I also make OCs

Jakob x OC

Genre: hurt-comfort, fluff

CW: none

A/N: you ever boot up an old game from your childhood and get suddenly hit with the nostalgia of one of your first fandoms ever? Me too! This is entirely self-indulgent, as I've always wanted a deeper look into the past between Jakob and lady Corrin. He was my very first fictional husband and I think it's time I show him some proper appreciation. Enjoy!

No matter how many years pass, Jakob still hates waking up early in the morning. He still does it, of course, because it's his job, but what he wouldn't give for just a few more hours of sweet oblivion! Especially when what awaits him is a full day of chores and running after Lady Skyla.

They've come a long way since the day they met, obviously, but that doesn't change the fact that she is terribly vivacious and sometimes too mischievous for her own good. In all honesty, though, he has become fond of her peculiarities... Maybe a little too fond. He normally wouldn't give it much thought, but recently he's heard some of the other servants talking behind his back (which isn't entirely new) about how taken he is with the young princess and how clearly there is some tenderness brewing between the butler and his liege. How preposterous! Obviously, since he's become quite skilled at his job, the other servants are unable to make fun of his ineptitude anymore, so they've come up with this entirely inaccurate narrative to entertain themselves instead of tending to their duties! There is no tenderness! Jakob is merely grateful for Lady Skyla's generosity and he takes his job very seriously. If it wasn't for her, perhaps he'd be out on the streets by now. She's the only reason he's managed to make it this far as a butler, for he was determined to meet her expectations and become worthy of serving her and standing by her side. That isn't tenderness, it's gratitude. Plain and simple. Besides, a butler falling for his liege is entirely inappropriate, and he is a professional through and through by now.

He grumbles to himself as he finishes braiding his hair, wondering if, perhaps, in some convoluted way, his colleagues might be right. Maybe he's too affectionate? Too close to her? But as soon as he takes the idea into consideration he shakes his head. He's tried being more detached before, and his attempt resulted in Lady Skyla crying her heart out and asking what she'd done to upset him so much. No, he simply cannot do that to her again. His liege is a deeply lonely girl, always left to her own devices by her so called father and only sporadically visited by her siblings to spend time together and sometimes train. He can see how she desperately clings to any semblance of stability and companionship, and for whatever reason still unknown to Jakob, she's picked him to be her most trusted companion. On some days she spends her time with that young knight in training, but she always comes back to him. She shares her thoughts, feelings, hopes and worries with her butler... and that is more precious to him than anything in this world. After all, he has no family he can count on, most of the staff resents him for his prickly nature and pride, and he'd rather die than talk openly with Gunter, so... Lady Skyla is the only person who he feels truly comfortable with. The only one he always looks forward to seeing and spending time with. Not to mention, she's the only individual that seems to have full faith in him, no matter what. She never gave up on him, even when he was rude to her and terrible at his job (Gods, he wishes he could forget those embarrassing days. Being a child is no excuse for such abhorrent behavior-). So, all things considered, he doesn't care about what his colleagues have to say. They don't understand the deep, pure bond that exists between him and the young princess, so they do not get to label it so carelessly. As the best butler in Nohr, Jakob is all his young mistress needs him to be, and they all wish they could be even half as good as he. It's all jealousy, truly.

Having found his peace of mind again, Jakob gets through the morning with a satisfied little smirk plastered on his face, which naturally turns into a much gentler smile whenever Lady Skyla is present. As usual, he accompanies her throughout her day, offering his assistance whenever she requires it and emotional support during the lessons she hates the most. Those rare moments he isn't by her side are spent cleaning and training, as he is expected to be her retainer should the war come knocking at their door. It is only in the afternoon that the princess finally gets a moment of reprieve and asks Jakob to keep her company as she takes a walk through the palace garden.

As they walk, he immediately notices how quiet his ladyship is, but just as he is about to ask, she finally starts talking.

“Jakob, do you think I'll... ever manage to leave this place? Northern Fortress, I mean...” She asks quietly as they pass under one of the oldest trees in the garden. One she's always adored climbing, despite how many times she's been told it's not an activity fit for a princess. Before he can answer, she continues.

“It's just that I thought that by now I would be allowed outside. I've trained hard. Gods, I can hardly remember a time before my training started. I'm pretty much an adult and yet my father still refuses to grant me my freedom. If what it takes is for me to best Xander in battle... I fear I might never be able to leave.” Her voice turns into a barely audible whisper, as if merely speaking those words might bring them to reality. Jakob has seen his liege disheartened before, but never quite this defeated. Among other things, she has a remarkably strong will, so to see her this close to giving up... it unsettles him. He doesn't even have to think about his next words.

“My lady, I can see how this situation is frustrating to you, and I agree it is most unfair to keep you here while your siblings are free to come and go as they please, but putting that aside... I am confident that you have exactly what it takes to obtain the King's approval one day. And, if I may be so bold to say so, I believe the King feels somewhat similarly. If he didn't think you had a chance, why even waste time in training you at all? Clearly he expects you to succeed, and judging by the leaps you've taken in the last few years while training, it is only a matter of time before you finally match the Crown Prince's battle prowess. I have full faith in you, Lady Skyla.”

As she quietly listens to what he has to say, she seems to regain some of her confidence, but the smile she gives him is still sad, and it tugs at his heartstrings terribly.

“Thank you Jakob, I know I probably sound like a whining child, but it's just...” She takes a trembling breath as suddenly her eyes fill with tears, almost sending the poor butler in a panic.

“Sometimes I'm left to wonder about whether or not my family truly wants me around. My siblings always seem happy whenever they come visit me, I can see that, but would they still be happy if they had me around all the time? And why does my father never come here? I'm no orphan, but sometimes I feel like I am not truly part of the family. Shouldn't parents be present and loving? Shouldn't they want their children to be happy? I don't even remember when the last time father showed affection to me was...” She brings a hand up to her mouth as if that would stop the hiccups rising in her throat. On all that is holy, Jakob swears he will never forgive the King for making her feel like this. A bitter taste raises at the back of his throat. He knows a few things about how utterly garbage some parents can be, but his liege shouldn't have to experience it for herself.

“Unfortunately, my lady, not all parents are truly deserving of such title. Bringing a child into this world, after all, doesn't make one a real parent. It pains me to see how much hurt you are feeling, and I wish I could take it from you. Please, forgive this shortcoming of mine.” He bows gracefully as he holds out a handkerchief, sincere in his regret despite how absurd it sounds.

“But there is one thing I know for certain, lady Skyla. You do not need your father's approval to be happy. I am sure you have noticed, but you are deeply loved both by the fortress' inhabitants and your siblings. Lord Xander always looks forward to sparring with you, and he is in a good mood whenever you're around. Lady Camilla would spend all her time doting on you, if she could. Prince Leo is always eager to test your newly acquired knowledge, and I do not think you need me to tell you just how much Lady Elise adores you. She always pouts whenever she is told she may not come visit you. Being unable to leave whenever you please feels stifling and, naturally, even lonely, but you're far from alone and unloved. Even if your family wasn't around at all, you'd still have us by your side, no matter what. You are a wonderful young woman, strong and capable, with the kindest of hearts, and I... we couldn't wish for a better princess to serve.” Jakob clears his throat, bringing his arms behind his back to keep his composure and hopefully ignore the sudden warmth spreading all over his face.

“You are destined for greatness one way or another, I am certain of it.” He concludes, bowing his head slightly again, only now noticing how quiet Lady Skyla has gotten. He takes a peek at her, worried he might have spoken out of line, but all he sees is her soft smile and a reassuring flush to her cheeks as she finishes dabbing the corners of her eyes with the handkerchief.

“You always know what to say to make me feel better, Jakob. I don't know what I would do without you”. She sighs gratefully, her words making his heart flip in his chest.

“I hope you know that I consider all of you as family just as much as my real siblings. You especially. You are right, I am not alone and I am capable to do anything I set my mind on. I will get out of here someday.” She nods confidently to herself, putting her hands on her hips in that way she always does whenever she is ready to face a challenge head on. He can't help but laugh softly at that. There's the princess he knows.

“Certainly, my lady. I am most eager to witness your triumph.” He says solemnly as he follows her deeper into the garden, his attention momentarily grabbed by a peculiar cluster of flowers in one of the bushes. He reaches for the white petals and his fingers unexpectedly collide with hers, making him freeze and snap his gaze towards her. She is looking directly at him as well, her eyes widened and her lips slightly parted in surprise, and neither of them retreats their hand as if ensnared by a time-stopping spell. After a beat, her hand settles more firmly on top of his and her lips curl into a warm smile as she regards him with a twinkling light in her eyes that he doesn't quite know how to properly interpret.

“You will come with me when I do, won't you, Jakob?” She asks eagerly, suddenly standing much closer than usual. Before this very instant, he hadn't noticed he's grown evidently taller than her, and for some reason unknown to him, this makes him realize they are no longer kids. The significance of all these years spent together makes his chest grow warm in a way he's never quite felt before, and the moment of panic triggered by the sudden touching of their hands melts away into a comfortable sense of anticipation and certainty. He lets her hold his hand for a while longer, and he will have time later to worry about his feelings and to chastise himself for this impropriety, but for now the only acceptable course of action is for him to return her smile.

From the outside it doesn't look like they make much sense together, and yet they work and that's all that matters to them.

Ruby is unapologetically herself and hardly ever tones herself down just to please others. She loves to tease Shouta because of how grumpy he always is, but she admires him deeply and thinks he is much kinder on the inside than what he tends to show on the outside. She genuinely enjoys his company despite the fact that they bicker a lot.

And Shouta also enjoys her presence, even though he never admits it out loud. Her energy is infectious, and, in a way, he feels like he can breathe easier when she's around. He's also impressed with her achievements and her work ethic, so they both admire each other secretly (or not so secretly).

They start off as simple colleagues, but all the time they spend together encourages them to become friends and get closer, until all the teasing and bantering turns into romantic attraction.

I think they both learn to be more vulnerable with each other, and it surprises both of them. For example, Ruby always presents herself as confident and like she doesn't care about what others think, but she does care deep down, and Shouta is likely the first one to know this about her. She worries about going over the line, so to speak, and annoying him with how high energy she is, but all he can think about is how much he likes to see her happy.

Most of my free time is spent creating stories, creating alternative versions of myself that live through all these awesome adventures and find love in the most unlikely of places... Summer, my most adored creation, is a fragment of myself, just like farmer Sil, Silvia Miller, Rhianna Trickett and many others I've created through the years and that you have yet to see. I find myself both playing God and unaware subject, creator and creation, person and character, and it's all so damn fun!

This part of myself that creates, writes, draws, weaves stories of love, hardship, happiness and grief with her best friends... she almost feels like a character herself. Or something a bit bigger than that. A facet of myself that's grown into one of the best things in my life. It lets me connect with people and with my emotions, it brings color into my life and it allows me to share that color with the people I love the most. So I thought, why not make something with that?

And here she is. It almost feels like re-introducing myself to you all once again. Sil is me, I am her, and yet we are not quite the same all at once. She is a concept. The concept of this wonderful part of my life that gives me so much joy. I know to most people this is all gonna sound like garbled nonsense, but to those that do understand... I hope you like this interpretation, and that you never stop weaving stories. Keep writing, keep drawing, keep dreaming.

Stanley Pines x OC

Genre: hurt-comfort, fluff

CW: none

A/N: oh my God, who knew that I could still write?? Yeah I haven't given up on this hobby yet lmao. Been wanting to write for these two for AGES, so it was about time I actually did something with them. These two are VERY special to me, so they will be appearing again. Enjoy!

The wooden steps creak under his weight as he slowly makes his way upstairs, barely lifting his feet high enough not to stumble. The dark is no issue to him, after thirty years spent in this old shack, and for some reason he can't be bothered to flip the light switch. He doesn't really like the dark, but he's sort of grown accustomed to it at this point, and on nights like this, well... it just feels fitting.

He climbs the last step with a grunt and slowly makes his way to the bedroom, his slipper-clad feet scuffing against the old floor with each step he takes. The squeaking of the door's hinges makes him grumble under his breath. This damn house, with all its damn noises and its damn imperfections always in need of repair...

And somehow it's still the best place he knows. The only one he can call home.

The reflection that greets him in the mirror looks like a perfect representation of how he is feeling. His eyes stare back at him, tired and dull. They don't look like they belong to the same man that was smiling and performing loudly the whole day. His back is hunched over with the weight of the world, and there is absolutely nothing left of the polished, carefully-crafted persona that spent hours entertaining the masses and spinning tales.

Spinning lies.

Mr. Mystery has clocked out for today, and Stanley Pines remains in his place.

With a sigh he takes his fez off and hangs it next to the mirror, ready to be snatched again in the morning, before the first tour begins. It's like shedding the last of his disguise, leaving only the raw, unfiltered truth to stare back at him bleakly.

God, when has he started looking so old? It is not merely about physical age, it's like something deep within his very being has been withering little by little. Have the last thirty years been that taxing on him? Losing his identity, managing the Shack, working on the portal... Or did this start much earlier? If so, when exactly?

And why does it even matter?

His hair has gone fully gray, he's gained weight, his body is littered with scars that tell a story of pain and struggle. Of stupid, bad choices. Sometimes he can't bare to look at them. Most of the time he doesn't care, as if his body was a reality entirely separate from him. Looking back at it, this might be the reason why he's even managed to survive this long, eh?

Here's what he doesn't like about nights like this: he detests how what greets him in the mirror is not his mere reflection, but a monument to his failures. He looks at himself and what he sees is a fuckup. Somebody who can't do any good despite how hard he tries. He lies, cheats, steals and ruins other people's lives, and that's about all he has to offer to the world. He ruined Stanford's life, he ruined his mother's, he ruined-

The light in the room suddenly turns on, halting his ruminations for a moment.

“Stanley? I thought you were in bed.” Sil's light voice breaks the silence, and the gentle flutter of burgundy chiffon catches his eye as she walks towards her vanity, which is tucked in the small space she carved for herself inside his room years ago.

Her hands are still stained with paint, and her long hair is still held up by a couple of paintbrushes haphazardly stuck in it. The contrast between elegance and chaos creates a combination that is uniquely her. Just like him, she's pushing sixty, and yet she is still so full of life...

“Was about to get in it.” He says gruffly as he scratches his right shoulder, turning this way and that in the mirror as if somehow he could find an answer to his questions, or even a solution to his problems, in the cold, reflective surface.

“Well, I'm glad I didn't wake you then...” She pads over to him, her gray-streaked hair now flowing down in gentle waves along her back. Their eyes meet for a moment through the mirror, and then her hand comes up to gently turn his face towards her.

Stanley doesn't immediately meet her gaze, afraid of what he might find if he does. Sometimes he still thinks he doesn't deserve to have her by his side, to call her his. She should be somewhere far away from here, following her dreams, building something meaningful... and yet she stays with him, plays pretend and gets involved in the mess he created in the first place as if it was their shared responsibility. It drives him insane sometimes. She deserves better than this and she must know it. She must.

But when Stanley finally locks eyes with her after a suspiciously long silence, he is met with nothing but warmth and affection. Her smile forms lines at the sides of her mouth, and it makes her eyes crinkle in that way that's always made his heart melt. Her thumb gently strokes his cheek like its done time and time before, and yet he never gets sick of it.

“You are so handsome...” she mutters softly, gazing at him like he's the only thing that matters to her, and suddenly he's looking at the girl that used to ride her bike all over Glass Shard Beach in the Summer, and that would get offended every time he stole fries from her plate. That bright, young girl that was way out of place in that town and yet made it feel like she was exactly where she belonged no matter where she went. He sees her now, as if she never grew a day older than seventeen. The one person that, even if for the briefest moment, made him believe that he deserved to dream, and to want something more from his life. She stands before him, unwavering in her love for him, and he can't help but feel like a boy again, with the sun on his skin and gel in his hair.

The incessant tides of his thoughts finally relent as he leans into her warm touch. His eyes slide closed, and his strong arm wraps around her body to bring her closer.

Ah yes... the ol' "drawing an eye because I am stuck with art block". A classic.

Chose to play a human mage.

My Amell is against the strict rules that are imposed on all mages, and wishes to someday leave the Tower and finally be free.

Okay, she didn't think it would happen so soon, what the hell.

"The fuck is a Grey Warden?"

Is a bit hesitant at first, but accepting Duncan's proposal is her only way to survive and be free.

This is all a bit intimidating, but she is taking it in stride. Sort of.

"Fuck's sake. Another Templar."

"Nevermind, this Alistair guy is alright. He's so silly-".

Not even a week as a Grey Warden and everything has become so fucking scary, and yet she's never felt more alive, more compelled to fight and help others. She is horrified at all that's happening, but being stuck in the Tower would've been so much worse. Only downside? Apparently she is now the leader of the group and she has no idea what she is doing.

She welcomes everyone who might want to join her with open arms, always happy to have more people to share a camp with. She somehow manages to befriend everyone, no matter how long it takes. She just wants everybody to get along. To feel at home in this dirty, bloody patch of existance.

She listens to Leliana's stories and cracks jokes with Zevran. She tries to show support for Morrigan any time she can and teach Shale what it means to be squishy but mighty. She asks Sten about his people and shows him how to never lose hope even if you might feel like a losing dog. Her conversations with Wynne sometimes turn quiet and somber in a comforting way, while it becomes difficult to keep it down when Oghren is in the mood to celebrate. There is always time for a little belly rub for Brutus, no matter how hard and tiresome the day was, and, most importantly, there is always, always time for her to sit by the fire with Alistair and just... talk. Soft glances are exchanged, awkward chuckles and flushed cheeks following each sentence that seems to border just a little beyond friendship and camraderie.

She falls in love with Alistair, deeply, hopelessly, and suddenky she has one more reason to fight and win.

She is devastated when she finds out she can't be with him anymore once he becomes King, but she still stays by his side.

When the final battle finally arrives, she makes up her mind to deal the killing blow to the Archdemon and make the ultimate sacrifice for Ferelden and, most importantly, for her weird, absurd little family. She hopes Alistair will find happiness, eventually.

Her perfect plan encounters a roadblock as Alistair stops her from killing the Archdemon. He tries to convince her to let him deal the killing blow, because he loves her too much to see her die, but she is firm in her decision... which is why he doesn't give her a choice at all. He slays the Archdemon in her stead and dies in a burst of light.

Heartbroken and grief-stricken, she goes on autopilot mode and decides to stay with the Grey Wardens to keep loyal to the oath she took. She feels like she will fall apart if she doesn't dedicate herself to something consuming enough to allow her to not constantly think about her lost lover.

She says good-bye to her friends, except for Zevran, who decides to stick with her for a while to avoid the Crows.

Awakening

Six months later, Amell is Commander of the Grey Wardens, ruler of Vigil's Keep and Arlessa of Amarantine. She never wanted to be a ruler, but somehow she's found herself here.

Not only that... but she is gathering new Grey Wardens for the cause, conscripting them just like Duncan did with her.

She meets Anders, whose witty remarks and relateable desire for freedom immediately captivate her.

Against all odds, she sees Oghren again, and she can hardly contain her joy at the prospect of having one of her old companions by her side. It feels like coming home.

A young, aspiring Grey Warden is lost, and Amells feels a little sick at how normal she finds it.

Executing Nathaniel would be all too easy for her. She sees something in him, and considering it's not the first time she travels with someone who tried to kill her, she drafts him instead.

She unexpectedly runs into Wynne. She was worried she would never see her alive again, amd even though their encounter is brief, it makes her feel blessed.

She thinks Sigrun must be one of the strongest women she's ever met. Perhaps she showed some cowardice, but Amell can't blame anyone for being scared.

All of a sudden she finds herself leading a ragtag group of fighters all over again, and the rather cruel irony isn't lost on her.

She is afraid of growing too attached to any of them in case something terrible happens, and yet, she can't help but feel... optimistic? Is she allowed to feel like that? Nobody will ever take her old group's place, but these people, these new Grey Wardens... they are not so bad.

Aaaah I am so curious to see where the story will take me next! I've grown so attached to my depressed, traumatized little Warden😭❤️

Severus Snape x OC

Genre: strangers to colleagues to (eventual) lovers

CW: none

A/N: oh my God, is that Sil?? With a new one shot?? No way!! Hehehehe guess who's finally done with her internship and suddenly has a lot of time on her hands? This gal!! And today I bring you Severus and Rhianna once again. This time around, I wrote about their (not quite) first meeting. As always, a shoutout to @wolfhunter89 who's written Severus and Rhianna's story with me for, I believe, around seven or eight months straight.Phew! Enjoy!

The clicking sound of her heels hitting the stone floor would normally be satisfying to her, but right now they are pure torture as her head insists on pounding painfully, only getting worse with each echoing step she takes in the school dungeon.

On any other day Rhianna wouldn't even dream of walking all the way from the tippy-top of the Astronomy tower to the potions master's office down underground to bother the aforementioned professor with something as trivial as asking him for a favor, but her headaches have entered migraine territory, and the school nurse herself suggested she visit professor Snape for one of his infallible remedies.

She's met him before, naturally. At the start of the school year (her first as a teacher) and sometimes in the hallways, in passing... but before that, Rhianna remembers catching glimpses of him and hearing about him from her schoolmates when she was still a Hogwarts student herself. A few times she even got the chance to talk to him, way back then, but those could barely be called conversations, considering she did most of the talking and he barely responded, seemingly doing all in his power to shake her off as quickly as possible so he could get back to his experiments. Once she asked him for a spare quill, another time she apologized for accidentally bumping into him in the hallway, and another still she tried to help him gather his books, which had been rudely knocked out of his arms by some mean kids. He hadn't thanked her, on that occasion, instead yanking his books out of her hands and walking away briskly after glaring at her. She remembers feeling a little hurt, and after that time she'd tried her best to stay out of his way, as it had become clear that he wanted to be left alone. Still, he made her curious. He was a brilliant young man, a few years older than her, and yet scrawny in a way that made him look younger, almost her age. His wit was something to behold, clearly, and yet he had a certain... reputation. Even her friends weren't fond of him, and then certain rumors started to float around him. Dark rumors. She'd never paid much attention to them, though, because something about that pale, scrawny, spidery kid always made her feel like there was something more underneath it all. Something that couldn't be explained so easily by some merciless hallway gossip. After he left Hogwarts, though, she never saw him again... until now.

Her train of thought is interrupted as she notices the door to the storage room is slightly open and a few voices are coming from inside the room. Seems like her walk is to be cut short, then, as she won't have to walk all the rest of the way to Snape's office. Works for her. As she knocks politely on the door, the voices from inside abruptly stop, and for a moment she wonders if she should just turn back and come at another time.

“Keep cleaning.” Comes the low voice of professor Snape from the room, before he opens the door a little more. His face is set in a displeased expression just as usual, and one of his eyebrows moves up questioningly when he sees her. Goodness, he is tall.

On his side, Severus is caught off-guard by the presence of the woman now standing in front of him. Rhianna Trickett, this year's new entry, alongside that Lockheart fool, as the Astronomy teacher. She was hired shortly before the start of the school year and, unsurprisingly, the little dunderheads immediately got attached to her. He supposes it makes sense for them. She's young, beautiful (according to Minerva and Pomona) and exceedingly kind to the little pests. To them, it must feel like winning the lottery, but to him it just means that she indulges them far too much, which proves to be more of a headache for him. Although, perhaps, he can admit that the knowledge she possesses for her subject and her teaching skills are... quite remarkable. At the very least she is not stupid, and the students walk away from her lessons having actually learned something, which is already more than he can usually expect from most people. Still, he has no clue as to why she came here today, and for some reasons he finds himself completely still in front of her.

“Hi Severus...” She greets him with a polite smile, but even then he notices the pained expression etched on her pale face.

“Professor Trickett, what brings you here? I am currently in the middle of something.” His voice comes out flatly as he looks down at her, and Rhianna can immediately tell he is rather impatient to end this conversation as quickly as possible and get back to whatever it is that he was doing. Some things never change, it seems. Looking past him, she notices two first year students kneeling on the ground as they vigorously scrub away at the stone floor with some brushes and cleaning supplies. It sort of looks as if a bomb went off inside the potions master's storage room. The two girls occasionally glance up at her curiously, which allows her to recognize them. Emma and Dionisia are their names. They're a couple of very sweet students, so she can't possibly imagine they are the ones responsible for this mess... but on the other hand, she doesn't find it particularly difficult to believe that Dionisia got in trouble somehow. That young girl is very bright, always happy and friendly... but she seems to have a knack for always finding new and creative ways to get in trouble, mostly with professor Snape. Poor things, she hopes he isn't being too strict with them.

“I really don't mean to disturb you, Severus. I went to Madame Pomfrey but she's told me to come directly to you for far better results, and, considering how you're a potions expert, I have no reason to doubt her...” She smiles apologetically, before continuing. “I have a terrible headache, you see. I'd say even a migraine. It doesn't want to leave me alone... Can you help?”

For a moment, Severus considers telling her no and shooing her away, but the mere thought of the lecture Minerva would inevitably unleash upon him makes him reconsider. He sighs in annoyance and turns to look at the two students. “You're to stay here and keep cleaning, understood? I need to go and make a potion for professor Trickett so I will be in the next room over.” He narrows his eyes at them, implying he will know if they decide to do something foolish. “If when I come back you are not here you will find yourselves in even... deeper... trouble.” He drawls menacingly as he stares them down.

Emma almost whimpers as she starts cleaning even faster than before, nodding her head. “Yes professor, understood.” Dionisia dejectedly mutters something similar as she tries her best to scrub off a particularly pesky, yellowy stain from the floor. The sight makes Rhianna chuckle with sympathy.

“Oh, goodness gracious, what have they done to arouse such anger in you?” She asks Severus in a joking manner as she brings her gaze back to her colleague, who is rummaging through his inventory in search for the right ingredients.

He shoots a glare towards the young slytherins as he pulls the last vial from one of the shelves. “They thought it wise to dabble with spells they weren't even supposed to look at until the next few years, and were foolish enough to use them in front of their entire class during a mock duel.” Disdain colors his voice as he explains the reason for their punishment.

“Is that so...?” Rhianna's smile turns a tad bit brighter and her eyes twinkle in amusement as young Dionisia looks up at her with a big, unapologetic smile of her own and Emma glances sheepishly at her as if to confirm the gloomy professor's words.

“Yes. Now get a move on, so we can finish this quickly.” She is quick to step aside as Severus strides out of the little room to bring everything to the Potions classroom. An ironic little “After you” reaches his ears as he surpasses her without as much as a glance in her direction. Rhianna follows him, but not before throwing an amused, complicit look at her students. If what she's seen so far is anything to go by, she has a sneaking suspicion those two weren't merely playing around with spells above their curriculum, but they were performing them successfully. She'll ask Severus about it later, just to be sure.

As she enters the classroom, she hears her colleague muttering to himself in an annoyed way bordering on exasperated while he gets everything ready.

“You seem stressed Severus... Are the first-years giving you a hard time?” She asks with a sympathetic smile as she walks closer to his work station.

“As always, and it's only the start of the year.” He grumbles moodily as he begins combining his ingredients to prepare the concoction for the Astronomy professor's migraine.

“Hang in there...” She chuckles softly, but receives no answer as Severus dedicates his entire focus to his work, barely acknowledging her presence. She takes this as an opportunity to look around the room. It's changed, from what she remembers, but it's just as dark and cold as the last time she stepped foot in it. She didn't particularly miss it, but being back here as a teacher gives her a weird feeling, and not an unpleasant one. It feels right, just as she thought it would when she decided to accept the job.

“Thank you for your help, by the way... I appreciate it.” She speaks up again, bringing her gaze back towards her old schoolmate. He could've easily refused to help her, after all, but he didn't. That must count for something, in her mind.

“If I didn't help you, I would've never heard the end of it from professor McGonagall, and something tells me the students would've used it as an excuse to become even more disrespectful than they already are with me. I would rather not take that chance.”

His comment takes her off-guard, making her laugh slightly. “What is that supposed to mean?” She asks as she turns fully towards him, walking closer.

“The students seem to have grown attached to you. They appreciate your... demeanor towards them. Were they to think I am the reason you are incapacitated, they would no doubt find a way to get revenge for it.” He answers dryly, the sarcasm barely noticeable in his voice with how serious he looks. Still, Rhianna smiles in amusement at his words and her green eyes crinkle at the corners.

“Is that so...?” She pulls her raven braid over her shoulder, smoothing a hand over it as she leans back casually against a desk, as if she was used to being here, chatting with him. It's beginning to irritate him. “I thought professor Snape had no problem keeping rowdy students in check. That's what the other teachers say, at least...” She says and, to his bewilderment, she sounds playful. At this point he is unsure if she is making fun of him or what else. He presses his lips together before hissing.

“It's the first week of the semester and two of my students set off a stink bomb in my supply room while two other decided it would be a good idea to mess around with spells they are not ready to wield.” He narrows his gaze as he carefully mixes the bubbling potion inside the cauldron. “Oh, but I merely need to figure them out and then I'll come up with the perfect punishment for them. They'll think twice before being so foolish, next time.”

At this point, Rhianna's curiosity gets the best of her.

“Did they actually manage to pull those spells off?”

Severus hesitates, but then, with reluctance lacing his voice, he answers.

“Ms. Bazich almost broke her neck when she lost focus in mid-air, but... yes. I suppose they did manage to succeed, out of sheer, dumb luck.” He concedes icily as he sprinkles the last ingredient into the cauldron.

Rhianna laughs in a mixture of disbelief, admiration and genuine amusement.

“You have to admit... what they did was rather impressive. Not to mention they had no other way to practice, considering what that... guy 'teaches' them.” She huffs, failing to conceal her clear annoyance towards professor Lockheart. She's never liked the bloke, but usually she'd do a better job at keeping her opinions to herself. Severus' attention is caught by this uncharacteristic show of irritation towards one of their colleagues. So she isn't all smiles and kindness... Perhaps she's not going to be entirely vexing to interact with.

“Of course not. That man is a twat.” He comments flatly, and glances up for a moment when he hears Rhianna trying to stifle a laugh. “-but that doesn't mean those dunderheads can do whatever they want just because he is incompetent.” He huffs with a shake of his head.

“Oh absolutely. I'd never imply that. I just meant to say that it's quite impressive of them to learn spells that are so out of their league. You must be proud of your two students.” She smiles at him, placing her hands against the surface of the desk. That earns her a scoff.

“I'm not. I'm bothered by the fact I had to punish them and now I am stuck with a chatterbox.” He replies harshly as he pours a dark, purple liquid into a glass bottle. The comment takes her aback, and she lowers her gaze to the floor, feeling rather mortified. She tries not to take it too personally, though. She knew about his... prickly personality, and she was even warned beforehand by her other colleagues. She knew she could potentially annoy him by accident.

Hearing the sudden quiet that's fallen over the room, Severus glances up at the younger woman, and despite the smile still being present on her soft features, he can easily tell her feelings are hurt. Not his fault, really, but, for some reason, something pulling at his chest makes him break the silence.

“I... was referring to Miss Bazich. The young lady never shuts her mouth, and it gives me a constant headache.” He clears his throat, now avoiding professor Trickett's gaze by examining the contents of the bottle very carefully.

“Of course...” Her smile becomes more genuine once more, and she perks up a little at the clarification, but makes sure to tone it down when professor Snape steps out from behind his table and hands her the potion.

“Take no more than one spoon a day, for three days straight.”

“One spoon, three days.” She repeats with a nod as she accepts he bottle, but then stops in her tracks. “Wait. How come this is a prolonged cure? It uh... it will take care of today's headache, won't it? Because, while I don't mean to sound impatient, I might just commit a crime if it doesn't leave me alone at once.” She looks at him anxiously, surprising him slightly with her dramatic irony.

“I am aware... but you seem to have these migraines quite often, from what I've heard, so, to avoid having to repeat this over and over again, I went ahead and brewed a more prolonged solution for you.” He explains simply in his usual monotone voice, but that explanation seems more than enough to make Ms. Trickett light up like a Christmas tree.

“Brilliant! Thank you Severus, you're a lifesaver!” She exclaims happily as she holds the bottle almost as if it was worth her very life. “I am very headache-prone, but all the recent changes and new responsibilities have made them much worse lately, so I can't thank you enough!” She brings the bottle to her chest. “I'll be sure to follow your instructions!”

Severus keeps quiet for a second, taken aback by his colleague's very evident gratitude. Her smile is almost glowing, and he has to begrudgingly admit to himself that perhaps Minerva and Pomona had a point, but all that comes out of his mouth instead is “I truly hope so, because otherwise my potion would be rendered useless and this would have been a waste of perfectly good ingredients.” He moves towards the door to finally walk her out of his classroom and get back to disciplining those unruly two students.

Instead of being put off by his gruff comment, Rhianna lets out a genuine laugh and does a mock military salute. “Yes sir.” She states as she follows him out. She wasn't expecting such a kind gesture from Severus, and, true, he did frame it in a not so kind way, but that doesn't erase the fact that she's got a very precious cure to her ailments between her hands now. As she suspected years ago, Severus isn't so detestable to be around as many people suggested. Perhaps she really is just an exceptionally patient woman, but for now she'd even go as far as to say she really doesn't mind being around the gloomy potions master, and, since he did her a favor, she is inclined to believe that, who knows... maybe they could even get along? One thing's for sure, she owes him.

“Thank you again, Severus...” She smiles up at him warmly once they're out of the class and walking down the hallway towards the supply closet.

“...You're welcome.” He concedes after a moment, surprising even himself. Common courtesy is not necessarily on his list of habits, but the way her voice sounds when she thanks him, the way her eyes look up at him... it makes him feel obligated to answer her politely, but, even more surprisingly, not in a way that irritates him or makes him uncomfortable. It's almost easy, even.

As Rhianna walks by the supply room, she looks at the students still cleaning up the mess left by who knows who.

“See you tomorrow girls, hang in there.” She tells them jokingly before walking away, eager to get back to her quarters and try Severus' remedy.

At her playful remark, Dionisia lifts her head up with a big smile and calls back “Yes ma'am!”

Gosh, she adores her teacher.

As the raven-haired woman proceeds down the hallway, Severus stands there quietly, looking at her until she disappears around the corner. Professor Trickett... What a peculiar woman. He's met her before, in a past that seems so far away but that took place barely ten years ago or so. A fellow slytherin like him, but that barely “looked the part”, like some other students used to say. He didn't know her personally, obviously, because why would he? But she was fairly popular among her peers. She seemed kind and friendly, even towards him sometimes, but he never gave her a chance to even try and get close. Why bother? He knew how that might've ended up. Besides... he'd always preferred sleeping with an eye open, so to speak, for you never know who might sneak up on you. He'd learned that at his own expense, multiple times. So it didn't matter how kind she seemed, it didn't matter that she had tried to talk to him and it didn't matter that she had tried to help him out. He wasn't foolish enough to believe that she wasn't like everyone else at that God forsaken school, and, way back then, he thought he needed only one person by his side to be alright, despite everything, and that person wasn't her.

He had been, of course, very wrong. Sometimes he was foolish, after all.

When he saw Miss Trickett again after all that time he figured she'd steer clear of him remembering their past interactions, and while she hasn't exactly been around him much, she also doesn't seem to actively try to avoid him, always greeting him warmly in the hallways and at meals and, today, even seeking him out for help. She must be either incredibly dense or too forgiving for her own good, and he honestly isn't sure which one is worse.

This is Eman Zaqout a Biotechnologist and PhD student from Gaza. I've started a fundraising campaign and urgently need your help to spread it to the world, after losing my house and my job in the genocide in Gaza and living in a life that you can't bear watch it behind screens.

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Severus Snape x OC

Genre: angst

June of Doom, Day 22: "What's the bad news?", "Bedridden" ( @juneofdoom )

CW: mentions of death, mentions of bodily harm, blood

A/N: this one-shot can be read as a second part to this. Enjoy!

Rhianna can't help but bounce her leg nervously as she waits for Poppy to return. She should be out there helping the students and their families right now, give a hand to anyone that needs it, but she can't bring herself to step away from the infirmary's door. Not when she knows Severus is in there, fighting for his life. Dionisia did good, swooping in right at the last moment to get him stable enough to bring him to the school's medical wing... but Severus' wounds were still quite severe and... the blood, Merlin, the blood. There was so much of it. Thinking about it now makes her shudder and her vision turns blurry with unshed tears.

Suddenly she realizes how quiet it is here. Wasn't Dionisia with her? Rhianna immediately looks around in a panic, but relaxes almost immediately when she does, in fact, find the student sitting by her side. She was being so silent that for a moment the teacher thought she might've lost her somewhere. The usually rambunctious and energetic girl now sits in silence with her back slumped and her gaze unfocused. An alarming sight to say the least.

“You did very well... I am sure Poppy can help him.” She places a hand on her shoulder in an attempt to try and reassure her. All Dionisia does is nod weakly, barely even glancing at her. “...Dionisia..?”

“They killed my grandfather.” She whispers in a pitiful voice, one single tear finally dropping from her long lashes, and Rhianna freezes on the spot. “My grandma, she...” Dionisia drops her head in her hands with a shaky sigh. “I know I should be with her right now but I... I can't. If I leave and he dies...” The sentiment has little logic to it, but Rhianna can understand it perfectly. If something has to happen then she wants to be present until the very end. Perhaps she couldn't do the same for her grandfather. Although, when Dionisia's words really sink in, Rhianna gulps as a new wave of cold fear washes over her. If he dies...

She instinctively places a hand on her belly.

She doesn't want to have to do this on her own.

Before she can say anything else, the door to the infirmary finally opens, and Poppy walks out with a heavy sigh. Her sleeves are all bloodied...

Rhianna and Dionisia are both immediately on their feet, staring at the nurse with apprehension. Both teetering on the edge between relief and despair. “Is... is he..?”

The woman shakes her head and for a moment Rhianna's heart drops to the floor. “He is unconscious right now, but he is alive.” Dionisia puts a hand on Rhianna's arm as if to hold herself up and even the teacher feels like she might collapse at any moment. “Oh... oh thank the stars...” She rubs her hands on her face with a shaky exhale, but despite the relief that just washed over her, she sees that Poppy's expression is still rather grim. She really doesn't want to ask, but she must.

“What's the bad news, Poppy?” She can barely recognize her own voice with how meek and trembly it is. The nurse sighs and she puts her hands on her hips, clearly tired. So many people needed medical assistance today... and many more still do.

“He lost a lot of blood, Rhianna. Luckily, whatever the young lady has given him managed to stop the bleeding, but that doesn't change the fact that this all took a toll on his body. I patched him up as well as I could, and he seems stable, but...”

Rhianna can hear the beating of her own heart rumbling loudly in her ears, and Dionisia's grip on her tightens. “For God's sake, Poppy, out with it already!” She squeaks out.

“There is no guarantee he will pull through, Rhianna, that's what I am trying to say. He is alive right now, but it may very well be that he won't wake up. And if he does pull through then it won't be an easy recovery, and I need you to be prepared for that.” She explains slowly, trying to measure her words carefully.

Rhianna swallows thickly. “What do you mean by that...?” She can feel Dionisia's hand slip into hers now. She wants to show appreciation for the gesture, she really does, but all she can focus on right now is Poppy's words.

“Well...” sighs the nurse. “I mean that the wounds were quite deep and I am unsure of the extent of the damage. He could have difficulty speaking, maybe even breathing... and the recovery will be overall very painful and draining. I did my best with what I had, but I can't tell you he will go back to normal.”

“Oh...” murmurs Rhianna, bringing a hand up to her chest. She can feel her heart squeeze painfully. Her mind wanders once more to her discovery from a few weeks prior, and fear courses through her again. How will he react once she tells him? If he wakes up at all...! Can they do this? Can she do this? Questions and what ifs swirl in her mind, making the cold grip of anxiety tighten even more around her poor heart. That's when she feels another squeeze of her hand.

Dionisia, who has been silent all the way up until this point, finally speaks up. “Well... but he is alive for now. I know you want us to be cautious with our optimism, but he is alive and breathing. Most people probably wouldn't have even gotten this far, but he did.” She shakes her head. “He doesn't want to leave us, he's told me, remember?” She looks up at her teacher with stubborn tears in her eyes. “This sucks, it's going to suck even if... when he wakes up, but at least he is going to be alive and he is going to be with us. He is going to recover, and that's that.” And with that said, the young girl enters the infirmary to go stay by her father's side, barely able to hide her sniffles and hiccups.

Poppy turns to look at Rhianna with an apologetic look in her eyes, and the professor gives her a grateful nod before following Dionisia into the room. It's so quiet in here... terribly still considering the chaos and ruin going on just outside. Right at the end of the room, she sees him, laying silently in a bed as he sleeps. She can barely hold back a trembling whimper at the sight.

His neck is all bandaged up, the thick, white gauze slightly dotted with blood, and his face is terribly pale. He looks much older than he really is... but he seems peaceful. She can't resist reaching out and gently brushing a hand over his black hair. “Oh, Severus...” she whispers softly with a quivering lip. It is way too easy to imagine him in a casket when he looks like this, and it shatters her heart into pieces.

As if she was able to read her thoughts, Dionisia speaks up once more, quiet anger and resolution in her unsteady voice.“He is going to be okay.” She states again, her hand already wrapped around Severus'. “We are all going to be okay...” she adds a moment later, much more quietly than before.

Rhianna can barely wrap her head around how it is even possible for this girl to keep her positive outlook after all that's happened today... but then again it could all be a desperate attempt at keeping herself together when she is clearly falling apart at the seams. She used to do that too when she was her same age, didn't she? And she did it time and time again when Severus was the one ready to fall apart in front of her. Can she still do it, even this time around? She can hardly think so... but she will have to find the will to do it, because any other option is far too painful.

After a few moments of silence, Rhianna sits down by Dionisia's side and she grabs her free hand, while cradling her belly with her other.