#i just woke up from a really vivid dream

[bucketwritingpail]

I want- i want to write a Pride and Prejudice Dead On Main fic

[hana-bobo-finch]

I’m shadowing at the vet clinic in 2 days and I’m clearly not nervous at all because I definitely didn’t have a long winding, distressing dream in which the veterinarian made me play a game in which leif had to throw food at people and maki kicked his ass so bad that leif fucking died but don’t worry because the vet was there and he has magic healing powers and he brought leif back to life but he made sure to mention for some reason that leif doesn’t have chlorophyll because he’s not a plant

[sallytwo]

alright time to guess about what my dreams are about tongith

[gxtzeizm]

having a vivid dream really hurts like hell realizing that it's actually not freaking real because i was thought it was really true at that time 😭😭💔

[rosemaryyuri]

I read your failgirl cook rose as fatgirl cock rose and I was so ready to agree.

I haven't slept in 2 days, words are a blur, please help.

she can be both if you’re brave enough. go to bed anon

[burger-goblin]

.

[fingertipsmp3]

Keep having recurring dreams that I’m in prison

[clownboy-yeehonk]

.

[southernvampire]

.

[pseudowho]

The Wristwatch

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You had not known you were Nanami Kento's girl, until the Wristwatch Incident.

In truth, your affection had been brewing so slowly, you had not known if you were imagining it.

You had not realised you were in love with Kento, until he leaned in close, and you smelled the smoky, wood-rich warmth of him. Until you found yourself nursing stomach-dropping disappointment, if your phone pinged and it wasn't him. Until you woke up in cold sweats, the memory of the dream of his skin on yours so vivid that your heartbeat throbbed between your legs.

You couldn't accept it. It couldn't be love, when he did not love you back. And yet...that intoxicating dance continued, while your head dipped in denial...blinkered.

The extra coffee that would be slid over the desk to you, by a strong, gentle hand. The late night phonecalls, decompressing from the stress of your missions. The occasional dinner in each others' company, because, well...we both need to eat? Why not eat together?

You were afraid to label it; afraid to lose the soft skirting intimacy that you had. Nanami Kento was a hard man to gauge; alternately sincere and distant, warm and cool, closely familiar and objectively analytical. He kept you at arms' length; close enough to brush fingertips, but far enough that you could run...if you wanted. And you never did.

You had gone shopping, together, one balmy spring afternoon. You both needed new clothes...so why not together? It makes sense, really. Nothing else in it, I'm sure. Just friends. He doesn't feel that way about me, anyway.

He had insisted upon Ginza Shopping Mall. You balked at the exquisitely-expensive-upmarketness of it, but you could never deny him, for fear of losing this time together. You had perused for new earrings, your belly clenching at the many zeroes on every pricetag. He had ambled over to another counter, just browsing, and there for quite some time.

"See anything you like?" That deep-roast voice broke you out of your reverie. You looked up, into twinkling hazel eyes, and blushed. Yes, you. One of you, Kento, please and thank you.

"No," you scoffed, turning your back on the jewellery, and walking towards the shop door, "too cheap for me. I couldn't possibly be seen wearing them."

Kento laughed, slipping a box into his pocket, and walking just close enough to send your brain into a spiral. You barely functioned through lunch. Kento remained, as ever, a gentleman.

As he drove you to your door, and you bid him a flustered goodnight, you felt that same big, warm hand on your arm, holding you back to him.

"Wait," Kento insisted, "I have...something. For you. Open it when you're home." He pressed a smooth, embossed box into your hands. You could not see what it was, under the glossy paper sleeve. You opened your mouth to chastise Kento, and he interrupted smoothly.

"It's your birthday soon. Consider it an early gift. You couldn't possibly refuse...?" One raised, fine eyebrow. That cool, impassive gaze. You pouted. Sneaky old goat.

"Alright. You win this time, Kento...but I'll get you back," you had promised. He had simply smiled indulgently, stepped out to open your door, and watched you until you were inside.

With trembling hands, you slid the smooth paper cover off the box, and your stomach somersaulted.

Tag Heuer.

"No...Kento-- you didn't," you hushed to yourself, rushing to open the box.

You fumbled an exquisite silver, blue-faced women's watch out of the box. It seemed, somehow, familiar. You couldn't possibly. You knew the pricetag on these. Even the packaging was too expensive for you.

With one hand over your mouth and a pounding little heart, you sent Kento a text with shaky hands;

Nanami Kento. Absolutely not. Take it back.

A few anxious minutes, pacing, looking at the watch resting on the table and gasping each time. Three small dot dot dots...dot dot dots...and a response.

Sorry. Lost the receipt. It will look good on you.

Squeaking and grinning to yourself, you tried the watch on. You took it off. You paced. You tried it on again. You fell back onto your bed, legs kicking, and hands over your face.

Every further refusal you send to Kento, was flatly ignored. He left you on read all night.

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The next day, at work, you couldn't help but notice the looks you were receiving. They weren't bad looks, certainly, more...surprise? Happy acceptance? Knowing smiles? Each person the same; glancing to your watch, eyebrows raising, and searching your face with a grin. You didn't understand it.

Over lunch, Shoko reached over to you, a coffee in her other hand, and tapped the new watch on your wrist.

"Couples' watches now, hmm?" She smirked. You frowned, questioning. Shoko scoffed at you, as if you were playing coy, when you didn't even know the rules of the game. Shoko's smile didn't falter once.

You confronted Kento later that afternoon, dragging him into a dusty narrow corridor, and holding the watch up to him with fighting eyes.

Kento's heart burst with pride, biting his lip with a sly smile, and taking your wristwatched hand in his own. He tipped your arm back and forth, admiring the watch on your wrist from all angles, with a lovesick sigh. You suddenly recalled, with flushed cheeks, where you had seen such a similar wristwatch before.

Kento watched your mental gymnastics with a slowly growing smile. You almost caught on fire as he raised your hand to his lips, pressing an adoring kiss to the back of your knuckles.

"Wondered how long you'd take to notice," Kento rumbled, eyed closed and nuzzling his nose against your fingers, "that you're my girl. And always have been."

[togglesbloggle]

My boyfriend has really vivid, elaborate dreams. He’ll often wake up and talk about some grand narrative- travel, exploration, politics, performances. I’ve always been a little jealous, he can hold really good plots together for them sometimes.

But anyway, this does have a downside; vivid, elaborate dreams make for vivid, elaborate nightmares. I can usually tell when it’s one of those nights, since he grinds his teeth pretty badly.

I was never quite sure what to do when I knew he was having a bad time of it, though the grinding alone was enough to worry me and push me towards intervening. I used to just shake him gently, hope to rouse him just enough to reset the dream or something, but it wasn’t too effective and anyway waking him up all the time isn’t good for rest.

I’m rather proud of the strategy I eventually settled on: gently, so as not to wake him up, I’d lay one arm across his hands, wrapping his fingers around me so that he was holding on. Nightmares being nightmares, I can usually count on a pretty tight grip when this happens.

It may seem a little odd, but consider that holding on to something with both hands is typically a very agentic frame of mind. We hold on to things that give us power, in one way or another, and possessing objects often makes us feel powerful in some respects. That has consequences, even for a dreaming mind.

I knew it was working when he woke up rather mystified from one such dream, and told me that he’d been running through the caverns of some dungeon or cave system, pursued by monsters, but then all of a sudden he was holding a giant anime sword and fought them off instead. So I got to be a sword for him that night, I was delighted.

I don’t usually get to know exactly what happened, since even for a very vivid dreamer like Ritter, nine tenths of these things get forgotten. But I know I’ve been things like door handles, steering wheels, stuff like that. And even when I don’t know what I am to him, he doesn’t grind his teeth nearly as much- the sleep is deeper and more peaceful, so I get plenty of feedback that it’s working.

It’s such a perfect encapsulation of love in microcosm, isn’t it? No matter how much you mean to them, and how much they mean to you, the gap between two conscious lives is fundamentally separating you. But fundamental does not mean insurmountable. There’s this whole world in him, full of dreams and perspectives that I’ll never truly experience. But I will be a part of those worlds all the same, finding little ways here and there to make sure that the dreams of me make him a better, stronger, and happier person.

Or at least, so one hopes. It’s a difficult challenge, and things often go awry. But usually you get at least a little lucky.

[milo-is-rambling]

Had a nightmare last night that many different large scary animals were trying to break into the house I lived in in New Hampshire and I kept running around and locking doors and screaming and crying and begging for my family to help me and they were just sitting and laughing or sleeping or living their lives and I was watching huge black bears pound on glass sliding doors and fog them up with their breath as they drool over the idea of demolishing my family and there were like big mountain lions finding small holes to crawl through trying to get in and I’m sobbing and bleeding and kicking them and trying to get my family to do something and they don’t even notice and act like I’m crazy

[gayemoji]

mmm recurring nightmare of a genocidal maniac who collects people from the (other recurring nightmare) open plan mall and stuffs them in a pot in the boiler room . . . how you have harrowed me this day

[trinkerichi]

The Amazing Toybox Circus!

A storybook - Part 1

Once upon a time, there was a very old toy shop.

An unremarkable sort of place with very few visitors. The shelves were lined with antique curiosities which had collected dust over the years.

Among these, atop a colorful wooden toy chest, was a simple kaleidoscope. It was inscribed with a strange design of teeth and eyes, and a poem about a magical circus.

...

Now, one might imagine the type of person would walk into such a place. Perhaps someone who has worked far too hard. Someone who feels unsatisfied with the tedium of every day life, and who longs for an escape into the fantastical world of imagination that playthings can inspire. This sort of person might look through a kaleidoscope and dream, just for a moment, of a new life filled with bright color, of fun and adventure.

This was the sort of person who suddenly woke up on the floor, surrounded by darkness and extremely confused.

Feeling dizzy and thoughts hazy, she righted herself and began to wander. A soft jingling noise followed her with every step, though she paid it no mind. There were more pressing issues at the moment.

She strained her mind trying to remember how she could have possibly ended up here. She clearly remembered entering a toy shop, but her thoughts beyond this were blank besides a vivid image of swirling colors. Red and blue spirals. All she knew at the moment was that she felt terribly afraid, and very very small.

Timidly, she called out-

"HELLO, MY NEWEST SUPERSTAR!"

An enormous wooden ventriloquist dummy suddenly burst from the shadows. His painted eyes gleamed, one blue, one green. His wooden teeth chattered as he loomed overhead. He pulled a white balloon on a string, which sported an equally large toothy grin.

The sight was positively terrifying.

"Welcome to the amazing toybox circus!"

"The ... the toybox what?" She squeaked in response.

"Why, the toybox circus of course! You're sure to have a grand time, my dear! " She was suddenly lifted up to meet his unsettling wooden gaze.

"My name is Caine! I'm your ringmaster," he continued at an unnecessarily loud volume.

"My dear, you've entered a wonderful world of whimsy and adventure, where anything can happen! Soon you'll meet your new friends and we shall put on a show!"

He spun her around before setting her down on the floor again.

The girl was speechless. Be part of a circus? Led by a talking puppet? Surely this was all a strange dream!

"I'm sorry, sir," she eventually said, somehow managing to speak politely considering the circumstances. "But I really must be getting home! If you'd kindly show me the way-"

"Oh but you simply must stay for the performance, my dear! I've prepared all sorts of activities that are sure to delight! Oh the audience will love you! You shall be the star attraction!"

The puppet was very insistent. At a loss, the girl considered her options were either to continue wandering the darkness or to trust this "ringmaster". Now she was an intelligent young lady, but she was also a curious sort. After all, curiosity was what brought her here in the first place, and curiosity compelled her to see what would happen next...

So despite better judgement, she finally said -

Hesitant but hopeful. Perhaps this would be interesting? At the very least, she could play along until finding a way out of this strange place, out of the toyshop and back home. Or until she woke up, as this was likely a dream after all.

"At any rate, this may be fun," she hoped out loud.

Something cackled from atop a large shelf. The silhouette was that of a rabbit, but with a wide yellow grin.

"Heh HEH! You'll soon see, little clown," he said, before hopping out of sight.

What an odd place this was...

----part 2 coming soon!

[mysumeow]

ᯓ★ KINKTOBER DAY 4: SUCCUBUS

ᓚᘏᗢ WARNINGS: Afab body reader, referred to with feminine terms such as girl. Arle has a dick (You may decide to read it as a strap on or not). Succubus Arlecchino. Established relationship.

ᓚᘏᗢ SUMMARY: Succubus Arlecchino peeks into your deepest desires to embody them.

ᓚᘏᗢ A/N: Sesbian lex???!!!!! More likely than you think.

🎃 . . . KINKTOBER MASTERLIST

Your loving girlfriend Arlecchino.

She, who reciprocates your eager hugs when she’s back from work.

She, who gently brushes your hair when you ask her for it.

She, who pushes your legs as far as they can go as she fucks you within an inch of your life—

“Wait—Wait, please!” You gasped as you felt her push until she bottomed out, the head of her cock stretching out your vulnerable insides. It was thicker and harder than anything you’ve taken before; you feared it could split you open from the sheer size of it.

“Keep those cute sounds coming, darling. You sound beautiful,” her lips swallowed your desperate whines, her tongue possessively playing with yours. She clasped her hold on your hips to keep you in place. As small as the tremors from your body were, the feel of her cock was overwhelming.

This was unusual of Arlecchino; used to her doting on you and the sweetness with which she would handle your body, this sudden outburst of famine for sex was a surprise. One that was exciting, albeit the abruptness.

“It’s okay,” she kissed away the tiny tears that prickled your eyes; nimble fingers caressed your cheek. “You’ll feel really good soon. Just let yourself go, trust your body and your pleasure to me.”

“Arle…” you muttered, and the sound of your quivering voice excited her. She held your face in place, greedy to surmise every single detail.

Arlecchino pulled away and then jerked forward, stuffing you full of her dick again. It bumped against the deepest parts of your body, leaving you short of breath. You threw your head back against the pillow when the tempo became faster, as if she was punching the air out of your lungs from how deep she was.

“Keep squeezing me like that, good girl." Arlecchino sucked marks into your skin—evidence of who you belonged to. “You want it, hm? You want me to fill you up with it again and again?”

“Yes, I want it! Give it to me, Arle,” you couldn’t help but utter in frantic moans. “Make me yours.”

You were the moment you let your guard down and allowed her to breach into your dreams.

Pleased by your begging, her hands went to your clit to rub it. She knew it was akin to an overkill, since this was within the realm of her powers, the extra stimulation was given to make your orgasm especially strong.

Your pussy tightened around her, your orgasm drenching her length of your juices.

Faintly, you registered her pulling away from you. The bed shifted from the movements, but you didn’t have the mind to worry about it, basking from the leftover waves of pleasure.

“Open up, sweetheart…”

You felt something prod at your lips, which prompted you to open your eyes.

Arlecchino had straddled you until her cock was within reach of your mouth, fingers grazing across your hair in a sweet gesture with hidden intentions.

“I wasn’t done with you yet,” her salacious grin made your heart race.

You woke up with a jolt, and you would’ve sat up if not for the arm weighing you down.

The sun shone through the curtains, signaling the start of a new day.

“Mm…” Arlecchino stirred awake. She noticed your disheveled appearance and expressed a questioning look.

Despite being awake from such a vivid and hefty wet dream, you couldn’t find peace from seeing your partner’s breathtaking face up close and personal. And with more reason, considering the focus point of said dream was her.

“I dreamt that...” you hesitated. “Nevermind.”

“I do wish you shared it with me, darling,” her fingers ghosted over your hipbone. “As detailed as possible.”

[lizzieolseniskinda]

TOM RIDDLE - soulmates don’t exist PT. 4

SDE MASTERLIST - fem!reader (POC!reader)

SUMMARY: everything changes for you when snape gives you a certain memory. will you be able to do the task that dumbledore has given you?

WORD COUNT: 4207

GENRE: angst-ish (but not really)

CONTENT WARNING: soulmate & time travel au, english is not my first language

That night, you slept worse than ever, tossing and turning beneath the heavy blanket of your bed. The warmth of the Gryffindor common room did little to ease the restlessness that had settled deep inside you. The wind howled outside, rattling the ancient windows, but the biggest storm was in your mind.

You were standing in a darkened corridor, the shadows long and stretching toward you as if they had a mind of their own. There was a strange stillness in the air, thick and oppressive, like the calm inside a tornado.

Then, from the shadows, he emerged.

Tom Marvolo Riddle.

He moved with an unnatural grace, his dark eyes fixed on you as if he had been expecting you. There was no malice in his gaze, but there was something instelling as though he could see every thought and know every secret you had, every fear and every doubt.

You tried to speak, ask him what this was but you felt like your voice didn’t work. It was as if the air has been stolen from your lungs. You could only stand there, as Tom slowly approached. There wasn’t any fear, when he stood in front of you. Instead, something strange rippled through you - an odd sensation, like the pull of a distant, forgotten memory.

It wasn’t love or friendship. It wasn’t fear or anger. It was something else. A connection that defied logic, like you had known him before. It was an unsettling familiarity, as if some part of your soul recognised him, even though your mind couldn’t place why.

Tom’s gaze was relentless, pulling at something inside you that you couldn’t place, like he was searching for the truth. Though, you weren’t quite sure if he was finding it in you… or if you were finding it in him.

The silence was deafening, and yet, somewhere deep inside, you could feel the thrum of energy connection the two of you. Two sides of the same coin, different but bound by some invisible thread. Tom’s head turned slightly, his expression unreadable, but there was a curious glint in his eyes. As if he were just as intrigued by the connection as you were.

Then, in a voice as soft as silk, he spoke.

“You feel it too, don’t you?”

The words cut through the thick silence like a blade. Trying to answer you opened your mouth, but again, no words came. All you could do was stare back. You felt as if the shadows seemed to tighten around him, wrapping him in their grasp as he began to fade.

Feeling a jolt of panic, the connection between you was slipping away, like sand through your fingers.

You woke up with a start, your heart pounding in your chest. For a moment, you didn’t realise in what room you were in - the familiar red-and-gold curtains of your bed and the soft snoring of your dorm mates, made you realise where you were.

Running a hand through your hair, you sat up slowly. Your breath was shaky as you tried to steady yourself. The strange feeling lingered inside of you, curling around you like fog.

Beside you, Shadow stirred for a bit, his green eyes glowed faintly in the dark as he curled up closer to your side, purring softly. His warmth grounded you, bringing you back to reality.

The dream you had felt too real, too vivid. It felt like a memory, a memory you hadn’t quite lived yet.

“Are you alright?” Maeve murmured from the bed beside you, her voice groggy with sleep.

You glanced over at her, managing a small smile. “Hm, yeah, just… a weird dream.”

Maeve groaned, “You should go back to sleep.”

“Yeah, I will,” you muttered back slowly. Soon enough Maeve drifted back to sleep as you laid down, staring at the ceiling, your thoughts were swirling. 

Something was pulling you toward him, but you couldn’t figure out if it was a good thing or something much, much worse.

The Great Hall was buzzing with the usual morning chatter as students filled the long tables, eating breakfast, trading gossip and preparing for the long day ahead. 

You were sat between Maeve and Lucas, your breakfast was largely untouched. The smell of food turned your stomach, the distant murmur of conversation barely registered. The only thing on your mind was the dream and how real it felt. The strange feeling that you had a connection with someone like him. It left you rattled, no amount of tea or polite smiles from anyone could pull you out of the fog that hung over your thoughts.

Lucas had been watching you closely, he always was good at reading people, especially his friends. He noticed the way you lingered over your cup of tea, how your toast was barely touched and how your normal banter had been reduced to absentminded responses.

He leaned in a bit closer to you, nudging your shoulder. “You alright?” he asked, his voice was laced with concern. “You’ve been staring at your toast for five minutes, as if it’s going to tell you the meaning of life.”

You blinked, snapping out of your thoughts, just enough to meet Lucas’ gaze. “Oh, I’m fine, just a bit tired,” your words felt more hollow then everything. 

Lucas raised an eyebrow, not convinced, “Sure you are.”

“Come on, you can’t lie to me. What’s going on? Did shadow eat your astronomy essay or something?”

A chuckle came out of you, “No, nothing like that. Just… I had a really weird dream last night.”

“Weird dream?” Lucas’ expression softened, he glanced at Maeve, who was busy buttering her toast and made conversation with Alicia, Lilith and another Gryffindor girl. “Anything to do with a certain dark-haired, brooding someone?”

Your eyes widened in surprise. Your gaze drifted away from Lucas’s face to the Slytherin table, where Tom sat with his usual group. He was speaking to a few students around him. Before you looked down at your toast again, Lucas followed your line of sight.

His eyes narrowed slightly, as he watched Riddle for a moment. Something shifted in his expression, a flicker of confusion crossing his features. Just then, Tom’s dark gaze lifted from his conversation - and landed directly on you.

Lucas noticed it almost immediately.

For a moment, Tom’s eyes lingered, his expression was unreadable as he seemed to study you from across the hall. There was no frown, no smile, just that same unnerving intensity he always carried. But the second Lucas’ gaze met his, Tom’s eyes flickered. As if nothing happened, Tom smoothly looked away, turning his attention back to his table.

But Lucas saw enough.

He turned back to you, “Riddle was just staring at you.” Lucas looked at your reaction, “Again.”

With furrowed brows you looked up at him. “What do you mean, ‘again’?”

“I’ve noticed it before. In the library, the halls. It’s subtle, but its there. He watches you, and I don’t mean in a charming, ‘oh, look, someone has a crush’, kind of way.” Lucas took a breath, “its a look as if he’s trying to read you; trying to calculate every move you’ll make before you do it.”

You felt your stomach tighten, it wasn’t like you hadn’t noticed the way Tom’s eyes seemed to follow you in class or when you’d walk by his group of ‘friends’. But you knew he watched almost everyone, he was always analysing people. Especially the ones who were obsessed with him, it was as if he was a famous person, so how could him staring at you be any different?

“I don’t know,” you shrugged, looking down at the new cup of tea you had. “It’s probably nothing, maybe he just-”

“No,” Lucas interrupted firmly, “It’s not nothing. The way he looks at you… I’ve seen Riddle do his ‘perfect student, teacher’s pet, everyone-wants-to-be-me’ act a hundred times. This isn’t that.”

You knew he wasn’t wrong, but you just wanted to brush it off, tell Lucas that he was just being paranoid. The connection you had with Tom was strange but it was there. And if Lucas noticed it.. then it wasn’t just in your head.

Before either of you could talk about it any more, Alicia interrupted the conversation, never had you been more thankful to the red-headed girl.

You tried to shake the feeling of Tom’s gaze on you, even though he wasn’t looking anymore. The feeling lingered in the back of your mind, just as it had in the dream, refusing to be ignored. As if the feeling had a mind of its own.

Something was happening, and Tom Riddle was at the center of it. Whether you liked it or not, you were already caught in his little game.

Potions class was where the real challenge came. Sitting beside Alicia in the dimly lit dungeon classroom, you were acutely aware of the bubbling cauldrons surrounding you. The thick, earthy smell of ingredients filled the air as professor Slughorn was explaining today’s assignment - you had to brew a Draught of Living Death, an advanced potion, something different then the calming draught you had to make last time for marks.

Alicia carefully laid out the ingredients in front of her, Lucas and Lilith - who were sat behind you - were silently bickering over who got to chop the sopophorous bean.

“I’ve got this, Luca,” Lilith said pointedly, her hand already hovering over the ingredients.

“Come on, you know I’m better with chopping things up,” Lucas insisted. “Back me up here, Y/n!”

You raised an eyebrow, stirring your potion carefully. “I’m not getting involved in this.”

Alicia snickered from beside you, “You two always bicker like an old married couple. It’s almost as if you’ve got a crush on her, Lucas.”

Lucas let Lilith chop up the beans as he started working on the liquids. You leaned back in your seat, nudging his arm playfully. “Come on, Lucas, don’t get shy on us now.”

He chuckled, “I’m just making sure no one ruins the potion, alright? That’s all.”

Lilith gave him a sidelong glance, her eyes narrowing suspiciously but saying nothing. You caught the flicker of something in Lucas’s expression, something unspoken, but before you could dwell on it, Slughorn’s voice boomed through the classroom, reminding everyone to pay attention to their cauldrons.

As class continued, your friends fell back into their usual banter.

The greenhouse felt warm, humid and was filled with the scent of earth and greenery. Rows of strange, magical plants surrounded the students as they gathered around their tables. 

You were standing at one of the tables, glancing over at the assortment of magical herbs laid out before you, gloves on your hands and a frown of concentration on your face. Lucas stood beside you, casually leaning against the edge of the table, fiddling with a small pair of pruning shears while he watched you. 

“So,” Lucas said, breaking the silence between you, “do you think Professor Garlick would notice if we ‘accidentally’ might have lost one of these Venomous Tentacula seedlings?” His eyes flicked over to a particularly spiky plant sitting ominously in a pot in front of you.

You chuckled, shaking your head a bit. “Knowing our luck, the thing would probably crawl behind us in the common room and bite us.”

He grinned, tossing the shears from hand to hand in an exaggerated manner. “Fair point. I’m not sure I want a plant that’s actively trying to kill me hanging out in the common room.”

“Good decision,” you said with a smirk. “I prefer my plants a little less homicidal, thank you very much.”

As the two of you began working on trimming the plants — or at least trying to — you and Lucas fell into an easy flowing conversation. It felt good to talk about nothing—just plants, potions, and ridiculous daydreams of dropping out of Hogwarts to start a shady potion business. The clinks of shears and the rustling of leaves became the backdrop to your chatter, like background music.

“So, Alicia was telling me she once tried using the Confundus Charm on her dog at home,” Lucas said, cutting a leaf that seemed to recoil at his touch. “You know, just to see if it would work.”

You raised an eyebrow, stifling a laugh. “Why am I not surprised? How did that go?”

“Apparently, it spent two days walking into walls,” Lucas replied with a grin. “She felt so guilty she didn’t stop crying for a week.”

“Poor thing,” you muttered, though you were still laughing. “I can’t picture Alicia doing that, but then again, she does have a bit of a wild streak.”

Lucas nodded. “Speaking of wild streaks, have you heard about the second years? Apparently, they keep sneaking off to the Forbidden Forest after dinner. I’m almost certain they’re planning some kind of illegal magical creature-petting zoo.”

You smirked. “Or they’re looking for unicorns. Lili swore she saw one last year.”

“Right, Lilith and her unicorn conspiracy theory. Typical.” Lucas laughed, reaching for another spiky plant. 

Just then, the door to the greenhouse creaked open slowly, and a small group of Slytherins sauntered in late, earning a stern look from Professor Garlick. They made their way to the far side of the room, chatting quietly among themselves as they set up at one of the tables. You didn’t pay them much attention at, mostly focused on your own work. “Has Alicia asked you to come with us to Hogsmeade? Lilith, Maeve, some Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff are also going.”

“Hogsmeade?” you repeated. “She mentioned it before, but I wasn’t sure if it was a solid plan yet. What time are you all thinking of going?”

Lucas shrugged. “Around 12, I think. We’re meeting by the main gates.”

Students from all houses were chattering away between mouthfuls of food. Plates shimmered with roast chicken, potatoes, and a variety of desserts and some other greens. You sat next to Lucas and Maeve, across from Lilith who was next to Alicia. Quietly, you stuffed your face with the contents that were on your plate as your thoughts drifted back to the events of the day.

Tom Riddle. His name lingered in your mind, and you could feel his eyes on you throughout the day, a quiet, intense presence that you couldn’t escape. Even now, as you sat at the Gryffindor table.

“Are you going to eat that?” Lucas nudged your elbow, snapping you out of your thoughts.

You blinked, glancing down at the roast chicken you hadn’t touched. “Oh, uh… no. You can have it if you want.” Besides, you already ate two big pieces.

Lucas didn’t need to be told twice. He took the chicken with his fork and placed it on his own plate, grinning at you. “Thanks.”

“-and then, after Professor Slughorn turned around, the cauldron exploded! I swear, there’s still some kind of purple gunk in my hair,” Maeve was saying, holding up a lock of her curly dark hair that was painted purple with a look of sheer horror. “I’ve washed it three times, and it won’t come out!”

Alicia grinned as she stabbed a piece of chicken with her fork. “Could be worse. At least it didn’t turn green. Imagine walking around Hogwarts looking like a Slytherin all week.”

You laughed along with them, feeling your anxieties lessen as the conversation flowed around you. All of you were almost done with eating, well, except for Lucas. 

“Alright, best part of the day, hands down,” Lucas said, piling his plate high with food. “Herbology was fun and all, but nothing beats dinner.”

Alicia rolled her eyes, delicately spooning her leftover mashed potatoes onto her plate. “You say that every day, Lucas.”

“Because it’s true every day,” he replied, grinning. “This is basically my moment of glory.”

Maeve laughed as she passed the gravy boat to you. “Don’t let your head get too big. You’re already insufferable.”

Dinner had become your favorite part of the day — a time to unwind, surrounded by your friends, when everything felt normal.

“So,” Maeve said, leaning forward with a mischievous glint in her eye, “did anyone hear about the prank the Ravenclaws pulled in Charms today? Apparently, they enchanted all the ink in Professor Flitwick’s classroom to turn invisible.”

You laughed, shaking your head. “I wish I’d seen that.”

“Well,” a voice chimed in from behind you, “you’re in luck. You’re sitting with the masterminds themselves.”

You turned to see a boy with messy brown hair and a wide grin, his Ravenclaw robes slightly askew as he plopped down on the bench next to you. Beside him, a girl with bright eyes and ginger hair tied back in a neat ponytail slid into the seat next to him, her Hufflepuff crest visible on her robes. 

“Everyone, this is Ben Selwyn,” Maeve said, gesturing to the boy, “and Cressida Bones.” She nodded to the girl. “Ben’s a Ravenclaw, obviously, and Cressida’s in Hufflepuff.”

You nodded politely, offering a smile. “Hi, I’m Y/n. Nice to meet you.”

Ben grinned back, clearly pleased to be in the spotlight. “Nice to meet you too, Y/n. So, Maeve told me you’re new here?”

You nodded, taking a sip of your pumpkin juice. “Yeah, transferred from Beauxbatons.”

“Ah, Beauxbatons,” Cressida said, her voice soft but friendly. “I’ve always wanted to see that. What’s it like?”

If only you knew.

“It’s beautiful,” you replied. “But Hogwarts has its own charm.”

Ben chuckled. “I bet. You’ll find the chaos here much more… exciting.” He gave you a wink. “So, how are you finding Gryffindor? Do they live up to their reputation of reckless bravery?”

Before you could answer, Lucas leaned over, a mock-serious expression on his face. “We prefer the term ‘daring,’ Ben. ‘Reckless’ makes it sound like we don’t plan things out.”

Alicia snorted. “We don’t.”

“Details,” Lucas said, waving a hand dismissively.

As the conversation flowed between the group, you found yourself smiling, it was good to make new friends. Ben was charming in his slightly chaotic way, and Cressida had a quiet, calming presence that balanced him out perfectly. You fell into easy conversation with them both, but something about Cressida’s last name nagged at you. You swore you recognised it.

Bones. The Bones family was well-known for their involvement in the Ministry of Magic, and they had a long history of fighting against Dark magic. It was also a fact that you were friends with her granddaughter, Susan. How ironic.

“You know, Ben’s obsessed with ancient runes,” Maeve said with a teasing grin. “And Cressida’s been working on Arithmancy equations that make my head spin by just looking at them.” 

Hermione once told you that ancient runes was very interesting, more interesting than divination at least. It almost made you want to join her.

Cressida smiled modestly, shaking her head. “It’s not as hard as it sounds. You just have to break the formulas down bit by bit.”

“Bit by bit?” Lucas groaned. “I can barely handle the basics, let alone advanced Arithmancy.”

Ben laughed. “Don’t worry, you’re not the only one. Half the Ravenclaws I know avoid that subject like the plague.”

As the conversation continued, you started to relax even more, allowing yourself to be drawn into the easy flow of banter around the table. Ben and Cressida fit in with your group effortlessly, and you found yourself enjoying their company despite the odd feeling in your chest.

But then you saw him.

Tom Riddle sat at the center of his house table, his dark hair perfectly in place. But even though he was engaged in conversation, his gaze flicked toward you — just for a second. It was brief, so brief that you might have imagined it, but the moment your eyes met his, a chill ran down your spine. He looked away just as quickly, as though nothing had happened.

It took everything in you to tear your gaze away from him.

“Anyone want to go to the library after dinner?” he asked, glancing around the table. “I’ve got some research I need to do for Charms, and it might be quieter than trying to read in the common room.”

Cressida nodded, pushing a stray lock of hair behind her ear. “Good idea. It’s getting too noisy in Hufflepuff Tower lately with all the OWLs panic starting early this year.”

You decided that it would be good to go study for a bit. “I’ll go. I need to study for Divination anyway.”

Lucas, who was seated next to you, looked at you with a raised eyebrow, a teasing smirk on his lips. “Divination? I didn’t take you for the ‘reading tea leaves’ type.”

You rolled your eyes but grinned back at him. “Someone has to make sense of all those cloudy images. Besides, I’ve been struggling with the latest lesson. Might as well get a head start.”

“Fair enough,” Lucas replied, laughing. “I’ll pass, though. The library’s got that ‘studious’ vibe that makes me want to fall asleep.”

Lilith rolled her eyes at him playfully. “Maybe you should be spending more time there instead of complaining about it.” Lucas let out a fake gasp, “You wound me, woman!”

“So, what do you think about the whole prophecy angle in Divination?” Alicia asked, turning to you as she stirred in her tea. “Do you buy into all that? The crystal balls, the vague fortunes?”

You turned your attention towards her, smiling a little. “Honestly? Not really. It feels like a lot of guesswork and theatrics. But I suppose I’ll have to try harder if I want to pass.”

Ben stood up, brushing a few crumbs from his robes. “Alright, we’ll meet up in a few minutes,” he said, glancing at you with an easy smile. “Could always use some company while working through Divination.”

You nodded, standing up as well. “I’ll just grab my things.”

As you excused yourself from the table, Lucas shot you a look, half-joking. “Just don’t get too lost in the future. Who knows what Divination will show you next?”

“Nothing scarier than what I’ve already seen,” you muttered under your breath. You could feel his gaze linger on you as you made your way out of the hall with Ben and Cressida.

The walk to the library was quieter, the corridors now dimly lit by the torches that lined the stone walls. Ben walked beside you and Cressida, his steps in sync with yours, the three of you falling into an easy rhythm. 

“Divination’s the one class I can’t take seriously,” Ben said after a moment, his voice echoing softly in the quiet hallway. “You really do need to study for it?”

You shrugged, glancing over at him. “Well, not exactly. It’s not the hardest subject. But I’ve been… distracted lately.”

Cressida glanced at you, her brow furrowing slightly. “Distracted? By what?”

You hesitated for a moment, not wanting to delve too deeply into the strange tension that had been hanging over you ever since your arrival. Tom. The dream. The cat that Lucas thought to be more than it appeared, but it wasn’t. It all weighed heavily on your mind, but explaining that to them seemed impossible. Besides, you didn’t want to drag him into the complicated mess that had become your life. 

“Just… adjusting to everything,” you said, trying to sound casual. “Being new here, catching up on classes. You know how it is.”

Ben seemed to accept your answer, though his expression remained thoughtful. “Well, you seem to be managing it all pretty well. Better than most transfers, anyway.”

You smiled softly. “Thanks. I’m just trying to keep up.”

The library loomed ahead, its towering doors casting long shadows across the floor. Inside, the warm, familiar scent of parchment and ink filled the air. The silence here was always calming, a stark contrast to the bustling energy of the Great Hall. You made your way toward the back of the library, finding a quieter section where the Divination books were shelved. 

Ben set his bag down at a nearby table and took a seat, stretching his arms over his head. “Alright then, time to pretend I care about the intricacies of Dark Arts defense theory.” He flashed you a playful grin, pulling out a thick textbook from his bag. “Merlin knows, that class tires me out so much,” Cressida held back a yawn as she took a seat next to you.

You smiled back, grabbing a Divination textbook and settling into the chair across from Ben. “And I’ll be trying to ‘see into the future’ through the bottom of a teacup, apparently.”

Ben chuckled, opening his book and flipping to the correct page. “Sounds like we’ve got a thrilling evening ahead of us.” 

As the three of you settled into your studies, a quiet sense of normalcy began to fall over you. For the first time in days, the weight on your shoulders lightened, even if only a little. The peaceful atmosphere of the library, the quiet companionship of Ben and Cressida, and the steady rhythm of flipping pages seemed to bring you some small sense of calm.

A/n: sorry for this weird chapter, I got Covid so my mind is FUZZYYY😔😔

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