#snape’s hair flips

[dreamofrose]

I remember someone talking about snape’s hair flips, and then i remembered this scene ☺️

[agreeeeeeeeeee]

What's My Name? - R.B.

Bully!Regulus Black x fem!reader

summary: you’ve befriended the emeralds and few other Slytherin’s. Regulus is drawn to you like a magnet, but knows you have no business associating with them or their families, so he tries to scare you off. It backfires spectacularly.

cw: MDNI 18+ Regulus tries to white fang you. degradation, bullying, toxic relationships and friend groups, future death-eaters, trauma, Black Family Angst, choking, dry-humping, p in v sex

an: Ik everyone has a different marauders!era slytherin group, so here’s a quick breakdown of my personal headcanon:

Inner circle: Regulus Black, Evan Rosier, Barty Crouch Jr., Pandora, and Dorcas Meadowes (the emeralds)

Outer circle: Severus Snape, Avery, Mulciber, Emma Vanity, Charity Burbage, Aurora Sinistra, and Wilkes.

Circle-adjacent: Lily Evans, Marlene McKinnon, and the Marauders

There is also the much darker group with Rabastan Lestrange, Thorfinn Rowle, and the Carrow’s, who actively prey on some of the others for Voldemort’s Cause.

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No matter how hard Regulus tried, you refused to leave his orbit. You had no business affiliating with him and his friends, and had no idea what that affiliation truly meant. It meant darkness. It meant bloodshed. It met imminent and very real danger. A war was brewing right under your nose.

Regulus had been born and bred for this, as had most of his friends, but you…you were an innocent. Intelligent, witty, trusting. As much as he tried not to care, he couldn’t stand to watch your light be snuffed out for simply existing around them: metaphorically or literally.

But no matter how many times Regulus tried to run you off, spare you from what came next, you would not heed. In fact, you seemed to take his animosity as a challenge, leaving him in the predicament of being your unwitting adversary.

You were in the Slytherin common room now, curled up by the fireplace with Pandora, Evan, Barty and a few others, doing more gossiping than studying despite the piles of books and parchment on the floor around you. The greenish light of the lake contrasted with the glow of the fire against your face, creating an otherworldly halo around you.

You hair was pulled back, revealing the slender curve of your neck, the dip in your v-neck sweater where a silver pendant rested against your clavicle.

You laughed at whatever terrible joke Barty made and Regulus rolled his eyes, turning back to the spell book in his lap. He was studying alone, having told Evan a number of times to fuck off and let him work on his assignments in peace.

“Regulus!” Emma called suddenly, and he cringed, pretending he didn't hear his Quidditch captain. “Reg!” She called again.

He closed his eyes, willing them all to disappear.

“Regulus fucking Black!” She hollered, loud enough for the whole common room to fall silent.

He clapped his book shut and stalked over to where you all were sitting, one hand in his trouser pocket, the other clamped on his book.

“Yes?” He droned, leaning against the arm chair Emma was sitting in.

“Can you help me with this?” Emma asked, holding up her Defense Against the Dark Arts homework.

Annoyance prickled along his skin. “What good is a genius pet if she doesn't help with your work?” He asked, leveling you with his coldest stare.

You tilted your head, eyes flicking from his black, curly hair to his leather shoes, and didn't respond.

“She said she wouldn't help me,” Emma pouted.

“I said I wouldn't do it for you,” you corrected.

“Barty, then?”

“No can do, Reg,” Barty responded, coughing up a lungful of pungent smoke, waggling a joint in Regulus’ direction.

Emma waved the smoke from her face. “Will you help, Reg? I have to get a good grade in the class or I could lose my spot on the team. And you know these lot are useless at spells.”

He sighed and took the assignment from her hands, flipping through the pages. It was rudimentary work, things she really should know in order to defend herself.

“Can't help you,” Regulus said, handing it back to her. “If you can't do this, maybe you should be demoted.”

The group ooooh’d at his dig.

“Reg!” Emma whined.

“Ignore him, Em. Not everyone takes to dark magic as easily as the ancient and most bitchy house of Black,” you quipped, narrowing your eyes at him.

Regulus resisted the urge to clench his jaw, feigning the nonchalance you wore like a second skin. The group swiveled to look at him.

“All magic, really. But thank you, darling,” he purred, winking at you.

“You should have seen Sirius in advanced Transfiguration last semester, he's a natural. Truly a gifted wizard,” you continued.

“Hot as fuck, too,” Evan added, just to dig the knife in a little deeper.

Regulus’ blood began to simmer, his temperature rising beneath his dark robes. He tsked under his breath, shaking his head. “I thought you'd be smart enough to not fall for his clown act.” He shrugged a shoulder. “Evidently not.”

“I wouldn't touch a Black with a twenty foot pole,” you replied, leaning back on your hands, stretching your long legs out in front of you, your skirt sitting high on your thighs.

“Who said anything about a pole?” Regulus replied, mimicking your condescending head tilt.

The group snickered, watching your verbal sparring like it was a duel.

“You sound a bit jealous, Reggie. Need a little attention?”

Reggie. His mask nearly slipped, he was so caught off guard by the nickname on your sharp tongue. “May as well, since you give it out so freely.” He glanced down at your shapely legs, punctuating his point.

Your head fell back as you laughed, your chest pressing up and tits bouncing, and he felt an irritating kick in his trouser as the heat of his anger took a new, sinful shape.

“It's the 70’s, love. Are you still so prudish?” You lifted your head, pining him with eyes fierce enough to cleave him in half.

He smirked. “Far from it. Just selective.”

“Don't see much of a selection to chose from,” you chuckled, earning another spike of laughter from the group. “What I see is a spoiled youngest son with nothing better to do than needle the people around him to fill the hole in his chest.” You got to your feet, shouldering your bag.

Regulus felt like he'd been punched clean through the sternum, your words never failing to cut to the quik.

“Spoken by a girl with nothing better to do than fish for a rich husband that might save her from her home in the gutter. Trust me, nothing can fill the hole of inadequacy, y/l/n.”

You stepped over Evan and Barty's tangled limbs and left without another word, leaving Regulus’ cruelty to echo off the glass and stone, the group silent.

Regulus turned on his heel and disappeared into the boys dormitory, guilt dogging every step.

─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

The Quidditch match was in full swing, Gryffindor versus Slytherin, and the score was neck and neck. It was up to Regulus and the Gryffindor Seeker now, since neither team could get a leg up through the rings.

You sat in the stands sipping hot chocolate with Marlene, Pandora, and Dorcas, Barty pouting to your left because he couldn't sit with Evan in the Slytherin stands.

Regulus hovered a few meters away, his eyes trained upwards, catching every falling leaf and ripple of air around him. You hated how handsome he looked in his Quidditch robes, his lean body relaxed on the broom despite the stakes.

That was Regulus, un-fucking-shakeable. And it drove you insane that you could never get a rise out of him, but he managed to needle one out of you time and time again.

He was as relentless as a northern wind, and you couldn't help but be swept away.

His dark curls framed his angular face, those perpetually sleepy eyes the most arresting green. Sure, everyone thought Sirius was hot, but Regulus was beautiful, ethereal almost, and he wrapped around your mind like a constrictor.

You watched as the other Seeker suddenly took off above the Hufflepuff stands, in pursuit of something, and the Gryffindor stands cheered. But Regulus remained motionless, watching his opponent like a cat trailing a mouse. Even as Slytherin urged him to take up the chase, he remained unmoved, bidding his time.

His bottomless patience would be awe-inspiring if it wasn't so damn frustrating.

You wouldn't have an issue with Regulus, maybe even could have been friends with him, if he hadn't taken issue with you first. You had no idea what his fucking problem was, whether it was because your family was poor, you had better grades than him, or what. He loathed you from the moment you showed up in the Slytherin common room, and you've yet to receive an explanation.

You'd been saddled with a one-sided rivalry, but you'd be damned if you let him defeat you now after a full semester of back and forth.

The other Seeker pulled up short, whipping his head around like he'd lost something, and you saw Regulus crack a smirk, his canines white and sharp.

Regulus turned his head suddenly, quick like a bird, and then he was off in a blur of motion. His opponent was all the way across the pitch, entirely too far to get there in time.

A moment later— “Regulus Black has caught the snitch for 150 points! Slytherin wins!”

The Slytherin stands erupted with cheers while every other house booed, including your own. But you knew a Slytherin victory meant a rager in the dungeons, so you kept your lips sealed.

Instead, you watched Regulus land at the center of the pitch, the golden snitch held lazily between his pointer finger and thumb above his head. Any other Seeker would have been parading around the field, or flying in wide circles over the stands, screaming their head off, but Regulus was silent. His victory spoke for him.

Although, you knew he'd still be smug as fuck later.

As soon as the stands began to drain, you, Pandora, and Barty caught up with the rest of your Slytherin friends, all of them buzzing about the victory, even melancholic Severus. By the time you all reached the dungeons, a party was already in full swing.

Music thrummed along the walls, so loud it caused ripples in the Black Lake, making the emerald-tinged moonlight shift and dance along the floor. You happily accepted a shot of gin, then another before letting Evan cajole you out onto the dance floor.

Sweat pooled along your spine as the music wore on, your hair wild and loose down your back as you danced, electric energy flowing through you.

A cheer came up from the entrance and everyone turned towards the commotion. The Slytherin Quidditch team strode into the room, black robes billowing behind them. Regulus stood at the front, of course. Even from several meters away, you could see the confident glimmer in his eyes, the arrogant tilt of his chiseled jaw.

Fucking Black’s.

Like a magnet, his eyes found yours across the room, and you nearly tripped over Evan’s feet at the venom they held. But he looked away as quickly as he found you, getting swept up by the crowd and disappearing from your line of sight.

You tracked down another shot and rejoined Evan and Barty on the dance floor, squished between them in a tangle of limbs. Impossible to tell who’s hands were where, just a mess of sensation and touch. The temperature in the common room was rising expontentially, so you shed your sweater, leaving you in your skirt and a white camisole, sweat making the fabric cling to your skin.

A few songs passed like that, and a blonde guy you barely know, Rowle, you thought, took your friends place when they tapped out to smoke. You rolled your body against his, enjoying the way his thick muscles felt beneath his robes, the hungry way he was staring down at you. But you were about ready to take a break yourself, the musky smell of weed calling your name from across the room, when the hair on the back of your neck suddenly rose.

You looked around, searching for the source of your bodies response, when you locked eyes, once again, with Regulus.

He was sitting in a circle of couches against the glass wall with your shared friends, a halo of smoke around his head, a girl perched on his lap, sucking at his neck while he took a drag off of a cigarette. But his eyes were glued to you, tracking every movement you made with the same intensity he tracked the golden snitch.

Confidence wafted through you, and you wrapped your arms around your dance partners neck, letting him dip you so low your hair pooled on the floor, your tits nearly falling out of your shirt. You rolled back up slowly, articulating every vertebrae in your spine until you were chest to chest with your partner, sharing the same breaths.

From the corner of your eye, you saw Regulus choke on the smoke, dislodging the girl from his skin, and you smirked.

You let your partner turn you, showing every angle of your body, and you dropped low, circling your hips in time with the resinous goth song as you rose back up.

Regulus' cigarette hung limp between his fingers, his perfect jaw a little slack.

Emboldened, you broke away from your partner, letting yourself get lost in the sensuous, thrumming beat. Your arms rose above your head, your shoulders and hips swaying in time. It felt like you were hypnotizing him, his eyes glued to every undulation of your hips, and you couldn't recall a time where you felt more alive.

Too soon, though, the music changed to a more electro-pop vibe, and you slipped reluctantly off the dance floor, the taste of smoke beckoning you across the room.

You sauntered over to the circle, pointedly ignoring Regulus as you approached.

“There she is,” Even cooed, extending an arm to you. “You looked amazing out there.”

You smiled, sliding into his lap and taking a drag from the joint between his fingers. “Thank you, lovely.” You smiled sweetly up at him, and you could have sworn he started drooling.

“Feels even better,” Barty teased, sprawled out on the couch beside Evan, clearly a little too inebriated already.

You winked at him, and he flushed a deep scarlet. Pandora, who was resting on the floor between Dorcas’ legs, chuckled at his expense.

Regulus was quiet, per usual, watching as the group chattered around him, turning the golden snitch he caught over and over in his long fingers.

The smoke made your mind a little hazy, your tired muscles from dancing going loose, and you sagged into Evan’s side, leaning your head on his shoulder.

Regulus’ fingers tightened on the snitch, his jaw feathering, and your stomach swooped with nervous excitement. You’d never been able to rattle him before. Had you finally knocked the monolithic Regulus Black off of his axis?

“Reg, why so quiet?” Evan asked, nudging his leg with his boot.

Regulus raised a brow. “What would you like to talk about, Rosier? Fucking Junior? Or eye-fucking y/l/n?”

“We can talk about eye-fucking y/n.” Evan winked down at you, and you rolled your eyes. Avery barked a laugh from his spot on the other side of Regulus.

“Yes, let's,” Barty added, raking his willowly fingers through your hair draped over Evan’s arm. You hummed under the attention, knowing it was all in good, hedonistic Slytherin fun.

Well, almost all in good fun.

As always, Regulus couldn't let your ego inflate too much. “It's hard not indulge in a little novelty, no matter how ineffectual.”

Ouch. His words landed like barbs on your skin, but you ignored him, leaning into Barty’s attention with light moan.

Regulus shifted a little in his seat, his hands falling over his lap, and you nearly smiled. Regulus may act all high and mighty, but he wasn't impervious.

“Look at you,” Even purred, blowing smoke over your heated skin, your decolletage exposed as you stretched towards Barty. “Prettiest girl at Hogwarts, stretched across my lap.” You flushed, squirming a little in his lap, and Evan groaned. “You're torturing me, baby.”

Barty tugged on your hair, sending a skitter of pleasure down your spine and craning your head back even further. “Oh, keep doing that. He loves being tortured.”

“What a good girl,” Regulus hummed, and your pussy throbbed, soaking through your underwear. It was a rush, being admired by the heirs of some of the most powerful families in the magical world. But hearing those sweet words from Regulus, twisted into degradation, did sick things to your mind. “She's on track to graduate with her perfect, filthy-rich husband, and spend the rest of her days as mindless, fertile eye candy.”

You flinched, not that the boys noticed, and sat up a little, suddenly self-conscious in your barely-there shirt.

“We volunteer,” Avery and Wilkes said at the same time.

Evan’s arm tightened around you. “You'll have to pry her from my cold, dead hands,” he replied.

Claustrophobia clawed at your throat, but you couldn't let Regulus know how thoroughly he'd flipped your night upside down.

Wilkes drew their wand, pointing it at Evan’s head. “That can be arranged.”

“A no-name isn't worth it, children,” Regulus sneered. “Save your Azkaban trips for nobler pursuits than cunt.”

That's it. You swung your legs to the ground and rose, stalking towards Regulus. The group whistled and hooted, excited by the oncoming storm of drama.

You climbed into Regulus’ lap, straddling him and stealing the golden snitch from his hands. He was warm and solid beneath you, his expensive, amber cologne swirling with the smoke to create an addicting combination.

His hands immediately fell to your bare thighs, the cold of his rings biting into your heated flesh. His green eyes darkened, lids growing heavy as he looked up at you, his ebony lashes casting delicate shadows over his cheeks.

“Regulus Black,” you murmured in his ear while loosening his tie. His hands tensing on your thighs for a split second before he relaxed them. “You will never find someone that can withstand your thorns the way I do.”

He loosed a breath, chin lifting a little closer to your face like a wilted rose tilting towards the sun.

“You will never scare me off.” You brushed your nose along his temple, feeling his heart rate increase, his breath turn shallow. “I will ruin you, and you will thank me for it.”

Before he could respond, you slipped away, taking his prize snitch with you all the way to Ravenclaw Tower. Unreachable, even for the boy that had everything.

─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

Regulus turned your words over and over in his mind, an endless, torturous loop. The others seemed obvious to his torment, prattling on and on while he burned through cigarette after cigarette, his tongue raw and throat scratchy.

Nothing would numb the ache on his chest, the pulsing strain of his cock beneath his robes. He'd already been painfully hard watching you move, watching you stretch across Evan and Barty like a contented kitten, preening under their devoted attention.

But when you climbed into his lap…fuck.

He was a heartbeat away from coming in his pants. One roll of your hips and he would have been done for, and you had no idea.

Or, maybe you did.

I will ruin you.

It was a miracle that you'd climbed off of him and stormed away, because the only thought he could formulate was please.

Eventually, he couldn't fucking take it anymore. He didn't even say goodnight to his friends, just disappeared into the dormitory and locked the door behind him.

He shirked his robe and grabbed a spare Slytherin scarf from his drawer. He flopped onto his bed and freed his aching cock, the head and angry red and shiny. He wrapped the scarf around it, squeezing hard for a semblance of relief.

“Fucking hell,” he groaned, pumping his cock slowly as your voice filled his mind again, the feeling of your weight on top of him, your sweet breath on his neck, your perfume rewiring the synopsis in his brain.

His hand started to move quicker, breath coming out in desperate pants. He imagined licking across your dewy chest, tasting the salt on your skin, gin on your tongue. Blowing his cigarette smoke over your naked body, into your open mouth. So eager and flayed open for him to ravage—his innocent lamb to ruin.

“Fuck, y/n!” Your name wrenched itself from his throat as he came hard into his scarf, imaging it was deep inside your greedy cunt. His whole body shuddered with the force of it, his jaw hanging open as he pumped himself through the orgasm until he'd milked every drop from himself, wondering if your pussy, your mouth, would do the same.

He slumped back onto the pillows, completely exhausted, and shoved the scarf under his bed.

You were right, you would fucking ruin him, ruin his plans. And he wasn't sure if he hated or loved you for it.

─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

Regulus avoided you for two weeks after that party, going so far as to skip your shared Potions class entirely. It was for the better really, you still felt a little raw after that night, the dull ache of his words combined with the unresolved arousal has left you out of sorts, to put it mildly.

If you ran into him, you weren’t sure if you’d throttle or fuck him to death.

Your friends were beginning to grow suspicious of his absence, and your squirrely behavior, and, unbeknownst to you, they set a trap to bring this stand-off to a finish once and for all.

Pandora chatted animatedly beside you as you walked together down the stairs to the dungeon, ranting about something Aurora did to piss her off. When you arrived to the dungeon, she suddenly paused to tie her shoelace, waving for you to go on ahead of her into the common room.

You did, and the large green door swung shut behind you.

“No! Fuck, Dora!” Regulus was right there, banging his fist on the door.

You looked around, bewildered, only to find the common room completely deserted. Except for Regulus, of course.

“Move,” you hissed, withdrawing your wand.

“I tried everything,” Regulus huffed, a hand raking through his dark hair.

“I said move,” you repeated, pointing your wand at him.

He rolled his eyes and stepped aside, walking back into the common room. He dropped onto the couch by the fireplace, retrieving his book.

You threw every spell you could think of at the door, but it simply wouldn’t budge. “What the fuck!” You shouted, nearly throwing your wand across the room out of frustration.

“They left us a note,” Regulus said, not looking up from his reading.

You stalked over to him, finding an open piece of parchment on the coffee table. Immediately, you recognized Pandora’s loping hand.

“Just bone already.” You read aloud, and scoffed. “What the fuck does that mean?” You glared at Regulus, as if he was somehow responsible, but he still didn’t look up.

“I suspect they’re tired of our bickering,” he replied, turning the page.

“And what does locking us in the dungeon together accomplish?” You couldn’t believe this was happening. Couldn’t believe they’d lock you in a dungeon with your fucking nemesis. Your school yard bully. The bane of your goddamn existence.

Regulus shrugged. “Maybe they think you’ll kill me.”

You let out an exasperated sound and stormed away from him, trying the door to the girls dormitory.

“Locked,” he called a millisecond after you tried the handle.

“Maybe I am going to fucking kill him,” you muttered to yourself. Resigned, you sat on a chair by the glass wall, as far away from him as you could possibly get, and sulked.

You had no clue how much time passed, the only light filtering in through the murky lake. The cold leeched through the glass, chilling you to the bone, but you refused to move closer to him. You’d freeze to death in here if you had to.

“Y/l/n,” Regulus said after the fifth full body chill wracked through you. “Come sit by the fire.”

“Go fuck yourself,” you bit back, and he snorted.

“Fine, freeze.” He returned to his book, not sparing you another glance.

Your hands started to ache from the cold, your jaw sore from your teeth chattering together. With a sigh, you got up and crossed the room. Regulus still didn’t look up, though you could feel his attention shift to you as you sat directly in front of the fire, holding your hands out to it.

“You really think they’ll leave us in here all night?” You asked, staring at the dancing flames.

“Absolutely,” Regulus answered, lowering his book to his lap.

You sighed, resigned. The only way out is through. “I’ll start.”

He tilted his head, dark brows drawing together in suspicion.

You cursed under your breath, and dove headfirst. “I don’t understand why you’re so shitty to me,” you blurted, refusing to look at him. “I’ve never done anything to you.”

He was quiet for so long, you finally caved and glanced over at him, only to find him staring back at you, expression unreadable.

“Regulus,” you huffed, frustrated.

“Y/n,” he mocked, and your stomach flipped despite his attitude. He’d never used your first name before.

“Just fucking talk to me.” You straightened your spine, folding your legs on the ground underneath you, the fire at your side.

He stared at you for a few more moments, his eyes dancing back and forth, before he leaned back against the couch and picked up his book.

“You’re a lot of things, Black, but I didn’t take you for a coward.”

His eyes flickered with anger, but he didn’t bite.

“Reg,” you murmured, softening your voice, and he rolled his eyes, the most unbelievably bored expression on his face. You shifted your weight, placing your hands on the ground, and lifted to your knees. Slowly, you began to crawl to him, being careful to not sway your hips too much, and he broke after only a few seconds.

“On your knees already, darling?” He teased, but the casual tone didn’t match his eyes. The fire in them, the way his hands tightened around the cover of his book, betrayed his true feelings.

Once you were directly in front on him, you sat back on your heels. “Be honest with me, Reggie, did it turn you on seeing me with Evan and Barty?”

He blinked, clearly taken aback by your question. In his lap, you saw his cock twitch, a small pulse along his right thigh.

Men are so fucking easy.

“What about when I was dancing with them? Sandwiched between their bodies?” You rolled your head on your shoulders, mimicking the way you danced and revealing the fragile plains of your throat, your hair falling around your face. “When Barty pulled my hair? When Evan blew smoke over my tits?”

Regulus swallowed hard, his eyes like melted jade.

“What about when I crawled into your lap?” You took the book from him and set it onto the table. Then, you placed your hands on his lean, muscular thighs and pushed yourself to your feet, straddling him the same way you did that night. His entire body was rigid beneath you, muscles coiled tight with tension. “Did you like when I whispered in your ear, Regulus? When I told you that I’d ruin you?”

“Y/n,” he rasped, breathing hard.

“Tell me the truth.” You were so close, your lips brushed the shell of his ear as you spoke. You committed to the contact, brushing your lips along his racing pulse, down his jugular vein. You fought to keep your thighs from clenching together, your own body responding to the feeling him slowly unraveling beneath you. “Do you hate me because you want me?”

“I don't,” he hissed through his teeth.

“If you say so,” you hummed, moving to slide off his lap.

He grabbed your waist, his grip bruising. “Don't you fucking dare."

“I thought you didn't want me?” You taunted, sitting back on his lap to look at him, a hand braced on his sternum.

When you shifted your weight, your pussy accidentally pressed against the hard outline of his cock. You had to force your hips to stay still, your pussy practically begging you to move when you felt him throb against your warm heat.

“That’s not what I meant,” he said. All the malice had drained from his voice, his eyes locked on yours.

Then what the fuck did he mean?

You rolled your hips, biting back the moan that crept up your throat as pleasure snaked through you. Regulus was less successful, a broken groan falling from his pretty mouth.

“It would be so much easier to just tell me the truth,” you purred, slowly rocking your hips over his twitching length, allowing a hint of breathlessness to bleed into your voice. “It would feel so good, Reg, to let it all go. To lose control.”

“Shit,” he crushed under his breath. “What the fuck are you doing to me?” He grated, sliding his hands down to feel your thighs flex with each movement, his fingertips dimpling your flesh.

“What did you mean by ‘I don’t’?” You asked, tilting his chin up with a finger.

His jaw went a little slack as he stared up at you, his eyes heavy-lidded and shining. “I don’t hate you,” he answered, his voice barely above a whisper.

“Then why do you say such awful things?” You stopped your movements, and he made a small noise in his throat, nearly a whimper, but didn’t answer. “Regulus,” you prodded, lifting yourself from him entirely.

“N-no, please, fuck y/n,” he stammered, lifting his hips to grind against you. Another moan threatened to spill from you, his body felt so fucking good against yours, but you managed to restrain yourself. “I did it to try and push you away, I—”

You lowered back onto him, your hips grinding in tandem, and his head fell back against the couch, releasing a throaty groan. You couldn’t hold back a small squeak of pleasure when the hard head of his cock grazed your clit just right, and a wave of pleasure crashed through you.

“Why did you want to push me away?” You started undoing the buttons of his dress shirt, revealing the pale expanse of his chest, lean muscles flexing as he thrusted up against you.

He shook his head, picking it up to look down at where your bodies met, a pool of your slick dampening his trousers. “Getting me all wet, lamb. You like toying with me?” he rasped, moving one of his hands to press a thumb against your clothed clit, his long fingers splayed across your pelvis. “Is that why I couldn’t scare you off?”

You nodded before you could stop yourself, a full moan finally breaking free with the added pressure. You were embarrassingly close to coming, to banter combined with the friction between your bodies was a lethal cocktail, a drug you weren’t sure you’d be able to quit.

You wrapped your hands around his throat, applying enough pressure that he gasped, the sound vibrating your hand. “Why are you trying to push me away?” You leaned closer to his face, his strained pants fanning across your lips. He was so beautiful like this, ravaged by lust and desperate.

“You know why,” he growled, grabbing your wrists. He rolled suddenly, flipping you beneath him and pinning your hands above your head. “What’s my name, y/n?” His free hand slid under your skirt, palming your soaked panties.

“Regulus,” you gasped, arching into his chest.

“Regulus what?” He started rubbing the heel of his palm over your clit, electric pleasure burning through you.

“Regulus Black.” You were on the brink of coming, teetering on that torturous edge.

“Tell me then, my clever little Ravenclaw. What does that say about me and mine?” He leaned down and dragged his teeth along your pulse point, pausing to suck a mark under your ear.

“Fuck, Reg, I’m going to come,” you whined, fighting against his hold as the feeling started to overwhelm you.

His hand stopped suddenly, ruining the orgasm you had just begun to crest. You cried out in frustration, tears springing to your eyes as the pleasure bled out of you, leaving you desperate and humming with tension.

“Answer me,” he demanded, grabbing your jaw with his slick covered hand.

“I’m not an idiot,” you snapped, eyes blazing into his. “I know what the fuck it means. And I don’t care.”

He fell still, eyes searching your face. “Then maybe you are an idiot,” he murmured, eyes softening now that the truth was finally out. “But so am I.”

He closed the final inch between you, connecting your lips in a searing, devastating kiss that you felt all the way to your toes. He released your hands and you tangled your fingers into his curls, finally feeling their softness for yourself as you pulled him closer. Your mouth parted for him, his tongue delving in to taste you.

“Reg, please,” you whined against his mouth, pressing your hips to his again.

“Tell me what you want, lamb.” He kissed down your neck, one of his hands sliding down to grip your thigh and draw it over his hip.

“Fuck me, I need you inside of me.” You clawed at his belt, flipping the clasp and tugging down his zipper.

“Merlin, yes.” He finished undoing his pants and freed his cock, pulling aside your panties to glide the head through your slick folds, lubricating himself. He notched the head at your entrance, hissing at the warmth already kissing him, and eased himself in.

Regulus wasn’t overly large, but the stretch was still divine, filling you until you went cross-eyed, an unholy cry ripping from your chest. He drew his hips back and slammed back into you, over and over again until your were in shambles, a moaning, shaking mess, on the precipice of coming for the second time.

“Come for me, love. I want to feel you break.” He cupped your face, kissing you as he finally pushed you over the edge, an orgasm ripping you apart at the seams. You screamed into his mouth, your cunt clenching around him as your body convulsed. “God, I love this fucking cunt. So perfect for me,” he growled, his hips losing their rhythm as your walls bared down on him, sucking him back in every time he pulled out.

“Reg,” you whimpered, sagging against the couch as the strength bled out of of you.

He pulled out suddenly, pumping his cock in his fist, your honey coating him. “Stay just like that, pretty girl. All fucked out and used. All mine—” a guttural groan broke the final word as he came in his hand, spraying ropes of cum over your rumpled skirt and Ravenclaw sweater, his head thrown back. He looked gorgeous milking himself for you, his muscles flexing with the effort, sweat beading along his skin.

He slowly relaxed, chest heaving, and looked down at you, ruined and covered in his cum. You stared back, completely starstruck by what just happened.

“I’m sorry,” he said, draping himself over you and pressing ksises to your forehead, your cheeks, your neck. “I’m sorry for everything I said. I didn’t mean any of it, I—”

“Me too,” you interrupted him, wrapping your arms around his neck. “I know how hard things are for you, at home, I mean, and I shouldn’t have—”

“No, no. I deserved it. I shouldn’t have brought up your family—”

“But I kept—”

“I never meant too—”

You both exhaled, laughing softly at your rushed confessions, the sudden, giddy nervousness that bloomed between you where there once was glacial wit and razor-sharp banter. He sat you both up, removing your stained sweater and straightening your skirt, then righted himself.

“What now?” You asked when he finished fussing, studying his flushed cheeks, his tousled hair.

He sighed, suddenly looking grim, and your heart gave a nervous thump. “We find a way to keep you safe, lamb,” he said, meeting your eyes. “But until then, we should act like nothing’s changed. Okay?”

Uncertainty coiled in your stomach, but you nodded. “Okay.”

─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

Thanks for reading!

[rickmandowneyjr]

So, I noticed this a while ago but I've never seen anyone mention it (or maybe I've just missed it entirely)

We all talk about these moments when we're talking about Snape's hair flips:

However...

(excuse my gif making skills) look at Snape in the background!!

And what's a non-fic post of mine, without a lil bonus:

Alan Rickman, you absolute cutie, I love you. Also, the camera needs to focus on him for these moments. Like, please XD

[zriasstuff]

Love is embarrassing

Mattheo Riddle x reader (fluff imagine, idiot in love)

Warning: mischaracterization ? maybe. but since he is made up anyway i get to write painfully self indulgent stuff :)

Once you caught his eye, there was no way he wasn’t going to make you his. But you were different from all his other crushes. Around you, he somehow felt…nervous? Mattheo Riddle’s vocabulary certainly didn’t entail “nervous” nor “rejection”, yet those two things consumed him like they never did before.

Of course he would eventually face his fears, but before he got there he would simply have to satisfy himself in other ways. If approaching you wasn’t an option, staring at you from afar definitely was.

And before he forgot, he promised himself that he wouldn’t tell his friends. Not yet at least. He really didn’t feel like being ridiculed for being shy.

Staring from afar turned out to be quite the feasible option. Since you sat across the room from him in most classes, he would only have to put his head in his hand and there you were. The most perfect face he’d ever seen, flowing hair and just the right amount of cute and sexy. Everytime you ran your hand through your hair and flipped them in the most elegant way, his pupils grew wider.

Seeing you awakened the inner protector in him. He just had to be by your side. As long as he wasn't, he wouldn’t be able to enjoy a peaceful day.

And just then his day took a pretty embarrassing turn. “Mr.Riddle, if you could stop staring at ms.y/n for just a second, you would’ve maybe heard my question the first time. But I am going to ask again…”

All the students immediately burst out laughing, his friends being the loudest. They couldn’t help but turn their heads towards you too, to see who the Mattheo Riddle was checking out. You could feel your cheeks heating and tried hiding your face a little. Why did Snape have to be such a prick about him not paying attention…

Mattheo grinned awkwardly at his comment, trying to play it off. Unfortunately his friends weren’t going to let this opportunity to embarrass their boy go.

“AWEEE MATTYS’ GOT A LITTLE CRUSH”, Blaise yelled across the room, causing even more outrageous laughs from everyone.

Tom wasn’t helping by loudly announcing “Don’t say that Blaise. It’s not a little crush, if anything it’s a big boy crush.”

More mocking and laughter followed his doom. He looked over at you, to see how you were reacting. He swore if this was what ruined his chances he would strangle everyone, including Snape, one by one…

It was like you could read his thoughts because instead of the reassuring look he’d hoped for, you were giggling with your friends. The chances were beginning to look slimmer and slimmer.

“That’s enough”, Snape finally chimes in, “quiet down now, or you will all have to write a three page essay.” For the rest of the class Mattheo’s mind kept spinning. How could it not.

Although his friends were idiots ninety nine percent of the time, there were rare moments of wisdom. This time was not one of them. Their advice was simply “stop being such a pussy, mate.” Eloquently put as always, but they had a point. He had to remind himself of who he was again. So what if Snape embarrassed him in front of everyone? Wasn’t he handsome and charming enough for it to just make him seem more adorable?

Eventually you two got to separate yourselves from your friend groups, allowing you to enjoy an actual conversation.

…

“So am I getting my hopes up for nothing, or were you genuinely staring at me?”, you bluntly ask him. You had to know whether Snape only said that to punish him for no reason, or if he actually had a point.

“What do you think, gorgeous?”, he cheekily replies. “I wonder how anyone could not stare at someone as pretty as you”

“You’re so stupid”, you chuckle at his attempt to charm you.

“Stupid is not something you should be calling your future boyfriend you know”

[girl-next-door-writes]

Between the Stacks

Characters: George Weasley x reader

Summary: Snow falls softly at Hogwarts, but George Weasley’s mischief sparks warmth in the library—and maybe, something more.

Word Count: 1247 words

Prompts: Library. Mutual pining. A hug that lingers.

A/N: A lovely sweet anon requested this one, so I hope you see it. I have missed writing my favourite Weasley.

The library was quiet, the soft rustle of pages and the occasional scratch of a quill the only sounds breaking the stillness. Snow fell softly against the windows, casting shifting patterns of light on the stone walls. Christmas was just a week away, and most of the students had already left for the holidays, leaving the Hogwarts library eerily empty. You had told yourself you stayed back for the quiet. The peace. But the truth was, the silence felt heavier than you’d expected, wrapping around you like a too-tight scarf.

“You’re staring at that book like it insulted your gran,” a familiar voice broke your concentration, and your heart did a little flip. George Weasley slid into the chair across from you, his signature mischievous grin firmly in place.

“Maybe it did,” you quipped, snapping the book shut. “I’m not entirely convinced Potions theory isn’t some form of cruel punishment.”

George chuckled, leaning back in his chair, and you couldn’t help but admire the way the firelight turned his hair into copper and gold. He was always so at ease, like the world bent just slightly to accommodate him.

“What are you still doing here, anyway? I thought you’d have escaped this place by now.”

“I could ask you the same thing,” you countered, raising an eyebrow.

He shrugged, an easy motion that somehow felt practiced. “Fred and I thought we’d stick around. Fewer teachers means more room for…creative experimentation.”

“Ah, I see. And by ‘creative experimentation,’ you mean causing as much chaos as possible?”

“Precisely.” He leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table, and for a moment, his grin softened into something thoughtful. “But what about you? Why spend your holidays buried in books when you could be…I don’t know, having fun?”

You hesitated, twirling your quill between your fingers. The truth was, you’d stayed back partly because you enjoyed the quiet, but mostly because of him. George. His laugh, his jokes, the way he made everything seem brighter. Not that you’d ever admit it.

“Maybe I like the quiet,” you said finally, glancing away to hide the heat rising to your cheeks. “It’s…peaceful.”

“Fair enough,” he said, though there was a glint of something knowing in his eyes. “But don’t you ever get lonely?”

“Not when I have people like you interrupting me,” you teased, grateful for the shift in tone.

He laughed, the sound warm and rich, shattering the stillness of the library. For a moment, the cold stone walls seemed to fall away, and all that was left was him.

Over the next few days, George seemed to pop up wherever you went. In the Great Hall during meals, he’d slide into the seat beside you with a cheeky comment about your “intense focus” on your soup. In the common room, he’d swipe your parchment to doodle absurd caricatures of Snape, complete with a crooked nose and bat wings. And in the library, he’d appear from behind the stacks, always with a joke or a story that left you laughing despite yourself.

“You know,” he said one evening, as you both sat in the library again, “if I didn’t know better, I’d think you were avoiding me.”

“Avoiding you?” you repeated, feigning innocence as you turned a page in your book. “Why on earth would I do that?”

“Oh, I don’t know,” he said, leaning back in his chair and tapping a finger to his chin, the picture of mock seriousness. “Maybe because you’re worried you’ll fall madly in love with me.”

You rolled your eyes, though your heart raced. “Please. I think I’ll manage.”

“Suit yourself,” he said with a wink. But his grin faltered—just for a second, the smallest crack in his usual bravado. His eyes lingered on you, softening in a way that made your stomach twist, before he quickly glanced away.

It wasn’t until the evening before Christmas Eve that things came to a head. You were alone in the library, the faint strains of carols drifting from the enchanted suits of armor in the corridors. The fireplace crackled softly, casting long shadows across the rows of books, and snow tapped gently against the frosted windows. The quiet was almost soothing, and you’d been lost in thought when you heard footsteps behind you.

“Don’t tell me you’re actually studying so close to Christmas,” George’s voice rang out, tinged with mock horror.

You turned, startled, to find him standing there, a box wrapped in red and gold paper in his hands. His cheeks were flushed from the cold, and there was a certain nervousness in the way he shifted his weight from one foot to the other.

“What’s that?” you asked, eyeing the package.

“A present,” he said, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. “For you.”

“For me?” You blinked, surprised. “Why?”

“Why not?” he said with a shrug, though his grin was unusually subdued. He stepped closer and set the box carefully on the table. “Go on, open it.”

Your fingers brushed the crisp paper as you peeled it back, the firelight reflecting off the gold paper. Inside was a small, intricately carved wooden box. You lifted the lid to reveal a quill, its handle engraved with your initials and the crest of your house. The silver feathers shimmered faintly, catching the glow of the fire.

“George…” you began, your voice catching. You ran your fingers over the smooth handle, marveling at the detail. “This is beautiful. Thank you.”

“I thought you could use something special for all those notes you’re always scribbling,” he said, rubbing the back of his neck and avoiding your gaze. “Figured it might make studying a bit less miserable.”

“It’s perfect,” you said, looking up at him, your chest tightening. “Really. Thank you.”

He grinned, but this time there was a softness to it, a vulnerability that made your heart ache.

“You know,” he said after a moment, his tone quieter, “I wasn’t entirely honest earlier.”

“About what?” you asked, though your pulse quickened.

“Why I stayed for the holidays,” he admitted, his gaze dropping to the floor. His hand drifted to the edge of the table, his fingers tracing invisible patterns on the wood.

Your breath caught. “Why did you?”

He looked up then, his brown eyes meeting yours with an openness that made your stomach flip. “Because I… I didn’t want to spend so much time away from you.”

The words hung in the air between you, soft and tentative, like snowflakes that might melt if you moved too suddenly. For a moment, neither of you spoke. Then, before you could think twice, you stepped forward and wrapped your arms around him. He froze for a heartbeat, then pulled you close, his hold firm and warm and lingering just a little too long to be purely friendly.

“You’re an idiot,” you murmured against his shoulder, though your tone was affectionate. “But thank you.”

His breath was warm against your hair. “For what?”

“For staying,” you said softly, tightening your hold for just a moment longer.

When you finally pulled back, his hands lingered on your arms, his touch warm despite the chill in the air.

“Merry Christmas,” he said, his voice just above a whisper, his gaze locked on yours.

“Merry Christmas, George,” you replied, a smile tugging at your lips.

And as the snow continued to fall outside, you couldn’t help but think that maybe, just maybe, this was the start of something wonderful.

[gg-neptune]

hii! Are you still taking request? I'd like to ask for one in which Reader takes care of a very sick Severus (Anything but a cold, it's too common), with all the comfort and pampering it requires :] Sev deserves to be pampered

A/n: Hiiii! Thank you for requesting this! I really likes writing this it was quite fun imagining a sick Sev. I imagined him having pneumonia for this since it was the first thing that came to mind and I had it recently so I based it off my symtoms. I hope you enjoy this. :)

Warnings: Sickness, pneumonia, coughing, phlegm (like he coughs it up it's gross but yk), if I missed anything pls tell me

It was not very often that wizards were affected by muggle viruses and diseases. By now they had come up with various potions to counteract them, and they had plenty of magical plants to help with the effects of whatever they had managed to contract. However, there were some rare cases in which they could not fight off the muggle diseases. It usually was not because they did not have a remedy but rather because they did not have the means to get to the remedy. This was often the case for Professor Snape.

Of course, being the Potions Master, he was always the one restocking the hospital wing and helping students who came to him who happened to get sick. Who was there for him when he was sick? Absolutely no one. Until recent developments in his life.

You. You had absolutely flipped his entire world upside down and shaken it violently to the point he was not sure this was his life still. He was quite used to going to his desk and spending hours grading alone without interruption. Now he had you come sit with him and pester him. He was used to wallowing in his bed alone when feeling ill, after Madame Pomfrey had told him off for being too needy one too many times. However, you were now here, and that simply would not be happening.

Now he had caught some virus that, till the day he died, he would claim was just a simple cold. He had written an owl to you that morning explaining his condition: “Just a simple common cold. I’m calling out so I don’t spread it. Don’t have a good enough potion brewed. Have a good day. Love you.”

This raised your suspicion, so after receiving it, you made your way down to the dungeons. After making it to his chambers, which was quite a way in the dungeons, you knock on his door.

“Severus, you ok? I wanted to check on you,” you call out to him. After waiting a moment with no response, you try the doorknob. A feeling in your gut told you something was wrong. Luckily the door was not locked, so you let yourself in. The curtains were still closed, and it seemed as if he had not even woken up yet. 

“Severus, hun, are you ok?” you call out to him only to be met with the sound of a loud groan.

Quickly, you make your way back to his bedroom. The door was left open, and inside there was Severus. His hair was wet with sweat, and so was his shirt. Normally he was pale, but now looking at him, he was ghastly. He had been lying down, but his head was barely lifted to be able to look up at you.

"Oh, you didn’t have—” he was cut off by a cough, followed by him wheezing for breath, trying to clear his lungs. “You didn’t have to come see me. I am fine, just a cold, as you can see,” he quickly tries to choke out before he is attacked by more phlegm coming up his throat. “Keep a reasonable distance; I don't want you to get sick.” He barely gets this out before coughing again, this time coughing up a sizable amount of mucus from his throat.

"Severus, I don’t think this is a cold, I mean.” You take him and his appearance in for a moment as concern begins to flood your chest.

“I’m going to write to Dumbledore and call out. I think you need to go to the hospital wing, but I know you won’t,” he flops his head back on his pillow, acting all dramatic.

“I’m fine. Go teach, I will be fine,” he wheezes out, pulling off his sweat-soaked shirt.

“Severus I think you have something worse than a cold. I mean, you look terrible.” You take a couple of steps toward his desk and pick up a quill and some parchment. “I’m calling out. Deal with it.” You quickly write an owl to Professor McGonagall, knowing she will not come to his room to try and visit but rather just find something for your students to do all while listening to Severus groan and cough in the background about how he is fine and how it’s “just a cold.”

After sending off the owl, you turn back to Severus and sit on the edge of the bed, reaching your hand forward and taking his hand in yours. "Severus, dear, you're obviously very sick.”

"No, I’m n-,” once again he is cut off by his own coughing.

“Lay down for a second. I'm going to go run you a bath. You need to dislodge some of the mucus in your throat.”

“That is simply not necessary.”

“Severus, I will drag you into the bath. You are covered in sweat.”

He grumbles one last time before you walk out of the room and into his bathroom. You run some hot water into his bathtub, letting it fill up. You decide to drip some peppermint oils into the water, hoping it will help his lungs clear up a bit.

Once the tub is half full, you go back to Severus, who is now splayed out on his back, still wheezing for breath.

“Come on, Sev, I’ve got you a bath running.” Your tone is gentle as you grab the man by his arm and try to rouse him up from his position on the bed.

He just groans before slowly pushing himself up and standing. He sways quite a bit and has to put quite a bit of his weight on you as you slowly walk him to the bathroom. You sit him on the closed toilet seat and begin to attempt to undress him. Which considering how soaked his clothes were with sweat proved to be a tremendous feat. After getting him to undress, you help him into the bathtub. The entire time you do not speak, just gently trying to get him into the tub. It would have not mattered anyway, as he keeps coughing every second or so anyway. You make sure to close the bathroom door so you can lock the steam in, which will help him dislodge some of the mucus in his lungs.

He leans against the back of the tub, eyes half closed with exhaustion. He can barely keep himself up as you grab a washcloth and spread some water on his shoulders and face.

“I’ll wash your hair too,” you whisper to him, not wanting to disturb him too much, as honestly, you cannot tell if he is asleep or not.

Suddenly he pushes his torso forward and dunks his head under the water, submerging his hair completely. He comes back up and lazily pushes it out of his face before relaxing against the tub again. “There. Hair washed,” he grumbled out.

“Severus, you cannot be serious.” Disbelief is the only word that you can come up with to describe your feelings right now.

“What,” he snaps. His illness has clearly shortened his temper and patience quite a bit. He glares at you through his eyelashes, not bothering to lift his head.

“You cannot just dunk your head under water and expect your hair to be clean. It’s drenched in sweat and disgusting,” you say as you begin to try to adjust him so you can actually wash his hair. He, however, does not help you at all and instead just goes completely limp, leaving you to have to move his dead weight.

Finally, after breaking a sweat yourself, you get him properly adjusted so you can wash his hair. You lather up some shampoo and begin to gently work it into his hair, focusing on his roots. He seems to almost flinch as you make contact with his scalp.

“What’s wrong? Too rough,” you ask him with a quiet voice, wanting him to relax as much as possible.

“My head hurts,” he replies, scrunching up his face in displeasure. “I don’t mean a headache like the skin on my head.”

Humming in acknowledgement, you more gently than the last time threaded the lather through his hair. You know if his scalp is tender, it will be painful either way, but it is best to be as gentle as possible.

When you are finally content with how much you’ve washed his hair, you attempt to rinse his hair out with a nearby cup, but he swats you away and dunks his head under again.

He continues to cough up more and more phlegm, and time goes on, the hot steam proving to loosen some of it. Eventually the water goes cold, and you help him up and into some fresh clothes.

As you are putting his shirt on, he leans against the sink, not being able to support himself when he gets a violent fit of coughing.

“Lift your arms up,” you tell him, getting ready to put his shirt on.

He does as you say without complaint, but after you slip his shirt on his arms, they find their way around your waist. He holds you there for quite a while. As you are pressed against his chest, enjoying his warmth (and also realizing he is most likely running a fever), you can feel him wheeze with each breath he takes.

“Thank you,” he whispers to you, barely audible after quite some time.

You simply nod, knowing he is just not used to people taking care of him like this or even sticking around him like this.

After a while, he releases you, and you walk him to the couch in the lounge area.

“Why do I have to sit in here?” he complains as you gently push him to sit down on the sofa.

“Am I wrong to assume your bedsheets are covered in sweat?”

He gives no response to this and instead just lays on the couch, grumbling in displeasure at the fact you had a point.

“I’m going to write an owl to madame Pomfrey for your fever and cough; I don’t think I could brew a decent enough potion, and I don’t want to leave you alone for very long,” you explain to him as you grab a spare piece of parchment from the table in his kitchen.

“Hurry up,” his voice is almost whiny as he says this. He’s glaring at you again, not happy with the fact you are so far away from him.

Following his demands, you quickly explain to Madame Pomfrey what Severus’ symptoms are and to please give him something quick. You sent it off with the school owl that had returned with McGonagall's response, which said that it was perfectly fine that you called out today. Professor Sprout needed more hands to deal with some Devil's Snare.

Before returning to Severus, you rummage through his cabinet and quickly find a sleeping draft, deciding he needed to rest some. You bring it back to him and find him waiting on the sofa, sitting upright, glaring at you still.

“Why did you take so long? Like genuinely, what are you doing there?” he complains. You don’t know what had gotten into your man, but he seems to be even more dramatic and sassy today.

“I wrote an owl and I got you some sleeping potion; calm down.” You sit beside him, wrapping your arm around him and allowing him to lean into you. “Why don’t you lay down, Severus? Here, take a few drinks.” He does as you say, but he does not lay down.

“I can’t breathe when I’m lying down,” he’s becoming even more congested as time goes on.

Hearing this, you summon some pillows from his room with your wand and use them to prop up his head and chest. He settles against it, nestling himself in the pillows, not bothering with blankets as they are too hot for him at the moment.

You are sitting on the edge of the couch, running your hand through his still wet hair as he teeters on the edge of consciousness when he reaches out an arm and wraps it around your waist. He is attempting to pull you close to him; however, in his sick state, he cannot muster up the strength to actually pull you to him. You decide to help him out and lay next to him. You attempt not to put too much weight on his chest, not wanting to obstruct his breathing even more, but he continues to tug on your waist until you are on him to his full content.

Soon after, since he decided to exert all of his energy on pulling you on to him, he passes out immediately after. Leaving you to your own thoughts and opportunity to admire him. 

His head had fallen back on the pillows, mouth slightly parted. It was only a matter of time before he started snoring. His hair that was still wet was splayed out everywhere.

A small smile formed on your loops as you looked up at him. He looked so calm for once in his life. He was not scowling or wearing an expression of displeasure but rather just a calm, happy face of content.

You run your fingers through his hair, earning a sigh from him, though he does not move or show any other signs of waking. Pressing a kiss to the tip of his nose, you carefully rest your head against this chest once more.

~~Later~~

You had been lying there for quite a while before Severus had woken up. You were not able to fall asleep yourself, but it did not bother you, opting to just admire the man you were laying on top of.

When he does finally wake up, it is only because madam Pomfrey is knocking at the door, which you have to get up to answer. He had quite a grip on you, so after struggling to get him to let go, you finally are able to answer the door, allowing her to give you the potions he will need in order to make a recovery.

“I expect he’s got pneumonia, but this should do the trick. Make him drink all of it, then sleep, and when he wakes he should be fine. Maybe cough up some remaining phlegm but otherwise good as new,” she explains, handing a bottle of dark green liquid to you. 

“Thank you, Poppy. Genuinely, if he stayed in the state he was in for much longer, he was going to hack up a lung,” you partially joke but then begin to wonder if this was actually true.

She takes her leave soon after having students in the hospital wing to attend to, and you return to Severus, deciding it is time to wake him up. However, he is already awake. Glaring at you once again.

“Why were you gone?” he wheezes out, slouching against the pillows.

“You hold up the potion bottle to him, knowing he will recognize it immediately. He huffs and holds his arms out to you, wanting you close to him.

Not being able to deny him, you set the potion bottle down on the table and snuggle next to him. He is no longer lying but rather sitting against the pillows, allowing you to sit in his lap. You smile up at him, but he is not looking at you, opting to scowl at the potion you have been provided moments before.

“Do you have personal issues with that potion or something?” you joke. A hand goes up to his face, resting it against his cheek. He leans his face into your hand, craving more and more of your touch.

“I should’ve been the one to brew it,” he complains. You can tell by his tone he is feeling like he is not enough. You must be quick to rebuttal, or Severus will get lost in his own head.

“You were sick, Sev. and spending good time with me.”

Luckily, he is content enough with this answer and decides to drop it and shove it from his mind. He holds you close to him for quite some time. You keep your hands on his cheek, stroking his cheekbone, and occasionally you press a kiss to wherever you can reach on him, causing his cheeks to go a slight shade of pink.

Soon his eyes start to droop a bit, so you decide it is time to administer the potion to him. You lean over and grab it from the table, and after some coaxing, he drinks the entire thing. This time a sleeping potion is not needed in order to put him to sleep, so you just spend the rest of the time cuddling.

“Thank you for taking care of me,” he whispers to you, almost asleep.

"Anytime, Sev,” you whisper back. You glance up at him, expecting to be met with his dark eyes looking at you fondly, only to see he has succumbed to sleep.

[cherrycolacigs]

𝕋𝕙𝕖 𝕓𝕒𝕕𝕘𝕖𝕣 𝕥𝕒𝕜𝕖𝕤 𝕔𝕒𝕣𝕖 𝕠𝕗 𝕙𝕚𝕤 𝕤𝕟𝕒𝕜𝕖

This was requested by @cosmicswan!

Ty Lovey for requesting I had fun writing this for you! I hope you like it and get better soon!

No warnings just fluff!

You were a mess; sitting at your desk with hundreds of papers and snot covered tissues littering the surface. It was the end of the year and the only thing on your mind for the past two weeks was to ace your O.W.LS., no matter how sick you were. You were wearing Cedric’s yellow jumper that you borrowed, stole, as the quill in your hand moved quickly, writing down answers as your eyes darted back and forth between textbooks and your notes. Occasionally your work would cease to wipe your nose or hack out a cough. 

Then there was a polite knock on your dorm’s door.

You jumped, your brain snapping out of your extremely focused world. You huffed and rubbed your temple.

“What?” you groaned, a not so friendly tone in your voice as you were irritated that someone would interrupt you. 

Then your boyfriends head poked through the door.

“Hey darling, what are you doing?” Cedric queried, slipping into your dorm and walking over to you perched at your desk.

“O.W.L.S.” was all that you grumbled, sticking your face back into your book.

“Ah,” Cedric replied, placing a hand on your head and bending down to face you. “And why would you be doing that instead of being in bed? You’re obviously sick.”

You swatted his hand away and shook your head.

“Nuh uh,” you muttered, dipping your quill in your ink. “I’m not sick.”

Cedric sighed and sat on your bed. He knew you were most likely the most ambitious Slytherin to had ever graced the halls of Hogwarts. But he knew he was just as patient and persausive as you were stubborn.

“I know for a fact that you are sick,” Cedric said in a calm and assertive voice.

“Yeah hmm and why’s that?” You said airily, not looking up from your work.

“Remember yesterday you tried to stifle those little coughs for the entirety of Snape’s class yesterday?”

You stopped writing for a moment, sideyeing him for a split second as you remembered.

It was in the middle of one of Snape’s lectures and had you coughed. Cedric had slowly turned his head to meet your gaze, a knowing look plastered on his face. In response you scowled and looked down, continuing to hastily scribble down the rest of your notes.

“No,” you answered flatly.

Cedric scoffed and shook his head with a dry smile. 

“You don’t remember?” he said with an amused tone.

“I’m not sick!” you insisted, running your hands through your hair in frustration before flipping another page of your textbook. He grabbed your wrist to stop you from taking your quill again.

“You need rest,” he said firmly, spinning your chair around and placing both hands on the arm rests, sticking his face infront of yours. “And I made sure of it.”

“Yuh huh, and how exactly?” you challenged, crossing your arms and looking up at him defiantly. 

“I told Madam Pomfrey,”

Your mouth dropped and you tried to find the words. This was unfathomable. 

“No. No!,” you wheedled, a look of surprise and anger on your face.

“Yes,” Cedric said sternly. 

“You can’t just do that! Your not in charge of me!” you exclaimed, trying to stand up from your chair but he grabbed you by your waist kept you sat.

“Oh darling but that’s where your wrong. I am.” he said sternly, running his thumb over your lower lip. 

You went speechless for a second. You were not expecting this. 

“I am prefect after all,” he said smugly, smirking at you while you sat open mouthed and visibly taken aback. 

“You dick!” you retorted, running your hands down your face. “I need to be in classes tomorrow!” 

“What you need to be, is in bed!” Cedric pressed, his eyes piercing into yours as he became more authoritative. 

“I… you!” you fumbled, grasping for the words but he had you.

You sunk into your chair anc crossed you arms, feeling completely dominated. Though you were irritated he knew you loved it when he took charge.

“Can’t I study in my bed at least?” you prompted, grabbing for your papers.

“No,” he said simply, his large hand snatching them from your grasp.

“But! Hey-” 

You were cut off, Cedric kissing you firmly. You instantly stopped and let him, not knowing what else to do.

“What was that for?” you asked in bewilderment.

“To shut you up,” he stated.

“I’m gonna get you sick!” 

“Hah! So you admit! You are sick!” he said triumphantly. 

You tried to defend yourself but you started coughing, not being able to say anything else and suddenly he scooped you up and plopped you into your bed, but you couldn’t even protest so you accepted your fate.

He tucked you into your bed and felt your forehead.

“God, darling your burning up,” he said quietly, sitting down on your bed next to you and kissing the top of your head.

“I’m cold though,” you mumbled.

“Here,” he replied, pulling out his wand and pointing it to the other side of your dorm where your fireplace was. "Incendio.”

A fire shot up instantly and the heat started flowing in your direction.

“Better angel?” Cedric caressed your cheek and kissed your forehead.

You nodded and reluctantly leaned into his touch. You didn’t want to admit it but you indeed did feel better, but you didn’t want to give him the satisfaction. 

“You need to drink alot of water. Stay hydrated,” He informed, grabbing a water bottle from your schoolbag and putting it in your hand.

“But-”

“Drink,” he demanded. 

You sighed, knowing you had no choice. You drank as much as you could and handed it back to him.

“That’s a good girl,” he whispered, rubbing you arm and kissing your lips. “Now you’re going to sleep you hear?”

“Only if you stay,” you said in a quiet voice.

“Of course I will sweetheart,” He chuckled and kissed you again. “And is that my jumper?”

You looked down at the soft yellow sweater that was so big on you, you were pretty much swimming in it. 

“No.”

Cedric smiled and stroked your hair.

“Last time I checked, Slytherins wore green.”

You rolled your eyes and laid back a bit more, looking down at the carpet.

“I’m not tired,” you complained.

“Don’t you worry, you will be soon.”

You huffed but stayed quiet for a few seconds. 

“I feel guilty for not studying. I should be studying!” you moaned, hiding your face in your pillow.

“Oh hush, darling your work isn’t going anywhere! I’ll get you some hot tea and that will put you to sleep yeah?” He whispered, running his hands through your hair.

You nodded and he pulled the blankets over you carefully. 

“Now, I’ll be quick as possible. I won’t leave you again until your better.”

Cedric kissed your head and strolled out your door to the kitchens.

He came back in a matter of minutes, true to his word, holding a jug of hot water and some packets of chamomile tea, along with an armfull of other things he thought you needed. Tucked in his arm was all of your favorite candies, cans of soup, and other (probably useless but he thought you’d like it) items. 

“Darling I’m back,” He announced softly, looking over at you.

But to his surprise, you were already dead asleep.

[6mommymilkers9]

Greedy Little Thief

Severus Snape x Student Reader

Summary : In seventh year, an infatuation with your Head of House has been brewing for too long.

Tw : None

Grasping the vial, Severus flipped open the spout, giving a quick sniff. "Love potion." Turning his head to Dumbledore, who stared with a knowing glance. "Now we know who's been stealing for your stores, Severus."

The last few weeks had been aggravating. Thankfully, the Tri-wizard Tournament, distracting students and professors alike, especially Snape. Getting into his storage room was no easy task, narrowly, especially the greasy haired madman a time or two.

Today was no different; maybe, just maybe, you could take one more vial. That's all you needed. Strolling the dungeons with a certain stride, making way to potions class, Severus surely was watching the games, hell everyone was.

You, on the other hand, couldn't be bothered, opting to take advantage. Taking ahold on the door handle, quietly opening the door, slithering into the classroom. Shutting the door behind, you turned, eyes meeting your target. Your feet moved, light as a feather, a creeked of the floor, neither here nor there.

Another twist of your wrist, you were greeted to his office, and alike, his storage room to the left, making way. The room, only light with a small candle on the professors desk, was dim, making you squint a bit, trying not to bump into anything. As many times as you've been in here, you haven't quite mapped out his room yet.

A small breath, the scent of lavender filled your nostrils, greeting your glands with a faint smile. If there was one thing you couldn't get enough of, it was his scent.

Every time the professor walked by, handing out homework or grades, the hint of lavender had you wanting chasing for more, nearly making you drool at times.

The scent nearly driving you mad for years, yearning for slip of the fingers, getting a light touch of his quill, whenever you had to bother the poor man with mindless questions, hoping for the scent to stick.

Another breath, you blinked, adjusting to the darkness, twisting the knob. Before you could fully open the door, someone had grabbed your sweater, pushing you against the nearest stone wall, making you cry out.

"You think you could get away with it Miss L/N? You greedy little thief." Severus rushed, his eyes dark, yet not holding much distain as usual.

"P-Professor please! I can explain." Barely getting the words out, grasping the professors wrist, taking note how warm they were compared to how cold he presented.

Severus knew, he had a feeling for days now. Only thing that caught him off guard was you. The top student in his Advanced Potions class was a thief. But why? That is what bugged the tall, tasteless man.

He wasn't a daft man, watching your glances, the feeling of you two brushing against each other in the hallways, dismissing it as a mistake on your end. It was the most contact he had with anyone in a long time.

Though, he couldn't deny, the feeling was exasperating, craving more from your liking. While his mind might deny, his conscience couldn't, he had grown feelings for the Slytherin girl in his clutches.

Dumbledore noticed, from the head table to the students, eyes glancing between his Potions master and the Slytherin girl. The conniving Headmaster, making due to have the lot paired during demonstrations and tasks he brought onto them both, not necessarily needing either or to do them.

When the headmaster and professor found the storage room to be missing some bottles, the older man knew just who was the culprit, leading the Severus to figure out for himself; Dumbledore being a romantic himself. Strings are attached to people for a reason, after all.

"Give me a reason to not give you detention, Miss L/N. Stealing from my personal belongings will surely lead to punishment from myself."

The seventh year couldn't help but feel the blood rush to her cheeks, tightening her grip onto the man, glancing between his eyes and the crook of his neck, embarrassed. "I dunno, sir. I thought.." You paused, barely meeting his guaze, thinking of how to confess your endeavors. "Well..I thought it would work. You smelled the amortentia, didn't you? What else was I supposed to do?" You question, searching for an answer from the Potions master.

It was true, nearly a month ago, students were assigned to make 'Amortentia', a love potion transfixed to cast itself as the smell of your lover, yours smelling for lavender, and dust. Severus, nearly casting it as a coincidence, yet in the evening, making his own, smelling your perfume.

His grip lightened just a tad, lips narrow, screaming to move, to speak. His chest, wanting to burst, yet, steady within it's confinement. "You stupid girl." He muttered, stepping into his nose was grazing yours. "A love potion cannot enhance what Amortentia presents. All you had to do was ask."

Before your lips could part, questioning his words, you felt his own brushing yours, before melting into place, his stance softening, feeling your own relax. Your knees felt like buckling under their own weight, processing what was happening.

Many nights you craved this exact moment, and it was better than your subconscience could depict. Nails digging into pale, ghostly skin, you pushed your head forward, deepening the kiss, exasperated.

Pulling away, Severus met your eyes, a force needly pushing him back into you. "Does this mean I can skip the upcoming exam sir?" The slytherin girl asked, chest puffing up in down, catching up with itself; a smile appearing on the inner corners of your lips.

"Hardly." The professor grunted, his hands finding their way onto the stone wall, either or blocking your shoulders. "Detention. Tonight, Miss L/N." How could you say no to the man?

[fruitywritter]

Feelings

Summary: You hang out with Hermione, Harry and Ron by the lake

Pairing: Hermione Granger x gn!reader

Warnings: None just fluff :)

Words: 2.6k

A/n: Haven’t updated in months, finally got some motivation :)) If you read this I hope you like it!

It has been a tough week for all the students at Hogwarts, almost all of the teachers had them write multiple tests so they would be prepared for the exams which would take place in around two weeks. After finishing the last class of the week, the plan was to go hang out on your favorite spot beside the lake with your friends. Things didn’t exactly go that way as Snape made you stay after class to clean up after some Slytherin student’s mess.You didn’t want to argue with him so you told Harry, Ron and Hermione to go and that you would join them later.

So fifteen minutes later you found yourself walking over the field and towards the lake as your friend came into your vision. Students sitting here and there, conversing with their friends or doing homework. It was a sunny evening, the sun having a few hours before setting since summer came closer so days were longer. You didn’t mind it, you liked a few more hours of light.

You walked over as you saw Harry and Ron trying random spells on each other making you chuckle. You sat beside Hermione who had her face buried into a book.

“Hey.” You spoke as she turned her head and looked at you with a soft smile, the book quickly forgotten in her hands.

“Are you alright?” Hermione looked at you in question as you nodded.

“Yeah. Snape kept throwing his ugly remarks at me while I was thinking of any good spell to make him shut up.” You said with a grin on your face as the brown haired girl rolled her eyes and playfully slapped you on the shoulder. “I’m kidding Hermione! I would never attack a teacher..” You shook your head as you pulled slightly away.

Hermione hummed, “You better not get in trouble.”

“I won’t! I cleaned up and left quickly.” You laughed at the look she was giving you, clearly not trusting you. You turned your attention to your friends before asking, “What are they doing?”

“Looking for a good spell to use on Snape.” Hermione said with an unamused voice before looking down at her book. A chuckle left your mouth as you watched Harry cast a spell and lift Ron in the air before letting him fall back down on his ass. You heard Ron groan as Harry laughed, Hermione took a quick glance at them before muttering under her breath, “Idiots.”

You turned towards her as you heard her voice, she wasn’t looking at you as her attention was back on her book. Glad that she couldn’t see you staring at her, you continued looking over her features. You simply sat there and admired her beauty, how her eyes moved when she read over the pages, how her fingers gently touched and flipped the paper. Her lips were slightly open as she concentrated. Hair was up in a messy bun as a few strands fell over her face. Her legs were crossed and the book was sitting on her lap.

You cursed yourself into your head. You shouldn’t be thinking about your best friend like that, you thought that this attraction towards her had disappeared but no. At this moment you knew you couldn’t stop feeling like that. Only Harry knew about this.. crush. Since he was your brother and knew you for so long, he had noticed and talked to you. You felt relieved when you talked to him, he seemed to understand and be happy for you. Harry had told you to tell Hermione but you were scared. You didn’t want to ruin your friendship if the girl didn’t feel the same.

It felt good having to talk to someone about Hermione, even if it was your own brother. Even though it was annoying whenever he found you and her together. He would always send you teasing grins without Hermione noticing.

“You know I can feel you staring, right?” Her voice made you break out of your thoughts and look at her as her eyes were already on yours.

“I’m not staring..” You shook your head knowing that you were caught. Your eyes averted towards Harry and Ron who were now sitting opposite from you and talking with each other.

“Sure you aren’t..” Hermione mumbled as her eyes went back to her book as you looked down at your hands with a small smile.

After that you spent a few minutes not daring to look towards your best friend. Instead you tried to listen to the conversation Harry and Ron were having to pass the time. When you realized that you didn’t really care about what they were talking about, you decided to look towards the lake. The water looked so peaceful as the sun reflected on it. Many students around you had started to walk towards the castle, probably wanting to hang out in their common rooms.

You sighed, needing Hermione’s attention so badly. Taking a glance towards her, your eyes light up with an idea. Your hands grabbed the book on your lap before pulling it off her, she looked at you in question and you just smiled.

Turning your body, you let your head rest on her lap as her eyes followed your every move. Finally you looked up at her with a grin and handed her back the book.

She stared at you for a few seconds before shaking her head with a smile and moving her hand to rest on your hair. You sighed in happiness as she went back to reading and at the same time playing with your hair.

You closed your eyes and relaxed with your head on Hermione’s lap. Eventually Hermione closed the book silently and joined the conversation the boys were having quietly not to disturb you. The only thing you could focus on was her fingers gently playing with your hair and the way her stomach moved as she breathed.

Minutes later you heard Harry stand up as well as Ron as they told Hermione that they were going back to the common room.

“Okay, we will come in a bit.” You heard her say softly as the footsteps of the boys disappeared. You felt Hermione take a deep breath before pushing away some of the hair that had gotten into your face. “Y/n..”

“Hm?” You mumbled with your eyes still closed as she moved her other hand to your side, softly squeezing you.

You opened your eyes and blinked a few times before meeting her gaze as she looked down on you with a soft smile. “Hello.” You muttered and moved off her lap, sitting beside her.

“Hey..” She spoke in a quiet voice while you stretched your arms. “The boys are going back..”

You hummed before moving a little closer to your best friend, carefully laying your head on her shoulder. “Can we stay just a little more?” You asked with a soft tone with your cheek against her. You felt the vibrations as she chuckled quietly and you smiled.

“Alright.” Hermione simply said before relaxing against you.

You two sat there for a few minutes, watching the sun begin to set behind the mountains. The air started getting more chilly but you didn’t care. The warmth of your bodies was enough for you to feel comfortable.

You had pulled away from Hermione at this point, still close enough to feel her through her clothes. Your eyes moved from the sunset towards your best friend. She had yet to realize that you were looking at her.

She was watching the sight in front of you like at this moment she didn’t have any care in the world, her eyes had a soft look in them. Her lips slightly apart, you wondered how they would feel against yours.

“So pretty..” You heard her say with her soft voice.

You nod even though you knew she couldn’t see you. “Yeah..” You mumbled, still looking at her side profile.

Next thing you knew, her eyes had met yours. Her face had an unreadable expression in it, her eyebrows raised and her eyes looking at you slightly wide.

It was like the world had gone quiet. Brown eyes staring into your light green. You didn’t even notice how much closer you had gotten to her. Suddenly your body seemed to be doing things without your mind’s consent. Your right hand moved towards her neck, slowly reaching upwards and finally resting on her cheek.

Hermione seemed to be fine with that as she slightly leaned against your palm. “You’re beautiful, ‘Mione..” You muttered while your eyes moved down to her lips for a second before moving back up.

She seemed to lose her words as her lips parted, trying to find something to say. You could see a slight blush creep onto her cheeks. Your noses could touch at this point, she could feel your breath on her face. Hermione had never felt you that close to her.

If she would lean a little more towards you, she could easily touch her lips against yours. But she didn’t do that.

You both knew what you were doing. No one said anything though, not even one word came out of your mouths. The sun was almost setting by now, the light shined on her eyes making them glow a light brown. You could count all the freckles on her face.

You’ve never been this close to her, you thought.

Both of you could feel the tension in the air.

She looked between your eyes, trying to find some sort of answer. She received none.

As Hermione went to open her mouth to finally speak, the question fighting to get out of her lips. She never got to make a sound though.

Your lips crashed against hers.

They were soft and sweet.

Then when you felt her not moving you immediately pulled away with wide eyes.

“Oh my god- I’m so sorry. Hermione-”

The apologies quickly rolled out of your tongue as your best friend stared at you with a look. You didn’t even notice it as you panicked.

Of course she wouldn’t like you like that. She was just your friend and you had fucked up.

A few seconds passed with you continuing to shake your head and mumble apologies to her.

“Fuck. I’m so stupid, I’m sorry-” You didn't get to continue as Hermione reached and grabbed your neck, pulling you with forcefulness towards her and stutting you up with her lips.

This time it was you who stood frozen, only for two seconds though. You closed your eyes as you felt her lips move against yours in a slow pace. Her arms moved around your neck as she pulled you closer to her while your hands grabbed her waist.

She was kissing you.

Hermione Granger. Your best friend was kissing you.

You felt like you were on cloud nine. Her lips moved so perfectly against yours. The kiss wasn’t harsh, there was a softness in it. Her hands played with your short hairs on the back of your head making you calm down.

Seconds later, her lips disconnected from yours as you both pulled away for air. Your eyes stared at each other while you tried to calm down, your cheeks definitely a deep pink by now.

“That was…” Hermione said but stopped trying to take a breath in.

“Amazing.” You finished her sentence with a chuckle while your faces were still close. Her eyes had a spark in them, she was admiring you.

Oh for how long she wanted to do that.

She nodded, letting out a big smile that matched yours.

You stared at each other for what seemed to be an eternity, when it was in fact only a few seconds. The sun had settled by now, it was getting darker the seconds passed. The lights from the castle were now the only source of light. The sky although still had an orange color in it, but starting to disappear slowly as dark blue was starting to overcome it.

Hermione was the first to talk after a while.

Her arms were still around your neck, holding you close to her. “We should head back.” She spoke, her voice so quiet but you could still hear it.

You gave her a nod as you looked around you, no one was there anymore. Every student had gone back to the castle. You could stay there all night, with Hermione’s presence only. But the wind started to get colder making you agree with her.

Hermione grinned after seeing you nod as her arms left your neck and began to stand up. That wasn’t possible though since your arms were still gripping on her sides, not letting her go.

“One more, please..” You mumbled as you waited.

The brown haired girl let out a chuckle before leaning back towards you and capturing your lips with hers.

This one lasted a little longer than a peck. She pulled away with a gentle smile before tapping your arms to let go.

You with a stupid grin, still looking at her lips, you removed your hands from her waist. You watched her stand up before turning towards you and extending her hand for you to take.

“How nice.” You teased her as you grabbed it and she pulled you up.

“I know.” She smirked as you stood beside her, straightening your clothes. You playfully rolled your eyes before grabbing her book from the ground and handing it to her. “Thank you.”

You nodded before taking her hand in yours and beginning to walk towards the castle.

Her voice sounded from beside you as you entered the castle, “I have a question.”

“Yes?” You looked at her as she was already staring at you while walking.

She seemed to think for a few seconds before letting out a sigh, “What- What are we?” Hermione asked, her eyes watching every move your face made.

Now it was your time to think, although you didn’t have an exact answer you shrugged with a smile, “Whatever you want us to be.”

She suddenly stopped walking, making you stop as well and look at her in question. She took a breath as she looked into your eyes, “I like you.”

You tilted your face, something Hermione always found it cute whenever you did it. She didn’t know if it was the way your eyes looked at her, or the way your lips always moved to a smirk.

“And I like you too.”

Her eyes widened slightly, something about hearing these words leave your mouth made her blush. She smiled as you spoke again. “We don’t have to put a label yet, we can simply watch how it goes.”

Hermione nodded at that before moving closer and standing on her tiptoes to reach your lips with hers. She gave you a quick peck before smiling widely. “I’d like that.”

You two continued walking towards the Gryffindor common room, after passing by the portret you found Harry and Ron playing magic chess, Ginny was sitting in one of the couches while reading a book. Fred and George were casting some spells in one of the corners of the room.

Hermione and you went and sat close to your Ron and Harry as Ginny smiled at you.

Harry finally noticed you and gave you a smile before looking down on your intertwined hands. You never let go of Hermione's hand, you knew she wouldn’t have a problem with your friends knowing.

Your brother smirked as his eyes found yours before going back to playing chess.

Hermione moved your intertwined hands to lay on her lap as she started a conversation with Ginny. You couldn’t help but admire the girl beside you, you’ve liked her for so long. And it turned out she liked you back.

She felt like home.

At this moment, you knew you didn’t only like her. You loved her.

You were in love with Hermione Granger.

And she was finally yours.

[greenbadger]

Hello everyone!🖤

*I'm new to Tumblr and writing is my passion. I love to write fanfics, especially about Severus Snape or older men. This is my first smut story here and I hope you like it. Let's hope I do everything right. I'd love to get feedback.

⚠️ WARNING: NSFW, smut, begging, reference to edging, teasing, degradation, oral sex

What it's about:

❗️Reader is a adult woman❗️

You and Severus have an argument that turn into a sexual adventure. It’s a quit long text. Have fun ;-)

————————————————————————

"Honestly, Severus, you can't possibly believe that nettle root is more effective in this potion than powdered asphodel," I exclaimed, rolling my eyes as I flipped through the worn pages of an old potion book.

Severus crossed his arms, a familiar smirk playing on his lips. "And yet, it is. Nettle root stabilizes the mixture in a way asphodel never could."

I huffed, leaning closer to the book as if it held the answer to our perpetual disagreement. "You just can't admit you're wrong, can you?"

He stepped closer, his breath warm on my neck as he looked over my shoulder. "It's not about admitting anything. It's about knowing the facts, something you clearly struggle with."

I turned to face him, our noses almost touching. "Well, maybe if you weren't so insufferable, I'd actually listen to you."

His eyes softened, a rare moment of vulnerability slipping through. "And maybe if you weren't so stubborn, you'd realize I actually enjoy these arguments."

I blinked, caught off guard by his honesty. "You... enjoy arguing with me?"

Severus's hand brushed against mine, a fleeting but deliberate touch. "It's not the arguing I enjoy. It's... you."

My heart skipped a beat as the tension between us shifted, no longer fueled by disagreement but by something much deeper. "Severus, I..."

He silenced me with a gentle finger on my lips. "Let's save the potions debate for another time, shall we?"

I nodded, unable to tear my gaze away from his. "Agreed."

He reached out, his hand cupping my cheek, his thumb gently brushing my skin.

"Severus," i said, my voice firm despite the shiver of excitement that ran through me. „I want you."

Severus's eyes darkened with a mix of emotions-desire, love, and a hint of possessiveness. He leaned in, capturing my lips in a searing kiss, his hands tangling in my hair as he pulled me closer. The kiss deepened, growing more urgent, as months of pent-up longing poured into that single moment.

His hands roamed over my body, explo-ring, caressing, igniting a fire within me. I responded eagerly, my fingers trailing along the lines of his chest, feeling the heat of his skin beneath his robes. The intensity between us grew, our kisses becoming more desperate, more insistent.

Severus broke the kiss, his breath ragged as he looked at me with a fierce intensity. "Take off your clothes," he commanded, his voice low and authoritative.

A shiver of anticipation ran through me at his words. I complied, my hands trembling slightly as I began to undress. Severus watched, his gaze never leaving me, his eyes dark with desire.

When I was finally bare before him, he stepped closer, his hands sliding over my skin, his touch electrifying.

"You're so beautiful," he murmured, his lips trailing along my neck, leaving a path of fire in their wake. "I can't wait any longer."

With a swift motion, he shed his own robes, his body pressing against mine, the heat of his skin searing into me.

I could feel his erection through his trousers. He rubbed it slightly against my hip, and the sensation made me wet quickly. He guided me to the desk, his hands never leaving my body, his touch driving me wild with need. He lifted me on top of the desk, spreading my legs as he positioned himself between them. Our bodies entwined in a frenzy of passion.

Severus was dominant, his touch firm and demanding, yet filled with an underlying tenderness. He moved with a confidence that sent waves of pleasure through me, his hands and lips exploring every inch of my body.

He softly twitched my nipple between his fingers and kissed my neck as passionately as ever. His hand went down to my inner thigh and caressed it softly. I felt a flutter in my core as he neared my most sensitive spot.

He let out an excited moan. "You are so wet for me." He put one finger slowly deep inside of me, pushes it in and out once, twice. Never take his eyes off my eyes while he’s doing it. Suddenly he brings his finger to his mouth and suck this one gently. You can see pure lust in his eyes.

Before I could respond, he started kissing down my breasts, my belly, and my thighs. I watched him with wide eyes as he looked at me and started kissing my sweet spot. The view was intoxicating. He slowly stuck his tongue out and licked my clit with a soft touch.

I moaned as I felt his warm tongue circle around. He started sucking and licking as if he were craving my wetness. "You taste so good," he murmured, making my core twitch again. He did it so passionately that I knew I wasn't far from climax.

He went a little further and stuck his tongue deep inside me while his nose involuntarily stimulated my clit. His slurps from my juices made my head fall back as I moaned his name out loud.

"I'm coming, Severus," I cried.

He kept going, and it didn't take long before my body felt like it was struck by lightning. I climaxed on his face, and I could feel how much he enjoyed it.

When he came up to me again, his mouth and nose were soaking wet from me. He quickly wiped his face with his hand before giving me a passionate kiss. I could still taste my climax from his lips and tongue.

"I want to feel you inside me," I said through the kiss.

A big erection left a bulge in his pants, clearly more as I said those words out loud.

He looked me deep in the eyes with his dark ones as I freed his dick from his trousers. I wrapped my hand around it, feeling its warmth and readiness. He let his pants fall so he was completely naked too. I started to stroke him and felt a bit of pre-cum on his tip.

"Is your little cunt ready for me?" he asked hotly through his teeth.

I nodded, and he positioned his dick between my pussy lips as he slowly entered with a groan. It felt all so wet, so easy for him to enter. The sensation sent a jolt of ecstasy through my entire being. I gasped, my nails digging into his shoulders as he began to move, each thrust bringing me closer.

Our movements became more frantic, the intensity of our desire driving us both to the brink. He fucked me harder as he watched my breasts move with each thrust. We breathed heavy as we neared climax. He stopped right before, grabbing my hips and putting me down from the desk.

"Bend over," he whispered harshly in my ear.

Did as he asked, feeling the cold wood against my upper body. I felt his hand grip my butt cheek, and suddenly a sharp spank sent a slight pain through me. I groaned with a smile and glanced over my shoulder. He ran his thumb over my cheek and pushed a sweaty strand of hair out of my face.

"That's all mine. And I want to fuck you until you can't stand anymore. Do you want that?" he said heatedly through his breath.

I nodded hastily.

"Say it," he demanded.

"I want you to fuck me, please," I whimpered.

"Good girl." That made him so hard, ready to do exactly that.

Without any more words, he pushed his dick deeply and fully inside me.

Surprised by his fast action, I sobbed and fell completely onto the desk. I felt his dick grow harder with each thrust.

The sounds of hot breath, moans, and skin slapping filled the room. The desk moved under our hard movements.

With a final, powerful thrust, we reached our climax together. I felt his semen fill me as I collapsed on the desk and he above me. He pulled out and took a moment to watch our combined fluids flow out of me, a sharp breath escaping through his nose.

"Let's clean you up," he whispered mischievously in my ear as he helped me up. He took his wand and cleaned everything up, leaving no trace of our passion behind.

„I'm looking forward to the next arguments with you“ I said amused.

„Me too.“ he smirked.

[sophie-hatter-jenkins]

Auburn

A microfic written for Day 1 of Jily Week 2024, run by the very lovely @sunshinemarauder and @kay-elle-cee, and inspired by the theme Love is in the Hair - one of those iconic 'wow' moments!

647 words

Rated G

A flash of red catches James Potter’s eye for the very first time.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

James Potter was twelve years old the first time he really noticed Lily Evans’s hair. Obviously, he’d seen it plenty of times before, just like he’d seen Sirius’s hair or his Mum’s hair. The difference was that he hadn’t ever looked at it properly before. 

The day it happened, he and Sirius were in their usual seats in the Potions classroom, at the bench in the back right corner; the one that was least visible from Slughorn’s desk and therefore offered the most potential for messing about. 

Sluggie had finished his opening lecture on the topic of Swelling Solution - or at least that was what James assumed he’d been talking about, since that was what was written on the board, but he honestly hadn’t heard a word; he’d been too busy scribbling notes to Sirius. In fairness, Swelling Solutions did sound like they could be quite entertaining, and the idea of slipping some into the pumpkin juice at the Slytherin table convinced him that it might be worth actually putting a bit of effort in for once.  

He and Sirius played Spell, Shield, Serpent to decide who had to go and get their ingredients from the supply cupboard. Sirius lost, and made a rude gesture at James as he scraped his stool back along the stone floor. James smirked at him, then started to flick through his textbook looking for the right page, when a flash of red caught his attention; Evans, sitting next to that greasy loser Snape at the bench immediately in front of him, had flipped her hair back over her shoulders.

Her hair, he noticed, was remarkably thick and shiny, and James idly considered asking what Sleekeazy products she used. It was a very unusual colour, too. Auburn, he thought it was called; not an obnoxiously bright red, like the Prewett twins, but a darker, richer shade altogether. It seemed to change as she moved her head, the lamplight creating rose gold highlights and purple-plum shadows amidst the rich chestnut. 

As he watched, she picked up three sections from near the front, and began to weave them together, nimble fingers dancing a fascinating waltz down her head. She deftly pulled more and more strands into the pattern as she went, and the repetitive movement was oddly hypnotic. It left James entranced.

She’d just reached the nape of her neck when Sirius returned.

“How the hell is she doing that?” he muttered. 

“How is who doing what?” asked Sirius, dismissively.

“Evans.” He nodded towards her. “Doing that with her hair, behind her head, without a mirror or a charm or anything.”

“Oh. I dunno. Oi, Evans!” called Sirius. “James wants to know what you’re doing?”

Quite unexpectedly, James felt his skin heat with embarrassment at the thought that Evans might know he’d been looking at her. It was the strangest feeling, one that was completely unfamiliar. James decided that he didn’t like it, not at all. 

Lily shot them a disdainful look as she secured the tail of her hair with a band. “I’m plaiting my hair, obviously. You know, so it doesn’t get in the way while I’m brewing.” She looked pointedly at Sirius’s collar length locks. “Maybe I should teach you?”

Sirius looked horrified. “What? Like a girl? No way!”

Evans rolled her eyes and turned her attention back to the ingredients on the bench in front of her. 

“Why are you so interested in Evan’s hair all of a sudden?” asked Sirius, curiously.

“I’m not,” huffed James.

And he wasn’t. He had far more important things to think about after all, like Quidditch trials, for instance, and how he and Sirius were going to sneak their Swelling Solution out of the classroom without Sluggie noticing. Resolute, he started measuring out dried nettles to add to his mortar. He wasn’t going to think about Evans’s hair ever again; he was sure of it.

[himegureisu]

Hiii! Just got home from a horrifying midterm exam. It went horrible, none of the questions were even in the lesson plan. Although it did give me an idea for this request :')

It's practically universal knowledge that Snape is a 'terror prof' (iykyk) at Hogwarts — his standards are high, he's very particular with essays and it's practically expected that every major exam, tears will be shed in and out the classroom with the amount of curveballs he throws at you.

(I'd feel like he'd be the type to have a True or False exam with choices like: True, Partially True, Partially False, False, and if none is applicable write the correct answer and all of it is situational)

He's married to the reader and they're both teachers, so they help each other on their loads. Much more efficient that way. One night after a particularly hard-hitting major exam in the semester, reader encounters tear stains and snot and a few drops of blood from a nosebleed on one of the exams (witnesses this once lol) and decided to confront him husband about it. Thank you! I hope this isn't too specific ;w;

Questions and Answers

Pairing: Severus Snape x Reader

A/N: I'm sorry you had a horrible exam day and thank you for preventing me from pulling my hair out of frustration because my Notion page was not cooperating when this request came through. I hope you enjoy this! 💖

——————————— 🪄———————————

“Severus, darling, why do your exam papers have at least two different types of fluids on them?” your fingers flip through the unfinished stack, your eyes scanning them.

This was the thirty-fifth test paper from his pile that you graded. His second-year tests were stained by a range of substances you curiously identified through a spell.

Did he truly not notice them?

“There’s a combination of either snot, sweat, tears, or,” you paused, taking one of the papers you already graded, to present to him. His dark eyes highlighted by the round reading glasses made for a rather attractive sight but focus, “On the rare occasion, blood,”

“Oh,” he simply said, looking up at you, “And?”

“Is that all you can say?” you frustratedly run a hand through your forehead as you sit on the edge of his desk causing him to stop, “What are these questions even? It’s a major exam for second years, not OWLs or NEWTs, Severus. My head hurts not only from the answers but also the questions,”

“If they can’t answer then they’re not competent enough to proceed to the…” his sentence undone by the beginning of your ramble, an attempt to explain why his methods were not feasible.

“Can you imagine the physical, mental, and emotional drain that major exams cause to students? You can reminisce on your time as one if it helps but it’s not good and then to be brought to this level of inquiry as if they were taking a mastery,” you explained, “There isn’t even a 50-50 chance to get the answer right only 25 because you decided that it would be better if there would be four very similar but distinct answers to the multiple choice questions and not a chance of redemption for those who don’t know the question if the said answer is one they needed to correct. I can better understand your students’ frustrations from this version of your exams,”

“To adjust the exam would mean that there would be a lower level of understanding…”

“That’s the point though since they’re just building the foundation of what they know for potions!” you exclaimed, “If it were a muggle game, Severus, it should be easy, medium, and then hard but your exams are hard, hard, and then hard on every level. Do you understand?”

“Yes, but…”

“Sev, imagine this,” you sit on his lap, cupping his cheeks for him to focus on you as you say, “Imagine a child, our child, a little boy or girl coming home to us in tears because of a similar test that they’d taken on that day,”

“It would be different. They would be ours,” he grumbled, pulling you in closer to bask in your warmth, “We wouldn’t teach them to be like that,”

“Sev, just imagine!” you sighed exasperatedly, his face buried beneath your chin, “Your little girl coming home in tears crying for us wanting a hug because of an awful exam day,”

His breathing was in sync with yours, trying to understand your reasoning. His imagination slowly conjures a little girl in your image. Her face was stained with big fat crocodile tears, a snot-filled nose, and books slung defeatedly on her arm. His heart tightened at the image of it, protectiveness surging from within.

No one was allowed to make either of you cry.

“Can you imagine?” you softly asked, running a hand through his hair, as he mumbled, “Yes,”

“Can you change the way your tests are written?” you silently prayed that he would, he breathed in and faced you to answer, “Fine, and you’ll help me,”

“I expect as much,” you smiled.

As you were about to get off his lap, his arms quickly pulled you back and in doing so, caused the chair to stumble a bit from the force. His nose on your hair, breaths warm, and hug unwilling to let go.

“Sev?” you glance back to see his darkened gaze, “What is it?

“Do you want children?” he asked, it wasn’t something both of you discussed in depth before, “I realized that after four years of marriage, we didn’t elaborate on our expectations on that particular topic,”

“If we’re blessed with children, then I’m happy,” you informed, tracing the contours of his face. No matter how many times you’ve seen him it’s like there’s another new thing to catalog in your mind, “If not, then I’ll be happy having you all to myself,”

“I don’t know if I want children,” he admitted, and you kissed his cheek, “We’ll get there when we get there, Sev, for now, don’t think about it,”

[imthesilentwriter]

The Stars

Harry Potter x Wolfstar!Daughter!Reader

Summary: With a little help from the mistletoe, you and Harry share your first kiss under the stary night sky.

Warnings: first kiss, light teasing

Authors Note: I'm currently in the process of planning out a couple of oneshot ideas I've had in my head - so, as to prepare for the no time I will have over the next couple of weeks. These fics should be posted about a week or so apart, then I should be done with my final exams, and well... I'll be back. I hope you can understand, enjoy this fic!

Word Count: 2250

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You stand in the doorway to the boy’s dormitory, leaning against the frame as you watch Harry rummage through his trunk. The room is mostly empty, with only a few belongings left scattered about from students still ready to pack.

“Are you all set to go?” you ask, crossing your arms with a playful smirk, catching his attention.

Harry straightens up, turning to face you with that familiar messy hair of his falling over his glasses. “Almost,” he replies, his voice warm but a bit distracted as he shoves a book into his trunk. “Just making sure I didn’t forget anything.”

You raise an eyebrow, stepping into the room a bit more. “You’re not leaving behind any homework, are you? You did hand in that Potions assignment, right?” Your tone is teasing, but there’s a genuine question behind it. You’ve known Harry long enough to recognise that sometimes he forgets things when he’s too busy thinking about other stuff.

He grins, leaning casually against the trunk now. “Yes, Mum,” he teases back, the corner of his mouth quirking up as he crosses his arms in response. “Everything’s done. Handed in my Potions essay two days ago. Thought you’d be proud of me.”

You laugh softly, rolling your eyes but feeling a warmth in your chest as he steps closer. “I am proud. I’d hate for Snape to ruin your holiday with some snarky comment about missing work.”

Harry’s grin widens, his eyes sparkling as he takes another step toward you. “Don’t worry. I wouldn’t let anything ruin our holiday. Especially not Snape.”

You tilt your head at him, smiling, and there’s a moment of quiet tension between you. It’s the kind that has become increasingly familiar lately, and you can feel your heart speeding up just a little. His eyes linger on yours for a second longer than usual, before he shakes his head with a laugh.

“Anyway,” he says, breaking the moment, “we should head down for dinner before Ron eats everything.” He gives you a playful nudge as he moves past you toward the door.

You chuckle, following him out of the room. “Knowing Ron, we’re probably already too late.”

You and Harry step into the Great Hall, the warm glow of the candles overhead flickering against the enchanted ceiling. You spot Ron and Hermione at the Gryffindor table, sitting close together with a half-empty platter of food in front of them.

As you approach, Ron looks up, his cheeks bulging with a mouthful of what appears to be roast chicken. He says something muffled, completely incomprehensible as bits of food fly onto his plate.

Hermione rolls her eyes, giving him a pointed look before turning to you at Harry. “He said, ‘It took you both long enough.’” She offers a small, knowing smile that makes your stomach flip. There’s a teasing glint in her eyes, as if she’s noticed how close you and Harry are walking together.

You feel your cheeks heat up, but you quickly sit down next to Harry, trying to act normal. “We didn’t take that long,” you reply, though your voice sounds more defensive than you intended.

Ron, now finally managing to swallow his food, grins. “Yeah, sure. You’re only the last ones here. Hermione thought you two got lost or something.” 

You scoff lightly, shooting him a playful glare. “We were just making sure Harry packed everything, unlike someone who nearly forgot their Charms homework last week.”

Ron shrugs, completely unbothered. “That was one time.”

Hermione looks exasperated but doesn’t press the point, instead glancing between you and Harry. “You two seem… close tonight,” she says, her voice casual but with a hint of teasing. “Sitting awfully close, aren’t you?”

Your heart skips a beat, and you realise that, yes, you and Harry are sitting closer than usual – your knees brushing under the table, shoulders almost touching. Harry shifts beside you, and when you glance at him, you notice the light pink tint spreading across his cheeks.

“Oh, uh-” Harry stammers, trying to play it off, “there’s just, you know, less space at the table tonight.” He sounds unconvincing, and you can feel your own face growing warmer.

Ron snickers, biting into a piece of bread. “Right. ‘Less space.’”

You kick Ron lightly under the table, earning a chuckle from him, while Hermione hides her grin behind her glass of pumpkin juice. Harry, still a bit flustered, reaches for a roll, but his hand brushes yours as you both go for it at the same time.

“Sorry,” he mutters, looking down at his plate quickly. You pull your hand back, feeling the butterflies in your stomach flutter more intensely.

Dinner goes on with light conversation, mostly centred around Ron’s enthusiastic retelling of his plans for Christmas and Hermione’s exasperation over his lack of preparation for the upcoming exams. All the while, you’re hyper-aware of how close Harry is, and how his arm occasionally grazes yours.

Once you’ve finished eating, the plates magically clear themselves, and Harry glances at you, an almost shy smile tugging at his lips. “We’ve got some time before bed… do you want to do something?” His voice is soft, hopeful.

You bite your lip, thinking for a moment, before the answer comes to you. “I’d like to go to the Astronomy Tower,” you say, your voice quiet but certain. “To look at the stars.”

His eyes light up, and he nods. “That sounds perfect.”

Ron lets out an exaggerated sigh. “Of course, the Astronomy Tower…”

Hermione gives him a look. “Oh, hush, Ron. Let them go look at the stars.” There’s a sly smile on her lips, and you have a feeling she knows exactly what’s going on between you and Harry, even if neither of you has fully admitted it yet.

Blushing, you get up from the table, feeling Harry’s eyes on you as he stands as well. You glance over at Hermione and Ron, who are both trying their hardest not to look too amused.

“Well, we’ll see you later,” Harry says awkwardly, shoving his hands into his pockets as he waits for you to join him.

You give Hermione a quick wave, and she winks back, as you and Harry head out of the Great Hall together, making your way toward the Astronomy Tower.

The cold night air bites at your cheeks as you stand atop the Astronomy Tower with Harry, the sky above a sea of stars. They glitter against the black canvas, so clear and sharp that it feels like you could reach out and grab them. You pull your cloak tighter around you, sneaking a glance at Harry beside you. His breath forms soft clouds in the crisp winter air, his eyes trained on the sky, but you can tell he’s just as nervous as you are.

For a while, it’s quiet – almost awkward – as you both gaze up at the stars, your fingers brushing his for a split second before you quickly pull your hand away. The cold is a convenient excuse for the shiver that runs down your spine, but deep down, you know it’s not just the temperature making you feel this way.

Harry clears his throat, breaking the silence. “The stars are… really bright tonight.”

You nod, unsure what to say, your heart racing just being next to him. The space between you feels charged with something unsaid. “Yeah, they’re beautiful.”

Another stretch of silence follows, and you sense Harry shifting on his feet beside you, as though he’s gathering the courage to say something more. You’re at a loss for words, the nervous flutter in your chest making it hard to think straight.

Then, after a moment, Harry speaks again, his voice softer, almost hesitant. “You know… the stars, they kind of remind me of you.”

Your breath catches at his words, and you turn to look at him, your heart pounding in your ears. “Remind you of me?” you repeat, your voice barely above a whisper.

He glances down, shuffling his feet before meeting your gaze again. His green eyes are bright, reflecting the light of the stars above, and there’s something vulnerable in his expression, like he’s afraid of saying too much but wants too anyway.

“Yeah,” he continues, his cheeks flushing pink from more than just the cold. “They’re beautiful, obviously, but it’s more than that. They’re always there, constant, even when everything else feels uncertain. Like no matter what’s going on, you can always look up and find them.” His voice drops, a little shy as he adds, “You’re like that for me.”

His confession is so simple, but it makes your heart feel too big for your chest. You can’t tear your eyes away from him, and suddenly, the awkwardness disappears, replaced by a quiet tension that hums between you. There’s something in his gaze, something tender and full of hope, and you realize you’ve been waiting for this moment just as much as he has.

As you stand there, words hovering on the tip of your tongue, your eyes are drawn upward – and that’s when you see it. A sprig of mistletoe, its little white berries gleaming in the dim light, hanging just above your heads. It’s almost laughably convenient, but it’s there, and you know Harry’s seen it too.

Your eyes meet, and for a moment, you both just stand there, the realization hanging in the air. He glances at the mistletoe, then back at you, his breath coming out shaky, lips slightly parted as if he’s waiting for you to stop him. But you don’t.

Instead, slowly, carefully, Harry leans in, his movements tentative, giving you time to pull away if you want. But you find yourself drawn to him, your heart racing as you close the distance between you. Your eyes flutter shut, and then, finally, his lips meet yours.

The kiss is soft at first, tentative, like you’re both testing the waters, but it sends warmth flooding through you, chasing away the cold of the night. His lips are gentle, and the hand that’s been brushing against yours squeezes lightly, grounding you in the moment.

When you finally pull back, the world feels different, like everything has shifted into place. You open your eyes to find Harry staring at you with a soft, almost awestruck expression, his cheeks flushed and his breath shaky. You know you must look the same, a blush creeping across your skin despite the cold.

The silence between you is thick with emotions that have been building for longer than either of you realized. You’re both standing there, frozen in place, still processing what just happened.

Without thinking, your hand moves up, trembling slightly as you cup the back of his neck. His skin is warm beneath your touch, and you can feel him shiver – not from the cold this time, but from the same nervous anticipation that’s thrumming through you.

You pull him down toward you, closing the space between you once more, and kiss him again. This time, the kiss is more certain, a little bolder, your lips pressing against his with quiet intensity. Harry responds instantly, kissing you back with the same urgency.

But just as you’re getting lost in the moment, Harry pulls back, his breath shaky as he rests his forehead against yours, his fingers brushing lightly over your hand. For a second, neither of you moves, standing there with your foreheads pressed together, the stars twinkling above, the cold night air forgotten.

You let out a breathy laugh, something soft and uncontrollable that bubbles up before you can stop it. Harry pulls back slightly, his lips quirking into a curious smile.

“What’s so funny?” he asks, his voice quiet but warm.

You bite your lip, still smiling. “I don’t know… I guess it’s just – this. Us.” You pause, your heart racing as you search for the right words. “I’ve wanted this for so long... I didn’t think it would actually happen.”

Harry’s expression softens, his thumb brushing lightly against your cheek now. “Me too,” he admits, his voice barely above a whisper. “I didn’t know how to say it... but I’ve liked you for ages. I just... I didn’t want to mess things up between us.”

Your heart swells at his confession, and you realize just how long you’ve both been waiting, dancing around this moment. You take a deep breath, your voice trembling slightly as you speak. “I like you too, Harry. A lot. I’ve been so nervous around you lately, and I-”

Harry smiles softly, his forehead still resting against yours. “You don’t have to be nervous anymore. We’re okay. Better than okay.”

You smile back, the relief washing over you, a weight lifting off your shoulders. There’s nothing left to say; you both know now.

Without second-guessing yourself, you lean in again, capturing his lips in another kiss – this one slow and sweet, like a promise. His hands settle gently on your waist as he pulls you closer. The world fades away, and all you can feel is him – his warmth, his steady presence, the way everything just feels right in this moment.

When you finally break apart, the stars are still shining above you, but all you can think about is how bright everything feels now that the truth is out in the open. Harry looks at you with a soft smile, his hand lingering on your cheek as he whispers, “I think the stars were always meant to lead me to you.”

[ma1dita]

this will be our year

this was a request! find it here

words: 2.5k

summary: james does his best to plan reader's birthday! it's not as easy as you think

warnings: james is a leader not a planner, fluff!! bestfriend!james returns mwahaha

a/n: so sorry for this being literally two weeks after your birthday anon! life was kicking my ass but i hope you enjoy! writing many characters is something im trying to learn to make more organic

(posted and edited too many times to count 11/6/23)

—

There are a few things in life that James likes to think he’s very good at: making plans, pulling pranks, playing quidditch, and doing absolutely anything he can to make you smile. At first, he would laugh it off when his friends would say you two had something special. He is a gentleman, after all. James is the type of friend any of the girls would trust with a secret, or the one to borrow hair potion from when you’re in a pinch.

He loves to join in the gossip and crash your sleepovers when the boys are being ‘dreadfully boring’ (his words, not yours). He holds your bag when you walk to class (only yours, he’ll push Marlene’s books to the ground and run off laughing), bribes Peter with an extra helping of bacon to move his butt out of ‘your seat’ (whichever one was to the right of him) at breakfast, and definitely writes to his mom asking about what to get you for your birthday (and how much he’s been wanting to ask you out for almost about three years now).

Right... James is a great friend, so when you get all excited about your birthday, gushing about how you want to celebrate this year, he takes one look at the excitement on your face and hatches the perfect plan. Or so he thinks.

“I just can’t wait to celebrate with you guys, and not have to worry about exams, or projects, or boys, or curfew…” you muse, laying across Mary and Remus’s laps as everyone’s gathered in the common room. Sirius, and Peter are chasing each other with throw pillows while Dorcas and Lily share headphones on the other sofa. James beelines towards you, crawling across the open space.

“Boys? What boys have been worrying you, dove?” he says snidely, sneaking towards the space near your belly, looking up at your relaxed figure.

“Wouldn’t you like to know?” Mary giggles, and Remus huffs back laughter as he pats your head. James peers up at you as you smile knowingly.

“It’s a secret.” you smile, reaching out to poke his chin.

“You keep secrets from me now? From your most good-looking, bestest friend ever that plans the coolest awesomest birthday parties for you?”

Well, he did have a point. Ever since he accidentally flung you into the Black Lake third year in a prank meant for Snape, he’s almost always waited on you hand and foot. He had to, for your immediate response to laugh and flip him into the lake ‘qualified’ you as a Marauder (plus he thought you were really pretty—he swore he stopped crushing on Lily the next day.) And every birthday since has been bigger and better. Fourth year was the movie marathon out on the quidditch pitch; Fifth year was the picnic out next to Black Lake, and now you couldn’t wait to see what he has planned.

You look at the boy thoughtfully, smiling down at him and he swears it’s his favorite sight in the world.

“You don’t always have to know everything, Prongs…”

He chases after your hand with his mouth, trying to chomp one of your fingers. Idiot.

“Of course I do, or else no birthday party for you!” he jokes, and you giggle at the notion. He wouldn’t dare. He loves to celebrate you. Maybe this will be the year he asks you out… Is that cheesy? Or lame? James sighs, fussing with a string on his sweater, suddenly silent amongst the chaos of his lively friends. He’s got a lot of work to do.

—

The next week was filled with James’ hasty preparations and all of your friends were put up to the task of making his vision come together. Remus and Peter would get the booze, Mary and Alice would bake the sweet treats, Sirius and Lily were working on decorations, and Marlene and Dorcas were busy enchanting a record player to amplify through the party space James would get ready in the Room of Requirement. He’s been a little high-strung, overcalculating his endless to-do list to impress you.

All of them have been so…busy, and it was a bit lonely. You thought they might plan something with you, or for you, but you haven’t seen much of them in the past few days. Every bump in the corridor or spotting in the common room was a flurry of hushed whispers and giggles at jokes that flew over your head. Even dinner with them has been oddly silent, like watching a film but not being able to penetrate the scene that unfolds.

Peering down at the map one day after class, you see your friends’ names flitting around the map, all of them hanging out together, but not with you. That is, until a big hand nabs the parchment from your grasp.

“Hey!” “Sorry doll, need it for something important.” Sirius grins, pulling Lily along as they walk off briskly.

“Do you guys want to study later?” You call out after them, and they keep on walking, hands in their cloaks. Weird.

Many more of your requests have been denied. It’s a fickle thing, to suddenly feel unwanted in your group of friends. As a Marauder, you’ve earned your place there. But if Remus and Peter didn’t want to sneak out for a midnight snack, and Alice and Mary went shopping already, without you… Marlene and Dorcas were nowhere to be found.

That means you only had your favorite person to badger… James. You drag him into a broom closet after Muggle Studies one day, crossing your arms and looking up at him with frustration.

“Jeez, love, you’re stronger than you look!” He says sheepishly, hands landing on your waist.

“What are you all up to? Where have you been?” The pout on your face makes his knees weak, and it’d be so easy to just tell you….

No…He thinks, hardening his resolve as his thumb reaches out to smooth the crease in your forehead.

“Prongs,” you whine, poking his chest. The dim yellow lightbulb swings overhead, almost clobbering him in the skull.

“Why, you miss me that much?” He grins, prodding at your cheek. It’s cramped in here enough, and he hunches over your frame, unable to stop his smile at the look on your face.

“Yeah. I miss all of my friends. I sound like Moaning Myrtle whining after you lot! I wanna be involved in whatever you all are doing…” Delicate hands pull at the drawstrings of his hoodie and he feels like his chest tightens too.

“Hey, we haven’t forgotten you, so don’t worry, pretty girl. Your birthday’s coming up, right? You excited for that?” James’ thumb rubs at your cheek and he really wonders if, in any other instance, this could be platonic. Surely, you must like him too, right? Everything he does is to make you smile. He feels like he’s in a one-man show trying to embellish himself for your attention, and he’s waiting for the applause. Your hand grabs his as you lean into his touch.

“Got anything special planned?” You ask teasingly, and James can feel the warmth of your smile in his palm.

“For you? Of course.” He squeezes your cheek and you rip away from him, laughing. As you walk out of the closet, your shoulders bump as he wraps an arm around you.

“Don’t worry too much, dove. It’ll all work out,” he says, glad that you’re smiling again. “Wouldn’t let you have a terrible birthday. Never in a million years.”

“Exactly. What type of best friend would you be?” You smirk, walking off to your next class.

The thing is, he hopes you won’t be best friends by the end of it though. James huffs as he puts his hands in his pockets, walking in the opposite direction. This will be the year…. And it’s unsure if it’s a promise to himself or to you.

—

Of course, it wouldn’t be a Marauder plan of action without some mayhem. James had taken it upon himself to organize his big list of to-dos, assign jobs, and make sure everything was set up for your birthday. The Room of Requirement was decked out in enchanted sparklers, a huge cake was adorned by a spotlight in the corner of the room, and all your friends were there to celebrate you. Mary’s putting the final touches on the gift pile before she looks to Sirius and Peter, who are horsing around the room running through the balloons.

“Something’s missing,” she remarks, and the others scamper around to figure out what it is. Lily double checks the sound system for your favorite songs, Marlene makes sure the drinks are flowing and at the table set up in the back. Dorcas whacks Peter and Sirius to stop popping the balloons, and Remus, the smart one, turns on his heel to stomp towards James, who is looking like he could implode from stress at any given moment.

“Prongs…” Remus muses, unsure if he should laugh, or wring his neck.

“What did I forget?” he says sheepishly, looking down at his watch. A balloon pops.

“Did you invite the birthday girl?” Oh shit.

“HAH��Moony, you’re not supposed to be the funny one here, of course I….” his eyes fall down to his scroll of to-dos, looking at the only thing unmarked on his list.

• Get her to come to the best birthday celebration ever.

“I forgot to tell her, didn’t I…”

Right. James might’ve glossed over that one. His nervous laughter shrivels at the sight of his friends’ faces of disbelief as they bombard him with questions and profanities and so, he bolts out of there, trying to find you on the map.

—

Surprisingly, James finds you in the kitchen, sitting infront of a lone cupcake and the house elves singing you the worst rendition of ‘Happy Birthday’ there ever was to magical folk. What should be his plan of action? Acting nonchalant, or owning up to his flub? All of his thoughts go out the window when he sees your despondent sigh at the lit candle, thinking your friends have forgotten his absolute favorite day of the entire year.

“Pretty girl, why are you so sad?” he says, rushing to meet you at the table. You’re pulling at your sleeves and looking at the cupcake in disappointment.

“Did you all forget about me?” you ask, bottom lip trembling at the notion. James shakes his head rapidly, so much so that his glasses are skewed as he looks at you.

“How could we forget the best birthday girl?”

“I’m the only birthday girl, and I haven’t seen any of you today. You didn’t even eat dinner with me,” you pout. Your huff of a sigh blows out the sad little candle, and it almost makes you want to crumple up in embarrassment. Your finger reaches out to sample some of the icing, and you bring it to your mouth, James following the movement with his eyes.

“I’m sorry dove. I might’ve messed up for this one,” he mutters, hating to see you upset.

“If you forgot to plan anything, it’s okay…. You’re not obligated to.” Your head falls to the slope of your shoulder, looking bashful at the idea of being celebrated. But James hasn’t gone all this way to see you unhappy.

“That’s the funny thing about it, erm…. I need you to come with me.” He pulls at your arm, but you won’t budge. How mortifying to conceptualize how you feel in this moment, feeling smaller than ever. A birthday is just a day, after all. Maybe they can make it up to you tomorrow.

“I dunno Prongs, I think I should just go to bed and wake up with a better attitude, yeah? It’s really oka–HEY!” James lifts you out of your chair and throws you over his shoulder, securing you to him before he bolts out of the kitchens. Your vision is blurred and all you can see is the massive muscles rippling down his back as he runs. His bum is quite nice too.

“James Potter, what in Merlin’s name do you think you’re doing? Put me down this instant or I’ll hex you into next week!” You screech, before he puts a silencing charm on you to not alert Filch of your antics. You reach out to hit his buttock as he exclaims, “Ow! Cheeky…. I promise you’ll like this, dove. You really thought we’d forget your birthday?”

There comes a point when he paces back and forth in front of the same stretch of wall and you think he’s insane, talking to himself and turning in circles. After the third lap, he sets you down, your arms crossed and quite stern at the trip he’s taken you on. James smooths your hair down before he looks you in the eyes, standing a bit closer than a friend would, but Godric is he excited to show you his work.

“Ahem. Do you really think I’d forget your big day, pretty girl? It’s my favorite day of the year!” He smiles and you shake your head with a smile. He nudges the door open to reveal all your friends, yelling “HAPPY BIRTHDAY!”

Still inaudible, your mouth is gaping wide in shock, silent laughter escaping your mouth. Marlene and Dorcas carry the cake over to you before they sing in all sorts of tunes, none of them on key and possibly worse than the house elves. The light of the candles caresses the warmth in your cheeks as you look at your friends in wonder. You mumble something like a ‘thank you’ but they can’t comprehend it until Remus undoes the charm, whacking James across the head.

—

Later, James sneaks behind you, throwing an arm around your waist, whispering ‘Happy birthday’ for the millionth time, but he’ll never get tired of telling you how much he cares.

“Are you happy, birthday girl?” he smiles, and you get on your tiptoes to give him a kiss that lands on the corner of his mouth. The applause is back, thundering in his ears before he realizes it’s the sound of his heart when you’re near.

Yeah, this will be the year everything changes. His plans are racking up into a list in his brain as you gaze at him all starry-eyed and smiley. Your friends are all looking at you knowingly, and he can’t wait to get to work, for there is just so much to do.

—

“In case you foolishly forget: I am never not thinking of you.” - Virginia Woolf

taglist: @jsjcue

love me some tunes! i listened to this while writing: this will be our year by lowland hum

[mx-pastelwriting]

First Night

Severus Snape x GN! Reader

Summary: Spending your first night together.

Warnings: Fluff, Sleeping/Going to bed, Snape being cute, Short

Coming out of the small bathroom of Severus's place, landing your eyes on him as he lay in bed under the covers, reading a book in the dimly lit bedroom, turning off the bathroom light before walking over to the bed, pulling the cover up, and getting in.

Snuggling under the warm duvet next to your lover, moving close, trying to read the pages, but before you can get a word, he flips the page.

Choosing to just lay there, scanning over your lover's face, taking in his dark, wavy hair and the tired bags under his eyes, Gently, you place your hand on his arm, immediately feeling how he stiffened to your touch. Not taking your hand away, only waiting with minutes as they passed with him finally softening, moving closer, cuddling to his arm, taking in the smell he held on him.

The smell of books and ink almost lulls you to sleep, but Severus moves, putting his book on the nightstand, making you wake, readying to move away but stopping as he pulls you into his chest as he moves down in the bed. Laying his head on the pillow before taking a breath, you looked up, seeing his eyes on the ceiling.

Breaking the silence, you ask, "Is this your first time cuddling?" Your question makes his cheeks flush. "Yes," he says quietly, embarrassed. Frowning with a smile, you cuddle into his chest and give a kiss to his cheek, darkening the red in his cheeks. "You're doing great." You praise him, bringing a small, shy smile to his face.

Watching as he looked down, letting you gaze into his dark eyes as they lose the fight against sleep, being no different though losing, first you take in the last scene of your Severus feeling comfortable under you with a loving smile on his face just from looking upon your face.

I'll probably make another one, as I have another in my drafts.

Hello, I hope you enjoyed if there is and grammar mistakes or misspellings sorry about that feel free to let me know in the comments, have a great day/afternoon/night!

𝙏𝙖𝙜𝙡𝙞𝙨𝙩: @camilla-black @typical-emilyyyyy

[ensnapemysenses]

Imagine Sirius's have a younger sister who finds sister HOT! Like practically drooling over him during every meeting and Severus being unaware because let's face it he can be oblivious to affection. Everyone finds it hilarious but Sirius is one word away from flipping out. -L

L, I know you sent this so long ago but I've been working on it and I FINALLY finished it! Not my best work but at least it's something! And yes I just had to make a little reference to Snupin

Warning: cursing, mentions of sex but nothing too explicit, some brotherly angst from Sirius, glimpse of dom Snape, not proofread

“Close your mouth, you’ll catch flies,” Sirius snarled, teeth bared. “I don’t understand what you see in that treacherous fiend.” His dark eyes flickered yellow as they trailed after the greasy-haired man until he was out of sight. 

The Order meeting hadn’t even started yet but hostility was on the rise. It was in the air, present in the guests' little huffs and puffs, and even in the bare bones of the house itself. Interwoven with its rich and equally dark history the Black family manor wasn’t a welcoming place to be. The dimly lit and depressing atmosphere seemed to have a grip on everyone who had the privilege to cautiously open its doors. 

“Meetings about to start. You finish up in here and I’ll go on ahead,” you huffed, slamming down the bowl of snacks you’d been preparing and pushing past him in pursuit of the man who had left the room before you, Severus Snape. 

Sirius absolutely despised Severus and no amount of sibling love between the two of you could dissipate the anger that only blossomed when they were close. It was odd really, whenever they seemed to catch wind of the other, the two men were immediately at each other's throats. Feral, raw anger pulsed through their veins with a mere glance. In fact, his hatred of the reclusive potions professor with the sharp tongue was so severe that you were convinced he would one day lose it and Avada Kedavra him on the spot. He’d gotten the first part of the spell out of his mouth with the second on the tip of his tongue far too many times than you’d like only to stop short by your pleading. No matter how much the two of you fought, you couldn’t lose your brother to Azkaban again. Not after finding out he was innocent. 

Sirius’s feelings about Severus did nothing to dissuade your own. This was one fight among siblings that you were willing to put up with. With his deep voice and mysterious existence you couldn’t help but be drawn to Severus no matter how much your big brother pleaded with you to leave him alone. Severus was terrible news. And as a confirmed death eater, you couldn’t argue with his warnings but you didn’t care. Dumbledore, Molly, and even Remus were convinced of his true motives in taking down the one whom he had once called master and that was enough for you. 

Though he sat silently apart from the brief moment when he had to report on what the death eaters were up to, your eyes rarely left his dark-clothed and lithe frame. He didn’t seem to notice though, his eyes stayed trained on whoever was speaking at the moment and his toes never left contact with the floor as if he were bracing himself to sprint out the door at a moment's notice. He always did that, bolted out the door the second the meeting ended, and you’d barely been able to say a word to him much less get him alone. 

“Eyes on the prize, eh? You’ve rarely looked elsewhere,” Remus chuckled, nudging your arm. Since he was one of Sirius’s best friends, Remus was kind of like an older brother to you and you knew all too well that he thought you having a liking for Severus was hilarious. “You know Severus and I hooked up while in school a few times. I can give you a few pointers.”

“Remus! Stop it! I know you’re lying!”

“Ask him yourself,” he replied smugly. Remus shrugged and with a smirk diverted his attention back to the meeting. 

“Quiet down with the chatter,” Sirius commanded, jumping to his feet and pacing around the room. “Now, unless anyone has anything of value left to add, I say this meeting is over. You will all receive details about the next one as soon as it is decided.”

“Catch that mouse before he scrambles away,” Remus chuckled. “Go on now! He will be out that door in no time.” 

Sure enough, Severus had his hand on the doorknob by the time you caught up with him. He jolted in place at your sudden appearance next to him.

“May I have a word with you?” 

“I must be going the Dark Lord…”

“He is surely aware of your current status at an Order meeting, Severus. A few extra moments will go unnoticed and could help you live up to your reputation.”

“Ah Severus, off so soon?” Sirius asked, sauntering between the both of you and throwing his arm over you. “Not bugging my sister are you?” 

“He will be off as soon as I have a word with him… in private.” 

“That’s not necessary,” he said moving to the side as Tonks let out a curse when she tripped over the rug on the way out the door. “Let’s move away from this crowded area, shall we?”

“Black, your presence is not required,” Severus warned. “Your sister asked to speak to me and me alone.” 

“I think that whatever my sister has to say to you she can also say in my presence. Right, sis?” he hissed. 

“Fuck off, Sirius,” you scoffed. “Severus, would you mind stepping upstairs to my room where it’s a bit quieter?” 

“Lead the way,” he said, his cheeks turning a profuse shade of red. You thought it was quite cute to see him flustered as you escorted him to your room. 

“So,” you started sitting down on the edge of your bed. Severus took the chair, sitting on the edge waiting for the torture of forced socialization to end. “Remus told me…”

“Don’t,” he snapped. “I don’t care what that lunatic said —”

“So you did fuck him, huh?” you giggled, coming to rest on your knees before him. You couldn’t help but smile when he shifted unconsciously closer to you. “How do you fuck Severus? Are you a needy little bitch? Do you whine and beg?”

“I’ll show you just how I fuck,” he hissed, his eyes darkening. 

You couldn’t walk for a week after he was done with you and Sirius, having enchanted your room, heard every single thing. He hasn’t spoken to you since but you don’t care all you can think about is Severus fucking you again. 

And Severus? He thought the whole thing was splendid and has every intention of fucking you after the next Order meeting. You're his little toy now.