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sonarspace · 25 days ago

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⋆✴︎˚｡⋆STUDY BREAK (FT. GOJO)

꒰ synopsis. being in the same class as gojo satoru was bad enough; having him as the professor’s insufferably smug assistant made it worse. content. college au. nsfw. (teasing. slight praise kınk. fıngering. oräl. p in v. multiple ōrgasms.) wc. 5.3k. an. to clear up any confusion 😭.. satoru’s a senior student + the professor’s assistant in the course you’re both taking. (fic is kinda all over the place so idk if this works but let’s pretend like it does).

there’s something about gojo satoru that drives you insane. not in the fun, heart-fluttering way that comes with a secret crush or the thrill of banter. no—this is the kind of insane where you want to hurl something, preferably at his stupidly smug face.

“class,” he drawls, leaning lazily against the desk at the front of the room, his shirt slightly rumpled like he doesn’t give a damn—and he doesn’t. “these papers? a mixed bag. some of you really impressed me. others… well.” his lips curve into a smirk. “let’s just say the recycling bin was hungry.”

you groan inwardly, already sensing where this is going. he’s done this before, holding your work hostage like it’s part of his routine entertainment.

“and here,” he continues, brandishing a paper like a prop. your paper. “is a prime example of someone… almost getting there. strong ideas, decent execution, but the conclusion? oof. fell harder than my GPA sophomore year.”

a few students laugh. your jaw tightens, the heat in your chest bubbling up into something sharp and biting. he doesn’t have to name you; everyone knows exactly whose paper he’s waving around.

“anyway,” he finishes with a shrug, tossing the paper onto the desk like it’s disposable. “there’s potential. keep at it.”

you don’t even wait for class to end before your resolve solidifies: you’re going to kill him. maybe not literally, but metaphorically? absolutely.

you don’t plan on storming to his dorm room. it just… happens. one moment, you’re replaying his smug grin and the way his eyes gleamed when he mocked your paper, and the next, you’re standing outside his door, your fist raised to knock.

he answers quickly, and the sight of him makes you falter. his hair is damp, sticking out in soft tufts like he just got out of the shower, and his plain white t-shirt clings to him in a way that’s almost—no. you shake the thought away.

“well, this is unexpected,” he says, leaning against the doorframe with a grin that’s all teeth. “if you wanted private tutoring, you could’ve just asked.”

“don’t flatter yourself,” you snap, brushing past him into the room without waiting for an invitation.

he whistles low under his breath. “feisty tonight. to what do I owe the pleasure?”

you spin to face him, your hands clenched at your sides. “what is your problem with me?”

he blinks, his smirk faltering for a fraction of a second before returning full force. “problem? sweetheart, i don’t have a problem with you.”

“you humiliate me in class,” you say, your voice rising. “you make these comments, you single me out—what, are you that bored with your life?”

“humiliate?” he echoes, feigning a wounded look. “i think you mean ‘motivate.’ you’re one of the smartest people in that class. if i don’t push you, who will?”

“that’s bullshit,” you fire back, stepping closer. “you don’t ‘push’ anyone else.”

“because no one else is as fun,” he replies easily, his grin tilting into something sharper. “the way you react, the fire in your eyes—it’s addictive.”

your breath catches, the heat in your chest spreading to your cheeks. “you’re insufferable.”

“and yet, here you are,” he says, his voice dropping just enough to make the air between you feel heavier. “in my room. alone.”

“because you drive me crazy,” you snap, the words tumbling out before you can stop them.

his eyebrows lift slightly, as if he’s genuinely intrigued by your outburst. “good crazy or bad crazy?”

he takes a step closer, too close. the kind of close that makes your pulse stutter and your instincts scream at you to step back—but you don’t. instead, you stand your ground, your jaw clenched as he waits for your answer, his gaze steady and almost daring.

“what does it matter?” you mutter, your voice quieter now, the heat of your earlier anger ebbing into something more uncertain.

“it matters,” he says, his voice low as his eyes flicker to your lips. “because I need to know if I can do this.”

before you can ask what he means, he leans in, his lips brushing against yours like he’s giving you the chance to pull away. but you don’t. his hand finds your waist, tugging you closer as the kiss deepens, his mouth hot and insistent against yours.

it’s like a dam breaking. weeks—months—of tension and unspoken words all come crashing down in a rush of heat and urgency. his other hand slides into your hair, tilting your head to kiss you deeper, and the sound you make in response is embarrassing and needy, but you can’t bring yourself to care.

you should stop this. you should push him away, tell him he’s crossed a line. but the way his thumb brushes against your waist, the way he tilts his head just right, the way he kisses like he’s been waiting for this moment as long as you have—it’s addictive. you can’t stop. you don’t want to.

but then reality slams into you like a cold gust of wind. what are you doing? your chest tightens as the weight of it crashes down all at once, the heat between you dissolving into something sharper, more terrifying.

you pull back abruptly, your breathing uneven. “i can’t.”

he blinks, his expression softening from one of heat to confusion. “what?”

“this—this is a mistake,” you stammer, backing away. your hands feel clumsy as they fumble behind you for the door. “i shouldn’t have come here.”

“wait.” his hand reaches out, almost instinctively, but you’re already opening the door, your chest tight and your mind racing as you step out into the hall. you don’t look back, even as the warmth of his touch lingers on your skin.

────

you avoid him after that. in class, you sit as far from him as possible, claiming a seat in the back corner, close to the door. the usual tension he brought to the room—his teasing remarks, his piercing gaze when he caught you rolling your eyes—feels conspicuously absent. he doesn’t call on you, doesn’t glance your way, doesn’t even acknowledge you.

it’s been weeks since that night in his dorm, and as the semester nears its end, the distance feels heavier with every passing class. his silence, once the thing you desperately wanted, now presses on your chest like a weight. you wonder if he regrets it, if he’s just as caught in the what-ifs as you are—or if he’s already forgotten.

the final project looms, deadlines creeping closer, but the distraction isn’t enough to stop the quiet ache that’s settled in your chest. you remind yourself it’s for the best. boundaries were crossed, a line you know you shouldn’t have stepped over. it doesn’t matter how he made you feel, how his kisses left you breathless and yearning. none of it matters.

and yet, every time you leave class, you rush, head down, praying he won’t stop you. and every time he doesn’t, the ache grows.

when class ends today, the air feels heavier than usual. your peers chatter around you, their voices blending into background noise as you pack your things quickly, eyes fixed on the door. if you can just slip out unnoticed, avoid another day of walking the tightrope you’ve been balancing on since that night—

but then a hand wraps gently around your wrist, warm and familiar.

“you’re avoiding me,” he says, his voice low and steady. there’s no edge to it, no teasing grin or smug undertone. just quiet certainty, like he’s stating a fact.

you freeze, your heart thudding in your chest. it’s been so long since he’s said anything to you that the sound of his voice directed at you feels foreign.

“i’m late,” you mumble, tugging your wrist weakly in an attempt to free yourself. “let me go.”

“you don’t have any classes after this,” he says, his grip loosening but not letting go. his eyes meet yours, calm but resolute. “i checked your schedule.”

your jaw tightens, irritation flashing through you. “you shouldn’t have access to my schedule.”

“probably not,” he admits with a shrug, a hint of the old satoru creeping into his voice, “but i’m me.”

you open your mouth to snap at him, to tell him to back off, but he cuts you off first. “come have coffee with me.”

you blink, caught off guard by the casual offer. “what?”

“coffee,” he repeats, his tone light, as if this is perfectly normal. “you like coffee, don’t you?”

“that’s not the point,” you snap, yanking your wrist free from his grasp. “what is this, some weird apology?”

“it’s not weird,” he says, his smirk faltering slightly now, his expression open and strangely earnest. “it’s just coffee. with me.”

you stare at him, struggling to find the right words. “gojo,” you begin, your voice heavy, “you and i are not friends.”

his face falls, the shift so quick and unexpected that it makes your stomach twist. you see the way his shoulders tense, the way his gaze drops for just a moment, but you force yourself to look away. without giving him a chance to reply, you turn and push past him, your steps quick and unsteady as you leave the classroom.

the ache in your chest grows with every step, and even as you round the corner, out of sight, the image of his expression lingers. there’s no relief this time. only guilt.

────

you don’t know why you’re here. no, that’s a lie—you know exactly why you’re here. the memory of his expression, the slight drop of his shoulders at your retort, has been looping in your mind, making it impossible to focus on anything else.

your feet carry you down the familiar path to his dorm, the ache in your chest twisting tighter with every step. before you can talk yourself out of it, your fist is already knocking on the door.

it opens almost immediately, and the sight of him steals the breath from your lungs. his white hair is a mess, sticking up in chaotic directions, and his glasses are perched crookedly on his nose. there’s a faint crease on his cheek, like he’d been leaning against a book, and his shirt hangs loosely off one shoulder, rumpled from sleep or hours spent working. he looks… soft. disarming. almost painfully cute.

“coffee,” you say, holding up the cups like a white flag. “can i come in?”

his lips twitch, a hint of a smile breaking through the haze of surprise as he steps aside. “bribery, huh? didn’t think you had it in you.”

his dorm is as cluttered as you remember—papers and notebooks sprawled across his desk, a blinking laptop shoved precariously to one side. you set the coffee down on the edge of the desk, your gaze catching on the scrawled notes and dense blocks of text.

“grading?” you ask.

“research,” he replies, dropping onto the edge of his bed with a tired sigh. his hand rakes through his already-messy hair, making it stick up even more. “finals prep. you know, glamorous TA things.”

you hand him a cup, your fingers brushing against his as he takes it. the simple contact sends a jolt up your arm that you stubbornly ignore. “thought you could use it.”

he hums as he takes a sip, his lashes fluttering briefly before he lets out a quiet sound of approval. the noise is so low, so soft, it makes your stomach twist. you glance away quickly, your grip tightening on your own cup.

“about the other day,” you start, the words quiet and tentative.

he glances up, the coffee still in his hands. his expression is unreadable, but his fingers still against the cup, like he’s waiting for the other shoe to drop. “you don’t have to explain,” he says, setting his cup down on the desk. “if you don’t want this—if i got it wrong—just say so.”

“it’s not that,” you blurt, the words tumbling out too fast, too raw. warmth floods your cheeks, creeping down to your chest. “i just… i don’t know what this is.”

he doesn’t respond immediately, doesn’t fall into his usual teasing deflection. instead, he stands, crossing the small space between you with deliberate steps. his gaze holds yours, steady and unguarded, and it makes your stomach flip in a way you can’t control.

“let me show you,” he says softly, his voice low, uncharacteristically serious.

he’s so close now, his hand brushing against yours, his touch light, almost hesitant. and then his lips are on yours, and everything else fades away.

this kiss is nothing like the first. there’s no uncertainty, no restraint. his hands find your waist, pulling you flush against him as his mouth moves against yours, hot and insistent. your grip on the coffee slips, the cup hitting the floor with a dull thud as your hands find his shoulders, clutching at the fabric of his shirt.

when his hands slide under your shirt, the roughness of his palms against your bare skin makes you shudder. he guides you backward, his body pressing into yours until the backs of your knees hit the mattress. you sink down, the weight of him grounding you as he follows, his lips trailing fire along your jaw and down your neck.

his hands are everywhere—tracing the curve of your waist, brushing the underside of your ribs, exploring like he’s memorizing every inch of you. when he pulls back to look at you, his lips are curved in a wicked, breath-stealing grin.

“you’re infuriating,” he murmurs, his voice low and rough as his eyes rake over you, drinking in every detail.

“you’re worse,” you manage, though your voice is barely more than a whisper.

his grin widens, and his laugh is warm against your skin as he dips his head, his teeth grazing the sensitive spot just below your ear. “you’re already so worked up. it’s cute.”

“shut up,” you snap, though the way your hips arch into his touch betrays you.

“make me,” he challenges, his lips brushing against yours before descending lower, kissing down your collarbone and tugging your shirt higher with every inch. his hands roam greedily, tugging the fabric over your head and tossing it somewhere behind him without a second thought.

his mouth is back on you immediately, nipping and kissing along the swell of your breasts as his hands work the clasp of your bra. when it comes free, his lips part in a satisfied hum, his hands kneading your soft skin like he’s savoring every second of this.

“so fucking perfect,” he mutters, his voice husky as he leans back slightly to take in the sight of you. his gaze is heavy, filled with something dark and hungry that makes your stomach twist in the best way.

“stop staring,” you grumble, though the heat in your cheeks betrays the sharpness of your words.

“can’t help it,” he says, his grin tilting into something softer, more genuine. “you’re gorgeous.”

before you can respond, his mouth is back on you, his tongue flicking over your nipple as his other hand trails down your stomach, fingers dipping just beneath the waistband of your pants. your breath hitches as he pauses, his gaze flicking up to meet yours.

“can i?” he asks, his voice quieter now, his expression serious.

you nod, and he wastes no time. his fingers hook under the fabric, tugging your pants and underwear down in one swift motion. the cool air against your bare skin makes you shiver, but the warmth of his hands is there immediately, coaxing you to relax under his touch.

“look at you,” he murmurs, his voice low and thick as his hands part your thighs, his gaze drinking in every inch of you. “so fucking pretty.”

your cheeks flush, and you try to turn your head away, but his hand cups your chin, gently coaxing you to meet his eyes. “don’t hide from me,” he says, his thumb brushing against your cheek. “not tonight.”

his other hand slides between your thighs, his touch featherlight at first, teasing. when his thumb brushes over your clit, a jolt of heat shoots through you, and your hips buck involuntarily.

“sensitive,” he murmurs, his lips curving into a wicked grin. “i barely touched you, and you’re already squirming.”

“shut up,” you snap, your voice shaky as your fingers clutch at the sheets beneath you. but the way your body reacts—arching into his touch, chasing the pressure—makes it clear that his teasing isn’t far from the truth.

“you don’t really want me to, do you?” his voice is low, almost a growl, and the sound of it sends a shiver down your spine. “i think you like when i talk to you like this. when i tell you how good you’re doing, how fucking beautiful you look right now.”

your chest heaves as his fingers dip lower, sliding through your slick folds with infuriating slowness. every movement feels deliberate, calculated, like he’s savoring every second. when his fingers finally slip inside you, the stretch makes your head fall back, a gasp tumbling from your lips.

“that’s it,” he murmurs, his thumb circling your clit as his fingers begin to move, slow and deliberate at first. “you feel so fucking good, baby. so perfect.”

your hands fly to his shoulders, your nails digging into his skin as he curls his fingers, hitting a spot that makes your vision blur. “oh my god—gojo—”

he tuts sharply, his fingers pausing inside you, his thumb stalling its maddening rhythm. your head snaps up, breathless and confused, to find him staring down at you with a dark look, his lips curving into a smirk that doesn’t quite reach his eyes.

“no,” he says firmly, his voice low and commanding as he tilts his head. “say satoru.”

“w-what?” you stammer, your heart racing as his fingers remain perfectly still, the tension building with every passing second.

“not ‘gojo,’” he says again, his free hand sliding up to cup your jaw, tilting your face toward his. his thumb brushes over your bottom lip, his grin sharpening. “say satoru.”

you hesitate, your breath hitching as your body trembles beneath him. he presses his fingers deeper, curling them just enough to make your toes curl, and your resolve shatters.

“satoru,” you gasp, your voice breaking on the syllables.

his smirk widens, something dark and triumphant flickering in his eyes. “good girl,” he murmurs, his thumb resuming its slow, torturous circles on your clit as his fingers pick up their rhythm again, harder this time, deeper.

your head falls back against the mattress, your body arching into his touch as the pleasure builds again, higher and hotter than before. his name tumbles from your lips like a mantra, breathless and needy as he drives you closer to the edge.

“that’s it,” he coaxes, his voice dripping with praise as his free hand slides down your body, his touch possessive. “just like that, baby. let go for me.”

the coil in your stomach tightens to the breaking point, and when he curls his fingers just right, pressing against the perfect spot, it snaps. your orgasm crashes over you, white-hot and overwhelming, and his name spills from your lips in a broken moan.

“satoru—fuck—”

“that’s my girl,” he murmurs, his voice rough with approval as he works you through the waves of pleasure, his movements slowing but never stopping until your body goes slack beneath him, trembling and spent.

he pulls his hand away slowly, his gaze fixed on you as he brings his fingers to his lips, licking them clean with a deliberate, satisfied hum. “even better than i imagined,” he says, his voice dripping with arrogance, his eyes gleaming as they roam over your flushed, trembling body.

you blink, your breath still uneven as his words settle over you. “wait—” you say, your voice catching slightly. “you’ve thought about this?”

his grin widens, slow and deliberate, and he leans down, bracing himself on his forearms so his face is just inches from yours. “oh, sweetheart,” he murmurs, his voice low and teasing, “you really think i haven’t?”

your cheeks flush even hotter, your pulse racing as his words sink in. “you’re—” you stammer, at a rare loss for words. “you’re ridiculous.”

“ridiculous?” he repeats, feigning offense, though the wicked glint in his eyes never falters. “i’d say i’m a man of focus. you’ve been in my head for weeks, driving me insane with that sharp mouth and the way you look at me when you think i don’t notice.”

“i don’t—” you begin, but his lips curve into a knowing smirk, cutting you off.

“you do,” he insists, his tone softening just slightly. “and every time you glared at me, every time you rolled your eyes or bit back some little retort, all i could think about was how much i wanted to shut you up. like this.”

his lips capture yours again, and this kiss is slower, heavier, laced with an intensity that makes your toes curl. his hands roam, sliding over your bare skin with a reverence that feels almost out of place against his words.

when he finally pulls back, his gaze is still on you, his expression uncharacteristically serious. “and now that i’ve got you,” he says, his voice dipping into something darker, “i don’t think i’ll ever get enough.”

the weight of his confession leaves you breathless, and before you can respond, his lips are trailing down your body again, his hands parting your thighs as he settles between them.

“what are you—” you start, but his eyes flick up to meet yours, and the look in them steals the rest of your words.

“relax,” he murmurs, his lips curving into a soft, almost mischievous smile. “i’m not done tasting you yet.”

his hands slide to grip your thighs, pulling you apart with ease as his lips descend, brushing over your inner thighs, teasingly slow. his tongue flicks out, hot and wet against your skin, and when his mouth finally finds you again, you feel your body arch instinctively, your breath leaving in a sharp, unrestrained gasp.

he’s relentless. his tongue drags up your folds in a languid stroke before circling your clit with maddening precision. his mouth is hot, the slick, wet sounds mingling with your soft moans, and his breath—warm and uneven—fans against your skin with every movement.

his hair brushes against your thighs, soft and messy, and your fingers thread through it again, tugging sharply enough to make him groan against you. the vibration of it sends a jolt of pleasure straight through your core, and your hips buck against his mouth.

“satoru,” you gasp, but it’s barely coherent, your voice breaking as he latches onto your clit, sucking just enough to make your toes curl. “oh my—”

the cold press of something against your inner thigh pulls you out of the haze, just barely. it’s sharp, unfamiliar, and you glance down—his glasses. they’re still perched on his nose, slightly crooked, the metal frame fogging faintly from the heat of his breath. he’s so lost in the moment, so focused on the way his tongue works against you, that he hasn’t even noticed.

your hand drifts down, brushing against the cool frame, and you slip them off without a word. the absurdity of it—the way he’s been eating you out with his glasses still on—makes you want to laugh. the corners of your mouth twitch, and a soft sound bubbles up in your throat, but then his tongue presses flat against your folds, dragging up in one slow, deliberate motion, and the laugh dissolves into a sharp moan.

your head falls back against the pillow, your hand tangling back in his hair as you toss the glasses onto the bed with the other. the noise they make as they hit the mattress is faint, drowned out by the obscene wet sounds of his mouth, the low hums of satisfaction he lets out as he devours you.

“fuck,” you whimper, your thighs trembling as his tongue flicks against your clit again, faster now, more insistent. your body arches instinctively, chasing the pressure, and his hands tighten on your thighs, pulling you even closer to his mouth.

he growls against you, the sound low and rough, vibrating through you in a way that makes your toes curl. his tongue dips lower, teasing your entrance before sliding back up, and the sharp scrape of his teeth against your swollen clit has you seeing stars.

“so fucking sweet,” he mutters, his voice muffled against your slick skin. “can’t get enough of you, baby.”

you can’t respond, can’t think. the only thing you can focus on is the way his tongue works against you, precise and relentless, building the heat in your stomach until it’s unbearable. your fingers twist in his hair, pulling harder, and the groan he lets out in response sends you spiraling.

“satoru—” his name falls from your lips like a prayer, breathless and broken. he doesn’t stop, doesn’t let up, his mouth dragging you closer and closer to the edge until you can’t hold on any longer.

your orgasm hits you hard, ripping through you in waves that leave your entire body trembling. your hips jerk against his hold, your moans loud and unrestrained as you ride it out. his tongue slows, working you through every aftershock until you’re left panting, boneless against the bed.

when he finally pulls back, his chest is heaving, his lips and chin glistening with your slick. his hair is a mess, strands sticking up where your fingers had tugged, and his eyes—those impossibly bright blues—flick up to meet yours, gleaming with satisfaction.

“twice,” he says, his voice low and teasing as he wipes his mouth with the back of his hand.

he sits back on his knees, his hands smoothing over your trembling thighs as he takes in the sight of you—flushed, panting, your chest rising and falling as you try to catch your breath. his grin is lazy, self-satisfied, like he knows exactly what he’s done to you.

“you’re staring,” you mutter weakly, your voice barely above a whisper.

“hard not to,” he replies, his tone low and full of amusement. his fingers trace lazy patterns on your skin, his touch soft, teasing. “you look so fucking good when you come.”

your cheeks burn, and you want to glare at him, to tell him to shut up, but the words catch in your throat as he reaches for the hem of his shirt. in one fluid motion, he pulls it over his head and tosses it to the side, the movement effortless and maddeningly confident.

your eyes follow the shift of his muscles, the way they ripple under his skin, lean and defined. a faint sheen of sweat glistens across his chest, catching the dim light, highlighting every sharp line and curve. your gaze drifts lower, down to the sharp ridges of his abdomen. the faint trail of white hair starting just below his navel draws your attention, leading your eyes further, until his hands move to the waistband of his boxers.

he doesn’t rush. he hooks his thumbs under the fabric, dragging it down slowly, deliberately, letting the anticipation coil tighter in your stomach. as the fabric falls away, your breath hitches.

he’s fully bare now, and your mouth goes dry.

his cock is… breathtaking. thick and flushed a deep pink at the tip, already leaking beads of precum that catch the light as they drip down the length. it’s long, the kind of length that makes your thighs press together instinctively, wondering how he’ll fit, but the heat pooling low in your stomach burns hotter, overriding any hesitation.

his hand wraps around it, and he strokes himself slowly, his thumb swiping over the head to collect the wetness there. the motion is deliberate, almost lazy, and the soft groan he lets out sends a shiver down your spine.

you’re staring—you know you are—and he notices, his lips curving into a wicked grin as his eyes flick up to meet yours.

“don’t worry, baby,” he murmurs, his voice low and teasing as he leans forward, the head of his cock brushing against your folds, slick and hot. “i’ll make it fit.”

his words send a shiver through you, his voice low and dripping with confidence. the weight of his cock against your folds, hot and heavy, is enough to make your hips twitch instinctively, chasing the friction. but he doesn’t push in right away—of course he doesn’t. instead, he drags the head up and down your slick, letting it catch on your clit with every pass, teasing you until you’re squirming beneath him.

“satoru,” you whimper, your nails digging into his shoulders. you’re not above begging at this point. “please.”

his grin widens, his head dipping to press a kiss to the corner of your mouth. “what’s the rush, baby? we’ve got all night.”

“satoru,” you repeat, more insistently this time, and he groans at the sound of his name on your lips, his cock twitching against you.

“fuck,” he mutters, his voice tight now, losing some of that smug edge. “you sound so pretty when you beg.”

he lines himself up, his hand still wrapped around the base as he presses the head against your entrance. the stretch is immediate, a sharp, overwhelming mix of pleasure and pressure as he pushes in slowly, inch by inch.

“holy shit,” he breathes, his voice rough as his head falls forward, his hair brushing against your cheek. “you’re so fucking tight.”

your fingers clutch at his shoulders, your breath catching as he sinks deeper, the fullness stealing every coherent thought from your mind. he pauses halfway, his free hand sliding up to cup your jaw, tilting your face toward his.

“you okay?” he asks, and there’s something softer in his voice now, his eyes scanning your face for any sign of discomfort.

you nod, your voice shaky as you answer. “yeah. just—keep going.”

his jaw tightens, and he exhales slowly, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead before he starts to move again. every inch feels impossibly deep, your walls stretching around him, and when he finally bottoms out, you both pause, your breaths mingling as you try to adjust.

“fuck,” he groans again, his voice strained as his hips twitch against yours. “you feel so good. better than i ever—” he cuts himself off with a shaky laugh, shaking his head. “shit, you’re perfect.”

you can barely respond, the stretch and fullness leaving you trembling. but then he starts to move, pulling out almost entirely before sliding back in with a slow, deliberate roll of his hips. the drag of his cock against your walls is enough to have you moaning, your head falling back against the pillow.

“that’s it,” he murmurs, his voice rough and approving as he sets a steady rhythm. “good girl. taking me so well.”

your hands trail down his back, your nails scraping lightly against his skin, and the groan he lets out sends a fresh wave of heat through you. his movements quicken, the sound of skin against skin filling the room, and every thrust has him hitting that perfect spot deep inside you, making you cry out.

“satoru—” his name falls from your lips again, and he leans down, his teeth grazing your neck as he thrusts harder, deeper.

“you’re gonna make me lose my fucking mind,” he growls, his hands gripping your hips tighter, holding you in place as he drives into you. “you feel so good—so fucking perfect for me.”

the coil in your stomach tightens with every roll of his hips, the pressure building higher and higher until it’s unbearable. his thumb finds your clit, rubbing in tight circles that make your vision blur, and your moans grow louder, more desperate.

“come for me,” he demands, his voice rough and low in your ear. “let me feel you.”

the command sends you over the edge. your orgasm rips through you, your body arching into his as you cry out, his name spilling from your lips like a prayer. your walls clench around him, and the sensation makes him groan, his thrusts growing erratic as he chases his own release.

“fuck—” he gasps, burying himself as deep as he can go as he comes, the heat of him spilling into you, thick and warm. his head falls to your shoulder, his breath ragged against your skin as he rides out the last waves of pleasure.

the room is quiet except for the sound of your heavy breathing, the air thick and charged as he finally pulls back, his weight pressing into you as he collapses onto the bed beside you. his arm slides around your waist, pulling you against his chest as he presses a soft, lazy kiss to your temple.

“told you i’d make it fit,” he murmurs, his voice still rough, but there’s a hint of smugness there, his lips curving into a small grin.

you can’t help the laugh that escapes you, your body still trembling against his. “you’re such an asshole.”

“yeah,” he agrees, his tone light, teasing, as he brushes a strand of hair from your face. “but you like it.”

you roll your eyes, but there’s no heat to it, your lips curving into a faint smile as you bury your face against his chest. “shut up, satoru.”

“never,” he replies, and the warmth of his laughter vibrates through you, grounding you as your breaths slowly even out.

an. gojo with glasses... *hnnggghh*

DO NOT COPY, TRANSLATE, OR REPOST MY WORK ON OTHER PLATFORMS!

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whytheylosttheirminds · 3 months ago

Text

Don't Call Me Kid - Chapter 3

(Rafe Cameron x reader, series, 5.7k words)

series summary: You'd had a crush on Rafe Cameron since you were six years old, but he friend zoned you at every turn. Once shy and insecure, you found new confidence and self-love after high school. When your high school friends go on a reunion beach trip, Rafe finally sees what he lost, but he isn't going to give you up without a fight.

tropes: unrequited crush, glow up, she fell first/he fell harder

series content: some angst, eventual fluff, slow burn, tomfoolery and shenanigans, drinking, fem!reader has occasional insecurity and body image issues

additional chapter cw: suggestive language/themes, heavy drinking, mature readers only please

⇢ series masterlist

The game was on, and Carter wasn’t one to go down without a fight.

You however, were much less invested in her scheme to set you up with Tom, already feeling tired and confused after 24-hours of this little reunion trip. You laid in bed for quite a while replaying the almost-moment you’d had with Rafe in the kitchen in your head before taking a long, dreamless nap. It was the smell of the barbeque wafting through your bedroom window that woke you up. You threw your hair up in a bun, too groggy to care about putting any more effort into your appearance.

As you reached for the handle, you heard two hushed voices arguing behind your bedroom door. You opened it slowly to reveal Carter and Topper facing each other, both with their arms crossed as they carried on a heated whisper-argument.

“What are you even doing up here Topper?” Carter demanded.

“I don’t know, what are you doing up here Carter? Trying to get a leg up?” Topper snapped back, towering over her in height yet still somehow looking small under her glare.

They were so locked in on each other that neither of them had even noticed your appearance.

“Um, hi,” you waved your hand between their faces to get their attention. “Can I help you?”

They looked at you, startled as their arms fell and stances softened. Carter eyed your outfit up and down, trying to hide her distaste at your choice of leggings and a t-shirt.

“Well, I don’t know what he’s doing up here but I came to see if you needed help getting ready,” Carter replied.

“I am ready,” you said, eyeing her suspiciously.

“You’re, uh,” Topper scratched the back of his head uncomfortably. “Is that what you’re wearing?”

You squinted at him, you could understand Carter critiquing your outfit, knowing she was trying to set you up with Tom, but what stake did Topper have in your outfit choice?

“We’re literally just going downstairs,” you countered.

“Maybe throw on something a little nicer,” Carter urged gently.

“Okay, fine,” you gave in. “You two are being so weird today.”

Topper gave you a thumbs up as you closed the door in their faces.

A few minutes later you reemerged in a new outfit, a crocheted halter top and some cut-offs. You had let your hair down and ran a brush through it, dabbed on some mascara and lipgloss. It was the maximum amount of effort you were willing to put into a big night out in the backyard.

Despite everyone’s relentless teasing, Topper actually was a pretty good cook. The food was great and everyone thanked you, Rafe, and Tom for going out to get it.

“Tom paid!” you announced. “So everyone make sure to be really nice to him or he won’t bankroll us anymore.”

You smiled at Tom, who grinned back and waved you off in joking modesty. You let your eyes linger as he leaned over the firepit on the other side of the sprawling patio, skillfully stacking the wood before lighting a match and holding it under. He crouched low to blow gently on the kindling, causing the fire to roar to life. You could see a sliver of his toned lower back peeking out from his shirt as he reached for another log, dropping it straight into his newly sparked flame with a bare hand. The whole thing was unbelievably attractive.

The only thing better was the stoney look on Rafe’s face when you caught his eye, realizing he’d noticed the way you were looking at Tom like you wanted to have him for dessert. Good.

Playing and replaying the scene from the kitchen in your head all afternoon, you came downstairs determined to freeze Rafe out. Sure, he remembered your favorite candy and maybe almost even apologized, but it wasn’t enough to erase the sting you felt when he pulled away from you like you had the plague as soon as anyone else entered the room.

After dinner, you were perched on the railing of the porch, sipping something strong and chatting with Carter and her childhood best friend, Maddie.

Maddie was nice enough, the Kook academy prom queen two years in a row, but she had never shown much interest in you. Until you showed up here looking much more instagram-worthy than you had in high school.

“So, omg,” Maddie started, playing with a strand of your hair like you were the closest of friends. “When are you gonna drop the workout routine? You look gorg.”

Never once had one of Carter’s friends complimented your looks.

“Thanks,” you grinned, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. “I play a lot of volleyball and jog a little.”

“Well it’s working!” Kelce hollered from across the porch, already wobbling slightly from his inebriation.

There it was again, your blush, always showing up at the least opportune times. All eyes were on you, such open talk about your body making your skin crawl with self-consciousness. You looked over the railing to the sand a few feet down, wondering how badly the jump would hurt.

As always, knowing you better than anyone, Carter felt like she could read your mind. Protectiveness roared in her chest, she set her hand over yours to silently tell you she understood before turning to the party and announcing, “okay, we’re playing a game! Everyone around the fire pit!”

No one argued with her wishes, they never did. The group gathered around the bonfire, each with a full drink in hand as Carter unnecessarily explained the rules to never have I ever as if this same group hadn’t played it a hundred times in high school.

You appreciated Carter moving the attention off of you, but clearly she didn’t know this was your least favorite game in the world. The second the name of the game came out of her mouth, your heart dropped to your stomach, hit with memories of sitting off to the side while her friends played, all of your fingers embarrassingly still up, revealing you had done nothing interesting or scandalous in your life.

Sure, you’d definitely added a few notches to your belt since then, but you knew these people and had no doubt you were still way behind. The sad thing is you didn’t even care, but you knew they would and you couldn’t help that nagging desire to prove that you were just as cool as them. You sighed as you settled in your chair next to Carter, frustrated that just as you were starting to feel somewhat normal, you were transported right back to your loneliest days.

Carter went first, “never have I everrr…shoplifted.”

Sabrina took a giggly sip from her solo cup.

“Isn’t your dad’s networth like a billion dollars?” Kelce asked.

“Yes, but he never would’ve bought me those red panties, so I took ‘em,” she winked at him, and he scooted his chair closer to her.

Everyone else still had all ten fingers up, making you think maybe this wouldn’t be so bad after all.

But your relief didn’t last long. One by one they went around the circle, revealing each other’s secrets and leaving you with ten fingers up.

“Never have I ever done a body shot.” Your fingers stayed up.

“Never have I ever kissed someone of the same sex.” Your fingers stayed up.

“Never have I ever hooked up in a public place.” Your fingers stayed up.

As the group got tipsier, the revelations got dirtier. You were sure some of them were lying and there was some temptation for you to put a finger down as a lie too just to level the playing field, but that was such teenage bullshit. You might not have as a high of a body count as some of them, but you still had your pride.

The blood rushed from you face when Maddie said, “never have I ever been with two people at once” and Rafe put his last finger down, smirking as he finished off his beer.

A few more rounds passed and everyone else had put at least a couple fingers down while you still hadn’t done a single one of the things listed. You chewed on your lip, wondering how early was too early to excuse yourself to go to bed.

You were about to make a break for it, when a now sloppily drunk Sabrina pointed at you and slurred, “aww bambi’s still got ten!”

Bambi was another one of the many teasing nicknames they’d called you in high school, and it might just be your least favorite.

“You’re still such a good girl,” Sabrina jibed.

She must’ve been beyond wasted. She wasn’t necessarily nice, but she wasn’t usually this much of a bitch.

Your breaths got short, the anxiety erupting like fireworks in your chest. You could feel Carter’s mind spinning next to you, trying to come up with some way to defend you, but another voice beat her to it.

“Well,” Rafe said, drawing all eyes off of you and across the firepit towards him. “Never have I ever gotten so crossfaded at a boneyard party that I pissed my pants in someone else’s truck.”

He shot Sabrina a vindictive smile.

“Rafe!” She protested. “You said you wouldn’t tell anyone!”

At her admission, everyone broke out into laughter, aimed at her.

“I didn’t tell anyone,” Rafe chuckled, “you just did.”

“Bruhh,” Kelce hollered. “That’s nasty!”

Sabrina went red, completely humiliated. You tried to be a girl’s girl, but after years of her teasing and making you feel like a loser, you couldn’t help but join in the laughter at her expense.

As she emptied her cup spitefully, you caught Rafe’s gaze across the fire, the air between you wavy with the flame’s heat. He smiled a crooked, satisfied smile at you, and you mouthed “thank you.” He gave you a reassuring wink and your stomach did cartwheels.

Carter straightened in her lawn chair next to you, kicking herself for giving Rafe the chance to save you before she could.

“I’ve got one!” she announced, and the crowd hushed to hear their queen. “Never have I ever skinny dipped in the campus fountain and got caught by campus security but successfully flirted my way out of a citation and ended up getting the cop’s number.”

Everyone looked around the circle quizzically, wondering who that incredibly specific anecdote was aimed at.

“No fucking way!” Topper shouted when he saw you put down your pinky finger with a bashful smile.

Topper and Kelce whooped, and the girls all gave you impressed looks.

“Okay baddie!” Maddie gasped. “Was he cute? Did you call him?”

“I mean he wasn’t not cute,” you mused, taking the obligatory sip of your drink. “We hung out a few times.”

“So does that mean you’re into handcuffs now orrr…” Kelce chimed in.

“Oops, I put the wrong fingers down,” you lifted your hand and theatrically put all down except your middle finger, aiming it at Kelce.

The crowd erupted with laughs and amused ohhhh’s. Even Rafe was smiling, and you couldn’t help but wish you knew what he was thinking, noticing his soft eyes on you as you bantered with his friends, all attention on you. This time, you weren’t blushing, you were just enjoying yourself. It felt so nice to have such a naturally fun and easy moment, but it was short lived.

“Never have I ever,” Sabrina interrupted, hiccuping. “Failed an entire semester of college.”

The crowd fell silent once again, no one daring to bring their eyes to Rafe, the clear target of her comeback. He just rolled his eyes, leaning back in his chair nonchalantly, like it didn’t bother him at all. But you could see the hint of shame in his eyes, a rare glimpse of vulnerability hidden under his tough facade. You used to spend so much of your time digging for those deeper layers that it was easy for you to pick up on them when they rose to the surface, even if it was just for a second.

Maybe you should let him flounder, leave him hanging like he’d done to you so many times before. But tonight, for the first time ever, he had jumped in to defend you, and maybe one act of kindness wouldn’t kill you.

“Fuck this game. Topper, didn’t you say something earlier about a beer pong tournament?” You prompted him, hoping desperately he’d see what you were trying to do and play along.

Topper looked confused at first, so you smiled tightly and flicked your eyes to Rafe and back as quickly as possible, urging him to understand.

Ever the king of subtlety, Topper’s eyes went wide as he mouthed “ohhhh!”

Rafe saw the whole thing.

“Beer pong! Yes!” Topper said, excited to finally be in the loop. “Let’s do it!”

“I wanna play!” Sabrina stood quickly from her chair, immediately tripping over her own feet.

“Woah,” Carter caught her and held her up with some effort, Sabrina so far gone she couldn’t even use her legs. “I think you’ve had enough fun for tonight.”

Carter stabilized Sabrina and guided her towards the house. You knew she was pissed at Sabrina for picking on you, but Carter would never leave a drunk girl to stumble around a party by herself. She looked at you apologetically, but you nodded to let her know you were fine.

After they disappeared into the house, Topper and Kelce got to work clearing the long outdoor dining table for beer pong, filling cups and placing them with great attention to detail. You chuckled at the way they were arguing over correct cup spacing and fill levels as you reached down into the cooler for another drink. When you stood, Tom appeared by your side.

“I didn’t realize I was sharing a house with a criminal,” he drawled, mouth quirked with a crooked smile.

“Oh yeah,” you played along, popping the top of your drink. “I’m wanted in four states and Puerto Rico.”

“And Puerto Rico, wow,” he leaned his arm against the porch rail, his body angling towards yours in a way that made your skin prick with goosebumps. “I need to hear that story.”

“I’d tell you,” you lowered your voice and lifted your mouth towards his ear to whisper. “But then I’d have to kill you.”

“You’re in that deep, huh?” He placed his other hand on the railing on the other side of you, effectively caging you in, though he held himself back far enough to give you some space. You didn’t want space, though, the enticing scent of whiskey and the smoke from the fire drawing you to him.

“Mhm,” you leaned in so your chests were almost touching, a smile tugging his full lips when he noticed the way you intentionally closed the space between you. “If you thought the campus fountain story was bad…”

“I didn’t think it was bad,” he shook his head.

“No?” You grinned, eager to see where he was going with this.

“Not bad, kind of hot, but not bad,” he confessed.

“Only kind of?” You furrowed your brow in mock offense.

He broke into a smile and blushed, flustered as he said, “I mean, uh…”

You giggled. His bashful, dimpled smile was so painfully cute you were suddenly seeing the value to Carter’s matchmaking plan.

The alcohol in your system mixed with the warmth radiating off of him made your body go hot, tingles shooting up your spine as his eyes fell to your lips. He was so damn pretty. Warm brown eyes and messy hair you wanted to tangle your fingers in.

Rafe grabbed the fire poker and busied himself by tending to the flames, which didn’t really need it, considering Tom had built such a sturdy fire. The sound of your sweet giggles floating through the air as you flirted with Tom made him want to walk straight off the porch and into the ocean. He’d surely put his lifelong friendship with Sabrina on the line, not to mention his own pride, to keep you from running away in embarrassment, and now Tom was reaping the rewards of his chivalry.

He remembered, though. Maybe you didn’t think he did, but he remembered. The nights you sat in the corner, lonely, pining, and the go-to butt of his friends’ stupid jokes. And he’d just sat by and let it happen, so many times. It’s no wonder you were leaned up against someone else, sharing stories about a whole chapter of your life he’d missed. He only had himself to blame.

Once the table was set up, Topper turned and frowned at the way the group had split, you and Tom cozy in the corner while Rafe stood by the fire alone, shoulders tense. He needed to step up his Cupid game, like, now.

He clapped his hands loudly, voice booming as he announced to the party that it was time to play. The startling sound forced Tom away from you just as you were about to ask him if he wanted to walk down to the water. Topper pointed right at you and pronounced you would be on his team. You were going to protest before you remembered beer pong was your idea in the first place, your ruse to protect Rafe. You couldn’t back out now.

Beer pong was another thing you’d added to your skill set in college. In high school, you were never asked to join when parties inevitably broke into a tournament. Instead you’d sit quietly and watch with hearts in your eyes as Rafe played with the competitiveness of an Olympian in a gold medal race.

He was known for his terrible sportsmanship, everyone expected a full tantrum if he didn’t win. The same went for school sports, you’d spent every night after a rare loss up on the phone with him listening intently while he ranted about all the ways the refs were wrong or the umps were blind. At the time, you took it as an honor that you were the one he wanted to find solace in. Now, grown and mature, you saw it for what it really was; no one else wanted to listen to him bitch and moan, so you were just his only option.

“Let’s go, Little Carter!” Topper raised his hand for a high five as you approached the table.

“If you call me that, I’m not playing,” you left him hanging.

“My bad, my bad,” he conceded.

You gave in and high fived him, stepping up to the table with your game face on. Kelce and Maddie stood across from you. They were both terrible shots, and you sunk every ball, but Topper was keeping them in the game with his many misses.

Topper was great at beer pong in high school and you were sure he’d had plenty of practice at U of F, so there was no reason he should be playing so horribly.

“Dude, what the hell is up with you?” You scolded him after another throw that was way off.

“I dunno,” Topper said with an exaggerated drunken slur in his voice. “I think I’m just too wasted to play. You might need another partner.”

Before you could mock him for his dramatics, he had called over to Rafe, who was sitting back in a lounge chair looking at his phone, anything to keep his eyes off of you.

“What?” He grumbled, eyes lifting from his screen and avoiding yours.

“Need you to sub in for me,” Topper fake hiccupped and you rolled your eyes.

You were sure Rafe would see you were his proposed partner and pass on the opportunity, but then he and Topper had some kind of silent conversation with their eyes that you couldn’t interpret, and Rafe stood from his chair.

“You don’t have to,” you offered as he stepped up and took the ball from Topper.

You hated that your instinct was to apologize for inconveniencing him. He shrugged and lined up his first shot.

“Someone’s gotta show ‘em how it’s done,” he said with an easy grin that made your heart beat a little faster.

If only your younger self could see how your night was progressing. Impressing everyone during never have I ever. Flirting with a gorgeous boy from another school. And now, Rafe smiling at you and acknowledging your presence in front of all these people, willingly agreeing to be your teammate. She’d have died and gone to heaven.

He had every right to be cocky; he was really good. And to his great surprise, so were you. You and Rafe made quick work of Kelce and Maddie, then Kelce and Jack, then Kelce and three more partners that tried to step up to the plate, Kelce’s aim worsening as he teetered on the edge of a blackout.

“When did you get so good at this?” Rafe asked you after a partcualrly skillful shot.

“I was always good at it,” you scoffed. “You just never let me play.”

After that comment, Rafe was suddenly an extra encouraging teammate. Before each shot he’d pull you back, leaning down to whisper in your ear conspiratorially about which cup you should call, like an NFL coach rallying his quarterback.

“I can’t hit the far corner, my aim isn’t that good,” you said when he proposed the risky shot.

Self-doubt filled your face as you bit your lip, Rafe recognizing the nervous tick instantly.

“Nah you got it!” he grabbed you by the shoulder and shook you playfully. “You just gotta believe in yourself.”

Despite yourself, you broke into a smile, making a feeble attempt to brush him away, though he could tell you didn’t mean it.

“Let’s go slugger,” Rafe placed the ball in your hand and guided you into position by your shoulders. He stood behind you and leaned in to bring his mouth close to your ear. “You got this.”

You loved it. You hated it. Your head swirled with conflicting thoughts, but when you sunk the ball with a flick of your wrist, they all faded.

“Let’s fucking gooo!” Rafe yelled.

He lifted his hand for a double high five and you stood on your tiptoes to reach. Your arms came down, but your hands were still in his.

“Told ‘ya,” he said tenderly, smiling down at you as his large hands enveloped yours. “You just gotta believe in yourself.”

Despite the alarms blaring in your head, telling you to run, you let it all linger. The deep sound of his voice in the air, his eyes on your lips, his rough hands folded in yours.

“Okay!” Carter chose that minute to emerge from the house after Sabrina finally fell asleep. “That’s enough wins for y’all, time for some real competition.”

The sound of her voice snapped you out of the moment, and you pulled your hands away from Rafe quickly, nervous about all the eyes on you for the first time since you’d started playing.

“I need a partner,” Carter said, surveying the group on the patio. “How about…”

You rolled your eyes, knowing exactly where she was going with this show and wishing she’d just fast forward to the end.

“Tom?” She raised her eyebrows in his direction, as if it was a crazy idea she had just come up with. “Do you play?”

“I may have taken part in a tourney or two,” Tom said humbly.

“Bullshit,” Kelce exclaimed, slumped in a chair as his head spun. “This guy was the Alpha Tau champion all four years. He’s got a plaque and everything.”

“Damn, I didn’t know we had Alpha Tau royalty in our midst!” Carter bantered.

“Jesus, enough with the fanfare, are you playing or not, dude?” Rafe snapped.

Carter eyed you, her lips twisted in a satisfied smirk. No one was surprised at Rafe’ gruffness, more than used to his competitive mean streak. It was not one of his more attractive qualities. The pull you’d just felt to him faltered a little at the reminder of this particular weakness. You were sure that’s exactly what Carter was hoping for.

“Alright I’m in,” Tom said, stepping up to the table and rolling up the sleeves of his sweater. “Don’t say I didn’t warn ‘ya.” He winked at you.

“Yeah, yeah, just call your shot, champ,” Rafe said.

The four of you reset the cups, not much work needing to be done on you and Rafe’s side of the table since almost no one had scored on you. As Tom lined up his first shot, he stuck his tongue out of the corner of his mouth in concentration, adjusting and readjusting his stance to get comfortable.

Rafe crossed his arms over his chest mumbling something along the lines of “this fuckin’ guy” and you couldn’t help but smile, admittedly also kind of getting the ick from how seriously Tom was taking this.

Then he sunk every ball. After a few particularly good rounds, he made his third shot in a row, and Carter called “fire.” She handed him balls one after another like he was taking free throws, wiggling her eyebrows at you to make sure you were paying attention to his triumph.

You drank each cup obediently, ever the rule follower. After your fourth, you were getting so sick of the stale beer, you and Rafe’s cups had been sitting untouched all night and the cheap hops had soured significantly. When Tom sunk another one you grabbed the cup hesitantly, queasy, nearly gagging.

“It’s okay, I got it,” Rafe volunteered, grabbing the cup from you.

“Y’all don’t have to drink those if they’re really that bad,” Tom offered, pausing his next shot when he noticed how disgusted you looked.

“I got it, man,” Rafe waved him off, holding his nose and shooting back the beer as quickly as possible. He dropped the empty cup with a grimace.

“We can just call it a game,” Tom suggested, clearly feeling bad.

“Do you want to forfeit?” You asked Rafe, dropping your voice so Carter and Tom couldn’t hear.

“What and just wave the white flag?” Rafe replied, eyebrows raised. “Do you?

Your lips spread in a slow smile, “not a fucking chance.”

“Atta girl,” he nodded, returning his gaze to Tom. “We’re no quitters, hit us again big guy.”

And he did, over and over, until there was only one cup left on your side of the table. As he prepped for his final shot, Rafe turned to you, a playful, tipsy smile on his face.

“We had a good run,” He said, reaching out shake your hand. You took it with a smile.

When Tom and Carter won, high fiving each other in a loud celebration, all eyes fell to Rafe, waiting to see how he’d react to losing. You tensed, hoping his chipper attitude when you were winning would carry over into a graceful loss. But then he rounded the table, striding towards Tom, and you cringed in anticipation of a classic Rafe Cameron Temper Tantrum.

“Oh boy,” Carter mumbled under her breath. “Here we go.”

But there was no blow up, just Rafe extending his hand to Tom, who took it with a friendly shake.

“Good game, man,” Rafe said.

“Yeah, you too, dude,” Tom smiled, not realizing this show of sportsmanship was a historical first.

Rafe tilted his head in a friendly nod towards your sister, “Carter.”

“Rafael,” she returned his sarcastic tone, purposefully using his least favorite nickname.

With that, Rafe walked away from the table, one last glance towards you as he returned to his seat by the fire. You watched him go, feeling sad not that you had lost, but that your fun night with Rafe had seemingly come to an end.

It was dizzying, your ever-changing emotional state, and you suspected it had very little to do with the beer. Thinking over all the events of the day gave you whiplash. One second you were about ready to ask Tom if he wanted to come back to your room, the next it felt like you and Rafe were finally sharing the moment you’d dreamt of for years. All the while, you weren’t sure you actually wanted either of them, or if you even wanted to be here at all.

“Wanna play again?” Carter asked, noticing the distracted look on your face.

“I’m good,” you smiled at her appreciatively, deciding you’d had enough excitement for one day. “I think I’m probably just going to bed now.”

“Aww, but it’s so early grandma,” Topper called over to you from the firepit.

You walked over to his chair and peched on the armrest.

“Ah yes, another one of my favorite nicknames,” you joked. “No one’s called me that in four years.”

“Another inside joke?” Tom inquired, joining the circle, he and Carter each grabbing a chair.

“In high school, she was always the first to leave parties. She’d rather be at home in bed with a book by 9pm,” Topper explained to him.

You rose from his chair, eager to ditch this little trip down memory lane before it got too embarrassing. You almost made a clean escape, but then a very drunk Kelce decided to chime in.

“Unless Rafe asked her to stay,” he laughed. “Then she’d be there allll night.”

Embarrassed doesn’t even begin to cover it. You’ve been embarrassed a thousand times in your life, but this was something different. You looked down at your feet, not sure what you were supposed to do. No quick, face saving remark was coming to mind.

Carter smacked Kelce on the arm, while Topper shook his head with a disapproving, “dude…”

Your eyes drifted to Rafe, who was looking down at his hands uncomfortably. Whatever protective instinct that had inspired him to stand up for you earlier was clearly gone as he left you to drown in the painfully awkward silence.

“Oh, were you two…?” Tom asked, pointing between you and Rafe quizzically.

“Nope,” you told him with a stiff smile.

He looked like he was about to ask more, but caught on at the last second, reading in between the lines. There it was, the last person here who didn’t know about your pathetic past was now caught up to speed. Yeah, you’d definitely had enough.

“Kelce, you’re such an asshole,” Carter began reprimanding him.

“Just stop,” you urged her. “It’s fine, I’m just going to bed.”

“Wait!” She called after you, but you were already walking toward the house, tears pricking the corner of your eyes. She gave Kelce one last slap and rushed after you.

Kelce, barely conscious, still hadn’t caught up with his own party foul.

“Where’s she going?” He asked Topper.

Rafe stood from his chair suddenly.

“Will you get him out of here please?” He spat at Topper, sidestepping the fire as he stormed off toward the house.

Rafe followed your path into the kitchen, not sure what he was going to say when he caught up to you, but suddenly overwhelmed with the urge to make it right. He should’ve said something as soon as Kelce put his foot in his mouth. He’d deal with that dumbass later.

He slid the kitchen door open, headed towards the stairs that lead to the second floor, but he stopped short when he heard your voice. He stayed back, out of sight but close enough to hear your conversation with Carter on the stairs.

“Carter, it’s fine,” you sighed.

“No it’s fucking not, he made you cry,” Carter practically growled.

Rafe’s heart dropped. You were crying? He was gonna kick Kelce’s ass as soon as he was sober enough to feel pain.

“I’m just tired,” you sniffled. “Please, just drop it for now. I just wanna go to sleep.”

“I’m sorry,” Carter said, her voice starting to crack. “I shouldn’t have pushed you to stay.”

“It’s not your fault,” you assured her. “I knew he was gonna be here.”

Rafe frowned. Was the ‘he’ you were referring to still Kelce, or was it him? Was his presence really so distressing to you that you were in tears?

Carter reluctantly bid you goodnight, and Rafe slipped into the pantry so she wouldn’t see him when she descended the stairs back into the kitchen, storming towards the backyard, surely on her way to give Kelce hell.

He stood in the walk-in pantry for a minute, collecting his thoughts.

Maybe he should be the one to leave. If his presence really was such torment to you, it would be the right thing to do. But you didn’t seem tormented earlier when you were playing beer pong with him, cheering each other on and laughing like friends. Or before, at the fire, when you’d come to each other’s defense. Even his two best friends hadn’t seen that Sabrina’s words actually hurt him, but you did. You always knew him better than anyone.

While he stood in the pantry, illuminated only by the single light bulb above his head, his eyes grazed over the shelf. Between a stack of paper plates and some hamburger buns, sat the candy he had picked out for you at the store. He smiled at the memory of your many car rides as teenagers, fueled by the snacks you had brought when you picked him up. Maybe you regretted those times now, but something about the fact that this was still your favorite candy made him feel better.

His stomach twisted with worry that after what Kelce had said, you would decide to leave. The only worse thought was that he might let you go without finding the courage to say the words he’d been holding onto since he saw you on the beach. Maybe you’d slam the door in his face, but he couldn’t let you leave without trying.

Rafe grabbed your candy off the shelf and climbed the stairs two at a time, eager to knock on your bedroom door before he lost his nerve.

(Chapter 4)

a/n: I LOVED hearing all your Team Tom vs. Team Rafe opinions!! The competition is heating up!!!! (not my outline for this chapter starting with “note: google rules to beer pong” lol)

Ch 4 predictions? 👀

please note, the taglist for this series is currently closed. For updates, follow @whytheylosttheirminds-works and turn on notifs 💕

#rafe cameron #rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron fic #obx fic #drew starkey #rafe obx #rafe fanfic #rafe fic #rafe cameron x you #rafe cameron imagine #obx #outer banks #outer banks fic #topper thornton #x reader #rafe x reader #rafe cameron angst #rafe cameron fluff #don't call me kid

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marauder-misprint · 1 month ago

Text

Checked box

Sirius Black x Potter!reader

13k words

cw: fluff, little bit of snogging, pinning, hurt/comfort (I guess?)

“Black is snogging Eloise Garner in the corridor,” Mary says as she sits down for breakfast at the Gryffindor table in the Great Hall.

“Bit early for a snog, isn’t it?” you ask, not looking up from your paper.

“I’d say so,” she responds, pouring herself a cup of tea.

“Isn’t that like the third girl this week?” Lily asks.

“Feels like he’s trying to at least snog every girl in our year and then some,” Marlene answers.

The group is silent for a moment as Mary, Marlene and Lily all stare at you.

“Well? Is he?” Lily asks.

“How would I know?”

“Because he is quite literally in your lap every evening?” Marlene replies. “Honestly, if we didn’t know you, we’d say you two were dating. Or at least you’d’ve been the first one he snogged.”

You make a face at that assumption. “My brother’s best friend, believe it or not, does not confide all of his life’s mission to me.”

“You’re probably one of them,” Mary giggles.

“Except I’m basically his sister!”

“Siblings don’t act like that around each other,” Lily says with a smile.

“James!” you call to your brother who is a few seats down from the group. “Does Sirius like me romantically?”

He looks up from his Quidditch book, eyes wide.

“What? What did he do to you?”

He slams his book down and quickly walks down the table toward the girls. He crouches next to you so he wasn’t towering over you.

“What did Padfoot do?”

You laugh at your brother. “Nothing, James. But these three,” you gesture to the girls around you, “think I’m on his to-be-snogged list. I’m not, am I?” Your words were teasing, already knowing that you weren't.

“I’ll damn ensure that you’re not,” he growls, shaking his head.

“But there is a list?” Marlene pipes up. Her eyes glitter with intrigue.

“Not a list, per se… But he does seem to have trouble keeping to one girl for long.”

“And there you have it, folks! No real list and even if there was, I’m not on it.” You turn to look at James who doesn’t seem to be moving from where he crouches behind your shoulder. “Thanks James. You can, uh, go sit down now.”

“Oooh! Speak of the devil!” Mary chirps, looking toward the Great Hall door where Sirius was entering alone.

“Morning, pumpkin,” Sirius says, ruffling your hair. “Girls.”

James had waited until Sirius made it to the girls. The boys went down to their usual spots down the table. Once sat, James bursts into hurried whispers that lead to numerous glances being sent in the girls’ direction.

“How come I can’t call you pumpkin?” Lily pouts. Of all the pet names, pumpkin was your least favorite.

You roll your eyes before answering. “He’ll be reprimanded later for that. Don’t you worry, dearest Lily.”

“Reprimanded in your sex dungeon?” Marlene gasps, a hand over her heart.

You smack her with your paper from across the table. “Don’t you start a rumor like that!”

“I could totally see you having one though!” Marlene insists.

“What is your dominatrix name?” Lily asks, gently bumping into your shoulder.

“You are all too horny this morning. I’ll see you in class.”

You quickly gather your things, take one last sip of coffee and leave the hall. The day seems to go on as usual for you. You sat with the girls in most of your classes. You’re glad the conversation of Sirius’ list had been left at breakfast. There are minor differences in the boys during classes. They appeared to have shuffled their seating arrangements, but it doesn’t affect you until History of Magic. You usually sit next to Sirius. Instead, you were sat next to Peter while Sirius sat on the other side of James. Peter wasn’t your favorite of James’ friends but you could tolerate him.

There was definitely something different about Sirius in the common room after dinner. You usually hung out with her brother and his friends in the evenings. This would often lead to you sitting with Sirius on the couch, one of you draped over the other. Depending on who was sitting and who was lounging, you would play with each other’s hair or do homework or take a brief nap. You liked when Sirius would read you the assigned chapter because you otherwise wouldn’t read it. This evening, however, Sirius sat in an armchair nowhere near you. You frown as you watch him sit down and proceed to avoid your gaze.

The altered seating arrangement and not sitting with you on the couch continues for the next few days. By Friday evening, it is driving you crazy. You need to know what is going on. You wait until most people have gone to bed before deciding to confront him. Sirius was usually one of the last people up so you knew that waiting it out would be okay.

“Black, come ‘ere,” you say.

He looks over at you with a confused look on his face. He had been watching the fire, lost in his own thoughts. When he doesn’t move, you pat the couch cushion next to you. Reluctantly, he gets up and move to sit next to you.

“What’s up, pumpkin?”

“What’s up with you?” you ask, your brows furrowed. “Feels like you’ve been on the other side of the Earth this week.”

He shrugs, looking back towards the fire. “Just following directions.”

“Whose directions?”

“Prongs.”

“And, pray tell, what did that idiot tell you to do?”

“To stay away from you?” he replies, obvious confusion in his voice.

You pinch the bridge of your nose in mild frustration. “When was this?”

“Uh, earlier this week at breakfast. Made it seem like it was partly at your request?”

You shake your head. “Leave it to James to mess something up. No. He said he would make sure I didn’t end up as another checked box on your list. That would be all him.”

“Another checked box? What list is this?” Sirius asks with a slight chuckle as he looks at you.

“The list of every girl in our year and then some,” you giggle, slightly relieved that it seems like he doesn’t have such a list. “You know, your apparent mission to kiss every one. And maybe get some.”

He quickly turns back to the fire, hoping to hide the brief look of embarrassment that crosses his face. You see it anyway and feel your face flush slightly.

“There’s no list. And you certainly wouldn’t be a box on it if it were.”

“Ouch, Black,” you say with semi-fake hurt. “Cut me deep.”

“Please, I would be neutered if I kissed you.”

You laugh. Your laugh is enough to draw Sirius’ gaze away from the fire again. He loves seeing you smile that widely and knowing it was something he said to get you to.

“Why were you talking about that imaginary list anyways?”

“Mary saw you snogging Eloise and apparently thought I would know if this list existed,” you say with a soft chuckle.

“And James was a part of this conversation?” he asks in disbelief.

“Well, I called him over when the girls didn’t believe that we aren’t romantically involved, let alone never kissed.”

Sirius shakes his head with a small smile playing on his lips. “And that leads to James declaring that I need to be at least a meter away from you at all times?”

“I asked him two questions. Do you like me romantically and was I on your to-be-snogged list?” You pause. “You know, he never actually answered the first one.”

“That would be because he doesn’t know,” Sirius says, turning his head almost 90 degrees to crack his neck. “You know how much he hates being wrong… So he’s not going to give an answer if he doesn’t know if it’s right.”

“What does that mean?”

“That I don’t discuss everything with Prongs. Although, he never has asked how I feel about you.”

You chuckle and nudge Sirius with your shoulder. “You don’t have to pretend like you might have feelings for me. It’s… fine that you don’t.” The words taste bitter in your mouth, but you try to sound genuine. You would be lying if you said you never imagined things developing between the two of you.

“Why do you assume I don’t?” Sirius asks, cocking his head as he looks at you intently.

“Why would you be snogging anything that moves in a skirt if you liked me and you’ve never made a move for me?”

“I thought we agreed that Prongs would have me neutered if I kissed you?” He takes a breath. “And maybe knowing that I could very well lose my best friend if I went after the girl I actually like is the reason I go from girl to girl. None of them make me feel like she does.”

“Wait, what?”

“There’s just more than one reason why you can’t be a checked box on this list,” Sirius says, standing up. “Goodnight, pumpkin.”

He places a gentle kiss on top of your head before heading up the stairs to the boys’ dormitories. You stare after him dumbfounded. Has Sirius just essentially told you that he did like you and then leave?

Despite knowing that he was well out of earshot, you still say, “That’s not my name.”

None of the students remaining in the common room pay you any attention as you sit on the couch alone, talking to yourself now. You slump into the cushions and take over Sirius’ habit of staring into the fire. You understand why he does it. The way that the flames dance and flicker and radiate heat is calming.

You are distracted all weekend by what Sirius had said. You bury yourself in homework and use it as an excuse to avoid the Quidditch game. It’s Slytherin against Hufflepuff so your absence isn't insulting to James. Despite being tucked away in a distraction-free corner of the library, you make little progress on your homework. Your mind kept wandering back to Sirius and what he had said. You had worked hard to bury all of your feelings for him years ago, assuming it would never happen due to his close friendship with James. Your feelings continued to remain buried as he got closer with you and never hinted that he might like you more than a friend.

In your dorm, you ignore the comments from Lily and Mary that for someone who spent all weekend in the library, you made such little progress on your assignments, or that they were done extremely poorly.

On Monday, you really do try to pay attention in class, but it is futile. Even after a weekend of him on your mind, your thoughts keep drifting back to Sirius, who is in most of your classes. Even worse, you come to realize that you have no one to talk to about it so you can only let your mind spin as it had for the past two days. You think you disguise your distraction fairly well in classes until Remus grabs your hand in Potions before you can tip an ingredient into your cauldron.

“Are you trying to blow up the classroom?” he hisses at you.

You blink at him and then look at what you had been about to pour into your brew. He is right. If you had dumped it in, your cauldron would have blown up and severely damaged those around you. You give Remus a grateful smile.

“Thanks, Remus… Been a bit distracted lately.”

“Yeah, I know.”

You give him a look. “Is it obvious?”

“You didn’t bother to apologize or clean up your spilled inkwell in Transfiguration,” he says with a soft smile. “If Lily hadn’t quickly cleaned it up for you, McGonagall would’ve given you detention.”

“Huh… I’ll have to thank her later…”

“What’s got you so distracted?”

“Nothing too important,” you lie.

“If I’m almost blown up over it, it must be important.”

“It’s really not that big of a deal. I just don’t have anyone to talk to about it so it’s… festering.”

Remus turns back to his own potion.

“Must be quite the topic if you have no one to talk to about it.”

You scrunch your face as you add the correct ingredient to your potion, causing it to turn a pleasant blue color.

“What does that mean?”

“You have plenty of people who care for you. And if none of us are good enough, you could probably have your pick of first years who would love to listen to your problems.”

You chew at the dead skin of your bottom lip, looking at Remus and knowing he was right.

“Don’t be mad but sometimes I forget that you are also my friend, not just James’. And that you are the most understanding person on this planet.”

He chuckles softly, not trying to draw attention to himself. “Understandable. But what is it that you feel you have no one to talk to about?”

“It’s too public in here,” you say, looking around the room. “It’s something I can’t talk to the girls about because they will all tease me endlessly if I do. And I can’t talk about it with James because we don’t really discuss that kind of stuff often and he overreacts.”

“And Sirius?”

You purse your lips.

“Oh,” Remus says, suddenly understanding. “Let’s discuss this after class when I’m certain I’ll be in less danger of blowing up.”

Once your potions are turned in to Professor Slughorn, you and Remus leave the classroom together. Lily, Mary and James give you questionable stares as you disappear around the corner. Neither of you say a word until you are more secluded in the grounds of Hogwarts. You walk down towards the Black Lake. Anyone trying to eavesdrop would have a harder time hearing you over the sound of waves.

“What did Sirius do?” Remus asks, sitting down and resting his back against a tree.

Mimicking his actions, you answer, “It’s what he said when I confronted him for avoiding me all last week.”

“Wasn’t that at your request?”

“No. James is a liar.”

“Okay?”

“Long story short, Mary, Marlene and Lily…” you start to say before putting your head in your hands and groaning. “Screw that. Does Sirius like me?”

“He lets you touch his hair. Of course he likes you.”

You lift your head to look at Remus. “Does he like me as more than a friend?”

“What did he say to you?”

“I asked first.”

“I can only speak if I know what he told you.”

You sigh heavily and turn your gaze to the lake.

“Something like he’d lose James if he kissed the girl he actually likes and that’s why he’s been kissing every girl who looks his way. And then that there’s more than one reason why I can’t be another checked box on the list of girls he’s kissed.”

Remus puts his hand on your shoulder.

“Oh, darling…”

“Remus, does he like me?”

“I believe he does.”

You whip your head towards him. “What do you mean, you believe?”

“He’s not known for pouring his heart out. You know that. He’s private with his more personal feelings,” Remus says, choosing his words carefully. “But I have eyes and ears. The way he looks at you, especially when James isn’t looking. The way he acts around you. The way he talks to you, and about you. … And he calls you pumpkin.”

You don’t say anything. You were taking it all in, although you don’t quite understand why him using that pet name held significance. You just want Remus to keep talking.

“You know about his home life,” he continues.

You nod.

“I don’t think I could say all the ways it makes him the way he is. We’ve only heard snippets of it. I think there’s a lot he has walled off. And he has a found family in us. In James specifically. So he’s going to tread lightly around anything that could harm that.”

You bite the inside of your lip. You know you have been let inside some of Sirius’ walls. There were the miscellaneous late nights filled with more vulnerable conversations over the past two years. A particularly horrendous nightmare had brought Sirius to the common room to sit by the dying fire, and you had already been sitting there. You had been unable to sleep with your own anxieties. You snuggled into each other on the couch and talked until Sirius felt okay to go back to sleep.

Even with that memory in your head, the thing you say is, “So James’ irrationality is why Sirius hasn’t made a move on me?”

“Part of it… but that’s not what you’re taking away from this conversation. There’s more than Prongs in this equation.”

You sigh and rest your chin on your hands. The sun was beginning to set and it reflects beautifully on the lake’s shimmering surface.

“You’re also in the equation,” Remus reminds you. “Do you like him as more than a friend?”

You can’t help but laugh.

“Remus John Lupin, I’ve been in love with him since second year.”

The moment you say that, it hits you like a brick wall. The buried emotions all bubble up and you lean back into the tree forcefully. Your head hits the trunk with a soft thud and you groan at the sudden pain. You know that you thought Sirius was cute from the moment you met him but it did take time and a little bit of maturing for you to decide that you liked him in that way. And because he is your brother’s best friend, you kept quiet about it, even to your female friends. Despite playing it off, you were bothered when you heard about him snogging another girl in the corridor. You were bothered when you heard girls giggle about how handsome he was and how they hoped he would give them attention or take them to Hogsmeade. You relish in the fact that out of every one of his friends, he chose to sit next to you in the common room night after night. And you treasured every time he let you see that vulnerable side of him that he kept so well hidden behind his bright smile and boisterous laugh and devil-may-care attitude.

“If that’s true, why haven’t you made a move?”

You laugh again, nudging Remus’s shoulder.

“I thought you were the smart one of the group. He’s James’ best friend. His best friend who has never once shown an inkling of romantic interest in me. Why would I risk that level of embarrassment with someone who is obviously going to be in my life as long as I stay close with James?”

“Do you ever think that maybe he thought the same thing?”

“Rems, I…”

“Love, listen. I can’t tell you what to do. I can’t tell you for certain that he likes you. But I suggest you talk to him. Probably when James isn’t around. And if it comes to it, screw what James thinks. He just cares for you and doesn’t want to see you hurt. You are twins after all.”

You sit in silence for a minute. The crashing waves of the lake fill the air as the sun disappears over the horizon.

“Rems, thanks for this. But we did miss dinner,” you finally say.

You stand up and hold out a hand to Remus. He takes it with a smile. He grunts as he stands up, like the old man the boys often compare him to.

“You act like we don’t know where the kitchens are…”

After a quick stop by the kitchens for sandwiches, you enter the common room together. You are greeted by multiple versions of “There you are!” and “I told you they’d be together, I saw them leave Potions together!” It seems as if your disappearance had captured the attention of every sixth year Gryffindor.

“You missed dinner!” James chides.

“We grabbed sandwiches,” you say, holding up your almost finished grilled cheese.

“What were you doing?” His eyes narrow at Remus.

“Talking?” Remus answers, moving past James to sit by in a chair by the fire.

You, however, feel frozen with James in front of you and the eyes of many Gryffindors on you.

“Talking kept you from food?” Marlene asks in disbelief. “Must’ve been some conversation.”

“I’d say it was enlightening,” you say.

“Did he teach you Lumos?” Peter asks from the couch.

“Ha,” Remus says dryly.

“Are you okay?” James asks you in a hushed tone as the non-sixth year Gryffindors slowly turn back to their own conversations.

“Yes? I just needed to talk to Rem about something private.”

“Something private?” he asks, trying to get more information out of you. “With Moony? Come on, what is going on?”

“Nothing is going on. God forbid a girl talks to her male friends.”

“If nothing is going on, then tell me what you were talking about.”

“You are not privy to my every conversation,” you snap.

“I am a bit when it’s with one of my best mates.”

“Your best mates are also some of my best mates, James. Learn to share.”

Your voices were increasing in volume.

“Do I need to talk to him too?” James asks, placing a hand on your shoulder which you immediately shrug off.

“No! And I never asked you to talk to Sirius!”

Sirius looks from Remus to you to James at the mention of his name.

“You asked if you were…”

“I asked for information. That’s all. And you have the audacity to tell him to stay away from me?”

“I’m protecting you.”

“I don’t need protecting,” you spit. “And if I did, it certainly wouldn’t be from your friends.” You look over at the boys and then back at James. “If anyone needs protecting from the people you call your best mates, then you need to reevaluate the kind of company you keep.”

“Hey, I didn’t mean it like that. I just don’t want to see you get hurt.”

“Let me get hurt.”

You give James one last nasty look before finally being able to move your feet. You disappear into the girls’ dorms. As you walk away, you can feel eyes watching your every move. Apparently if you argue with your brother loudly, the common room is forced to give you all of their attention. Once out of sight, James collapses on the couch, refusing to look at anyone. Lily, Marlene and Mary watch James sit down and then follow you up the stairs. Lily hesitates a moment before knocking on the door to your shared dorm.

“Lovie?” she called softly as she opened the door a crack. “Potter!”

The door creaks loudly as it opens wider. You had changed out of your uniform and into muggle clothes. You are sitting on your bed, lacing up your heavy boots with a small bag next to you.

“Going somewhere?” Marlene asks. She is the first of the girls to enter the room.

“I need to clear my head.”

“How do you plan on doing that?” Lily asks, trying to keep her voice calm and gentle.

“Heard about some poachers gathering in the forest. And if I can’t find them, I’ll find some trolls or dugbogs or something.”

“And you plan on going alone?”

You shoot the girls a warning look. “Yes. Evans, if you threaten detention, make it for Thursday.”

Lily doesn’t say anything.

“What did you and Lupin talk about?” Mary inquires, not quite seeing that you aren’t in the mood to talk about that yet.

“Doesn’t. Fucking. Matter.”

You, having finished lacing your boots, grab you bag and storm out of the dorm. You have to push past Mary who is still standing in the doorway. Your heavy footsteps silence the common room before you finish descending the stairs. Eyes follow you as you leave the common room. Once out of the portrait, the common room roars to life again.

“So… what the fuck?” Peter asks, looking at his friends.

“She’s pissed off,” Remus says coolly. “And I’d say for decent reason.”

James gives him an annoyed look.

“That time of the month, is it?”

“Peter, no!” Remus chastises. “She’s just figuring stuff out.”

“Care to share with the class?” James asks.

“I’d prefer to not spend the next two weeks in the hospital wing so I’ll let her tell you when she’s ready.”

“So we’re going to let her go off like that?” Sirius asks, speaking up for the first time since you and Remus came back.

“Yes,” Remus and James say at the same time.

“Like she said, she doesn’t need protection,” Remus says, sending a wary glance to James.

---

Remus was mildly surprised that when he woke up, Sirius wasn’t in his bed. He was, however, less surprised when he found Sirius slumped on the couch in the common room. Remus approached him, ready to wake him up, only to find that Sirius was awake. His hair was slightly frizzy and dark bags formed under his eyes. He was still in his disheveled uniform from the day before, having never gone up to their dorm after dinner.

“Pads?” he says gently. “Were you up all night?”

Sirius looks away from the fire groggily.

“Huh?” He processes what Remus had asked him. He sits up, his back loudly cracking as he does so. “Yeah. Someone had to wait for Potter to get back.”

“And you didn’t come up when she did?”

Sirius shakes his head before running a hand through his curls.

“She didn’t, Moons. She didn’t come back.”

Remus’ eyes go wide.

“No, surely she came back. You must’ve drifted asleep at some point.”

“She didn’t. I was awake the whole time.”

Remus sits next to his friend, placing a hand on his knee. “Maybe she got back recently and just went straight to breakfast? How ‘bout we go get some, yeah?”

“Let me change,” Sirius mutteres, giving Remus a tired look.

He doesn’t move for a minute. His brain feels too fuzzy and wired at the same time. Convincing his legs to support his weight as he eventually stands up is more of a task than he anticipates. He is quick in getting ready for the day in their dorm. He doesn’t understand how James is still asleep, or how he had slept at all when you weren’t in the castle for all they knew. Sirius ties his hair back and looks at his reflection with his fresh uniform on. Despite his attempts to make himself look presentable, not having slept at all and being filled with worry makes him look exhausted, which is how he felt. He just doesn’t want to show it. He sighs and returns to Remus.

Sirius watches the Great Hall door as he slowly eats some breakfast. He drinks some coffee that Remus pushed towards him, saying something along the lines of needing caffeine if he was planning on making it through the day. When the girls sit down, they confirm that you hadn't been in their dorm that morning and your bed looked unslept in. Sirius groans. The girls exchange curious looks.

Palpable concern and worry finally reaches the rest of the sixth year Gryffindors when they are all sat in Charms and you still weren't there.

“You’re certain that she didn’t come back and just made her bed when she got up?” James asks Marlene.

“Positive. All of her school things were still there. The bed hadn’t been touched.”

“And since when does she make her bed?” Lily asks.

Halfway through class, you enter the room. All eyes turn to look at you. You have multiple bandages over your body, looking freshly applied. You hand Professor Flitwick a note and take your spot next to Mary. You don’t say anything to all the Gryffindors staring at you. You just open your book to the same page as Mary and turn to look at the professor, hoping he’d continue his lesson where he left off.

“Where have you been?” Mary whispers, not looking at you.

“Forest. And then hospital wing,” you reply nonchalantly.

“Did you sleep?”

“No. I’ll be fine,” you assert. “Now shush.”

After Charms ends, the Gryffindors surround you so you can’t slip away to your next class. You avoid making eye contact with any of them as you gather your things and attempt to push through them.

“Going into the forest at night is one thing,” Lily chides. “Not coming back until halfway through the first lesson of the day is another.”

“Okay, mum,” you say shortly, still trying to push through the group.

“Aren’t you going to explain yourself?” James asks.

You glare at him. “Certainly not to you.”

“You look like you barely came back in one piece!” he exclaims. “I’m shocked Pomfrey let you leave the hospital wing.”

A wicked glint shines in your eyes. “Oh, she didn’t. I just left.”

“Potter!” Mary gasps.

“Macdonald!” you mimic with an eye roll. “If you lot don’t get out of my way, I’ll be late for Ancient Runes and I’m already on thin ice with Raltmole.”

You finally push through the group and leave them in the Charms classroom. They exchange frustrated looks before following you out. They split up for their respective classes, Remus and Lily following you towards the Ancient Runes classroom.

“Did you find the poachers you were looking for?” Lily asks tentatively once they sit on either side of you.

You nod. “And then some. The hippogriffs they had weren’t happy to be freed.”

“Did you bow to them?” Remus asks.

“No? Was I supposed to?”

“Yes!” Remus breathes.

You hum and spin your quill in your fingers. “Now I know for next time.”

Professor Raltmole gathers the class’ attention and begins her lecture. Remus takes a ratty piece of parchment from his bookbag and scrawls a short note on it before sliding it across the desk toward you.

Padfoot waited up for you

You quickly read it, write a response and slide it back.

Is that why he looks like living death?

He didn’t sleep because you were gone

You crumple the paper when you get it back from Remus. You shove it in your pocket, away from Lily’s view.

“I’ll talk to him later,” you hiss to Remus.

An angry Madam Pomfrey yells at you in front of most of the castle at lunch for sneaking out of the hospital wing when you were clearly still in need of tending to. An excuse of not wanting to miss more class seemed to ward her off, but you feel the nurse’s frustrated gaze on you for the rest of the meal. Mary and Marlene ask you about the poachers you dueled as you walked to your next class. You recount a watered down version of the previous night’s events for them. You make sure that your injuries still make sense but their severity less. The girls are simply impressed and less concerned for their friend.

You are happy when the second half of the day is more concentrated on schoolwork rather than what you had gotten up to last night. You didn’t want to keep reliving being outnumbered by the poachers and just barely getting out without being too injured. The fear in the hippogriffs’ eyes haunted you. It reminds you that what you did was right, but they had still attacked you after you unlocked their cages. Sitting at dinner, you gently touch the bandage on her face and wince.

“If it hurts, you probably shouldn’t touch it,” Lily says. “Or go see Pomfrey again. I’m sure she’d love to patch you up more.”

“Going back is admitting defeat,” you say definitively.

You wouldn’t go back, not even when your bandages need to be replaced. You know that the boys have plenty of bandages in their dorm and you could use some of those. You worried that Pomfrey would handcuff you to a cot and place a charm on it so you couldn’t escape. You were determined to not be held captive to the nurse.

You fold gravy into your mashed potatoes until they turn a gross shade of pale brown. Your whole body had started to ache during the last lesson of the day. The pain is stronger than your hunger and all you want to do now is sleep. However, you weren’t dumb. Your friends would have cursed you into next week, or at least taken you to Madam Pomfrey, if you hadn’t shown up to dinner. You sigh as the plates in the middle of the table clear and replenish with desserts. Nothing looks appetizing. You force yourself to swallow some of the potatoes so you could claim that you did have some dinner. After a few bites, you resume swirling the soft mush around your plate.

“Darling, you done?” Marlene asks, standing up across from you.

You look up, noticing that a fair amount of students had already left the Great Hall.

“I guess so,” you say.

You walk back to the Gryffindor Tower in silence. Marlene seems to read your body language, which says you aren’t in the mood to talk anymore. Your face has a hardened look to it with your arms crossed over your chest. After giving the password, Marlene makes sure to hold open the portrait for you so it doesn't close on you.

You would be lying if you said you didn’t smile a little when you saw Sirius sitting on the couch with no one else. Marlene heads for the girls’ stairs, half expecting you to follow her up. Instead, you make a beeline for the couch and lay down, your head resting in Sirius’ lap.

“Hey Black,” you say, looking up at him.

“Aren’t you exhausted?” he asks, looking down at you. “I think you got as much sleep as I did last night.”

“So Remus says,” you reply.

Sirius twirls some of your hair around his finger, something he had done hundreds of times before. Only this time, you see it as something more tender, all thanks to what Remus had said the day prior. It sent off butterflies in your stomach.

“Must’ve been some conversation you two had yesterday,” Sirius mumbles. “What else would keep you out so late?”

You scoff. “James being a prat. But it was some conversation. I think I needed to hear it.”

Sirius’ expression softens.

“What did you need to hear?”

“It was… a reality check.”

You pause, studying the look on his face. You are vaguely aware of the other people in the common room, but the way Sirius is looking at you could’ve convinced you that you were the only one in the entire castle with those grey eyes. Without saying anything to each other, you feel as if the only things you can hear are your breathing and the muted crackling of the fire not far from you. You reach up and tuck a curl behind his ear, revealing his multiple piercings that he’d gotten over the years. You notice his breathing hitch as your hand gently grazes his face. You smile at him.

“So between the reality check and Mr. Bitchiness himself, I needed to clear my head.”

Sirius shakes his head with a soft chuckle.

“I think you should find a way to clear your head that doesn’t involve barely coming back in one piece, Potter.”

“I thought you called me pumpkin.”

“I thought you hated being called that.”

“I do, but I let you get away with it.” You gently poke the tip of his nose playfully. Your gaze briefly flicks to his lips before returning to his eyes. “You’re… special.”

“That doesn’t look like a meter,” James’ voice calls, bringing you back into the noise of the common room.

You can see your brother standing over the two of you behind the couch. His face isn’t quite murderous, but it was getting there.

“She’s exhausted and in pain and you come swooping in?” James accuses Sirius. “I thought I told you to give her space.”

You sit up and glare at James, the tenderness of the moment with Sirius evaporated.

“Excuse you,” you say, a disgusted snarl creeping up on your face. “He did no such swooping. And you can’t tell people to stay away from me.”

“I’m your brother! It’s my job to keep people away from you,” he says, giving his friend a sour look. “Especially when I think they have immoral intentions.”

“Have you considered that I’m the one who came to him and not the other way around?”

“Why would you?”

You blink. “Because he’s my friend?”

“He’s my friend,” James says.

You can’t stop yourself. You slap James across the face. You feel your own face burning and tears beginning to brim in your eyes.

“I see you didn’t learn anything from last night, you git,” you spit at him.

You stand up, leaving Sirius alone on the couch. He watches in silence as you turn to leave the common room. You slam the portrait behind you, earning a scolding from the Fat Lady about respect. The common room remains silent as Sirius looks up at James.

“Prongs, I swear, she came to me,” he says. “I was sitting here and she came to me. She walked in with Marlene long after we came back from dinner.”

“Whatever, Pads. Just keep your distance from her, like you said you would.”

Sirius lets his lips form a thin line as he looks away from James and back to the fire. Technically, he had never said he would keep away from you. James had just insisted on it. James sighs heavily, glancing at the portrait hole. He is glad that you didn’t go upstairs to change and grab whatever you would need to go out again, but you leaving in such a fury wasn’t ideal either. He turns and goes back up to their dorm. When Remus sees how upset James is, he immediately goes to check in on Sirius, letting Peter work on calming James down.

Remus sits on the other side of the couch. Sirius is radiating an energy that said he needed a little bit of space around him.

“Padfoot,” Remus says, speaking tentatively. “What just happened? Why is Prongs in a huff again?”

“He’s accusing me of trying to defile her when she’s not in her right mind.”

Remus isn’t a fan that Sirius didn’t look at him when he talked. He didn’t want his friend to stay up all night staring into the fire again.

“Where is she?”

Sirius shrugs. “Slapped Prongs and left.”

Remus raised his eyebrows and leaned toward Sirius.

“She slapped him?” he asks, trying to hold in some laughter. “Honestly, someone needed to and it’s good it came from her. He’ll forgive her.”

“Do you think he’d forgive me?” Sirius asks, his voice barely audible and eyes still not leaving the flickering flames.

“Forgive you for what?” Remus asks cautiously. “Did you… defile her?”

Sirius scoffs. “No, Merlin… But… fuck. Nevermind.”

Remus scoots to the middle cushion of the couch. He places a hand on Sirius’ shoulder. Sirius looks away from the fire. His cheeks are dusted with a faint blush.

“Padfoot, be honest with me. How do you feel about her?”

Remus’ voice is soft. It has a sense of pleading to it, as if begging Sirius to admit something he doesn’t want to, as if begging him to be more vulnerable in the middle of the common room than he has ever been before. Sirius just shakes his head with a frown.

“That doesn’t matter.”

With a harsh sigh, Remus tries again. “Prongs doesn’t matter right now. How do you, Padfoot, Sirius Orion Black, feel about her?”

“Like she is the most precious thing.” He closes his eyes and turns his face toward the fire again. “But Prongs does matter. So how I feel doesn’t. I need his friendship more than I need a relationship.”

Remus gives his shoulder a reassuring squeeze.

“Imagine if everything went right though… You and Prongs could legally be brothers.”

Sirius coughs in surprise at his words. Of course, he had thought about it from time to time. James was his brother in practically all ways except literally. You, being alluring as you were, were something different. You weren't a sister to him. What he feels for you isn’t what he would feel for a sister and it is certainly more than anything he has felt for any other girl.

“Think about it, Pads, yeah?” Remus suggests, giving his shoulder another squeeze. “You think Wormtail has calmed Prongs down enough for it to be safe to go back up there?”

Remus glances toward the stairs. Then he looks back at Sirius, who has opened his eyes but stares absently at the hearth.

“You said she left the common room? You don’t think she’ll be gone all night again, do you?” Remus questions, his voice having more concern than before.

“She’ll be back… Although it might be better if I’m not down here when she returns…”

---

You spend the rest of the week avoiding James. You put as many people in between you as possible when you have to be near him. If he tries to talk to you, you either ignore him or speak to him through someone else. It pisses him off. You also take to avoiding the common room, being that he was often there. For once, you find yourself being furious that Remus and Sirius were James’ friends first and yours second.

Marlene sits down in the library at the same table as you, Mary and Lily. You are working on various assignments, books littering the tables. Marlene clears a small section for her to get out her own work. She shoots a wary look toward you.

“Black’s back on his bullshit,” she says, watching you for a reaction that you don’t give her.

You keep your eyes on your Ancient Runes assignment.

“Who’s he snogging now?” Lily asks. She knows someone has to buy into the bait.

“Charity Burbage.”

“Didn’t realize she was his type…” Mary mutters. “Isn’t she a few years younger?”

“Fourth year, but she’s… mature if you know what I mean,” Marlene answers, giving her own breasts a squeeze.

“Alright, we get your point,” Lily says, cutting her off. “Remember that we’re here to do homework, right?”

You just scoff and keep working. Hearing that Sirius was off snogging a busty fourth year rubbed you the wrong way. You keep thinking back to what Sirius had said and what Remus had told you about him. You think about how Sirius had been the one waiting up for you to come back that night you got into the fight with James. You don’t want to imagine Sirius sucking face with a younger girl, but the image keeps appearing in your mind. It makes your blood boil.

“Potter, you good?” Mary whispers from across the table.

You look up at Mary and then back down at your paper. There were various splotches of ink where you had been holding your quill and lightly tapping it. You sighed in annoyance.

“Guess Raltmole is getting subpar work again,” you groan.

You look over at the assignment sheet again and force a smile. At least you were on the last question. Once you answer it, you could make an excuse to leave. You hurriedly finish and begin putting your stuff away.

“I’ll see you lot later.”

“Going back to the common room?” Lily asks, not looking up from her own assignment.

“Yeah,” you lie. You had no intention of going back to Gryffindor Tower and risk running into James.

You make your way up to the astronomy tower. As you climb the stairs, hot tears sting in your eyes and begin to fall. You have never been so glad to find the tower completely empty. You sit down near the edge of the platform. The cold air feels nice as you feel like you are overheating. Your mind is spinning with thoughts of Sirius. You hate that you had admitted to Remus that you had been harboring feelings for Sirius for years and everything you had buried so deep inside of you had been brought back to the surface. You hate that your friends feel the need to bring up whoever they saw Sirius kissing.

As you look over the horizon, lost in your thoughts, you hear a string of swears from the stairs. You don’t look to see who it was. It isn’t a Gryffindor and that’s all that really matters to you at this moment. When the boy reaches the top of the stairs, he immediately spots you at the edge of the platform. He swears again, having hoped the tower would be empty, but then he notices you shuddering and hears your sniffles.

“Is this where everyone goes when they’re upset?” Barty Crouch Jr. asks, taking a step towards you, unsure of how you felt about having company. He had wanted to be alone so maybe you did too.

You turn your head to look at him. Your face is flushed and eyes red. Tears streak your face. Barty decides that you look too pitiful to leave alone. He sits down next to you, letting his legs dangle over the edge of the platform and leaning backwards.

“Misery loves company, doesn’t it?” he asks, cocking his head to the side as he looks at you.

You smiled softly, although it doesn’t reach your eyes. “Depends on the company you keep.”

“Well, I came up here to be alone.” He kicks his legs in the open air. “But you’re not a Slytherin so I’ll give you a chance.”

“And you’re not a Gryffindor so I won’t ask you to leave.”

He chuckles and gives you a half smile. “Lions and snakes can be too much from time to time.”

“You can say that again. … What’d they do to you?”

“Evan… He’s hiding something from me and it’s not good. He needs to let me in, but it’s hard to convince him when everyone, Black, Snape, Avery, Wilkes, tells me to drop it. God forbid I try to be involved in my boyfriend’s life…” Barty sighs. “Everyone ganged up on me, even Pandora.”

“Didn’t know you and Evan… Rosier?”

“Yeah, Rosier. We don’t make it a habit to snog in the corridors like the other Black.”

You grimace. The other Black was your issue.

“What?”

“The other Black…”

Barty’s eyes widen. “You and him? I thought I heard he was…”

“We’re not,” you cut him off. “Which is why I’m up here.”

“I need a distraction from Ev… What’s up with that little blood traitor?”

You glare at Barty. “I’m not going to talk to you if you’re going to be like that.”

“Sorry, habit. What’s the other Black up to?”

You shake your head and adjust so your legs hang over the edge too. You sniffle again and blink away tears that threaten to stream down your face again.

“How am I supposed to know if he likes me if I keep hearing that he’s going into a broom closet with a new girl every other day?”

“You like him?” Barty asks. “Of course you do. Just about every girl has a fantasy about him.”

You scoff. “Every girl… Yeah. That’s part of the problem. He all but told me that I’m the reason he’s snogging every girl in our year. And yours. And then some.”

“You’re the reason?”

“Something like James would kill him if he touched me so he touches everyone else.” You roll your eyes and lean forward into the metal railing. “And then Remus goes off and says he’s fairly certain that Sirius really does like me in the way I like him. And James constantly acting like I need protection from his friends. And every time I think I’ve collected myself and reburied my feelings for Black, Marlene and Mary come around and talk about who they saw him with.” You shake your head. “I’m sorry, it’s stupid.”

“Your stupid problem is better than thinking about mine. I know Ev will be cooled off when I get back and we’ll be fine. Your problem is… more.”

“Do the Slytherins think Sirius has some checklist of every girl he needs to snog before graduation?” you ask, biting the inside of your cheek.

“Not that I know of, but I’m around Reg a lot and we don’t talk about his brother in front of him unless we have a death wish.” He pauses. “Poor wording because some of us do… We don’t talk about him.”

“Hmm… It’s definitely a topic among Gryffindors. Obviously.”

“He’d never be able to finish it.”

You give him a confused look as you sniffle again.

“You and that redhead. The one your brother and Snape are obsessed with.”

You laugh softly. “Yeah, Lily would never kiss Sirius. Even for a dare. She’d rather do just about anything else.”

“And I call that a success!” Barty says with a smile. “Got the crying girl to laugh.”

“That you did…”

“May regret asking this, but what set you off? Why are you here now? Sounds like you’re just eternally pining.”

“Marlene said she saw Black snogging Burbage.”

“She’s younger than me.”

“Yeah, I know.”

“Gross.”

“Yeah.” You sigh and feel tears fall again.

Your mind keeps telling you it was stupid to be jealous over a silly fourth year, but it was unfair. Barty notices you starting to cry again.

“Come here,” he says as he puts his arm around you.

While he and Evan would fight, he hoped they would never make each cry like this. The girl he had only ever seen as a force to be reckoned with was reduced to a puddle of emotions. You rest your head on Barty’s shoulder. It gives you a little bit of comfort to be hurting with someone else.

---

“She’s where with who?” James yells in their dorm.

When the girls had returned from the library and asked if you were in their room, they were met with confused stares from the boys. They hadn’t seen you since dinner and they had been in the common room all evening. While the girls shared looks of minor confusion, the boys shared looks of worry. The boys had immediately gone up to their dorm and opened the map. Each scanned a different section, looking for your name.

“She’s in the astronomy tower with Junior,” Peter repeats.

“Is she trying to get herself killed?”

“You seem far more concerned about her being with Junior than you did with her going off to fight poachers,” Sirius mutters, going to sit on his bed.

James turns to glare at him.

“What does that mean?”

“Just questioning what, or who, you think counts as dangerous.”

“You damn well know that Junior is dangerous,” James growls.

“Oh, I do know that, Prongs. But I’m not. I’m not a threat to her.”

“We aren’t talking about this right now, Padfoot. She is actually in danger right now!”

“Should we be concerned that their names aren’t moving?” Peter asks, still looking at the map. “Neither one has even shifted so they aren’t walking around or nothing.”

The two boys look over at Peter, anger fading from their faces and being replaced with fear and concern.

“That’s it. I’m going to get her,” James announces, moving for the door before Remus stops him.

“Like hell you are,” he says firmly. “In case you’re more dense than I think you are, you’re not her favorite person right now. I don’t think it’s wise that you go.”

“Then who’s going to go? Can’t really ask Lily to go fetch her without explaining the map.”

“Padfoot, you go see if she’s okay,” Remus decides. “Just… don’t overreact to whatever you’re walking into.”

Sirius doesn’t need to be told twice. He slips out of the door behind Remus, shooting James a gloating face. Once the door is closed, Remus lets James go.

“Tell me how Padfoot is going to handle that situation better than I would,” James demands.

“First off, you would walk in and blast Junior off the tower. Don’t act like you wouldn’t. And like I said, she is still angry with you. You going would only make things worse between you two,” Remus starts to explain. “Second, it would’ve been best if I went, but then I’d be leaving you and Padfoot alone and I didn’t feel like returning to a blood bath.”

James frowns, although he could see the logic behind Remus’ actions. He doesn’t need to ask why they didn’t send Peter; he didn’t have what it might take to get you away from Barty if it came to that.

Sirius’ stomach churns when he sees Barty’s arm around you. You appear to be willingly leaning into his side. You are sitting at the edge of the platform, legs hanging over the edge and resting against the bars. Keeping quiet as he lingers in the doorway, he can hear you having a whispered conversation. You were sniffling. After a few minutes of watching them and feeling sick, Sirius makes his presence known.

“Hey, pumpkin,” he says softly, causing both of them to jump at the sound of his voice. “Everyone’s looking for you.”

Barty glares at Sirius. They had never gotten along, especially with Barty being one of Regulus’ closer friends.

“Piss off, Black. We’re having a conversation,” he spits, still holding onto you although it was a looser grip.

You had turned your body and propped one of your legs up on the platform. You wipe your nose and sniffle. Now that you were looking at Sirius, he could see that your eyes were red and puffy from crying.

“Everyone can piss off, actually,” you say, voice shaky. “They can handle a night without me.”

You let your leg fall back over the edge as you turn back to looking over the horizon. Barty follows suit. Sirius walks closer to you and sits down only a short distance away, resting his back against a pillar.

“Well, I’m not going back without you. So, carry on. I’ll walk you back when you’re ready.”

You roll your eyes and shake your head, not that Sirius saw either.

“Black, I would’ve thought by now you’d be able to tell when you aren’t wanted,” Barty says, venom dripping from his words. “Get out of here before I make you.”

“Last I checked, she was more my friend than yours,” Sirius replies.

“Guess you haven’t checked recently.”

Sirius narrows his eyes at Barty as his arm pulls her waist closer to his.

“Guess fate is being extra cruel tonight,” Barty mutters to you and you nod in agreement. “I’m going to be fine, but are you?”

“Eventually, I assume,” you say. “I just feel defeated, and that doesn’t help.”

“What did I do?” Sirius asks, knowing that he was what you were referring to.

You and Barty look over at him.

“The fact that you have to ask…” you sigh with a sniffle.

“Do you want me to go?” Barty asks.

“Yes,” Sirius answers.

“I wasn’t asking you, Black,” Barty snarls. “Potter? I’m not leaving you with him unless you ask me to.”

Sirius gapes at Barty. The Slytherin seemed genuinely concerned to leave you alone with Sirius, someone you had been alone with many times before. He doesn’t understand why people weren’t trusting him to be around one of his friends. He didn’t think he had done anything to earn that.

“Stay,” you say.

The one word hits Sirius hard. He feels like he is going to throw up. In what world would you be asking Barty Crouch Jr. to stay?

“What the hell, love?” Sirius asks.

You shoot him a hurt look. “Burbage? Really?”

He groans and runs a hand through his hair.

“Is that what this is about? I thought we talked about this.”

You let out a cold and empty laugh. “We talked about this? No. You were just incredibly cryptic about some feelings you may or may not have as you let James run your life.”

“So you get with Crouch?”

You and Barty look at each other and make faces of disgust before slightly pushing away from each other, as if suddenly becoming aware of how close they actually were.

“We… no. Absolutely not,” you stutter.

“I don’t… I’m taken,” Barty says.

“He is,” you confirm with a nod.

You scoot back from the ledge, still sitting much closer to Barty than you were to Sirius. Barty does the opposite, leaning further over the railing and slumping like a rag doll. Sirius looks from one to the other.

“Then what is this?”

“One upset person comforting another?” Barty offers.

“And you’re upset?” Sirius challenges, not quite believing him.

“You don’t seem upset nor are you comforting Potter. So that would leave me being the other upset person. Yes.”

“Whatever. Darling, can we go?”

“No?”

“Hey, come on.”

“No.”

Barty gives you a wary look. Then he stands up, moving slowly toward the door.

“I’m going… to go. You two… need to talk.”

“Barty, no,” you plead. Your eyes looked ready to cry again. “Please, stay.”

“No, bye bye Barty,” Sirius says, standing up.

Sirius claps Barty on the shoulder, walks him to the doorway and makes sure he leaves. Then he walks over to you and holds out his hand.

“Come on, darling. Let’s go.”

You don’t take his hand. You spin where you sit to face away from him. Whenever he moved to be in front of you, you’d spin again. You know you are acting like a stubborn child, but you feel that you’ve earned that. He allows you to act like this for a few minutes before he gest tired of it.

“Pumpkin, come on. If you don’t come with me, I’ll have to go back and James will come get you.”

You make a disgruntled face and finally take Sirius’ hand.

“What did Junior mean by we need to talk?” Sirius asks as you walk toward the stairs.

“The Marauders need to get their shit together,” you say, not looking back at him and starting to descend the stairs.

Sirius follows you, picking up his speed to stay just one step behind you.

“So it’s not just me?”

You stop abruptly. Sirius bumps into you and you have to grab onto the railing to stop yourself from falling.

“Prongs needs to keep himself in check. He needs to stay in his lane. Moony needs to stop getting a girl’s hopes up. You need to go after that one girl you like and stick to her. I’m tired of hearing about a new girl’s tongue down your throat every day.” You pause. You had brought their friend group’s name into it so you had to name everyone. “Wormtail… uh, needs to be less of an idiot. Get him a real sense of humor or something.”

“And you told Junior all of that?”

“Yes.”

You walk the rest of the way back to Gryffindor Tower in silence. Sirius isn’t sure what to say that would make you feel better so he settles on silence. You still sniffled a few times, but they were getting less frequent. You seem to be more furious now than sad, which was something of a win. When you enter the common room, you both keep walking to your individual dorms. You go straight to bed, closing the curtains around so that no one will bother you. Sirius is met with James, Remus and Peter anxiously waiting.

“Took you damn long enough,” James says as soon as Sirius walks through the doors. “What did that bastard do to her?”

“Gee, no Thanks Padfoot, thanks for getting my sister back safe and sound?” Sirius mocks. His mind is still stuck on what you had said to him about all of them. He sighs. “If what they both said is true, they simply talked. She was crying; he comforted her.”

“What was she crying about?” Peter asks.

Sirius makes eye contact with Remus. It seems like Remus knew immediately what she was crying about, but Sirius couldn’t bring himself to say it in front of James.

“Coudn’t get it out of her,” he lies.

---

You follow the girls around Hogsmeade on Saturday. You don’t really care where the group goes and you are able to mostly drown out their conversations. Your brain is empty. It is easier for it to be empty than to think about everything that made you cry the previous night.

Mary, Lily, Marlene and her girlfriend, Dorcas, carry their own conversations and manage to stick together as a group all day. They don’t seem to notice that you are in your head. They just make sure that you are still tagging along, not left behind anywhere.

“It’s good to get out of the castle for a good, safe time,” Mary had told you this morning when she insisted that you come instead of rotting in bed all day as you had planned to.

The group is heading back into Hogsmeade Square from Dogwood and Deathcap when they run into the Marauders in the cemetery. No one questions why they were messing around the tombs. With them, it is better to just accept it and move on with your day. The boys insist that they all go to the Three Broomsticks and end their day with as many butterbeers as they could drink. You, being determined to not talk to any of the boys, pinch the bridge of your nose as the girls enthusiastically agree. Lily hangs back as the boys lead the way to the pub.

“We could probably sneak back to the castle,” Lily mutters to you as you follow the group at a short distance.

“So you’re delusional,” you reply. “James will most certainly notice you’re gone.”

“They would notice you’re gone too… Don’t think I haven’t taken note of how quiet you’ve been.”

“I didn’t want to come here in the first place,” you hiss.

Lily reaches out to grab your hand and interlocked your fingers. “Well, we can suffer through butterbeers together. And then rot in our beds tomorrow.”

“Lily Evans doesn’t rot,” you snort.

You allow the girl to pull you into the Three Broomsticks after your friends. They somehow managed to push two tables together to accommodate their large group, which is an impressive feat given how busy the pub always was when students visited the village in troves. It doesn’t take long for Madam Rosmerta to get foaming mugs of butterbeer in front of everyone. The group sat divided by gender at the table. You made sure to sit on the same side of the table as James so if you accidentally looked down the table, you had a near impossible chance of making eye contact with him. It helped that he was at the complete opposite end of the table. Although Lily had said you would be suffering through butterbeers together, she is quickly engulfed into an animated conversation with Dorcas, Remus and Peter. Mary and Marlene were listening intently, but didn’t offer much to the conversation. James and Sirius appeared to be in their own world at their end of the table. You were content ignoring everyone’s conversations.

You slowly sip on your drink, looking around the pub. A handful of Slytherins are sitting at a table in the corner. You somehow manage to catch Barty’s eye and you share a small smile. Next to him sat the blond Evan Rosier and he was throwing back drinks and laughing loudly. You could see what Barty saw in him. There was a certain lightness to him.

“Mind if I sit here?” a voice asks, bringing your attention to a boy standing at the end of the table with a chair in hand.

“What?”

You recognize him from classes. Davey Something, Ravenclaw. You never really paid him any attention.

“Can I sit here? All my friends went back to the castle already.”

“Uh, yeah, sure. Davey, right?” you ask, pulling your mug closer to you.

He sits kitty corner to you, despite there being empty space across from you. You assume that he didn’t know that no one was sitting there.

“That’s my name,” he replies with a smile.

He glances down the table to the rest of the Gryffindors and Dorcas. None of them seem to notice or care that someone new has joined their table.

“Anything interesting going on in Gryffindor Tower lately?” Davey asks, returning his gaze to you. “Most interesting thing to happen in Ravenclaw is a fourth year beat a seventh year in Wizards’ Chess.”

You chuckle and take a sip of your butterbeer.

“Oh, there is always something happening in our tower,” you say. “I slapped James. Argued with him in front of the entire common room. Sirius pulled an all-nighter for no reason. He’s also been snogging anything that moves in a skirt.”

Davey’s smile dips slightly. “Been snogging you?”

“No,” you say with an eye roll, before chuckling as you continue. “James banned him from being within a meter of me for that very reason.”

“That what you argued with him about?”

“Part of it. He’s been acting like I can’t handle myself. Like I had a simple chat with Remus and James threw a fit.”

“He got pissy because you were hanging out with his mates?”

“Yes! That’s also why he got slapped. Those were two different days…” You pause as you glance down the table. “And from what I can tell, he’s still on his bullshit.”

“Definitely is bullshit,” Davey agrees. His brilliant blue eyes looked deep into your eyes. “I think the whole castle knows how capable you are at handling yourself.”

“Do I really have a reputation of more than being the female Potter?” you ask, eyebrows raised.

“Oh, darling, you do.”

“Tell me about it.”

You take a drink of your butterbeer, draining it. Rosmerta is quick to bring around another one and one for Davey as well. You hadn’t noticed that he didn’t have a mug in front of him previously.

“If you didn’t have Sirius or James as your perpetual dueling partners, you’d have trouble finding one in Defense class. You’re.. too good. It’s almost scary.”

You smile widely with a faint blush on your cheeks. You knew you were good at dueling. That’s why you went off to fight poachers when you knew where they were and didn’t bother buying potion ingredients that could be gathered if you ventured a little further than teachers normally approved. You had also been told by many teachers that you were exceptional at dueling, but hearing from a decently cute boy did something to your ego.

“From what I’ve heard, you’re amazing in every subject. We don’t have many together anymore. But when we were younger, I remember seeing you taunt James whenever you got a better grade than he did… which was pretty often.”

“What’s the point of having a twin if you can’t be better than him,” you laugh.

“Are you better than him at quidditch?”

You groan at that question. “No…”

“Darn. I was hoping you could make the Gryffindor team better.”

You lightly hit Davey’s shoulder playfully.

“Gryffindor is a damn good team!”

“Your seeker is trash!”

You take a second to think about who your seeker is.

“Isn’t he a second year? Cut the kid some slack!”

Davey laughs. “But if he’s the best that tried out? I’m doubting the captain’s skills.”

“Too bad that isn’t a James diss. For some reason he wasn’t made captain this year, but he was last year. Quidditch politics baffle me.”

“I’d try to explain them, but I think they differ by house.”

“You’re not on Ravenclaw’s team?”

“I’m not, but that doesn’t mean I don’t have friends who are.”

“James likes to make it his entire personality so I’ve become fairly good at tuning it all out. There are better things to focus on.”

“Yeah? What captures your pretty little brain?”

“During the summer and over breaks, I’m a top-tier chef and baker. I honestly don’t know what my parents eat while we’re at school because I literally make every meal when I’m home.”

“You cook? Isn’t that what house elves are for?”

“Not everyone has, or needs, an elf,” you say firmly. “But, like, cooking is good for distracting my brain. Although I could be better in Potions…”

“You’re in N.E.W.T. level Potions. I’m sure you’re fine,” Davey assures you, placing his hand over yours on the table. “What else do you do besides dueling, cooking and looking beautiful?”

You feel yourself blush more.

“Merlin, this sounds nerdy, but I really do love learning about obscure magic. Haven’t gotten my hands on any good books yet this year because they are usually deep in the Restricted Section and Pince has been watching it like a hawk.”

“Obscure magic? Very Ravenclaw of you.”

You were trying to not look at his hand that was still on yours. His gaze is fixed intently on you. You have all of his attention.

“I plan on either being an Auror or an Unspeakable after school so a deep understanding of magic is important.”

“Look at you. Big ambitions.”

You look down at your empty mugs. You aren’t entirely sure when either of you had finished your drinks but apparently you had. You cast a quick glance down the table as well. You don’t know why you are relieved that no one was paying attention to you, all completely engulfed in one large conversation now.

“Want to get out of here?” you ask, looking back to Davey.

He smiles widely at your suggestion. He stands up and pulls out your chair to help you up.

“Thought you’d never ask,” he whispers into your ear. “Lead the way.”

You take Davey’s hand and you head for the door. You make sure to bump into James’ chair.

“Oops,” you say with a giggle before pulling Davey out of the pub into the autumn evening.

James and Sirius watch you leave with equal looks of distaste.

“Where’s she going?” Sirius asks.

“Better yet, who the fuck is she with?” James follows up.

The rest of the table turns to look but the door has already closed behind you. Despite wanting to follow them, Sirius and James return their attention to the group’s discussion about whether the foul smelling liquid from Gobbstones would cover up the smell of Amortentia. They hadn’t discussed the potion in class yet, but they had heard of the powerful love potion.

You and Davey walk around Hogsmeade, weaving in between buildings. There’s easy conversation between you, nothing too deep or heavy. You can tell by the way he looks at you and lets his touch linger that he’s looking for something more, but conversation feels so platonic. It feels like two acquaintances getting to know each other, which is what it was. You can’t deny that Davey’s attractive, but there’s no draw to him besides a little bit of attention and maybe some revenge aimed at Sirius and James. You find yourself in the garden outside of the village, walking up to the platform that overlooks the Black Lake. The distant glow of Hogsmeade lights it up just right so it feels far more romantic. As you lean over the ledge, you wonder if Sirius’ method of snogging someone else helps you get over them. Looking at Davey, or his lip if you’re being precise, you debate giving it a shot.

Then there’s a burst of noise that makes both of you jump and look over your shoulders. You can barely see the Three Broomsticks and the herd of people leaving it. It isn’t hard to tell that they are arguing. You can pick out James, Sirius, Lily and Dorcas’ voices. Both of you stare for a moment before looking back at each other.

“What do you think happened after we left?” he asks.

You shrug. “Not sure.”

“Don’t be rash!” Lily yells.

“I’m going to kill him!”

“James! Slow down!” Dorcas yells.

“When I find them, I’m going to kill him!”

“And I’m helping!” Sirius adds.

“Like hell you are,” James resorts.

“There!” Marlene exclaims, her voice sounding more cheerful than the others.

You turn to look at Davey nervously when you notice that Marlene is pointing in your direction and the group begins running. James and Sirius shrug off Lily and Dorcas’ grips on them as they tried to hold the boys back. The two are in a full on sprint with the rest of the group jogging behind them. It appeared that they came to the conclusion that none of them could outrun them.

“Gudgeon, step away from her,” James snarls once he reaches the platform.

Davey raises his eyebrows at your brother. “Why?”

“Because he bloody told you to, you git,” Sirius adds, heaving from running.

“But why?” you ask, crossing your arms over your chest as you turn to fully face them. “He came out here with me.”

“And you’re coming back with us,” James says. “Been a long day, time to go home.”

You hum and look at Davey.

“I think I want to stay out a little longer.”

Davey smiles widely at you and then looks back at James and Sirius. With a mischievous glint in his eye, he throws an arm around your shoulder and pulls you into his side.

“You boys heard ‘er. She wants to stay.”

“James,” Lily warns as the rest of the group approaches.

She noticed before you that he had started to reach for his wand. James looks at Lily.

“Lils, you must-” he starts to say, but then Sirius is ripping Davey’s arm off of you and picking you up to throw you over his shoulder.

Your yelp of surprise is what cut off James’ excuse to Lily.

“SIRIUS BLACK, YOU PUT ME DOWN!” you holler, trying to remove yourself from his grip.

“Ready to go?” he simply asks the rest of the group.

“Yeah, I’m good,” James answers, much more calm than he had been moments before.

Davey watches as Sirius carries you in the direction of the castle, followed by James and the rest of the group. Peter and Remus bring up the rear, shooting him glares for having gone near you. While the girls didn’t seem to approve of how Sirius and James had gone about getting you away from Davey or why they had, they do seem to support getting you back to the castle.

“Sirius, are you going to put me down?” you ask, sounding defeated.

“No.”

“Why’d you leave the group?” Dorcas asks, moving into your line of sight.

“Too loud and hot,” you lie. You weren’t about to say that you were looking for a pretty distraction from the irritation your brother and boy carrying you caused you.

“Just talk to us next time, yeah? We’ll leave,” James says. “Afterall, you know the buddy system.”

“I had a buddy,” you correct him. “Davey is a just fine buddy.”

“A buddy who just wants to get into your pants,” Marlene sings.

“Huh?”

“He’s just looking for a quick shag, darling,” Mary clarifies.

“Which is why we came to your rescue!” Sirius says.

“Rescue or ambush?” you grumble. “Maybe I wanted a quick shag too.”

The rest of the walk back to Hogwarts is quiet. Your ribs have grown sore from being slung over Sirius’ shoulder and your head feels light. At one point, you close your eyes and just listen to the crunching of leaves underfoot.

“Alright, down you go, pumpkin,” Sirius says as you arrive at the entrance to Hogwarts’ grounds. “Figure you can walk from here.”

He puts you down gently and all you can do is glare at him. You walk slowly into the grounds and the group takes that as a sign that all is well.

“Marls, come on. I got something for you in the dungeons,” Dorcas says, grabbing Marlene’s hand and pulling her toward the castle.

The rest of the group follows suit, picking up their pace to get inside the warmth of the castle. You, however, keep your slow pace. You certainly aren’t in the mood to be sitting with them around the fire in the common room after you were literally hauled back. Sirius is the only one who lingers with you.

“You alright?” he asks quietly, bumping shoulders with you.

You sigh and look up at him. Damn those grey eyes and how warm they make you feel.

“Just tired of James acting like he controls my life.”

Sirius nods and takes a deep breath.

“Come with me,” he says and holds out his hand for you to take.

You hesitate. Your mind is screaming both to take it and to slap it away. How dare he offer his hand to you after being the one to carry you back? But, also, he was offering it to you, giving you the choice to take it. So you do. You take his hand and let him lead you down some stairs to a secluded area near the greenhouses. Light shimmers through their windows, giving the small clearing a subtle glow.

“I think James would back off you a bit if I stopped listening to him about some things,” Sirius mutters, standing in front of you. A gentle hand tucks some of your hair behind your ear and lingers there for a moment.

He’s looking at you like he did that day on the couch, like you were the only one who existed in all of Hogwarts, in all of the world. You could feel your heart pounding in your chest as you tried to understand what he was saying. All of your focus was on the hand that softly held your cheek. He takes a step toward you and before you can process anything, his lips are brushing up against yours. It’s soft and gentle and momentary.

“I think I can tolerate him more if you do that again,” you mumble.

And he does. The second is still soft and gentle, but it lasts longer. It only deepens slightly when he places his other hand on your waist. Sirius is holding you with a featherlight touch like he doesn’t want to break you, but his hand never leaves your cheek. Inside, despite what you just said, he fears that if he lets go, you will disappear and leave him.

“You could never be a checked box. Because you’re everything,” Sirius whispers.

“Then stop with your stupid list, yeah?”

“Yeah.”

"Good, because I think I like this a little too much."

#sirius black x you #sirius black fluff #sirius black x reader #marauders fic #marauders #sirius black #marauder-misprint

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