otterlockholmes

[otterlockholmes]

Snatching Snitches - Chapter One 2/2

Remus x reader

look at me go @unconventional-lawnchair.

authors note: I had this one in my drafts but it just would't come together which is why I put the other part out first. These two are supposed to be taking place at the same time so you can read them in any order.

Series summary: When Y/N, the world famous pro seeker makes a dumb decision, she has no choice but to do anything to clear her name. Even if that means becoming a teacher at hogwarts.

Chapter summary: Y/N is dealing with the concequences of her actions, until Albus Dumbledore offers her an easy way to salvation... on one condition.

warnings: nothing really, Y/N is in pain??

Approximately two weeks after the Quidditch World Cup:

Light burned.

It seeped in past her closed lids like wildfire. Her throat was dry like sandpaper, ash, and regret. Her body felt heavy and hollow all at once. A deep, pounding ache throbbed behind her eyes, and there was a rhythmic croaking nearby, steady and slow like a metronome in a dream.

She peeled her eyes open.

White walls. Pale green curtains. The familiar stench of antiseptic and spell-burned linen. Saint Mungo’s. Y/N tried to sit up but pain stabbed down her spine like a lightning curse. A soft groan escaped before she could stop it.

“Well, look who’s finally awake.”

The voice struck her before the face. She turned her head-slowly, stiffly-

and there was Rowan Maxwell, arms folded, jaw clenched tight enough to crack.

Her lips curled automatically into a lopsided grin. “Maxie,” she croaked. “Tell me I caught it.”

He didn’t return the smile.

“You did,” he said, voice flat. “Snitch got stuck in your robes. Game-winning dive. One hundred and eighty-point lead. We made history.”

She laughed, or tried to, it came out more like a wheeze. “Then why do you look like you just buried your Gran?”

“You were hit by a bludger, hard. You crashed into a goalpost, passed out with the damn Snitch clutched in your fist like a lunatic. You’ve got a fractured ribcage, a torn ligament, and a reputation that’s crumbling faster than your last broomstick.”

Y/N blinked. The grin fell.

“Oh, come on,” she said, more defensive now. “You knew I wasn’t drunk. Not really. It was one bottle, Max. I was fine.”

“You weren’t,” he hissed. “You haven’t been fine in years, and I was an idiot to let it slide. You were reckless, unhinged, and bloody arrogant. This-” he gestured vaguely toward her body, the bandages and bruises and tubes, “-this was a long time coming.”

She stared at him. “You’re really doing this now?”

“I am.” He leaned forward. “You’re off the team, Y/N.”

Silence.

Her pulse roared in her ears, louder than the croaking toad in the next room over, louder than the ache in her chest.

“You’re kidding,” she said flatly. “I caught the snitch.”

“You nearly died. That’s the problem.”

“I won us the Cup.”

“And now you’ve lost your spot. End of story.”

She sat up straighter despite the pain. Her voice rose. “Fine. Fine. Any other team would beg me to join them. I’ll be on the cover of every magazine by next week. Spain, Brazil, Japan will be lining up at my bloody door-”

Maxwell threw something on the side table. A stack of papers—no, not papers.Tabloids.

The first headline read “World Champion Seeker or Firewhiskey Fiend?” Under it, a moving photograph of her plummeting mid-air, robes wild, eyes glazed.

Another: “Y/N (Y/L/N) Spirals at World Cup: Was She Drunk on the Pitch?”

And another: “Former Irish Quidditch Star Falls From Grace: How a Bottle Cost Us a Star.”

Each one louder than the last.

She looked down at them, silent. Her fingers curled into fists in the scratchy hospital sheets.

“No one wants a liability,” Maxwell said, quieter now. “Not even if she’s the best fucking seeker in the world.”

He left without another word.

_______________________________________________________

The cold stone of her small home felt more unforgiving than the chilly hospital bed she’d just left. She peeled off the hospital gown, tossed the crumpled clothes in the laundry basket, and stared at her reflection in the mirror. The woman staring back was a mess... bruises fading, eyes heavy with exhaustion and something fiercer: defiance.

Y/N’s fingers trembled as she pulled out her wand and duplicated her application forms tenfold. She sent the stack through the usual channels, contacts, team managers, and even whisper networks she once thought beneath her.

Days stretched like shadows. Replies trickled in, polite but firm: “Thank you, but no.” “We’re full.” “We can’t risk it.” The weight of every refusal settled deeper in her chest. Even the small, scrappy local teams she’d thought might welcome a world champion seeker looked away.

Her name, once a beacon of glory, was now a stain that no broomstick could outfly.

Then, on a damp morning when the sky threatened rain again, there came a knock at her door.

She opened it to find a familiar figure framed by the dreary light, long silver beard, twinkling eyes behind half-moon spectacles, and that ever-present mischievous smile.

“Professor Dumbledore,” she breathed.

“Miss Y/L/N,” he said warmly. “Might I come in?”

Without waiting for an invitation, he stepped inside, carrying a calm confidence.

“I’ve heard of your... problem,” he began gently, “and I’m truly sorry to hear of the recent...incident... But I come with an opportunity.”

Y/N crossed her arms, skeptical. “I’m listening.”

“Madam Hooch has decided to travel the highlands with her wife. She wishes to take some time away from Hogwarts, and the position of flying instructor will be open.” Dumbledore's eyes glistened.

She blinked, surprised.

“...And I believe you would be perfect for it.” he continued.

Her heart fluttered in a cautious hope.

"And who says I want to teach a bunch of snotty brats?" she snaps back before straightening her posture again.

“I’m not here to offer charity, Miss Y/L/N. This is a chance to reclaim your name, to rebuild what has been broken. But,” he paused, eyes sharp and kind, “there is one condition.”

She swallowed.

“No alcohol. None. You will be expected to uphold the highest standards, both on and off the broomstick.”

The words settled heavily in the air.

She looked away, the old spark in her dimming slightly.

“And if I refuse?”

Dumbledore smiled gently.

“Then I will have lost one of the finest seekers the world has ever known.”

She met his gaze, steady now.

“Alright, Professor. I accept"

He took his wand and spoke a strange incantation, something that's definitely not taught at Hogwarts.

"Just a little precaution" he winks at her and turns toward the fireplace "I'll see you in September... professor."

[otterlockholmes]

Snatching Snitches - Chapter One - 1/2

Remus x reader

Look pookie I finished the next chapter @unconventional-lawnchair.

authors note: on a more serious note, i'm sorry for not posting sooner. I've been really busy with school (i'm graduating in 3 days) and moving out.

Series summary: When Y/N, the world famous pro seeker makes a dumb decision, she has no choice but to do anything to clear her name. Even if that means becoming a teacher at hogwarts.

Chapter summary: Remus Lupin returns after a difficult transformation only to find Dumbledore and McGonnagal in his living room with an offer.

warnings: Descriptions of scars and the overall aftermath of transforming.

It was a rainy day, the grey skies stretching for miles. Every so often the heavens rumbled ominously, but despite the dreary weather, someone limped through the muddy soil in the forest in Yorkshire. Barefooted, shirt ripped, and blood clumping in his hair. Remus had hoped he wouldn't have woken up so far from his cottage, it was nearly noon when his run-down home came into view.

As he stumbled onto the front steps, he took in the condition of what he called his home. The roof slumped inwards, puddles forming in the empty spaces where there once was a beautiful stone path leading up to the front door. He grabbed the doorknob with a shaky hand, swinging the weathered door open and stepping inside the cottage.

Even as a human, Remus felt the presence inside. He never locked the door, why would he? His closest neighbors lived at least an hour away. Cautiously yet unarmed, he snuck inside. The sound of cheap porcelain cups and hushed voices was muffled by the closed living room door.

"Are you coming in or would you rather stay in that cold hallway mister Lupin?" The voice ever so familiar asked bemused. Now fully inside the living room, Remus could see who had intruded into his home. At the small dining table sat Albus Dumbledore, drinking a cup of tea with a stern-looking witch. "Professor Dumbledore, professor Mcgonnagal, what brings you to my humble cottage?" Leaning against the doorframe he attempted to hide his discomfort, crossing his arms over his ripped button-up shirt.

"Sit down Remus" Mcgonnagal gestured to the empty chair next to her, She still had that edge to her voice that brought him back to his years at Hogwarts “Sit” McGonagall said, her expression stern but not unkind. That particular edge in her voice — the one that turned even the most defiant Gryffindor to stone — hadn’t dulled with time. He hesitated only a second longer before crossing the room, barefoot steps soundless on the warped floorboards. The chair creaked in protest as he sank into it, folding his hands tightly in his lap to hide the tremor still dancing in his fingers.

Dumbledore offered him a porcelain cup — mismatched from the rest of Remus’s cupboard, undoubtedly conjured. The tea inside was steaming and faintly floral. Chamomile, if he had to guess. Soothing, calming. Intentional. “We wouldn’t be here unless it was important,” McGonagall continued, her eyes fixed on him with that sharp, no-nonsense glint she reserved for students who’d dared to test her patience. “You’ve kept to yourself these last years.” Remus smiled thinly. “There’s not much reason not to.” Dumbledore stirred his tea slowly, the silver spoon clicking gently against the rim. “We’d like to offer you a position at Hogwarts.” Remus blinked. “A… what?”

“Defence Against the Dark Arts,” Dumbledore said. “We believe you’re more than qualified.” Remus’s first instinct was to laugh, but it caught in his throat. Instead, he stared down at his tea, watching the reflection of the fire flicker across the surface. “I haven’t taught a day in my life,” he murmured. “And the last time I walked Hogwarts’ halls as a student was—well. A lifetime ago.” “All the more reason,” McGonagall said crisply. “You know what’s out there, Remus. You’ve lived through it. Survived it. You can teach them things books can’t.”

He didn’t answer right away. The fire crackled softly behind them. Somewhere, water dripped in a slow rhythm from the leaky roof. He was keenly aware of the state of himself — the blood, the filth, the months-old injuries that never quite healed properly. He was aware, too, of how easily Dumbledore said those words, as if Remus hadn’t spent the better part of the last decade hiding from the world. “What about the full moons?” he asked, eyes still fixed on the tea. “You expect me to lock myself in the dungeons once a month and hope for the best?” “We’ll provide Wolfsbane,” Dumbledore said. “Severus has agreed to brew it.”

That startled him. “Snape? Voluntarily?” “He didn’t exactly volunteer,” McGonagall said, a faint smirk playing at her lips. “But he’ll do it. Albus convinced him.” Remus snorted. “I never thought I'd live to see the day…” A silence settled between them again. McGonagall’s features softened. Dumbledore, still stirring his tea, finally looked up and met Remus’s eyes. “Harry is in his third year now,” he said, with practiced lightness. “I thought you might like to see him.” And there it was.

The wound still hadn’t healed. Probably never would. Remus leaned back in the chair, pressing his thumb into the rim of the cup. “You think it’s wise… for me to be around him?” “I think it would do him some good,” Dumbledore said. “And you as well.” Remus closed his eyes for a moment. Memories flickered unbidden — Lily’s laugh, James’s smirk, Sirius’s bark of mirth just before they did something reckless. And Peter, quiet but eager. Always one step behind. Always watching. All of it gone. Only Harry remained. And the thought of seeing those familiar features twisted something inside his chest. He sighed.

“I’ll think about it.” “That’s all we ask,” McGonagall said, already rising, adjusting her cloak with brisk efficiency. “You’ve got until September first.” Dumbledore stood as well, smoothing down his long robes, the scent of lemon and old paper following him like a ghost. “Until then, Remus,” he said, and for the briefest moment, his voice held something fond — something that reminded Remus of safer times. They left without further ceremony, leaving the half-full teacups on the table and the door swinging quietly in their wake. Remus sat there for a long time, long after their footsteps faded and the rain began again in earnest, tapping like curious fingers against the windows. Outside, the forest still breathed around his crooked little house. And inside, Remus Lupin sat still as stone, caught between the weight of the past and a future he hadn’t dared to imagine.

[otterlockholmes]

Pocket Angel

Bucky x reader 

Okay, SO CUTE LOVE THIS. I decided to do a civilian reader for a change, I wasn’t sure if you wanted avenger reader, I can def do an alternate one with that later on hehe  

Warnings: FLUFFFFF

Word count: 2.8k

A lil drabble

A lil part 2 

-

“Have y’all noticed how he’s less grumpy? He hasn’t threatened to kill me all day, and quite frankly I’m a little upset he hasn’t paid attention to me” Sam mused, whispering to Steve, both men eyeing Bucky suspiciously while he mindlessly scrolled through his phone, sans his signature grumpy pout.

Bucky tried his best to keep his face neutral, but on the inside, he was giggling like a school boy. Just a few more hours and he’d be able to see you, hold you, kiss you; he had to keep his hand on his knee from bouncing in excitement.

Keep reading

[otterlockholmes]

This is just amazing!!! Perfect, ground breaking, world changing!!

Thank you so much

hii! i love this idea so muchhh <3

age :20 (mentally still in the year 2020 though)

pronouns:she/her

sexual orientation : bisexual (leaning towards guys but i love goth girls)

ur guilty pleasure fanfic trope: opposites attract

preferred fandom; mha

favourite first date idea: (based on my first date) cuddle sesh

favourite album: honestly i listen to a bit of everything

ur screen time: 8 hours

and the current status of ur love life: been in a relationship for 5 months now

name : Marlene

“your perfect match is...”

...EIJIROU KIRISHIMA

“to all days we were together,”

wc: 460

"what are you looking at?"

you huff as your face glows with a smile.

it was movie night at sero's flat and the first time you'd been invited as eijirou's girlfriend rather than just his classmate. his face is fixed on yours, his dreamy eyes and soft smile, as you reach up and cradle the left side of his face in your palm. your fingers card through his soft hair and you squeal as he nips at your fingertips with his sharp teeth.

you were sat in the living room, the others dotted around the house and someone was in the kitchen making popcorn, eijirou crinkles his nose at the smell. you place your other hand on his forehead. "you feeling alright sweetie?"

the redhead sighs and leans into your touch, closing his eyes and taking in the feeling of your nails itching at his scalp. "hmmm," his dark eyelashes flutter, "yeah my headache's gone down."

your expressions are mirrors of each other, the dreamy smiles that come with finally getting the person that you want. eijirou leans down and places a kiss on your forehead.

"are you ok?" he's always been good at reading you.

"yeah- i'm just," you pause as a crash followed by a yelp resounds from the kitchen. "….."

his eyes don’t depart from yours even as the commotion in the kitchen amplifies. "nervous?"

you nod gently, almost embarrassed, it's not like you haven't met sero or bakugou or his other friends before but eijirou is extremely precious to you, to all his friends. you can tell. they all take his opinion and emotions very seriously, he's got the kindest soul, and the sweetest smile, and you want his friends to like you as his girlfriend.

"don't be." he tilts your chin up slowly and gently. "i know they're-" another crash, this time followed by a shriek of laughter. "…abit much sometimes, but they all really like you."

you hum and avoid eye contact, but he insists, "i'm not joking like katsuki told me not to fumble you yeah, he really respects you." that brings a smile to your face and you wrap your arms around his torso and bury your face into his chest. he smells like the earth and your strawberry scented body wash.

"and even if they don't, that doesn't really matter."

he leans down to plant a kiss on the side of your neck, and you squirm and swat his shoulder as his hair tickles your ear, "baby stoppp."

“let me love on my girlfriend," the term makes both of you slightly giddy and he smiles shyly. “it doesn't matter, because i love you.”

"oi lovebirds, would ya stop 'macking on my couch and come help us with this."

hi sweeties !!! some more should be coming today cos im working close so i have some time to write and edit @otterlockholmes i hope you likeeee ☺️☺️☺️

[otterlockholmes]

“Don’t knock on my door 😡”

(via)

[otterlockholmes]

Btw it wouldn't have been possible for old steve to come back the way he did... Professor Hulk explained that travelling through time creates a new branch in the timeline. It doesn't affect their original timeline meaning without using the machine, old Steve could NOT have been able to get back and sneak up on them. And this has bothered me for years now.

If you could fix one thing in the MCU, what would it be?

Bonus points if you link us your OC or Reader fic that you've written to fix it.

[otterlockholmes]

sasha didn't come this year... but i didn't get eaten so i'll take it

Santa is on strike due to global warming.  All presents this year will be delivered by Sasha the Christmas Tiger.  Milk and cookies may not be sufficient.

[otterlockholmes]

I'm looking for a movie. It's a horror or thriller or smth

Basically this couple is going somewhere and they come across this sketchy guy or smth in the woods. I don't remember much except the sketchy guy breaks the boyfriends wrist and when the girl tries to escape her car won't drive and she finds out that her boyfriend was taped with his mouth on the exhaust pipe and she Basically killed her own boyfriend.

I would like to watch it again with my boyfriend but I can't find it anywhere

[otterlockholmes]

My name is marlene so i had to sift through the harry potter aesthetic pictures lmao

It still feels like most of these are inspired by Marlene Mckinnan

Also i barely know 1 person on this app I'm so sorry!!

𝑇ℎ𝑒 𝑟𝑢𝑙𝑒𝑠 𝑎𝑟𝑒 𝑠𝑖𝑚𝑝𝑙𝑒: 𝑔𝑜 𝑡𝑜 𝑝𝑖𝑛𝑡𝑒𝑟𝑒𝑠𝑡, 𝑠𝑒𝑎𝑟𝑐ℎ "𝑦𝑜𝑢𝑟 𝑛𝑎𝑚𝑒 + 𝑐𝑜𝑟𝑒," 𝑝𝑜𝑠𝑡 𝑠𝑖𝑥 𝑝𝑖𝑐𝑡𝑢𝑟𝑒𝑠. 𝑇ℎ𝑒𝑛 𝑡𝑎𝑔 𝑠𝑖𝑥 𝑝𝑒𝑜𝑝𝑙𝑒.

thanks @ghosts-and-blue-sweaters and @cbuttonduo for the tag!! <3

wow i’m obsessed with this and i feel it’s fairly accurate!!

tags (no pressure): @thewildballyntynesgrow @bronzetomatoes @cloverstellar @clingyduoapologist @seeking-elsewhither @thoughts-of-caly

[otterlockholmes]

Somehow, some way, a human managed to acquire both a pomegranate from the underworld and fruit from the realm of the Fae, then made a smoothie out of them. Now, Hades and the Fae are in a fierce argument regarding who the human belongs to.

[otterlockholmes]

[otterlockholmes]

fluff ꕀ husband kirishima! x fem!reader ⸝⸝ established relationship

husband kirishima! who is always determined to make your mornings special. no matter how tired he is from patrol, he always wakes up extra early to cook you something nice before you head off to work. although he’s not the best cook, it’s the effort that counts—at least that’s what he always tells himself. he’s all about the little things: leaving sticky notes with doodles or loving messages on top of your lunchbox,, which is always paired with your favorite drink. “Don’t worry about the burnt toast, it adds a bit of crunch to it! Good luck at work today, I love ya!” you giggle as you read the cute note, slipping the lunchbox into your bag before heading out for the day.

husband kirishima! who is determined to become a great cook, even if his enthusiasm often leads to chaos in the kitchen. one time he nearly set the oven on fire trying to bake you a birthday cake—the kitchen filled with smoke, the fire alarm blaring, and him flailing with an oven mitt to save what was left of the cake. it ended up completely charred and inedible. now every year, he’s determined to get it right, spending days watching tutorials and hyping himself up. but somehow, something always goes wrong—whether it’s mixing up salt for sugar or forgetting to grease the pan. still, when he presents the lopsided, crispy-edged cake, his face lights up with pride. “Happy birthday, babe! I worked extra hard on this one!” and every year, you smile and reassure him it’s perfect, slicing into it with over-the-top excitement just to see him smile.

husband kirishima! who loves to give you random gifts. he always comes home with little things that remind him of you—sometimes it’s a keychain shaped like your favorite animal, other times it’s a flower he picked during his walk back from patrol. occasionally, it’s a snack that caught his attention while shopping during his break, though it’s often already opened because he couldn’t resist the temptation to try it first. no matter what it is, he always manages to pick things you absolutely adore.  “I saw this and thought of you.” he says with a sheepish smile, his hand rubbing the back of his neck.

husband kirishima! who always insists on helping with anything around the house. need help tidying up the living room? done. cleaning out the garage? he’s in there before you can even ask, sleeves rolled up and a determined grin plastered across his face. what about the laundry piling up? he’ll fold it while humming one of his favorite songs. the dishes in the sink? he’s already halfway through scrubbing them, insisting, “You’ve had a long day, babe. Let me take care of this.” even if it’s something he’s never done before—like fixing that squeaky cabinet door or assembling the new furniture—he doesn’t care. whatever it is you need help with, he’s always the first one on the job.

husband kirishima! who is an absolute sweetheart when it comes to helping you through your period cramps. the moment he notices you curling up in discomfort, he’s already grabbing his keys and heading to the store. he comes back with your favorite snacks along with a heating pad, some pain relief pills, and even a plush blanket because, "Comfy vibes help, right?" he’s also a pro at massages—whether it’s your back or your feet, he gets right to work without a single complaint. if you tease him about going overboard, he’ll just grin and says, “Hey, I want you to feel your best. You’d do the same for me, wouldn’t you?” even when you’re cranky or tired, he’s patient and understanding, he always makes sure you feel as loved and cared for as possible.

husband kirishima! who after a long day, loves nothing more than collapsing onto the couch with you. he wraps you in his strong arms and pulls you close, whispering, "This is the best part of my day." sometimes, he falls asleep mid-cuddle, snoring softly into your hair, his grip on you never loosening. other times, he’ll quietly ask about your day, his voice low and soothing as he listens intently. he traces lazy patterns on your back, murmuring how much he missed you while you were apart. if you’re scrolling on your phone or watching a show, he’ll sneak little kisses on your forehead or temple, chuckling softly when you pretend to be annoyed. and when the exhaustion finally catches up to him, and he starts drifting off, he’ll mumble something sweet like, “I love you so much.” his breathing slows, and soon enough, he’s snoring softly.

a.n —  i had to repost my first fanfic since my main blog has been terminated for unknown reasons (つω`｡). but i thank you for reading my first ever post. I hope you enjoyed it as much as I enjoyed creating it (๑>ᴗ<๑) ! im still pretty new to sharing my work so, im honestly kinda freaking out a little LOLOL !  but it means so much to me that you took the time to check it out. until next time, thank you again for reading XOXO 💕

[otterlockholmes]

💌Send this to the twelve nicest people you know or who seem to have a good heart and if you get five back you must be pretty awesome >:p💌

I only really have you as a friend on here so YOU GET TWELVE BACK FROM ME

[otterlockholmes]

Snatching snitches (prologue)

Remus x reader

I'd like to thank @unconventional-lawnchair for helping me when things weren't coming along as hoped. I guess you could consider it a collaboration

Series summary: When Y/N, the world famous pro seeker makes a dumb decision, she has no choice but to do anything to clear her name. Even if that means becoming a teacher at hogwarts.

Chapter summary: Y/N is playing the deciding match against Spain in the quidditch world cup, her cocky attitude and poor decission making might make for some problems.

warnings: cursing? descriptions of bones breaking, use of alcohol.

The crowd outside was growing impatient, only a few minutes and the two finalist teams of the quidditch world championship would come flying onto the pitch. The fans tried their best to keep their drinks cool under the blaring sun, the tribunes filled with witches and wizards dressed in their favored team's colors. On one side there were the Spanish fans, dressed in red and yellow. On the other side the Irish fans, sporting green and orange outfits.

As Maxwell scanned the crowd his worry grew deeper, only a few minutes before the game and their star player was still missing. Rowan Maxwell, Iredland's national team's captain was used to his players running off before games to converse with fans. But today he wasn't having it, he turned a corner in the hopes of finding (Y/ln). And there she was, not a care in the world sitting on a rock with a firewhiskey in hand.

'What the hell do you think you're doing? Drinking before a game, have you gone mad?!'

Maxwell tried to grab the half-empty bottle from her but her reflexes were sharp as ever.

'Don't get your knickers in a twist Maxie.'

(Y/n) smirked, Maxwell was always on edge before the big games. (Y/n) would be lying if she said she didn't enjoy getting on his nerves. Max however wasn't smiling, his eyebrows knit together in worry. He was trying to figure out if she was drunk or just an ass... as usual.

'(Y/n) we have to play in less than five minutes, I cannot afford to lose this game because you' he gestured to the bottle 'have a problem.' He took a deep breath, his face becoming more serious, cold even. He pointed a gloved finger at her, towering over her in an attempt to intimidate her into complying. 'If you don't catch that damn snitch, you're off the team, you hear me?'

(Y/n) grimaced, before returning to her previous smug look. 'Maxie I'm not drunk, I'm gonna catch your dumb snitch and I'm gonna give the fans a spectacle, just like I always do. Honestly, if I didn't know any better I'd say you don't believe in me.' She took another swing of fire whiskey before continuing. 'If you really think I'm too intoxicated you can always swap me out for Kelly, I'm sure he'll catch the snitch eventually... What am I saying, you won't replace me, I'm the best fucking seeker in the world!'

Maxwell sighed, he knew it was true of course. Ever since (Y/n Y/ln) joined the team they've won three world championships in a row. Still, Max couldn't shake the feeling that her arrogance would end up being their downfall. Without speaking another word he took the nearly empty bottle of firewhiskey and walked towards the stadium, too busy worrying about the competition to give (Y/n) the satisfaction of getting under his skin.

................................................................................................................

The whistle blows and in the blink of an eye, all fourteen players were in the air, seven players in red and yellow uniforms and seven players in green and orange uniforms. Maxwell leaves no time for the Spanish team to react before sending the quaffle through the smallest goal. Meanwhile (Y/ln) soars above the two teams, scanning the pitch for the tiniest speck of gold. (Y/n)'s vision blurs for a moment but she brushes the feeling of dizziness off. 'Just nerves' she tells herself.

For a split second, the blaring sun reflected in the corner of her eye, the snitch was hovering right below the Spanish tribunes. Without giving it any thought she dove after the little gold-winged ball, behind her the opposing seeker followed in quick pursuit. Before (Y/ln) could reach the snitch, it disappeared from her line of vision. But instead of stopping the steep dive into the tribune's infrastructure, she picked up the speed. Only moments before flying headfirst into the wooden beams she pulled up the handle of her broom, spinning around mid-air. She watched the other guy ram his broom into the red cloth and disappear with a startled scream.

'I don't do freebies Torrez, you should've known that by now' (Y/n) mocked the now groaning seeker. Torrez wasn't the brightest wizard but despite his ''shortcomings'' he was strong competition, not only was he much faster than (Y/n) thanks to his brand new firebolt. He was also known to play dirty, often keeping tabs on the other seeker in the hopes of snatching the snitch before them. The way he played was a gamble, but when you have the fastest broom on the pitch... well you get the idea.

The next three minutes were stressful, waiting for the snitch to show up again. And hoping she would see it before that Spanish wanker Torrez. While listening to the commentator her head became heavier and the bright colors in the crowd started to blend together. Still (Y/ln) couldn't admit to herself she was drunk, 'only one bottle' could not have such a grand impact. Surely not, even though the hot weather made her even more dehydrated, even though she downed the bottle much quicker than she should've.

'AND MADDEN GETS THE QUAFFLE AND HE SCORES! THAT'S 50 - 70 FOR THE IRISH' The game announcer's voice echoed in her head, temporarily drowning out the sound of her own heartbeat.

No, she wasn't drunk at all. She was sweating buckets and her eyes were burning from the bright sun but there she saw it. The snitch, now hovering next to the base of the goalpost on the other side of the pitch. (Y/n) glanced at Torrez, who was flying laps around the field. He obviously hadn't seen the snitch yet, how could he have?

Torrez was much closer to the snitch than she was, if he'd look down no doubt he'd see it. Waiting till he passes it isn't an option either, he'd see her flying towards himself.

(Y/n) had two options in this situation, only one of them would result in flawless victory and win them the Quidditch World Cup. Her options consisted of another Feigned dive, hoping Torrez would follow, or just dashing toward the snitch and hope she gets there first. Normally this would've been an easy decision. But today her head was spinning and her hands were clammy, making it hard to grip the handle of her broom properly and ah fuck it.

While the Spanish seeker's back was turned, (Y/n) leaned forward and picked up the speed. Only a few seconds and she'd catch the snitch and the match would be over with a hundred-and-thirty point difference. Her hand stretches out in front of her, the little golden nuisance is trying to outfly her. She chases it around the goal and follows it to the middle of the pitch. There she sees him, Torrez flying toward her at full speed, with no intention of stopping. If he collides with her it will be a foul sure, but the wanker is broad and muscular and the absolute opposite of a seeker build. She'll never recover in time to catch it if he knocks her off her broom.

A whistling sound faintly accompanies the cacophony of gloom and doom playing inside her head. Dread filled her stomach like a thirty-pound weight, she was sure that wasn't helping her intended speed. It was like everything was going in slow motion, including Torrez. The mountain of a man had this determined look on his face, he wasn't planning on stopping.

(Y/n) was faced with another choice, charge the Snitch or fall back and preserve her pretty face. If she gets dropped off the team, at least she'll have that. Her drunken mind didn't even have time to revel in self-deprecation before a heavy snapping sound filled her ears. Then, a heavy impact came to her stomach. She was thrown forward, hands outstretched as if she was diving for safety. You know, only 50 feet from the ground with no safety net.

Torrez dove after her, surprisingly. It wouldn't be until later that she would realize he wasn't diving after "her".

"Her eyes locked into Torrez and a shock of bitterness rocked through her. Even as her vision blurred and her robes rippled in the air, she could only focus on the golden glint that flashed between her folds of clothes. Then everything stopped.

She heard a loud snapping sound, her body bouncing. (Y/n) could barely comprehend the sensation. There was a loud, sickening crack as her body collided with something- maybe the earth, maybe just the harsh wind mocking her for even thinking she could fly like this. She bounced off whatever surface she'd hit, her limbs like a rag doll, her mind barely able to catch up.

The world spun around her, a kaleidoscope of blurred colors- greens, golds, and deep reds. She tried to breathe, but the air had left her lungs, leaving her gasping, wheezing. It felt like her chest had collapsed inward. Terrifyingly, she couldn't feel pain. Just panic, as her vision tumbled until she could hardly see the flickering lights. Something hard poked her back, it moved a little, vibrating like a bug trapped between a window and a curtain. A face came into view but it wasn't one she could make out before she wheezed out what little air she managed to collect.

Between the fading screams and rushed footsteps she could hear a voice, barely. "(Y/ln)..." And it all went black.

[otterlockholmes]

@unconventional-lawnchair babe i don't have any other friendssss.

Who do i taggggg

HOW PINTEREST VIEWS ME

rules! select the first picture that comes up for the following categories: celebrity, shoes, bag, job, room and aesthetic

tagged by @underoospeterparker ☆

No Pressure Tags: @favorite-white-boy1 @bowiesversion @outromoony @ash5monster01 @aisiedaisie @iamgonnagetyouback and anyone else who wants to join

[otterlockholmes]

What's Your Name {Sneak Peak}

Regulus Black x Fem!Reader

An: I have been working on this slowly for months, you can kind of tell by the writing style this one is a bit more serious then the other fics I've done. (There is a very big possibility this will turn into Moonwater x Reader)

WC: 1933

CW: Sad boy Regulus, Fox! reader,

It was early morning, the air sharp with the chill of autumn. The first full moon of the school year always left you exhausted, your body aching from the 12 hour long transformation, your mind foggy as you trudged your way back through the thick forest. The gray sky above added to the heavy feeling in the air, casting everything in an almost monochrome haze.

“How’s he doing?” You asked James, who was half-carrying Remus through the dense underbrush. James just grunted in response, his face a mixture of concentration and concern. You sighed, taking the lead, your steps light as you led the way. Sirius was walking beside Remus, making sure the taller boy didn’t stumble.

“‘M fine,” Remus muttered, his voice rough and tired. He was trying to steady his steps, but you could see the strain in his posture, the way his face had paled despite the bruising and scaring of the night before. “I’ll be fine.”

You offered him a small smile, and Remus managed to return it, even as he winced. Even in the worst moments, he still had that kindness in his eyes that made him feel like home.

“Rem-”

“Are you serious?” Sirius’ voice cut through your words, and you glanced at him, confusion crossing your face. His eyes were narrowed, focused on something ahead, and you followed his gaze.

There, at the base of a large oak, sat Regulus Black, completely unaware of the group of students approaching. He was hunched over, a journal in his hands, lost in his own world as he scribbled something with quick, precise movements. What was he doing in the middle of the forbidden forest mid dawn?

Sirius huffed in annoyance, though you couldn’t quite tell if it was irritation at seeing his brother or at the sheer inconvenience of it all. “How the hell do we get around him without him noticing us?” he muttered, eyes darting to the side.

You scanned the scene, trying to find another route. The thick trees and brambles of the forest were no help, and then you glanced back at Remus, who was beginning to falter again. His face had gone a little green, and you could tell he was fighting the exhaustion.

"... I'll handle it.” You said softly, giving a small nod to your friends. Before anyone could protest, you shifted- your form shrinking and curling, your limbs transforming until you were on all fours, your senses now sharpened. The world was suddenly lower, closer to the earth. In an instant, you scampered off into the underbrush.

Regulus was muttering to himself as you got closer. You moved silently, your paws barely making a sound on the cold, damp earth. The transformation was still a strange sensation each time, but the rush of freedom as a small, nimble animal never failed to make you smile. You padded closer to Regulus, the rustle of leaves underfoot barely noticeable against the quiet murmur of his voice.

“…until the branches… loosen their crown..” He murmured, his words blending into the rustling of the trees and the sound of morning birds.

You slowed, creeping closer, careful not to let him notice you. Regulus was always so still in these moments- introspective, lost in his own thoughts. You watched him from behind the tree, noticing how his quill scratched the paper with such delicate precision. His face, usually a mask of sharp features, softened with concentration.

It was then that he paused, staring at the page with a frown. He sighed, a deep, almost frustrated breath, and lowered his head. His hand dropped, the quill resting in his lap. His pearly gray eyes lifted to stare at the endless rows of trees, and for the briefest moment, you caught a glimpse of vulnerability that almost made you hesitate.

You didn't give yourself time to think, as you slowly slunk forward and inched closer and closer to the book. Only then did you hear the bark of the tree crumble under shifting weight. Your eyes flickered up to meet Regulus’s. He was staring in silent shock to see not just any woodland creature, a silver fox, who most certainly was not from around the area, inching closer to him.

Your ears flicked around wildly and your nose wiggled about . He flinched as you lunged forward, biting down on his book and dashing off into the forest. You were luckily familiar with it all, the largest trees and haze of red and gold did their best to obstruct your vision.

Regulus blinked, his mind still trying to catch up with what had just happened. One moment, he was lost in his thoughts, the words of his journal pouring out in a rush of frustration, and the next, a random animal was stalking towards him. His journal, his something no one had ever touched but him, was now clutched in the fox's jaws, its pages fluttering in the wind as it vanished into the forest.

"What-" Regulus stood up sharply, his heart racing, his chest tight with a mix of irritation and shock. He glanced down at the empty spot where his journal had been, his fingers instinctively reaching for the pages that weren’t there. “You-"

Without thinking, he shoved his quill back into his bag and began to chase after the fox. He had no real plan, no clear reason why he was doing this, but the thought of losing his work- his years of thoughts- was unbearable. And then, of course, there was the strange part of him that couldn’t help but be intrigued by the oddity of it all. A fox. In the Forbidden Forest. And why did it feel like it was leading him somewhere?

His boots crunched through the fallen leaves, and his breath quickened as he pushed forward, his eyes scanning the path ahead. The fox was fast, so much faster than he had expected. It disappeared and reappeared in flashes of silver and black, weaving in and out of the trees, leading him to where he could only assume was deeper into the forest. The fog was starting to clear, and as the dense trees parted for a moment, Regulus saw it- you- pause in a small clearing up ahead.

The fox was sitting there, still as stone, its tail twitching. You had stopped running, your body poised in a way that suggested you were waiting for him. Regulus slowed his pace, a flicker of hesitation passing over him. For the first time in a long while, he wasn’t sure what to do. What was this creature? Was it a simple animal? Or something more? Something he should be afraid of? He wished he paid more attention in divination.

He took a few careful steps forward, and the fox didn’t move. Instead, your eyes- bright and intelligent- locked with his. There was something in those eyes that made his throat tighten. A spark of recognition? Perhaps it was simply the oddness of the situation, but it felt like a silent challenge.

"You…" Regulus muttered under his breath, his gaze narrowing as he crouched down, his hand instinctively reaching for his wand. But he didn’t draw it. For some reason, he felt no threat, just that odd pull to understand. “What are you?”

The fox tilted its head, as if listening, as if it understood. It sat in the clearing, still clutching the book in its jaws, its fur gleaming like silver in the soft, pale light that filtered through the canopy above. Regulus took another step closer, his breath coming shallow now. He felt the strange weight of the moment. A realization creeping up on him.

“Are you my… guardian angel?” He asked hesitantly and that was when your eyes flashed open wide. Your body gave an odd trill, from your hips to your tail in bundled anxieties.

The question hung in the air between you, fragile as spider silk that clung to the long strands of grass that dwarfed your figure. Regulus’s voice, usually so hard-edged, was softened, almost vulnerable. It was strange, seeing him like this, so open and curious, a side of him you’d never knew existed. It was here you saw the red rims of his eyes and the bags that hung low under his sockets.

It wasn’t that you typically paid him any mind. The only time you'd speak of him was with Sirius, on nights he couldn't sleep with that terrible yearning he felt so deeply for his brother. Something he never admitted to anyone else, no matter how much you begged him to just tell the younger Black.

You wondered, looking into his big pale eyes, filled with sadness and innocent curiosity, if he was yearning too.

You tilted your head, trying to make sense of what he saw when he looked at you. A guardian angel? You almost wanted to laugh- guardian angel seemed far from the truth, considering how you felt after a night of chasing around a disaster of a werewolf, your own sense of self blurred at the edges. And yet, there was something tender about the notion, something that made you pause.

What was going on behind those eyes? That made him think he needed one?

Carefully, you set the journal down between your paws, nudging it forward just an inch, your eyes meeting his again, as if to say, ‘I am real. I am here.’

Regardless of your bleeding heart, you would be there.

Regulus hesitated, still kneeling in the clearing, his expression a mix of relief and suspicion. He looked from your face to the book lying just within reach, and then back up to you, his brow furrowing as he tried to understand. You held his gaze, silent, knowing the moment wouldn’t last, knowing he’d take the journal and the new boy you'd just met would never be back. Those soft eyes would return to their steely ice. But for now, you let the possibility linger in his mind. Perhaps you were more than just a fox. Perhaps, in this brief encounter, you could be whatever he needed you to be.

He finally reached for the journal, his fingers brushing against the damp forest floor. You felt a tug in your chest, a longing to reveal yourself, to let him know you had seen him. That someone had seen him. But the sun was rising, casting its hazy light over the clearing, and you knew your time was running short. With a final look, you took a step back, blending into the underbrush as you began to retreat, leaving him to wonder what had just happened.

Regulus watched you go, his expression lingering between wonder and confusion, and a hint of something softer, something guarded but longing. His fingers tightened around the journal as you disappeared into the shadows, silver fur melding with the forest’s dark blur.

As you slipped back through the trees, the urge to turn and reveal yourself gnawed at you. To ask him what those pages meant to him. What a curious fox like yourself could possibly do for him. But there were secrets that had to be kept, and you had done that for Remus, not for Regulus. For your dear friend, not a stranger.

With that thought, the reminder to return to the castle to your pack, you left him behind, returning to your friends who waited hopefully at school by now. You guiltily hoped the quiet warmth of that moment would stay with him, as a small comfort, a quiet promise etched into a strange moment between fox and foe.

[otterlockholmes]

presents

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Forever Healed | TUA insert

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"He was never a father really, more like a mean old state-national basketball coach."

- Y/n Hargeeves, Number 00, The Gifted

Being the adopted super powered kid of Sir Reginald Hargeeves was never a simple task. You always could've been better for him. But happens when he dies and the world ends in a few days?

You are Number Zero, here's your story..

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