept all of the threatening letters they’ve sent to me, " Sirius admits as he carefully pulls out of the hug to climb out of bed and dig his way through the suitcase with his name on the side. From within, he pulls out a large stack of letters that are all opened and in the same shade of emerald as the one earlier this morning.

“You kept them all? Oh, Sirius”, you say in shock, only guessing what horrible, hateful words are written on those pieces of paper.

Sirius awkwardly rubbed the back of his neck, looking embarrassed, “Yeah. I don’t know why. Some weird part of me thought that if I burned them all, they would know and come to the school or something. But, I want to get rid of them if you’ll all help me?”

Neither of you have to answer as you climb out of the bed. After dressing appropriately, the four of you walked down to the lake, where Remus carved a hole into the soil. Sirius chucks the letters within as you all form a semi-circle.

Holding onto his left hand, Sirius raised his wand to the right, pointing it towards the letters and shouting ‘Incendio’. The four of you stand together as the letters burn. Sirius sighs shakily as he holds back tears. “It’s weird. I know people say it’s like a weight off your shoulders, but it genuinely does feel like that”.

“That’s because you’re free, Padfoot!” James shouts enthusiastically, grabbing the boy around the waist and lifting him into the air, hollering and whooping until Sirius laughs. The two crash to the ground as Remus throws his arm around your shoulders, watching the pair finally have some fun today as the smoke billows into the air surrounding you, the ash from those horrible words written on the paper disappearing across the Scottish mountains.

#poly!marauders #marauders x reader #marauders smut #james potter x reader #sirius black smut #sirius black x reader #sirius black one shot #remus lupin x reader #hp smut #sirius black fluff #mine*#the marauders

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