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talesofadragon · 1 year ago

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𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐔𝐧𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐠𝐢𝐯𝐚𝐛𝐥𝐞

Summary: Theodore Nott came to learn that an inciting incident can alter the course of history. Lucius Malfoy’s fall led to Draco’s dark mark and the death of Dumbledore. The rise of the Dark Lord urged Harry Potter into hiding and Death Eaters into prominence. And then there was Amycus Carrow, with his tainted hands on Y/N, who forced Theodore Nott to do the unforgivable.

Warnings: Sexual assault, attempted rape, graphic description of violence, panic attacks

Pairing: Theodore Nott x Non-Slytherin!Reader

Genre: Angst | Hurt/Comfort

Word count: 5.8K

All Masterlists | Theodore Nott Masterlist

𝐅𝐢𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐥𝐢𝐭𝐲 𝐡𝐚𝐯𝐞 𝐩𝐨𝐥𝐚𝐫𝐢𝐳𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐥𝐬. The lines between the two flow steadily, each following its own cadence. And yet, despite their distinct course and the light years between them, they somehow find a way to draw parameters of joint space. Somehow, someway, they eventually overlap—meeting each other at the apex of catalysts and the twists between junctures to shape history and write the present.

Today starts like most stories do: quaint and subtle, setting the tone for an inciting incident that will tip this fable on its axis.

It’s a typical day, or as typical as it could get during Y/N’s last year at Hogwarts. She’s sitting at the far end of her Defense Against the Dark Arts class, donning the same apprehensive expression as all her classmates. The turmoil that governs the halls is a jarring contrast to the flourishing and effervescent school of witchcraft and wizardry Hogwarts once was.

In this mangled reality, there are specks of the idyllic tales she’s heard about, and witnessed, growing up. Slytherins and Gryffindors sustain their infamous rivalry while in search of their individual purpose, purebloods hold themselves on par with Merlin himself, and more often than not, students find refuge in a forgotten nuke in Hogwarts when the burden of magic becomes too heavy to bear.

In the first drafts of the story, Hogwarts held its students under one embrace. But now, as we’re nearing a hazy end, an isolating veil drapes over the school, fracturing it into fewer than four houses and dividing it more than ever before.

“Now, as Barty Crouch Junior has so tirelessly shared, you have already been acquainted with Merlin’s three most formidable spells,” Alecto Carrow, one of Voldemort’s trusted Death Eaters explains. Her heels dig into the marble floors of the classroom, their screeches ricocheting across the walls in warning.

“The Unforgivables,” her brother Amycus eagerly finishes. His yellow teeth wither under the dim light of the darkened sun as his arms open wide. It’s unsettling how he and his sister welcome such misfortune so openly.

As it happens every single time the Carrow twins revel in the darkest boulevards of magic, Y/N shifts in her seat until she’s nearly imperceptible. Each time, her eyes rove the expanse of the classroom, seeking out the comfort of peculiar hazel eyes. Within just ten seconds, her wandering gaze comes to rest on the idle brown walls, a weight of defeat settling upon her.

Upon her reluctant return to Hogwarts this year, Y/N was met with a torrent of unimaginable changes, starting with students being separated not only based on their house but also their blood status.

Purebloods became a procession of peacocks—majestic, refined, otherworldly. Only allowed to flick around with students of the same upper class.

Half-bloods, on the other hand, belong to inconsistent ideologies. They teeter on the precipice of honor, waiting for Death Eaters like Umbridge and whoever else is in the Ministry to decide their fate.

Muggleborns, it's best not to get started.

Y/N doodles a few meaningless shapes, swirling her quill around the parchment as she thinks of Theodore. Lately, it's become increasingly difficult to talk to him, let alone spot him, with all the changes in place.

Her classmates know she’s not paying attention and that she's only pretending she has her nose buried deep in her notes. Her quill, which scratches against the parchment, is nothing but a ruse to get the Carrows off her scent.

This class truly has nothing to offer except for a modicum of nostalgia and a barrage of abuse, so if the Carrows are so gullible to believe that Y/N is actively listening, then so be it.

By now, she takes it a step further, looking up to meet the eyes of the young children brought forth by the Carrows. She’s mastered the art of stoicism to a T, gazing at their expressions without showing a measly emotion. But every single time, she finds herself transported eons back to a time when things were drastically better.

Her memories vary, depending on whatever catalyst she encounters. She recalls seeing a girl with ginger waves once, and her mind acted on autopilot, bringing her back to the times she and her friends would huddle in their common room to animatedly talk about the latest Weasley prank.

At the previous hints of pink, she remembered Umbridge when she was finally escorted outside of Hogwarts grounds.

And today, her memories are not too different. Bittersweet at best and wistful at most.

She finds a boy biting down on his lower lip. He’s a Gryffindor, judging by the color of his tie, more so by his audaciousness when he decides to lift his head and contain his fear. His eyes are hazel, edging closer to honey brown underneath the dim light of the classroom. And her mind is cruel enough to conjure the image of Theodore hovering above her naked body with lustful hazel eyes and abused fiery lips.

Theodore doesn’t particularly fancy his eye color—he doesn’t quite fancy much about himself. He’s not oblivious to his popularity, but unlike Draco Malfoy, who shines like the stars, Theodore Nott glows like the moon in a dance of subtlety and intensity; a paradoxical luminosity that always leaves Y/N in awe.

He never particularly bothered her during their first couple of years at Hogwarts, which explains why they never interacted until their fifth year. Back when Umbridge was foul toward the student population, especially vile toward anyone of lesser blood.

Dennis Creevey, who had been a first-year at that time, fell victim to her malice. His penance for being born to muggle parents was bloodily etched on his hand. Y/N tried to help him, even though her own hand was hurting just as badly. The healing spells didn’t counter the dark magic infused in the quills, and while she could handle the pain, the poor eleven-year-old couldn’t.

"May I?" a voice softly breathed from behind her, causing her to jump slightly. She turned to see the unexpected sight of Theodore Nott, dressed in an emerald green tie and an aura of pristine silver. Y/N's breath caught in her throat, and her hands trembled, a reaction heightened by the delicate hints of cinnamon swirling in the air.

When Theodore pulled out his wand, Dennis cowered. And to her surprise, Theodore’s face fell. Yet he quickly covered his crestfallen expression with a mask of pure stoicism.

Y/N’s gaze meandered away from the Slytherin and settled on the young Gryffindor. “It’s okay, Dennis,” she recalled herself saying at the time, even though she hadn’t mentally given her words the green light to tumble out of her mouth. Both Dennis and Theodore seemed equally surprised, turning their heads her way. “He’s not going to hurt you.”

Maybe it was the softness of Theodore’s hazel eyes, or maybe it was how he abstained from touching the boy's bruised hand and elected to kneel to his level. To this day, Y/N doesn’t know what exactly made her fall for Theodore at that exact moment in time.

Yet, all she knows in certainty is that she’s in love with Theodore Aurelius Nott. Pureblood, Slytherin Elite, Son of Darkness. But what can she do if one glance at his hazel orbs leaves her drowning in the depths of his moonshine?

“Miss Y/L/N!”

Y/N’s head jerks when a protruding voice disturbs her reverie. She chances a glance at the front of the classroom, finding Alecto Carrow’s lidded eyes on her. Bright and sage, a stark contrast to the malevolence nestled within them.

“Yes?” Y/N wonders aloud.

“Given your diligence in recording the theoretical aspect of The Unforgivables, I believe it’s time for you to engage in the practicalities of said lesson,” Alecto announces with a tone that leaves no room for negotiation or refutation.

With a sharp nod, she ushers Y/N out of her seat, beckoning her over until she's two steps away from her. Y/N stands idly, unaware of whether she's going to role-play as the tormentor or the tormented. But her internal questions are answered the moment Amycus Carrow shoves the Gryffindor boy with hazel eyes into her line of sight.

"Go on." Alecto wears a sinister expression as she levels Y/N with a taunting smile. "Demonstrate your aptitude to the class.”

Y/N doesn't step back nor does she shy away. She clings to the apathetic front she's adopted from her boyfriend, her gaze falling on the young boy, and her thoughts drowning out Alecto's sharp voice. By the time Amycus asks her to draw out her wand, she's mustered up enough confidence to answer with a terse "no."

“What do you mean no, you insolent brat!” Alecto bellows, being the first to succumb to her temper. For a snake, she is known to be as hot-headed as a lion.

“I refuse to perform any curse on anyone,” Y/N clarifies, purposefully refraining from calling her “professor.” And if she had half a brain cell, perhaps she would’ve figured it out.

“Is that so?” Alecto challenges.

“Yes.”

“Very well, despicable half-breed. You know the rules. You’re either the rodent or the snake. Guess you’ll always be the former.”

She's calm and aloof on the outside, but Y/N is dreading what’s coming next. She’s never fallen victim to the Cruciatus, though she has heard all about it from Theodore and his friends—even once from Harry.

She watches with steady eyelashes as Alecto draws her wand and points it at her. Although the curse is released, and screams reverberate across the walls, both Alecto and Y/N remain silent.

To Y/N's horror, the young Gryffindor boy thrashes on the ground with clenched fists and agonizing wails. Above him, Amycus stands like a conductor, his wand beckoning the crooked notes of the boy's voice to rise to a crescendo.

Finally, the screams die down, extinguishing and feeding the anguish of every student at once. Amycus turns to address the class, dismissing them all except for one. “You go ahead, Alecto,” he directs toward his sister. “If the little mouse wishes to squeak, then she’ll have to suffer graver consequences than what you have to offer.”

Whatever Amycus has in mind seems to appease Alecto. Her expression is mirthful as she grabs the robes of the young Gryffindor boy and sweeps him out of the class, using his body as a cleaning broom.

The students all file out, their glances lingering on Y/N. As the last of the students leaves, Amycus turns to the young girl.

“Your wand, Miss Y/L/N,” he demands. Y/N debates not giving it to him, but she knows if she doesn’t, he’ll come and collect it himself. So, she reluctantly hands it over. “Ah, pretty little thing. What’s the core?”

“Dragon heartstring.”

“Fitting for a spitfire like you.”

“I thought I was a meek little mouse,” Y/N counters, making Amycus grin.

“You are a lot of things, little girl,” he replies as he twirls her wand in his hand. “The wood?”

“Larch.”

“Enlighten me, Y/L/N,” Amycus voices out. If Y/N’s a mouse, then he seems to enjoy being a cat. His long and calloused fingers trace her wand while he circles her, trying to break her resolve. “What does the wood say about you?”

The question strokes her ear, carried by Amycus’ ghastly voice. Y/N stills, not seeing where he’s going. She jolts as Amycus taps the wand against her thigh, particularly the exposed skin between her skirt and stockings.

“It’s best paired with wizards and witches who possess hidden talents,” she replies tersely.

The hum coming from her side indicates that Amycus is listening—paying attention, though, not so much, considering he’s rather preoccupied with poking her skin with her wand while rotating around her.

He’s playing with his food, Y/N tells herself, knowing this is just another trick of his. Somewhere in his sadist brain, his senses are sparking with delight at the prospect of Y/N’s discomfort, relishing the power he has over her.

A part of her wants to jam her wand in his eyes, pluck his eyeballs out, and proceed to stuff each in his nostrils. But another part of her stands idle, not even blinking as he keeps up his ministrations.

Amycus smiles, taking up more of her personal space. Y/N’s senses are lit on fire as he traces her wand across her body. “Is your mouth a part of those talents, filthy witch? You don’t talk much, but rotten girls like you must know how to use their mouths.”

“To scream, I presume,” Y/N breathes. Her quip hits Amycus right in the face, and the maniac grins. His face is painted with a nefarious glee, that of a predator eager to feast on its prey.

SA and Attempted Rape Content Begins Here. Skip Through This Scene by Scrolling to "Scene End."

The unsettling sensation against her ribs dissipates when Amycus pulls the wand away, but the apprehension still lingers. As she mentally prepares herself for the inevitable pain that comes along with the Cruciatus, Amycus’ hand cups her chin, and his molten lips crash against hers. The sensation is so crippling and unfavorable it sends her tumbling back into the table.

The pressure on YN’s cheeks intensifies until it becomes sharp and metallic. Fingers dig into her flesh, paving a path for Amycus’ tongue to follow. Though her hands slap against his chest, legs flailing around, he continues his exploration in the depths of her throat.

It feels like he’s finally thrown her off a cliff, yet with all the energy Y/N can muster, she pushes his body away and slaps him across the face.

He looks at her with unadulterated rage. Y/N forgoes reading his face in favor of bolting toward the door. But before she reaches the handle, she’s yanked back by her robes. The fabric tears, as does her heart. Amycus then throws her on top of the teacher’s desk and catches both her wrists in his hand.

“Pitty your blood is impure, little witch. If you had to match your filthy mouth with something, I’d rather it be your pussy than your blood.”

“Get off me,” Y/N enunciates with a quiver in her voice. It seems to feed Amycus’ wicked desires because she suddenly finds him nipping at her neck in pure delight.

“You’ve disobeyed my direct order. When witches are bad, they’re punished.”

“You’re sick!”

“And you’re delicious.”

Y/N takes a deep breath, burying his face further in the junction between her neck and shoulder. His kisses are filthy, heavy, frigid. They make her body feel like ice—they make her feel as if she's been snatched and thrown into the depths of the Dark Lake.

Amycus' hands grab her waist and flip her over until her gaze meets the darkness of the desk’s wood. If the sensation of the wand against her thigh left acid in her mouth, then Amycus’ fingers left her with bile overwhelming her senses.

“What a pretty little ass you’re hiding under here. It was made to be ruined.”

Y/N doesn’t have time to panic. In fluid movements, Amycus lifts her skirt, rips off the shorts she typically wears beneath, and spanks her ass.

She yelps, struggling against the hand against her back that’s keeping her on the desk. She’s hit one more time and then two and three. The slaps are forceful and fiery, leaving her skin scalded and singed.

A roar erupts from the depths of her soul when she feels a finger easing her thong. The force of her scream catches Amycus off guard, enough for Y/N to elbow him and dive to the ground for her wand.

“Cruc—”

“Oh, so now you want to cast it!”

With ease, Amycus manages to slap Y/N’s wand away. He ruthlessly places his palm against her stomach, pushing her back to the ground.

Her head aches from the force of the blow, a scream barrelling through the space between her lips when Amycus towers over her, digging his obsidian nails into her skin.

“It’s a shame that the most delightful toys happen to be the filthiest. Maybe this will teach you and your kind that you will forever remain beneath us.”

Y/N cries as Amycus incapacitates her lips. She squirms underneath his body, vaguely aware of the fabric he’s tearing in half, though oblivious to what clothing item it belongs to.

She tries to non-verbally cast a spell, but her mind is too distracted to focus on the incantation. All she knows is that she needs to get Amycus off her. And yet, no amount of strength in her hands or her spells manages to draw him to a stop.

His spit traces her lower lip, tantalizingly closing the distance between her mouth and collarbone. Y/N shudders, bellowing at the thought of his saliva trailing her skin.

She wails, screams, and shouts until she realizes that Amycus probably cast Silencio without her knowing. Though futile, she tries to push his body weight off her, even resorts to kicking his ribs.

It doesn’t work... until by some miracle from Merlin himself Amycus’ body flies toward the back wall, releasing her.

Scene End

Y/N gasps, pushing her palms against the tiled floor and lifting herself to a sitting position. Her chest heaves as she looks at the discarded fabric of her skirt, the scattered buttons of her shirt, and the remains of her robe that are haphazardly strewn across the room.

Faint sounds register at the back of her mind. A heavy breath, mirroring her own, emanates from behind, accompanied by an erratic heartbeat that matches hers. Amidst it all, she picks up on Amycus’s forlorn groans, muffled by the surrounding darkness. Resilient ropes now bind his hands and feet, rendering him completely motionless.

“Get Y/N out of here,” a voice orders. It’s far away—at least, Y/N thinks so. But despite the fog around its edges, she can somehow sense the enmity lacing it.

Before she can process the shadows creeping closer to her side, a robe is draped over her shoulders as arms wrap securely around her.

She thrashes against the man holding her, trying to repel his hands from her body. “It’s okay, Y/N,” he says in a low octave. “It’s okay. You’re okay. You’re safe. I promise you. He can't touch you anymore.”

The voice carries a bit of an edge, yet it’s the most soothing sound she’s heard all day. Her lips quiver as she internally fights with her thoughts, head spinning and shaking in defeat.

The halls around her move fast, time seemingly irrelevant at this point. She’s crying and mumbling incoherently, burying her face in the fabric of this stranger’s clothes, which smell like a familiar blend of mint and citrus.

The robe is wrapped tighter around her shoulders, and she receives a faint squeeze as she’s brought up a staircase. Words are whispered, a door is opened, and voices mingle with one another until a delicate tone enters her headspace.

“Draco, who’s that you’re carrying?”

“It’s Y/N,” the male voice, the one belonging to Draco, replies. Draco kicks open a door and places Y/N on the bed. She wails even more at the action, curling herself into a ball—at this point, she doesn’t know if she should be relieved or terrified.

“What the hell happened to her?”

“Lower your voice, Pansy! Can’t you see she’s scared enough?”

Pansy stutters for a few seconds before asking again, “Who did this to her?”

Draco hesitates, looking between the two young women. “Amycus,” he replies. And though it’s barely a mumble, it’s enough to send Y/N spiraling.

Pansy’s jade eyes tread carefully as they peer over Y/N’s frail body. She sees the red marks on her hands and the blood that seeps from the cuts on her face. “Cruciatus?” she asks, but something in her tone makes it obvious that it’s just wishful thinking.

“No,” Draco answers. Y/N’s sniffles and shudders fill the air as Pansy and Draco exchange silent glances. Y/N clutches her throat, rubbing it to try and get herself more oxygen.

“What do we do?”

Draco's footsteps echo as he retreats toward the door. “You're going to her clean up. If Theo hasn’t killed Amycus yet, I’m going to join him in his pursuit.”

There was something in that last line that clamped agony around Y/N’s heart, squeezing like a vice. She wept, only vaguely conscious of Pansy’s soothing touch in her hair and the remnants of Draco's anger looming around the room.

The mirror in the bathroom captures two girls in its glassy frame. One of them is put together while the other looks worse for wear. Y/N stares at her wild reflection, moroseness painting her irises. A tiny sob escapes her barely parted lips, and Pansy decides to tear Y/N’s attention away from the broken girl staring at them through the mirror.

She softly holds Y/N's hand and helps her to the shower, turning her head when Y/N undresses and then carefully cleans her blotched skin. Once they’re done, she lends Y/N some pajamas and underwear, giving her the privacy and space to change into them before helping her dry her hair.

Wordlessly, Pansy leads Y/N away from the mirror. Her grip is firm as she swings open the bathroom door. Y/N squints against the sudden invasion of light from the room beyond. Her gaze takes in the expanse of her surroundings and the rich emerald hue of the Head Dorm's walls. Then, her eyes lock on two men. One with platinum blond hair and the other with brunette locks, both embracing the shadows with deadly intent in their fiery eyes.

She bristles, caught between shying away and clutching the attention she’s receiving from them. Y/N doesn’t dwell on their appearance for too long, afraid to develop the ability to read their eyes and stumble across the shame and pity possibly nestled within them.

Pansy whispers something under her breath, which Y/N fails to hear under the barrage of despondency she finds herself in. She feels Pansy’s hesitant touch on her forearm, briefly catching her and Draco retreating away, the door to the room closing behind them in a soft thud.

Silence runs freely around the room, undeterred by the confined space. Its loudness disturbs Y/N, forcing her to wince. She wills herself to say something, but all the words are lodged in her throat, searing it from the inside out.

Theodore takes a deep breath, the sound piercing the stillness in the air. But his words don’t leave his mouth the same way his gaze never paces beyond a fixed point on the ground.

“Why are you not looking at me?” Y/N asks. She’s surprised that she’s articulated her thoughts even though she doesn’t have enough strength to speak.

Theodore shakes his head. “I can’t”. His words have finally forced his gaze away from the ground, although he’s refusing to settle it on her.

“I wouldn’t look at me either. I get it.” Y/N sniffles. Darkness clouds her sight. She’s tired and aching, barely finding her grip on reality.

She wants to scream, and she wants to cry, but it’s like she doesn’t know how. Like her mainframe has been hijacked and forced to shut down.

Something in her periphery catches her attention. Theodore is now standing before her, hands trembling by his sides. They move to embrace her waist, to hold her shoulders, to cup her face; but they never do. They only trace invisible lines that mirror her figure. It’s then that she notices the fray in his gaze. Instead of the rejection and the indifference she expected to find, there’s dejectedness, misery, and pain.

“I would look at you forever if you let me,” Theodore answers with his hands hanging in the space between them. “If you would still allow me.”

“Touch me,” Y/N retorts. Hold me, find me, fix me, love me.

And Theodore does just that with unprecedented gentleness. He traces her cheeks with his thumb and pulls her by the waist closer to his side. His nose nuzzles her neck, breathing in her scent. His lips press against the shell of her ear, his warm breath penetrating her soul and sending a fond tingle down her spine.

He touches her, not like she’s a porcelain doll or a bomb about to detonate. Theodore touches her like she’s the most precious piece of art he’s ever encountered, and he’s afraid that even one stumbled breath could force her colors away.

“I love you,” he confesses. A loan tear accompanies his declaration, inscribing the words on the fabric of Y/N’s soul. “And I am so sorry. So sorry, my love, for what my absence and negligence have put you through.”

“Theo…”

“No, Y/N. Don’t. Don’t try to say anything.”

Theodore wipes her tears, gently tucking some loose strands of her hair behind her ears. Y/N nods, allowing her boyfriend to hoist her in his arms and carry her to bed. She hides her face in his neck, absorbing the lingering traces of his sandalwood perfume.

When he places her on the bed, she notices the change in his demeanor as soon as she tangles her legs with his and rushes to press his hands against his chest. Her eyes fill with tears, and she fails to prepare herself for the rejection that she’s afraid might be rushing her way.

To her astonishment, Theodore pulls her into a tighter hug, as if seeking a connection beyond the surface, binding together not only their skin but also the intricate layers below—souls, hearts, atoms.

“Did he…” Theodore pauses, choking on unspoken words. “Did he go far?”

Y/N shook her head. “No. You and Draco came just in time.”

“Barely,” Theodore denies. A stolen glance gives Y/N a clear view of his clenched jaw and crestfallen expression. The war may be looming, yet to find its way to the Wizarding World, but it has already made a dominion in Theodore’s features.

“Just in time.” Minutes pass while Y/N is cocooned protectively in between Theodore’s strong arms. They encase her, filling her being with the placidity and the tenderness that was robbed of her some time ago. Her eyes close, darkness not as fearful as it seemed now that Theodore’s hands are weaving through her hair, and his voice is carrying a tender lullaby. “How did you know?”

Theodore’s hands falter and the lullaby ends on an abrupt note. His arms pull Y/N closer to his chest as he ruefully explains what happened, “A Gryffindor boy found me. He was frightened and jittery. At first, I thought it was because Draco and I were standing together. Then he said something about Defense class, the Carrows, and the Cruciatus. Your name got suddenly tangled in the gruesomeness of it all, so I rushed to the class as far as I could."

“They wanted me to hurt him,” Y/N whispers in a small voice.

“I know.”

“I couldn’t do it.”

Theodore looks at her with glassy eyes. “I know you would never.”

His hands sooth Y/N, featherless touches easing the altercation in her soul. She meets his gaze, heart shattering at the pain he harbors. She knows it’s not easy for Theodore to be a silent witness to torture and heartache, understanding his unconscious pursuit of absorbing pain and rooting it in his very being.

“Please,” she begins, “please, Theo. Don’t blame yourself.”

“I’ve failed you.”

“You haven’t.”

He declines vehemently, “I promised to protect you from the darkness, within me and beyond me. And I have clearly done neither.”

You had no way of knowing! Y/N argued in her head. You, alone, cannot stop this madness! So many rebuttals swarmed her head. She wanted to pelt Theodore with every single one of them until some sense got knocked into him. “Darkness,” he says so loosely as if he’s ever exposed her to any of it.

All her memories of Theodore exuded radiance, softness, and peace. He’s only ever steered her away from the darkness, whether it was from Umbridge’s rage back in their fifth year or Bellatrix’s terror at the end of their sixth.

To hear him speak of himself like this, as if he’s one of them, a shadow branded by the mark of death, hurts her more than everything Amycus did to her.

“What did you do to Amycus?”

The name causes Theodore’s heart to falter beneath the palm of Y/N’s hands. Her eyes trace the veins of his neck, astounded by the voraciousness of their color as his anger escalates. “Do not say that vermin’s name.”

Darkness, Theodore would call it if he sees himself now. And yet, all the world is witnessing according to Y/N is a darker shade of love and concern: just as sincere, a lot more warm.

“Carrow,” she concedes. “What did you do to Carrow?”

“I wanted to kill him,” Theodore answers, studying Y/N’s face for a reaction. “I almost killed him.” If he was looking for disgust or worse, fear, he couldn’t find it.

“And why didn’t you?”

“Draco called for Snape.”

Y/N hums, absentmindedly reaching for Theodore’s hand. He hesitates when he feels her fingers entwining with his, his entire body tensing up. Y/N whines, and he takes a deep breath. His fingers lace hers, squeezing her hand before bringing it to his lips.

“Are you in trouble?”

“No, treasure. No one but that scum is. Snape said nothing. He bound his hands and escorted him to his office.”

“Good,” Y/N replies.

“That’s not all,” Theodore intercedes, catching her attention. She shifts in his arms, waiting for his next words with a bated breath. “We’re getting out of here.”

“What?” came Y/N’s question, loud, sharp, and clear. It resonated across the room, its intensity surprising her.

“I didn’t kill him,” Theodore admits. He’s moved now, body peering away from Y/N’s hold to better study her features. She keeps them the way they are, with no sign of the acrimony or the resentment she suspects Theodore is looking for. “But I uttered the curse. Draco countered it somehow, and it rebounded. Hit the wall instead. It cracked it, the same way I cracked every single bone in his body and watched him bleed.”

As the words fill the space between them, Y/N rushes to grab Theodore’s hands. She inspects them, surprised to find them bruising. How did I not notice this? She whimpers at her late realization—her neglect. But now that his marred skin is beneath the scrutiny of her gaze, she notices that the blue and purple hues are rather dull in comparison to his story.

Almost as if Theodore understood her silent concerns, he says, “Cruciatus.” Y/N bristles, though her body is traitorous. It jolts, feeling the residue of the invisible needles and acid-laced knives. “Sectumsempra and a number of other curses that flew out of my mouth without thought when I saw you lying on the ground, bloody, bruised, broken. Torn apart by a mediocre middle-aged man, who deserves nothing but to be decapitated, torn limb by limb, until there’s not even a speck of his ashes left on the—”

“Theo,” Y/N calls. Her voice quivers, mirroring the tremble in her body provoked by those words. “Stop.”

“I’m sorry,” Theodore sniffs, head bending down.

Y/N rushes to answer, shaking her head violently. “No. I can’t… I can’t watch you tear yourself apart over something you had no control over.”

“I—”

“Listen to me! Listen to me and not the lies inside your head. Does it hurt? Yes. Does it burn? More than a Fienfyre cast by the Dark Lord himself. But you weren’t there—no, Theo, come back to me and stop traveling in time inside your head.”

“I’m supposed to protect you,” Theo defended. “Merlin, Y/N. I was supposed to be there! To stop all of this from happening. You’re in pain more than I am. So, stop subduing my anger!”

“I’m subduing your self-deprecation! I’m not blaming you, and I will not fan the flames of your anger. You had no way, no way, of knowing Carrow would do this.”

“I’m supposed to protect you,” he answers with a little less fight and a lot more shame.

“And you did, Theo,” Y/N assures, bringing herself closer to his side. “You got me out. You saved me. In time.”

“Barely!” Theodore screams, a deluge of tears running down his cheeks and burying his resolve in their undertow. “But I will save you this time. I’ll get you out. Both of us. I’ll take you away, somewhere you won’t be judged for your blood or your mistake in choosing me.”

“You’re not a mistake,” Y/N refutes, begging him to see. “Look at you. You call yourself a vision of darkness when your love and care are shining through.”

“My love is darkness, viciousness, and cruelty.” It’s almost as if he’s the one begging her to understand.

Tears cascade down Y/N’s cheeks, the saltiness and bitterness of them incomparable to Theodore’s words. “Your love is fierceness,” Y/N professes, taking Theodore’s breath away, “seamlessness, and warmth.”

“I made you live through pain,” Theodore pleads, hoping she agrees. But she doesn't.

“And I will live after it. With you.”

The confession shatters the last of Theodore’s resolve. He pulls Y/N closer, resting his chin atop her head and enveloping her in a secure embrace. “I’m so sorry,” he cries. His fingers weave through her hair, gripping the back of her head, anchoring himself in her presence—convincing himself that she’s here. “You are so strong, treasure. Stronger than life and death, brighter than light, and fiercer than shadows. I love you, my Y/N. And I swear on your head and on my mother’s last breath that I will protect you even if I have to do the unforgivable. No one will ever hurt you ever again.”

“I know,” Y/N nods as Theodore kisses the crown of her head. Each breath he takes, every word he utters, stitches through her soul, mending the threads of herself. “And I love you all the more for it.”

“You’ve endured a war. I’ll be damned if I let you face another,” Theodore promises, capturing Y/N’s lips and seamlessly merging his soul with hers.

Tomorrow remains uncertain, and control extends only so far across the horizon. Yet, with Theodore by her side, Y/N finds the darkness considerably less formidable. Even if he's willing to commit the unforgivable to shield her, forgiveness is a given. His love is the tranquility that follows the tempest, and she's ready to navigate through destruction with Theodore.

I never expected to write about a topic as painful and sensitive as SA or rape.

Hearing the multiple accounts of women around me made me see how these experiences are prevalent yet scarcely communicated. When I wrote this piece, it was with no intention to diminish the seriousness of the issue but rather use this platform as a conduit to raise the matter and bring it to light. Whether you’ve been personally impacted by this disheartening situation or witnessed someone close to you go through this, I want you to know that you are not alone. You are incredibly brave for enduring this, and there is no reason to feel ashamed. You lived through it and will live after it with even more fierceness and courage than you've ever had.

If you ever feel like talking, please know that I am here to listen, without judgment or reservation. 🤍

All-Fandom Taglist: @xxrougefangxx

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msmk11 · 9 months ago

Text

The Hufflepuff Code

James Potter x gn!Hufflepuff!reader (no use of y/n)

Word count: 3.6k

CW: Use and discussion of weed, mentions of alcohol, light kissing, reader under the influence of weed, mentions of food and eating

Summary: You have a secret.... Or, at least, your Hogwarts house, Hufflepuff, does, and you can't tell your Gryffindor boyfriend James. Only problem is, your boyfriend is very charming and has an inclination for mischief. What could go wrong?

A/n: Hiiiii, I hope you enjoy! This work is vaguely based off the Harry Potter discourse on TikTok a few months ago, about what parties would be like in each Hogwarts house! Please don't take offense if you're a Gryffindor lol, I love them. Also, until I find a fancast for James Potter that I like (I imagine him as desi), I will be using ATJ.

Going to Hogwarts requires a lot of studying….something you are trying to do but failing, because a pair of hazel eyes can’t help but bore into your face. You double down into your books to avoid your boyfriend’s gaze, but his intensity only increases. He shifts from mute staring to pokes and silent whispers of your name.

Finally, you snap your head up and look at him, “what?!” You whisper.

“Just missed you s’all,” James says sheepishly.

Your heart can’t help but melt a little, “sweetheart, I’m right here.”

“Yeah but you’re studying and not paying attention to me.” He whines.

“Well, I did invite you to the library to study, not snog or make small-talk.”

James eyes light up, “oh that sounds like so much more fun. We should do that instead.”

“Sorry Jamie, as much as I’d love to, I can’t. Gotta study.”

He huffs and rolls his eyes dramatically, “fine. But I expect your full, undivided attention later.”

You cringe a little and guiltily avoid his sweet, beautiful face. “I-I’m sorry I can’t hang out later.”

“Baby,” he says rather loudly.

You shush him a little and grab his hands in apology, “I’m sorry, I made plans earlier this week.”

The brunette pouts at you and shakes his head, his mop of curls falling into his eyes as he does so, “with who?”

“My friends-“

“Friends? What friends?!” Your boyfriends protests.

You glare at him a little.

“Sorry, sorry,” he whispers, “I just mean, what friends could you possibly be hanging out with instead of me? I mean, I’m the bestest friend.”

You kiss one of his hands intertwined with yours, “I know, sweetheart, you are. But I need a little non-boyfriend-friend-time sometimes, you know?”

“Well-uh I can pretend to not be your boyfriend for a night,” he disagrees, “I can gossip and, do whatever your friends do.”

You chuckle a little, “I know you can, and honestly, I’m sure they will be happy to have you in the future. But that’s not the type of hangout we’re having.”

“Okay, so then what are you doing?”

“Burying bodies, holding seances, the likes,” you tease, trying to avoid a serious answer.

James just glares at you, not impressed by your jokes.

“Sweetheart, don’t be mad,” you plead, bringing out your puppy dog eyes, “promise I’ll make it up to you.”

“Yeah, yeah,” he answers, dismissively waving his hand. “That I’m not concerned about anymore. What I really wanna know is what you’re getting up to tonight,” he says, quirking an eyebrow.

You’re pretty sure his eyes peer into your soul, trying to unleash all your secrets. It makes you shiver and look down at your paper.

“Oh you know, typical Hufflepuff things.”

“Hmmm?” He asks, shifting closer to you. “Like what?”

“Uhhh eating food, potting plants, being loyal.” You mumble out.

He gets closer and lifts your chin to make you look at him. James, the bastard, knows the effect he has on you. Teasing you with your closeness, knowing his cologne drives you crazy, his eyes make you melt, and his lips leave you defenseless. He licks his lip a little and you slightly groan.

“So you’d rather pot plants than spend time with me?” James asks quietly.

Words leave you at this moment and you only stutter a little. You try to lean in for a kiss, the tension unbearable, but he pulls back. “Nuh-uh.”

“You don’t get a kiss for lying.”

You whine a little. “I’m not lying, I’m just concealing some of the truth.”

“Why, love? Do you not trust me?”

Your face softens, noticing the slight sadness in his voice. You grab his face and brush his dark curls away from his eyes.

“No Jamie. It’s not that, it’s just- well it really is sort of a Hufflepuff thing. A code of conduct, you know?”

He furrows his brows, “uhh, not really, no.”

“Well, I’m sure Gryffindor has some traditions, right?”

James shakes his head, “well it’s sorta the same thing for Hufflepuff, just more secret.”

“But I won’t tell anyone” your boyfriend says softly, kissing your hand, “promise.”

“I know, sweetheart. It’s not that I can’t tell you, it’s well, I can’t tell-“ you hesitate.

“Who?”

“Gryffindors,” you say, quietly.

Confusion clouds his pretty face, “what d’you mean you can’t tell Gryffindors?”

You cringe and pull away, “I’ve said too much already, sweetheart. Sorry, house loyalty.”

He scoffs, “what about loyalty to me?”

“Don’t do that,” you tsk, “it’s really not that serious. Just silly house traditions, a little bit of rivalry, yeah?”

“Well then if it’s not that serious, just tell me,” he counters.

You groan. He’s really not gonna give this up.

“Fine,” you mumble. “Come on, let’s go somewhere more private.”

You gather your books and motion for him to follow. He stands up obediently and packs up his things before taking yours from you. As you walk down the halls, you find an empty classroom and push the two of you inside.

“You know if you wanted to get me alone, you could’ve just asked,” he teases.

You roll your eyes and slap his shoulder playfully, “pervert…just wanting to get in my pants.”

“Can’t help it when you’re so beautiful,” he mumbles, pressing a kiss to your lips.

You hum in content and lean into the kiss, holding onto his arms gently.

“Could keep you here all night,” he sighs against your lips, as his warm hands wrap around your waist.

You huff in disappointment and pull away a little, “you know you can’t Jamie baby.”

“Worth a shot.” He sits down on a desk and spreads his legs a little, letting you stand between them, “so if I can’t convince you to skip this tradition, then tell me what it is at least. And why can’t Gryffindors know?”

You sigh a little, “okay, don’t get mad, because I didn’t decide this, remember, it’s tradition.”

James pauses and then shakes his head for you to continue.

“So, basically, Hufflepuff, Slytherin, and Ravenclaw have this arrangement to have three annual parties. One hosted by Hufflepuff, one by Slytherin, and one by Ravenclaw.”

“And why not Gryffindors?”

You wrinkle your nose in awkwardness, “well…cause the other houses don’t really like Gryffindor all that much.” Before James can protest you add, “it’s not that we don’t like Gryffindors at all, it’s just, we don’t like when you’re all together. On your own or in small groups you’re fine. But in large party settings you guys get loud, and stupid, and well…..annoying. And, the other three houses got sick of it, so they decided to start hosting a few no-Gryffindor-allowed parties every year.”

James simply stares at you in silence. “And this has been going on for how long?”

“Uh, 20 years at least,” you say.

The boy’s mouth drops, “and no Gryffindor has ever found out?!”

“Not really, no. We keep it super secret.”

James scoffs, “I mean, well that’s sort of ridiculous don’t you think? Hosting secret parties just to keep us out?”

“Look,” you say gently, grabbing his knee, “I didn’t say I agree or disagree. It’s just tradition. And well, I’m not gonna be the one to break it.”

“So what do you even do at these ‘parties’?” he asks with a huff.

“Well Ravenclaw hosts the first, in the Fall, a sort of poker, gambling game night, but with lots of booze. Very classy actually, typical Ravenclaw. And Slytherin hosts next, right before Christmas. It’s a sort of Christmas, bougie, boozie party. Very swanky and jazzy. And Hufflepuff, well, that’s the crowd favorite. Held in second term.”

The brunette raises his eyebrows in curiosity.

“Basically we get a shit load of weed from our secret plant stash, and everyone gets high and eats food. We like, raid the kitchens before hand.”

“WHAT?!” James almost shouts.

You put your hand over his mouth to quiet him. “Shhh, people could hear.”

He takes your hand off. “Hufflepuff has a secret drug stash?! And you hide it from us?!”

“I mean, why do you think we’re so happy all the time?” you say, laughing a little.

“So you-but.”

Your boyfriend’s brain seems to malfunction, “damn, Hufflepuffs are druggies? My partner is a druggie?”

You let out a laugh, “I wouldn’t say druggie…just…plant-positive.”

“So…there. That’s my secret. But you can’t tell anyone. I have my dignity to uphold.” You warn.

“Can I at least come?!”

“No! I’m not even supposed to tell you. Let alone bring you!”

“But-“

“No. Im sorry James, I don’t make the rules.”

“But I wanna get high…and see you high.”

“Well, another time.”

Your tone was final, but James did not take it as such. Instead, he became more determined to find his way in to this mysterious party.

*****

After making James promise to not impose, you left him behind in the classroom with a kiss and a lot of regret. On one hand, you had just broken so many Hufflepuff rules… if anyone were to find out, you’d be shunned for sure. On the other hand, you also felt incredibly guilty for leaving James out. Your sweet boy with his soft eyes and kind smile… but also his loud personality and pranks. You knew he’d never mean any harm, but the likes of him at this sort of party would not be welcome. He’s the definition of Gryffindor. And of course you love him for it, but you’re not sure your peers would.

Back in your dorm, you throw your books down on your desk and then plop onto your bed.

“Long day?” Your friend Emmeline asks.

You groan, “terribly.”

“Good thing we have a chill night ahead of us,” she reminds you, plopping down next to you on your bed.

“Touché Emmy. I’m very ready for an edible and a bag of flaming hot Cheetos.”

“Mhmmm, and those chocolate chip cookies from the kitchens?”

We both sigh in content.

I can feel her staring at me. “Something’s wrong…”

You turn on your side and look at her, “yeah… I just, well, told James I couldn’t hang with him tonight because I had plans and I feel sorta bad… being all secretive you know? We don’t keep secrets.”

She hums in acknowledgement, “hmmm yeah, I get that. But I mean, it’s not like a bad secret y’know? Just tradition.”

“Which is what I told him but still..”

“You didn’t tell him, did you?” She asks, slight mortification on her face.

“No, course not,” you lie, turning back on your back. “Hufflepuff code n’all. Just hard having a Gryffindor boyfriend.”

“Yeah, babe, I know. But you only gotta lie a few times a year, he’ll never know the difference, yeah?”

“Yeah, you’re right. I’m overthinking this, I know.”

“Indeed,” the brunette answers, shoving your shoulders lightly. “Now come on, lighten up, we’ve got a fun night ahead of us.”

You smile and sit up, “yes you’re right.”

“Now, I know the vibe is obviously cozy, but I still wanna look cute y’know? What should I wear?”

You hop up and walk over to her closet. “Oh babe, you gotta do your yellow Hufflepuff sweatshirt. With your brown curls and pale skin, you look like freaking Belle from that muggle movie.”

She gasps, “a whole princess?! Wow, I’m flattered. And what about pants?”

“Leggings maybe? Something that makes your ass look good?”

“Take me to dinner first!” She squeals.

You laugh a little and wink, “sorry baby can’t help it.”

Her shoulder length curls bounce a little as she shakes her head at you.

You go into your own trunk as you strip off your school uniform and instead opt for black pajama pants and one of James’ t-shirts that has some muggle band on it. It still smells faintly of him and your heart aches a little at leaving him behind. You brush it off, though, when your other two roommates come in the room, grocery bags in hand.

“We’ve got the goods!” Amelia and Trinity cheer.

“My hot Cheetos?” You ask.

“Course,” Trinity answers, rolling their brown eyes, “this isn’t our first rodeo.”

You squeal and peck them on the cheek before giving Amelia a hug too.

“You guys are my favorite, you know that?”

“Better be,” Amelia huffs. “Otherwise we’d have words.”

You all excitedly chatter as you go through the groceries and get ready for the party.

Trinity ends up in Ravenclaw blue, which looks fantastic against their dark brown skin.

“Trying to impress anyone?” Emmy asks, quirking an eyebrow.

“Hmmm, maybe a certain Pandora Lovegood?” Amelia quips.

Trinity tries to hide a smile but can’t, “duh! She’s just so cute, especially when she’s high.”

“And Amelia? Trying to impress anyone?” You ask, scanning her dark gray sweater and black leggings.

“Nope!” She says, popping the p, “only here for me, myself, and I.”

You force everyone to gather on your bed and hold up your disposable camera, “smile everyone!”

You take a few photos, cute and silly, and then wander down to the common space.

The common room remains mostly the same, besides a few added bean bags and blankets for comfort.

A low, quiet base thumps in the background as people from all three houses lounge around. Amos Diggory, a seventh year, sits at the contraband table.

“What can I do for you folks tonight?” He asks.

Emmeline asks for a blunt, Trinity and I take an edible and Amelia shakes her head, motioning to her pen instead. We crash on the carpet, waiting for the weed to kick in. Everyone around us is laughing, chatting, and snacking, at different levels of gone.

When Pandora walks in, Trinity waves and motions her over. She’s followed by a few of her friends, including Regulus, Rosier, and Crouch.

“Baby Black?!” You cheer.

He rolls his eyes as he sits down next to you. “I thought I told you not to call me that?”

You shrug your shoulders and pat his cheek, “yeah, but I chose to ignore you. I love how cute you get when you pout.”

He can’t help but blush a little and he softens. You have a way with that boy, and he with you. Surprisingly, you are very close friends.

You turn and nod in acknowledgment to the other two, “Rosier, Junior. How’s it going?”

“Better once I’m high” Barty answers. He turns to his friends, “what do you want?”

They tell him and he stalks over, giving Amos a glare while he’s at it.

“Always the delight he is,” Amelia teases. Her eyes are a little heavy, telling me the pen is already working.

“So, Black? What brooding have you been up to recently?” Emmeline jokes.

You swat her arm and can’t help but giggle, maybe a little too hard. “Be nice.”

“Oh you know, just planning your demise” he answers with a smirk.

“I’m the subject of your brooding?” Emmy fake swoons, “I feel honored.”

You laugh again and hug Regulus around the neck, “am I ever the subject of your broodings?”

He looks at you with a small smile, “course. I think about killing you once a week.”

You gasp in fake offense and stick out your tongue. Barty, who’s back with the weed, hands Regulus a blunt. He takes it between his fingers and inhales. Then he looks at you and rolls his eyes again.

*****

James Potter is usually good at keeping promises. However, he’s even better at making mischief. So despite his promise to you to not come to the party, he finds himself a little while later outside the Hufflepuff dorms, albeit hidden under the invisibility cloak. From outside, the hallway is quiet. Any passerby would be oblivious to the party going on within- must be a silencing charm. Unsure how to get into the common room, realizing you hadn’t told him before, he waits outside for someone to, unknowingly, open it for him. He, luckily, doesn’t have to wait long, as two unsuspecting Slytherins stroll past him and up to the barrels sitting outside. In quick succession one pulls out their wand and quickly taps it across the barrels. The brown barrels jump apart, revealing a door. As the two walk in, James closely follows behind, assuring he doesn’t remain locked out.

Though you briefly explained the parties to James, his imagination far underestimated the reality. When you said all three houses went to these parties, you weren’t kidding. The place was packed, with every 4th year up from all three houses lounging around the badger den. The room was thick with smoke and reeked of marijuana. Students were everywhere, standing, lounging, laughing, eating, and even sleeping. Music played in the background, but no one was dancing, seemingly too high to really notice it. He scanned the room and found you in the thick of it all, seated on the carpet by the fireplace. You were with your dorm mates, Emmeline Vance, Amelia Bones, and Trinity Taylor, and also a few Slytherins. He recognized them all actually, one being Sirius’ little brother, who he knew you were actually good friends with. Also Rosier and Crouch, who he wasn’t as fond of, and Pandora, the one Ravenclaw he sorta knew.

Still hidden under his cloak, he weaves through the crowd, careful not to bump into anyone, afraid of getting caught. He throws himself into a corner by the fireplace, listening in on your conversation.

“But Reggie, you’d look so cute with dyed hair!”

The Black boy scoffs at you, “yeah right. What should I go for, bright pink?!”

Your eyes light up as you giggle, “yes! And I’d start calling you baby…. pink? Instead of baby black, cuz you know-“ you giggle again, “your hair would be pink!”

Your words sort of slur together, not that you realize it, and so Regulus only nods, himself also struggling to comprehend what’s happening.

“Wait, I think I have some dye, let me go get it!”

“Wait-“ Regulus calls out but you’ve already gotten up.

James’ heart jumps as you come closer to him, weaving through the crowd on the carpet…

*****

As you stumble towards the stairs of your dorm you freeze. You could’ve sworn you smelt... James’ cologne…..

You shift backwards a little and sniff again. Sure enough, his fancy cologne, one you love but always tease him about, permeates the air. Either you’re really high or….

You suddenly fling your hand outwards to the left. Though there is nothing next to you, you make hard contact with something in the air, and hear a small “oof” from next to you.

A chill runs down your spine and out of the corner of your mouth you mumble, “James. My. Room. Now.”

You don’t bother to hear an answer, knowing he’ll follow you like a lost puppy.

When you’re in your room you shut the door firmly behind you and whip around “James- what the hell.”

Your boyfriend appears before you, taking off the invisibility cloak sheepishly. “Hey, baby.”

“Don’t fucking hey baby me. What are you doing here?” You slur together.

“Uh, missed you?” He says hesitantly.

Your nose flares and you stalk towards him. “You. Fucking. Missed. Me?!” Each word is punctuated with a smack to his chest.

You don’t realize in your unsober state how hard you’re hitting him or how loud you’re talking. He tries to minimize his flinches as he grabs your hands and holds them together.

“Love I-“

“What? Wanted to risk me getting shunned?! Jamie I asked you not to come! I trusted you!!”

“I know lovie. I’m sorry, I just got jealous… and curious. It’s no excuse I know but…”

You huff and throw your head in your hands. It’s spinning for more than one reason, and the weed keeps you from thinking clearly.

“We’ll talk later. You, just stay here with your cloak, yeah?”

He sighs and nods.

His sad puppy dog eyes get to you and you soften a little, pressing a small kiss to his cheek.

You then walk towards the door and open it, only to find the whole of Hufflepuff standing outside your door, staring in shock.

“You, you broke tradition!” Amos Diggory yells, pointing at James.

“I- well- shit” you mutter.

“This is like, breaking the law,” another Hufflepuff argues.

You feel tears prick at your eyes, “I’m sorry guys I- uh.”

“Wait,” your boyfriend says.

Everyone goes quiet.

“It’s not their fault, honest.”

No one seems to believe him.

“Look, I got suspicious of what they’re up to, so I followed them, with my invisibility cloak on. Swear!” He even holds up the cloak, demonstrating its invisibility.

Everyone gasps, “no way, that’s fucking sick.”

“Please don’t punish them because I’m stupid and nosy! Please!” He pleads.

Diggory turns to the head prefects of the other two houses and quietly confer. After a few minutes of quiet whispers, Diggory turns back.

“Fine, fine, you’re off the hook,” he says to you.

“And as to you Potter, well, I guess you’re officially inducted into our little secret now. We can’t have you going around spilling. And I swear, if you tell any one of your little Gryffindor friends, all three houses will rain hell. Understood?”

Even you turn to James and raise your eyebrows. He really does feel a little threatened and nods. “Uh, yeah. Course.”

Diggory claps his hands together, “great! Well then, get Potter some weed.”

As everyone files out, James turns and looks at you nervously.

“Well?”

“You heard the man, let’s go get you some weed.”

“Okay, just- wait.” He grabs your wrist and pulls you flush into his chest.

He kisses you deeply, “love you, baby.”

“Love you too, sweetheart.”

#james potter x reader #james potter x you #james potter fanfiction #james potter fluff #james potter fic #marauders fanfiction #marauders era #the maruaders

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princeps-lucis · 25 days ago

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Ready for the Yule Ball ~

Art by Yours Truly (princeps-lucis)

Hazel Hall and Thaddeus Osmund (by Pearl) pair up for this year's ball ❤️

✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧

✨️ Join or witness the most wonderful event in Hogwarts — Yule Ball. You are invited to join our Magical World (for 13+) ~

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thursdaygxrls · 1 year ago

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thin ice — three

part one | part two | part three

summary — the lightning bolts have made it to the semi-finals, and parties are the best way to celebrate. they’re also the best place to run into familiar faces.

pairing — uni hockey player!peter parker x fem!journalist!reader

disclaimers — sadly, i don’t own peter parker and his yummy face

warnings — this isn’t your first rodeo: this shit is unedited, mentions of drinking/being drunk, possible ooc, reader is referred to as ‘kitty’ (finally gets explained in this part!)

Death was approaching, she could feel it. The sickening, deadly vibrations of the music thundered in her ears like a funeral march. Maybe if she’d grown a spine, she would have avoided this all.

“We’re not even inside yet.”

MJ’s voice broke her from the trance she was stuck in. The Lightning Bolts had made it into the semi-finals, meaning they were one of the last four teams standing. Delta Alpha Kappa, home of half the hockey team, decided to throw their (nearly) weekly rager in honor of that. So, of course, Harry invited MJ, and MJ forced her very unwilling roommate to come.

“Being near the door is scary enough.” Her voice squeaked.

“I didn’t realize you hated parties this much,” MJ giggled, stuffing her hands into her jacket.

“There’s a difference between parties and frat parties,” she responded with a shudder, “You can probably get thirty-five different diseases from just walking inside.”

“I’ll nurse you back to health.”

Before a retort could be made, they were already hopping up the steps to the front door. There were some people outside the house, littering the grass and porch. At the door was a guy with a grey snapback. He smiled at them as he opened the door, throwing out a ‘hey, ladies’ as he let them in. He was harmless and hadn’t done anything wrong, but she already felt herself getting faintly annoyed at his grin.

The inside of the house was to be expected. Dull neon lights streaking the walls from the Five Below LED machines, unintelligently music rippling through the air and vibrating the floors, the hazy smell of weed that hung heavier the further you moved into the house. There was an open room people were dancing in on the left, a kitchen on the right, and stairs ahead of them.

“We don’t have to stay here all night, right?” She pleaded with MJ, her voice somewhat lost in the loud music.

“Of course not,” MJ shook her head, “An hour—two tops.”

“And you’re not leaving me,” she said, punctuating her words by grabbing ahold of MJ’s arm. A chuckle bubbled in the redhead’s throat as she returned the grip, though, with less fervor.

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” she shook her head.

Apparently, she would dream of it, because within a half an hour, MJ was swept away by Harry. It wasn’t MJ’s intention to leave, nor was it Harry’s to strand Kitty—he’d hoisted her over his shoulder and was gone within seconds. MJ had sent her an apology text minutes later, saying they were playing beer pong out on the patio. Part of her wanted to join them so that she wasn’t so alone in an unfamiliar place, but then a couch had just opened up in a deserted corner of the living room. She replied with ‘all good :).’ Things were very much not all good.

The settings of her phone had become extremely interesting. She’d increased and decreased the size of the text on her screen multiple times. Changed her wallpaper. Played with the magnifier. Ran out of lives on Project Makeover. Changed her wallpaper again. The obnoxious music faded to the background of her mind as she tucked herself away. She should’ve just gone to the patio with MJ. A sigh escaped her as she caved, opening her texts.

“Are you stalking me?”

Her eyes shot up from her phone immediately. Of course he was here. Hazel eyes, choppy brown hair, a nearly healed lip that was rosier than normal. His words echoed her own from the last time they’d spoken. She hadn’t had any need to speak to him, really: they’d given an overzealous freshman a shot at handling the sports section, so she’d been taken off the duty for at least another week.

“You came up to me,” she replied, “And you could still be stalking me for all I know.” Peter grinned, the same grin he’d given her when they met, and when he was being dragged to the penalty box, and when he’d swiped his card for her at the dining hall.

“Not stalking.” He raised his hands in defense, showing off the red solo cup in his grip. He was still smiling that stupid, toothy smile.

“Then what are you doing here?” She raised her brow.

“Well, uh,” he chuckled, “Not to sound like a dick, but this party is sort of for me—for the team, really. We made semis.”

Hot embarrassment flooded her at the realization. She knew that already. Would it be worse to say that and admit she had actually been watching the game on her laptop late last week, or just pretend that she was a lot more dense than she already was?

“Oh,” she hummed, not quite doing either, “I see.”

“So, can I ask what you’re doing here?” Peter asked. He moved slightly, like he wanted to take a seat next to her on the couch but decided against it.

“Isn’t it obvious? I live here,” she replied, the sarcasm thick on her tongue. He seemed to like it because he let out another one of those throaty chuckles.

“Ah, yeah, should’ve figured,” he nodded. With his free hand, he scratched the scruff of hair above his left ear. Then, he spoke up again, “Mind if I sit?”

“A little,” she cringed internally at her own words. Though contradictory, she scooched a bit, asserting that maybe it would be okay if he sat. He took the invitation.

“Where’s MJ?” He cocked his head.

“Kidnapped by your lovely teammate.” “She just left you alone?”

“It’s not her fault—she apologized and told me where he was holding her captive, but…well, the couch opened up,” she shrugged. Another deep laugh.

“That’s pretty sound logic,” he nodded. The last time they’d been this close, she was interviewing him. Well, she was trying to interview him while he flirted incessantly. Peter held his cup between his knees, taking slow sips every once and a while.

“Do you live here?” She turned to fully face him, “Are you one of those frat guys?”

“I thought about it, but I just didn’t have enough time,” he shook his head, “I’m actually in an on-campus apartment. I have my own bathroom, so, hey, I’m winning, I guess.” For perhaps the first time, a light laugh was drawn from her lips. It wasn’t necessarily real, more like a confirmation that she heard him, but it was enough to make Peter’s lips twitch into another grin.

“What about you, Kitty?”

And there it was. He had to ruin it.

“What’s your obsession with trying to call me that?” She grumbled.

“You said your friends call you that,” he replied, acting so nonchalant that it took all her strength not to roll her eyes.

“We’re not friends,” she corrected him quickly. His face fell for only a minute before he was already picking his lips up into another grin.

“Can’t we be?” He asked. His words were so sincere, like he was actually searching for friendship behind her eyes. Maybe he was being sincere. She shifted in her spot.

“I don’t know. I mean, I know I probably came off sort of strong before, inviting you to the game and everything, but you came, so I sort of thought…” he shrugged again, “We’re…friends? Of some sort?”

Well, he wasn’t entirely wrong. She’d shown up. But it was because of MJ, because MJ wanted to go. Yeah, that was why.

“MJ wanted to see Harry,” she disputed.

“But you still came,” he pressed. She still came. A sigh left her.

“Okay, we’re, like, sort of friends,” she finally admitted, “But that doesn’t mean you just get to call me that name.”

“Well then what am I supposed to call you?” He questioned, and her eyebrows furrowed in response. A smile split on his lips, “You never actually introduced yourself to me, y’know.”

Another burst of molten embarrassment. She searched her mind, trying to remember if she’d ever told him her name, but she was drawing blanks. She’d been so pissed off during the interview that she never introduced herself. Her scalp burned.

“Y/n,” she swallowed her pride for a moment, “That’s what you can call me.”

“I sort of like Kitty better.” Now he was just pushing the limits.

“Well, it’s not for you to use,” her voice was sharp.

“Harry uses it.” “Harry is a dick that doesn’t listen to me when I tell him to stop calling me it.”

“MJ uses—”

“MJ uses it because she’s allowed to use it,” she interrupted, “Hearing other people use it is like hearing a stranger refer to you by your family nickname. It’s freaky.”

“Is there a reason for it? The nickname, I mean?” Peter, for as genuine as he was trying to be, couldn’t hide his grin.

“A stupid one.” Why would she admit that?

“Can I hear it?” He pressed.

“You are just full of questions,” she huffed. Silence settled between them. Beats of unspoken words fell like snowflakes as the dull thump of the party shifted to the forefront.

“It’s a stupid reason,” she repeated, breaking the seal. Peter looked at her again.

“Is it?” His voice was a little softer than before.

“Yeah,” she sighed. Why was she giving in so easily?

“It’s because I always land on my feet somehow,” she began to explain, “Not literally. Like, back in high school, I’d have a test I forgot to study for, and I’d ace it somehow. Or when I used to do the professor spotlight for the paper, I would put it off until the last minute and bullshit a whole piece just to be told it’s one of the best things I’ve done. Stuff like that. MJ said I’m like a cat, but cuter, so she started calling me that freshman year.”

Like clockwork, Peter let out a huff of laughter. He looked at her, eyes sparkling with the new information and he curled his lips. She must’ve been getting some second-hand smoke, because her head seemed a little fuzzier than before.

“I thought it was going to be something traumatic,” he chuckled, “Like, you got stuck in a tree or something.”

“It’s just personal,” she rolled her eyes.

“So,” his laughter subsided, “I don’t have Kitty privileges?” “No,” she shook her head.

“Do you mean ‘no’ or ‘not yet’?” His smile was unbearable.

“I mean ‘no’.”

“You sure?”

“I’m sure.”

“Are you sure sure?”

She was going to have to physically restrain herself. Instead of arguing, she shuffled in her seat, “I think I’m gonna go see if MJ is still—”

“Hey,” he said softly. His hand landed on her arm in a featherlight touch that had her nerve ending lighting up. Her eyes met his. The softness that consumed the hazel caused her to still.

“Before you go,” his tone was more subdued now, “Can I possibly have your number?”

The question caught her off guard. If she hadn’t already stopped moving, she would’ve come to a screeching halt. Perhaps what confused her the most was that her instinctual response was to say yes, to reach for her phone and let him make a new contact.

“I promise I won’t set your name as ‘Kitty’,” he added, “Scout’s honor.” “Were you a boy scout?” She cocked her head.

“Nope,” he replied with that same giddy grin that melted her resolve. Another sigh escaped her as she grabbed her phone. He waited patiently as she created a new contact and handed over the phone. His fingers darted across the screen before taking a picture of himself. Well, more like a picture of his eyes and nose way too close to the camera. He gave the phone back, seemingly proud of himself. The picture was set, and the name he’d chosen for himself was ‘peter :)’. He also sent himself a text so he would have her number.

“I’ll let you go now,” he grinned, “Have fun watching drunks play pong.” She nodded and nearly stood, but was planted back to her seat in a moment.

“How did you know where I was going?” Her eyebrows creased. Peter’s smile fell slightly as his eyes widened.

“Oh,” he coughed, “Well, I bumped into MJ earlier, so, y’know.”

“Mhm,” she hummed, “And I bet you didn’t ask her where I was, either.” He chuckled nervously and scratched the spot above his ear again.

“Nope,” he lied. She shook her head at his tone.

“Right,” she stood, “See you around, stalker.”

“Bye, Ki—Y/n,” he cut himself off, grinning proudly when he noticed his mistake. His smile had to be contagious, infectious, because her own lips began to curl in response.

It was surprisingly easy to find MJ. She didn’t know where the patio was, but luck was on her side tonight: after shoving through a dozen drunks, she found sliding glass doors. The fresh air felt like a cold shower as she stepped out. It was much less loud out here. Only the filtered thump of the music and the buzz of voices could be heard. That was until a light splash and a cacophony of deep yells filled her ears. When she cautiously approached the hoard of people surrounding the beer pong table, a pair of hands wrapped around her in death grip.

“I am so, so sorry!” MJ’s voice eased her nerves immediately, “I’m horrible! I’m the worst! I promised to stick by you, and I bailed! I—”

“Honey, it’s okay,” she let out a small laugh at her behavior. She should be angrier than she was, but she just couldn’t pull herself to get mad.

“I promise I will never ever force you to a party again, and I’ll never leave you,” MJ continued, “I’ll wait outside the shower for you!”

“That’s tempting, but you don’t have to.” Her voice seemed to somewhat quell MJ’s nerves, though the redhead was still on high alert.

“Are you just acting okay but really you’re harboring a deep resentment for me that will slowly boil into hatred?” MJ scrunched her nose. She was definitely a few drinks in.

“I promise,” she said, and she actually meant it, “I do not hate you.” MJ sighed in relief as she finally let go of the girl in front of her. True to her word, she stuck by her the rest of the night. When they finally made their way back to the dorm—both tipsy—she finally checked her phone. There was a message from Peter; a screenshot of her contact info with the name set as ‘y/n :)’ and a text:

‘scout’s honor’

a/n — OKAY OKAY i know nothing humongous happened in this chap, but we’re getting there 🤭 you guys just wait until peter *redacted* and *redacted* so reader has to *redacted.* also, at the time of posting this, i hit 400!! love you guys so much, you're all my sweet little baby muffins

taglist

@reidslovely @iamliterallyspidergwen @tarzinnia (tarzinnia, hon, i cannot for the life of me remember if you asked to be on the taglist so i added you just in case—let me know if you want off!)

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fictionalgap · 1 year ago

Text

Roommate: Too Hot 🔥 (chapter 4)

Pairing: Hazel Callahan x Reader (Characters are not minors. They are college students who are at least 18.)

Summary: Things get a little bit heated.

Warnings: 18+ themes, swearing,sexual themes (SMUT), nsfw

Other Chapters: Chapter 1 , Chapter 2 , Chapter 3, Chapter 5

Song Recommendation: I Want Her - Blind Truth (feat Georgia Harris)

Hazel pulled from you and you stood there frozen when she did. Her smile was radiant and contagious. You both stared into each others eyes for a minute.

When you see her getting close again, you put your arms around her neck pulling her closer.

She put her hands on your waist.

"Do you. maybe. want to. go to. the.-" you asked between the kisses.

"Yes." She pulled your hand as she was walking to her room and pulling you with her. You both got in the room, she still didn't let go of your hand. You were facing back of her head when she closed her room's door. Her shoulders were rising and falling before she turned to face you. There was something new in her eyes. It reminded you of the Hazel from the sex dream. Her pupils almost covered her blue irises and somehow got darker and darker but the twinkle in them was the brightest thing you had ever seen. She had a smile on her face and her breathing was ragged. It was better than the dream. I mean she hasn't said "It's all yours." but you know.

It was perfect cause It was happening.

It was perfect because It was happening with Hazel.

Before you know what you were doing, you pressed her back against the door, put your one hand at the back of her head, your other hand on her back, to prevent any hurt. The door made a sound but not so loud to wake the other two in the house.

"Fuck, Y/N." corner of her lip went upwards. You knew she wasn't expecting this. You were kissing again and this time it was filled more with eagerness and lust like you both had to have each other there right there right know. Her hands were groping your breasts and you were touching and squeezing her arms, wanting to feel those muscles and veins for so fucking long.

You were both out of breath and still couldn't have enough of each other. She was kissing your jaw then she went straight for your neck hungrily. Your breaths were getting shorter and you knew your face was already red. You put your hand at the back of her shaggy, messy hair which was perfect and you liked it just the way it is. She licked, sucked and owned your neck like a hungry vampire. You tried to look down to see her. She was licking your collarbone and she grazed her teeth there for a while before she turned her hungry eyes right into yours. You never saw her like this but you liked it very much.

She was asking for persmission to mark you.

Who were you to say no?

You tilted your head to give her better access.

You moaned quietly to the sweet pain she offered. She was sucking and licking the newly forming hickey to soothe it.

You felt her hands right above your hips getting under your shirt. You shivered when her cold rings touched your warm back. She was kissing above your chest. You needed to taste her too. She smelled like baby powder and honeysuckle. You licked behind her ear and you heard her grinning. You started to suck her earlobe. It was so fucking soft. You bit it slowly and and you heard her gasp. You could feel yourself getting wet.

You started sucking the soft spot behind her earlobe and you started grazing your teeth there, repeating what she did. You held onto her neck tighter with your both hands. You heard her chuckling. She caressed your hair and said "Go ahead sweetheart." and you gave her a pretty purple spot.

She moaned so pretty that you wanted to make it your ringtone.

"Ha…zel" your wet lips brushed against her neck and stopped on the middle of her chest. You stared at her with needy eyes.

"Please. Can I lick them?" you said with puppy eyes.

Her breathing was getting shorter and shorter by minute.

"Baby they're all yours." she said quickly with a raspy voice and gulped.

Your eyes got darker and you smiled mischieviously while you were getting rid of her clothes like a kid opening their Christmas present. She was wearing a dark green sports bra. You saw that one before, dark green became your third favourite color. Your first favourite was, her blue eyes. Second favourite was the pink shade of her pretty lips.

You got rid of the sports bra with one hand and threw it onto the floor. You looked at her breasts.

You took them with both of your hands, felt the soft and warm skin. Your mind was getting dirtier by minute to the thought of what could be done with them. You licked your lips and gulped. You could feel her breath on your forehead.

"Hazel. How can you hide them?" you asked without actually waiting for a response. They were perfect.

"I-" she moaned and it was pornografic as you took one of them in your mouth and started swirling your tounge, your other hand groping the other nipple.

"They need. so much. attention. poor babies." you told her between your sucking and licking.

She started squirming, wiggling her hips. You knew she was getting eager.

"So. so good. Feels -" she moaned again with her head tilted back.

You switched to the other boob to suck and she you felt her petting your head which made you wetter.

You moaned quietly together. PJ and Josie were sleeping.

You hoped...

You whined and she moaned again when you gave her an another hickey on her left boob witout asking for permission this time. After all she said they're all yours. You felt her tugging your hair and you moaned again.

You kissed her tummy as she rubbed your back. Your hand started traveling down her pants.

"Y/N?"

"Hm"

"Wanna touch you too."

"Okay but…"

You opened her pants to reveal her black boxer and slided your hand to feel her soaking.

She was soaking.

"You seem very needy here, angel." You looked up to her and met her eyes.

You started to draw circles on her clit while she still had the boxer on.

You kissed her thigh without breaking eye contact.

"Fuck."

"Hazel, let me go down on you first. I mean…If you want that too." your eyes stared at her filled with lust, half closed.

She sighed with a smile and her hands held the sides of your neck.

"How can I say no to that?"

She layed down on her bed and you helped her pulling her boxers down and threw it to the floor.

She was totally naked. Except her chain.

"You're so fucking pretty, you know that, Haze?"

She whimpered at your words and how your finger felt on her clit.

It was needy, wet and ready for you.

You pushed your middle finger inside and she made a relieving sound. Your finger was still inside when your face met with her enterance and you licked it all the way before you start sucking it. You sucked and licked until you took your finger out and you started to swirl your tounge inside of her.

You felt her hand on your head again and she tugged it real hard which made you gasped.

You left her pussy for a second which resulted in an adorable whine from her.

You put your hands under her legs and pulled her quickly to meet her pussy again more intimately. You licked and sucked until you made your tounge like a straight line and start fucking her with your it. You felt her clench against your tounge. You grunted as your eyes fell backwards.

You pushed your head and tounge as much as you can and you heard Hazel's angelic moans again. You saw her toes curling with the corner of your eye.

"Quiet angel."

"B-baby, I-I think I'm-"

"Come for me, Haze. Come on my mouth!" you whisper-shouted.

She came when you told her and she was so fucking sweet and you devoured every last of her precious cum.

You gave small kisses on her clit before grinning. You were kinda pussy drunk. A silly one.

Who couldn't be?

Hazel smiled sheepishly as you layed down next to her.

Suddenly she got on top of you and stared into your soul.

"Hazel you must be tired and It's l-" she started kissing you hungrily. She took your hands and positioned them at the top of your head and hold them with one hand. You saw the veins popping on her arms and you felt dizzier than before.

You catched her chain with your teeth and looked into her eyes. She smirked at you.

"Let it go, hun. Can't fuck you like that, can I ?"

You felt your cheeks burn as you did as your told and she held your chin as she started to go down on your body starting from your neck. She got your clothes off so quick you didn't even comprehend what was happening. You felt her rings on your breasts.

You shivered at the contact.

She looked at you worriedly. "Should I take them off?"

"No!"

'Fuck. It was a bit loud.' you thought to yourself.

She smiled how quick you answered. "I knew you liked them."

You averted your gaze and blushed immediately. "How come?"

"Well, you look at them from time to time and I catch you looking at them from … time to time." she whispered as she took one of your nipple in her mouth and started sucking.

"Haazel…Fuck." You moaned. You felt shameful about being so obvious about checking her fingers. She played with your other nipple. She twisted and squeezed and you started squirming.

You felt cold when she stopped being busy with your breast. You groaned. She let go of your arms and positioned herself so that she can finger you as she likes. she put one finger and then added the second one and the third. "Hazel!" you closed your mouth to prevent any loud noises to wake PJ and Josie.

"Shh…" she put her other hand on your mouth. "Gotta be quiet, hun. Can't wake those two. They won't leave us alone to do anything." she whispered.

"Mmhm." you tried to confim.

"Fuck... You take my fingers so well, baby." she whispered.

Sound of your wetness filled the room then Hazel pulled her finger and positioned herself on you again. She leaned down on you and her pussy's lips meet yours. Both of your vaginas rubbing each other was wet, warm and intense.

You moaned together quietly again and again and again.

You felt something in your stomatch. "H-Haze I'm gonna-" you mumbled quietly.

"Come with me, Y/N." she whispered quickly.

You both came at the same time with a relieving moan.

She got off on you only to get closer to your vagina. She put two fingers inside, taking your juices. She made eye contact with you as she put them inside her mouth and sucked them clean.

Hazel fucked you.

You fucked Hazel.

It was fucking real.

#hazel callahan x reader #hazel callahan #bottoms hazel #bottoms movie #bottoms 2023 #ruby cruz #hazel callahan fanfiction #hazel callahan smut #hazel callahan x you #lgbtq fanfiction #sapphic fanfic

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descendantsramblings · 4 months ago

Note

Maybe some dating headcanons for Morgie and Hook with a more dominant gn! partner?

And maybe some nsfw headcanons if ur ok with it but no need

I do not do smut, however I will cross over into makeout scenes. So if you consider that nsfw then sure it's nsfw. I hope you meant together because that's surely how I did this.

Also this is so different from my normal posts tone wise, let me know how we feel about it?

Any way!!! I haven't written head canons since 2021 (I think the Gil ones? Maybe Harry's idk) it feels so good to write them again.

The Dominant Type

James Hook x GN! Reader x Morgie le Fay head canons

No pronouns used

'Warnings: Sfw dominance, make out/heated scenes including hickey mentions (probably the furthest I'd ever be comfortable going) , pet names, reader is possessive but not in a toxic way, Polyamory (obviously) I talk about Hook's hair an ungodly amount read into that what you will

Word Count: 1.6K

Originally, back in freshman year when it all started, it was just you and James

But by Junior year James couldn’t deny that Morgie had a thing for you, he knew it should make him jealous but something about how his roommate- his best friend- stared at you was so hot

And you’d have to be stupid to pretend you didn’t see that the sorcerer had a little thing for your boyfriend, hazel eyes always locked on Hook’s pouty lips while the two spoke, constantly trying to find a reason to touch him

When the two of you confronted it, talking about the boy between lazy kisses, both of you came to the realization that you wanted him too

So who could blame you two for asking him if he wanted to join you?

At first, Hook tried to hide that he was so submissive when it came to you, but Morgie-Who had watched from the sidelines for years by that point- knew better than that. It was no shock that you wore the pants so to speak

Quickly it fell into a rhythm, You were always the dominant one while Morgie and Hook were both switches in their own right. There was no true rhyme or reason to who leaned more submissive, it just sorta worked out

Hook Focused head canons:

He won’t admit it outside of the two of you but James is needy

And a giant brat

You never know if you’re getting him lounged across you like a house cat or extreme sass and attitude until one of you puts him back in his place and you love the unknown aspect of it- of him

He loves to hit you with a “make me” when you tell him to do something (Morgie gets an equal but different “bite me”) just to see the way you smirk, knowing he’s in for it

He’d die if his other friends knew though (Something that drives Morgie crazy because Hook is the biggest tease he’s ever met and he loves to catch an attitude in the hideout)

He loves to playfully pull away from your lips so you’ll thread your hands through his hair and force him to hold still while you kiss him properly, sighing into your mouth at the contact

James adores when you baby him though, he longs for it

Morgie making him sit on the bathroom counter so he can shave his face or you straddling his lap and putting his makeup on for him

If his boots come untied, you’re on the ground tying them for him before his mind has fully processed that it even was undone.

Doing his hair for him, or messing up his hair, really just anything that has to do with you touching his hair

He loves to push his luck in public for the thrill of you or Morgie shoving him against the door or wall to kiss him the second you’re all alone

Pull his hair while kissing him, Force him to look you in the eye while you speak. He eats it up, he likes when you two get more aggressive with him, especially if it’s you. The way you refuse to deal with his attitude drives him wild

If he thinks Morgie is getting more attention than him he’ll lay across the two of you and genuinely pout, whining about how you both “hate him and want him to die” because he is the most dramatic boy to ever live

You often hold his hook, leaving his good hand open for Morgie to take but if you’re in the middle of the two of them it’s always his good hand, rubbing calming circles on the back of it with your thumb

Buries his face in your neck when he’s upset, playing with his hair while he’s snuggled into you like that will always calm him down

He’s melting into your touch if you or Morgie wash his hair for him, it’s his favorite act of love

Polishing his hook for him is also a love language in his mind

If y'all are spooning he absolutely has to be the little spoon

Loves it when you undo his shirt for him absent-mindedly pressing kisses on his face and neck and shoulders as you do. There’s nothing more to it, just you doing something minor to care for him all on your own

He can’t sleep alone, if you’re not over he’s curled up against Morgie (not that the sorcerer would complain about the way his head fits so perfectly in the side of his neck, the boy is so warm when even in the summer Morgie can find a reason to shiver)

You call him “Honey” and he just melts, kissing you before you can finish your sentence or staring you with those big puppy dogs eyes until you kiss him

Morgie Focused Head canons:

Unlike his boyfriend, Morgie very rarely has an attitude but by god is he clingy

Making grabby hands at one of you when you dare to be in a different part of the room from him

Laying on your back if you’re refusing to cuddle him for any reason because he needs the closeness

Adores laying on top of you with his arms tucked underneath you

And he doesn’t care who sees it when he’s being needy, he proudly claims the two of you, you make him feel safe

He can pout like no one’s business though, Morgie knows how to get his way and make Hook think it was his idea (doesn’t work on you though, something he’s come to accept)

Hug him from behind, it makes him feel good to know you give him affection just because you want to and not because he asks for it

He doesn’t prefer to be babied but he does like to be taken care of, to him there’s a major difference

Loves when you put one of your jackets on him and zip it up for him or when you drape it over his shoulders when you notice him shivering

Or standing between your -or Hook’s legs- letting you wash his face after calming him down, the gentle motions gaining you all of his attention

He prefers to be in between you two, the middle spoon or the middle person while y’all are walking side by side, he likes to know he has both of his partner’s attention without having to fight for it.

Doesn’t mind if you or Hook get rough with him but he prefers gentle touches. Softly hold his jaw while you kiss him, slide a hand into his back pocket when you walk with an arm around him. Card your fingers through his hair while he’s laying in your arms talking to you

He likes to sit on the floor, between your knees with his head in your lap while you play with his hair

He loves verbal dominance too. “Let me help you”, “Baby, come here”, “That’s my boy” it makes him feel appreciated, like you really see him

Sits on your lap a lot, likes to feel your arms wrapped around his waist and your cheek pressed against his shoulder (likes it more when you tell him to do it)

He’s definitely the type to distract you from what you need to get done so he can lay in your arms for longer

Loves praise, you can get him flustered by simply telling him he did a good job on a test

Whiny, worse than Hook when it comes to being whiny, the boy nearly begs for things

Loves it when you get possessive over him, especially when Uliana is giving him a tough time

Nuzzles against you like he’s trying to scent you (maybe he is)

Call him “Baby”, “Sugar”, or “Sweetheart” and he’s a mess between your adoring hands, eyes looking up at you with stars in them

Even if he’s not as submissive, he’ll sometimes ask you for permission for things (Mainly if you’re kissing James and he wants to)

When he is feeling completely submissive though, he loves looking to you for approval, nearly glowing if you specifically give him permission to do something without him having to ask (not that he needs your permission to begin with)

More of them together:

Morgie isn’t a brat on his own but when they’re both feeling more submissive Hook has no trouble coaxing him to be bratty with him. You have your work cut out for you if it’s one of those days. Nothing’s worse than one sassy man but two of them

If you are sleeping over, most of the time you lay between them, they’ll both lay their head on your chest, letting their intertwined hands rest on your stomach. You’ll scratch Morgie’s head with the hand on his side while your other arm is around James’ waist pinning him to you with all three of your legs becoming one big tangle in Morgie’s bed

Grabbing the nape of Hook’s neck to pull him off of Morgie’s lips when you walk in on them making out, kissing him from behind while Morgie’s lips find a new home on the boy’s jaw. His half-lidded doe eyes look so pretty while he’s looking at you with hunger in them.

Or holding Morgie still while Hook tickles him, the boy is absolutely the most ticklish person you know.

They both love seeing you get jealous, especially since they know you can’t get set off by them. Heaven forbid some princess starts flirting with James or Uliana gets too handsy while trying to get Morgie to do something she wants. They know they’re going to end up with your hands all over them, whispering in their ear about how they better know they’re yours. It’s unbelievably hot to them

Heaven forbid they decide they want you to stop what you’re doing so you’ll pay attention to them, they’re pulling out all the stops until they can get what they want from you.

You’re always touching one of them in some way, sometimes both of them. A hand on Hook’s shoulder, a leg thrown over Morgie’s lap, your arms both wrapped around their waists.

Leaving visible hickeys on them, literally marking them as yours -especially on their jawlines or collar bones (something Morgie does in fact beg for)

Sometimes Morgie kisses James purely so you’ll grab him by the neck to focus him back onto you. He doesn’t do it often but something about kissing you over his shoulder like that while James’ hands are on his hips is intoxicating

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