#the toe eater RETURNS

[i-ate-all-of-my-toes]

mkay guys im back

but heres the catch.

Your dear toe is growing inconsistent. Ergo, there will no longer be your beloved daily art.

its not you its me.

anyways heres what i've been up to. I'll post some more images when I don't have a crappy ass computer camera.

so we have pfps. also chromatic has a bot that isn't lore accurate but its close at least.

eugh. class doodles below VVV

playlist cover raaaggghhh

woag i use alight motion again??? (wip btw)

also theres some videos on my youtube that I posted while gone, and since I cant put more than one video, go check that out

decorated for v-day woohoo

played with invert here ^^^ lore dumping for new ocs will come soon chat i promise

i think thats all for now chat.

reminder that commissions are open (assuming i turned them back on)

[screampied]

‘ HIT IT LIKE IT'S ALL MINEEE ?! ★

𝜗℘ feat. toji, gojo, nanami, geto, sukuna. jjk men as ex boyfriends ‘n how they fuck.

cw. fem! reader, ex bf trope, unprotected, possessive themes, brat taming, p spanking, manhandling, size kink, brēeding, ōral (f! receiving), impact play, degradation, praise, squírting, doggy, mīssionary, mating press, overstim, petnames.

wc. 4.8k

GETO ☆ the sloppy ex.

“said ‘m sorry,” he’d hiss, watching as your legs voluntarily snake around his neck. geto’s got the most smug grin, pretty batted lashes fluttering as he’s being fed his favorite meal that he’s been craving for so so long..

but he’s not sorry. in fact after every argument, it would always end up like this. he’d always make it up to you by eating you out, savoring your taste and giving you the most toe-curling climax. it was the least he could do, right? scorching hot breaths of his fan against your drooling folds as you sat upright against the edge of the mattress. you’re whining, gripping at his unkempt, black strands tightly as your thighs jitter. “mhm, could never stay away from my girl for too long.”

you vigorously shudder, feeling his crooked, pink lips ghost against your soddened folds. with geto, he was a messy eater. you were the only person who could get him on his knees. “i’m very sorry, pretty,” he whispers against your cunt, lengthy tongue swirling and delving deeper inside. you whimper, your grasp against his hair growing tighter and firmer. his darkened roots rise up from the secure grip and you start to grind against his face. “ohhh, my. seems like you missed me too,” and with three wet kisses pressing onto your swollen entrance, he glances up at you. humming, he swipes his nose against your pussy before lolling his tongue out allll the way to show you how messy he was for you. “or you jus’ missed my tongue, huhhh.”

he was so smug, so fucking smug. even whilst being buried right between your thighs, slurping you up like he hasn’t eaten a proper good meal in ages. “s- sugu,” you moan, your sudden attitude disappearing the moment he whisks his tongue against your nub. his other favorite girl, your eyebrows that was once arched from arguing was now curling together from such calamitous pleasure. he’s so sloppy too, taking every few pausing seconds to spit right into your cunt, lapping it up with his tongue, only to spit right back on it again. “f- fuckin’ hate you.”

“yeah yeah,” he whistles against your cunt unfazed — warm breath tickling against your folds that seep with slick juices. so wet, he pries your legs open even further with two hands before making a sheeny trail of saliva with his long, lengthy tongue licking from top to bottom. he stares dead at you too, dark sable irises never leave yours while he’s enjoying his treat. a free hand creeps between your inner thighs and he starts to ease a single thick finger inside. “i take back my sorry then, baby.”

your back arches - feeling his thickset digit easily soak into your clingy walls. you’re already coating a majority of it with your slick, rutting your hips against his mouth and his finger now. the stretch had you feral.

you despised his sassy mouth, and yet he’s always despised yours. the perfect match. if it was anything you and geto could come to terms with, it was the simple fact that you both craved each other. crave was a strong word, but it was the right word.

“s- suguru, fuck— i feel something, ‘s gonna come,” you babble, feeling an unfamiliar sensation bubble up into the deep pits of your lower abdomen. it felt like an intense, spiraling pressure building up before gradually starting to press down onto you. your jaw drops, feeling like you were about to gush right out. his tongue returns to slurp against you, luxuriating your sweet, syrupy taste as you’re practically just fucking your cunt onto his face. he darkly chuckles, feverish breath going against your dripping folds before he literally makes out with it. “s- suguru did you hear me?”

“oh, i heard ya, baby,” he whispers, another finger vanishing into your tight walls. with black strands of messy hair running all down his face, he french kisses your cunt thrice, groaning at the feeling of you pulsing right on his lips. “i just don’t care,” and your legs shake out of nowhere. you felt like you were floating — cloud nine, all the clouds, you felt like you were flying.

your mouth remains open, stupefied and all. with a squealing gasp, you drag his face further against you before spotting a shimmery trail of your own slick running down his chin. again though, geto doesn’t care. in fact, he licks it clean with no shame, swiping a thumb across the crack of his lips before he starts to spank your pussy. “well?” he eyes you, his voice growing low. “you gonna make a mess or not?” pat. “i’m waiting,” pat. “oh c’monnn, don’t tell me you’re scared ‘ta make a mess. we’ve known each other for how long, princess?”

and before you could reply with a snarky comeback — it happens. you end up gushing right on his face, watching it trickle all down his chin and your eyes roll back in nirvana. everything feels so quick, you’re barely able to breathe regular breaths as your eyes grow droopy and your legs break into a fit of spasms. “suguru, suguuu,” you pant, losing your grip in his hair. and like the sloppy eater he was, he laps your cunt clean. savoring the taste, savoring you.

“did you just squirt on my face?” he rasps, pulling his fingers out to watch the mess dribble straight out. you’re so wet, just a puddle and you were laying right in it. you don’t respond and he rolls his eyes, giving your cunt an ‘encouraging’ swat with his palm before purring. “mhm, how ‘bout you do that again? for old times sake, messy girl.”

TOJI ☆ the nasty ex.

“y’know the drill, babygirl. bend over. uh huh, gimme that slutty arch like always, attaaa girl,” toji grits. intently, hooded green eyes are staring at your back. you moan, feeling just how quickly your body submits. toji could never get enough of you. the second your gummy walls swallow his girth, you suck your teeth in salacious rapture. it’s almost carnal. toji groans, gazing right before his eyes as your back slumps forward just for him ‘n only him. “mhm, good girl. sluttin’ y’rself out all fuckin’ on me.”

the crimson red sheets bristle against your skin as he drags your hips closer - raspy breaths pour from his lips as he’s gradually plummeting his thick cock inside of your grippy, welcoming cunt.

oh, you missed him. but more importantly — you missed his cock. if it was anything toji knew how to do, it was to fuck. you whimper, immediately bawling up the sheets into the smooth pads of your palms with your hands imitating a fist shape.

he’s just so fucking big, you feel the fat of his girth stretch you open so good that your mouth starts to salivate. “ngh, fuck toji,” you mewl out in desperate sobs, smelling his loud cheap cologne that never fails to waft right into your nostrils. within an instant, his rude sharp hips snap into you meanly. your jaw hangs open as he’s shoving such lengthy inches into you at once. “mmhhh, right there, ‘toj.”

“still the same cock drunk ‘lil slut i know ‘n love,” he huffs, watching how your body responds to his crazed rhythm. again, he’s so rude, just a single piston of his hips and you’re a slobbering, numb mess. toji always had the stamina of a horse, you feel the pulsing sensation pulsate on his angered cockhead and you shiver. “missed my favorite pussy,” he gruffs, dark thin brows curling together. “fuck back against me, good girl. make me fuckin’ proud, princess.”

you’re a whiny mess. with such ease, toji snatches out orgasm after orgasm out of you like it was nothing. nobody knew your body like he did. he left you in a stupid state, so stupid to where the only words you’re murmuring out is just blurbs ‘n blurbs of incoherent babbles.

“fuuuck,” you suck at the air, feeling how every few seconds he’d bring a mean swat toward your ass. oh, that was always his favorite part. the way your cute recoil always bounces back against him, always responding to his palm. and as he’s continuing to mercilessly plunge his cock in and out of your sopping pussy. it takes no time before you’re creaming down his cock. “t- tojiiiii.”

the moment you’ve successfully milked him dry however, he never fails to plug you full of his hot, sticky cum. you gasp, hearing the wet squelches overflow into your walls. your back still arches itself forward as he’s spewing such stringy ropes deep into the depths of your womb. such a mess,

“aht aht, bring that ass back here,” he lowly snickers, dragging your hips back into him once you try to crawl away. “saved so much cum ‘n i wanna give ya all of it, baby. mhm, let’s listen to it together, yeah.”

you whine, feeling his hovering weight press right up against your ass.

toji swipes a thumb against your entrance, sloshing sounds exiting right from your pussy. he makes you listen to how filthily soaked you were, purposely growing silent. his thumb was fat, it curls its way against your sweet ‘lil labia before he gathers a nice amount of dribbling cum near the print of his finger.

“fuck, ‘s pretty,” he grouses through gnawed teeth. you’re taken by surprise once he flips you over to where you flop right on your back. landing with a surprised oof, you’re met with the hungry eyes of your ex-boyfriend who’s not exactly done yet. “go on. spread ‘em,” he does a swift hand motion with one hand, flicking his tongue against his thumb with the other. you felt your cunt shamelessly twitch at the sight and you moan once he dives right in between your trembly legs. “good girl, now lemme see what ‘m workin’ with.”

the moment he pried your legs open—he wastes no time, smearing his face right against your sloppy cunt. “s- shiiiit, toji,” you sob out a sweet syllable of his name, feeling the edge of his scar tickle against your swollen puffed folds. his long tongue slithers its way down your full slit, relishing in your taste, your taste of his cum. he didn’t care, his tongue happily laps up the honeyed mixture of both sweets that dance on his tongue. you whine, grabbing a fistful of his hair, hearing him groan once you give his head a light tug. glancing down, he spits on your cunt, swirling his tongue around before slurping you right up, cleaning you. “toji y- you’re so nasty.”

with a teasing him, he pats your twitching cunt before the pat turns into a rough spank. “gotta be nasty ‘ta deal with a cunt this wet,” and he gives your folds a single kiss before flipping you over again. you moan, still feeling remnants of cum ooze out of your entrances before he smacks a broad palm against your left ass cheek. “mhm, now now. be a good girl ‘n bend over one more time. wanna clean ya up from the back. just like i always used to, babygirrrrl.”

GOJO ☆ the annoying ex.

he’s just as stubborn as you, maybe even worse. “yada yada less talkin’ more riding, sweet thing,” and you moan once you feel a stinging smack ghost against your ass. you’re riding him, swirling your hips around him back ‘n forth as you’re pressed up against his bare chest in classic cowgirl. one hand of his grips onto your waist, watching you throw your hips back in such obscene rhythm. the roll, you’re so pretty like this, especially whenever you were on top. your knees bury themselves into his thighs as you’re bouncing up and down his cock, taking in many inches of him effortlessly. “you’re so hot,” gojo smugly grins at you, continuously bouncing his left thigh just to see your lewd reaction. you loudly mewl out at the staticky friction, feeling him pump into you again ‘n again. “heyy, pretty girl.” he slyly says as you finally meet his stare. gojo brings a hand against your ass, gripping it tightly before spanking it again - his way of telling you to go faster.

with satoru gojo as an ex, you’d never hear the end of it. hear the end of him,

he craves you more than anything. even better if you let him fuck you just for the night. but that night turns into one, then two, then three.

he’s purely infatuated, your pussy never fails to make him drunk. your arousal was always his favorite dessert. whining against his ear, your tremulous hips create haste a bit quicker as you shift your weight onto your bent knees. “s- satoru, mhh. gonna cum again, fuckk.”

“aw, already baby?” he coos to you in a faux, caring tone. gojo grabs both of your hips, peering intently at the way your abdomen tenses in front of him. you’re gaping, recognizing the stretch like no other. you’re so pretty, your tongue rolls itself out as you’re preparing to make a mess on his cock. like you always do, your arms throw over his shoulders before the moment gets abruptly ruined by a ring. not just an ordinary ring but it’s your phone. gojo raises a white brow, you’re still rocking your hips against him in a circular rotation before he hums. “oh, and who’d be callin’ my baby at this hour?”

“s- satoruuu,” you make a weak attempt at grabbing your phone but he beats you to it — he squints at the screen, an unsaved number that only you recognized. it was one of your old flings and for some reason they still thought they had a chance.

a wave of ripples surge all throughout your core as he’s buried to the hilt. “yo,” he answers, a hand still attached to your rear. you’re completely stupid, forming into a state of sheer dimwit as you moan into his neck. his fattened tip steadily repeats its movements to kiss and kiss near your sweet spot, yanking out such pretty harmonic whimpers. to gojo, the guy was speaking a whole lot of nothing, and he yawns, fingers combing straight down your feverish waist. “uh huh, well anyways, she’s busy. she can’t ngh—come to the phone right now but she’d loooove to leave you a mes- uh, don’t cut me off. do you know who i am?”

you wanted to face palm. he could be so dramatic, but you were being too stuffed full to even think about that. it’s been far too long without his cock, and each hit he created against you had you drooling for more. gojo’s thrusts were so good that it’s got you whining ‘n whining like a broke record until your voice grows strained. you’re having a competitive race with your own breath, blushing throbbing crown continuing to bury its way into your sopping cunt. gojo leans back, grabbing onto the headboard and his pectorals flex. “fuckk, i mean we’re busy,” and he shoots you a teasing grin as you straddle him.“ain’t that right, angel? say hi.”

and you moan loudly, a force ripping out of your windpipe the moment your orgasm comes. gojo puts the phone on speaker, letting the caller on the other end hear all of you. your sweet, sweet climax. you’re going crazy - feral.

it sounded so pretty nonetheless, a five second syllable that’s neverending and it makes his dick twitch. you feel the twitch — you also feel the vein that runs down the curve of his heavy shaft. “s- satoru, fuck fuuuck,” and with your eyes squeezed shut, your jaw tightens. he hums, watching as you coat his cock down with your slippery slick, squelch after squelch wailing out from your cunt. “ohmygoddd.”

“that’s it, baby. make me just as messy as you, yeah,” and you’re met with wet lips crashing onto yours. weakly moving yourself against him at a much slower pace, he delves his tongue inside your hot, warm mouth. you shiver, still feeling the pleasurable after effects before he pulls away, ending the phone call before tossing it near the other side of the bed. “heh, she’s such a good girl,” and you gasp once you feel a hand of his slither between your thighs. maneuvering a few circles against your stuffed cunt, gojo nibbles on your chin. “mhm, who’s pussy is this?”

“y- yours,” you whine, feeling your thighs shake from just his touch alone.

“my name isn’t ‘yours’, pretty girl.”

“m- my pussy belongs to you, ‘toru. satoru.”

“yeah she fuckin’ does.”

NANAMI ☆ the unforgettable ex.

nanami’s the type of ex where you couldn’t forget him even if you tried. he’s got the looks, the charm, the romantically deep strokes.

prefers to have you right underneath him, right where you belonged. you’re so pretty, he can’t help but blink twice because if this was a dream, he didn’t want to ever wake up.

“sweetheaaart,” he lowly groans into your neck, his body gradually rocking into you. he didn’t wanna go too quick or too fast - nanami’s pace was always just right. “you dunno how much i missed you,” and you moan, feeling him hide his face into your chest. he playfully nips against your breasts before sighing gruffly. “missed my girls too.”

“k- ‘kennn,” you moan, going into a short split second daze once the leaky tip of his cock glissades past your clit. you’re so sensitive, clenching your teeth as he’s rolling his beefy body against you. with his weight on top of you, you’re in perfect sync, perfect harmony. he huffs and puffs, hot clouds of breath tickling against your skin before he licks a damp stripe from your chest to your neck. “mhm, i- i missed you more.”

“oh, my sweet, that’s impossible,” he whispers, stretching out your gloopy walls with all his might.

like always, you opened up for him - the stretch was always there. nanami hissed faintly, feeling your cunt cling onto him tightly. so tight as if you never wanted to let go — and you didn’t.

he looked so pretty like this though. dirty blond hair that’s mostly neat and parted was now all ruffled, strands everywhere - strands running past his eyes and forming into thin bangs. as translucent beads of sweat race down his forehead, they pour down each side of his face.

whilst his tense back muscles flex at every sharp thrust he’s giving you, nanami groans—his adam’s apple bobbing as he tossing his head back, biting his lip. as he does so, he feels the little charms of your anklet he bought you years ago with his initials of ‘n. k.’ engraved on it, run down his skin, hearing the dangles sing out a tune as he goes faster and faster. with his chiseled hips going faster, so does your breaths.

“you drive me crazy,” he almost pouts, cupping the curvature of your jawline. nanami holds your face as a single thumb strokes your cheek. “no one m- makes me feel as good as you do, my love.”

“kentoooo, ngh,” you moan out, fuzz deafening the insides of both of your ears. it’s so loud, the sounds of skin slapping and groaning groans fills the room — bouncing and reverberating against the thin walls. the neighbors would probably file another complaint, yet alas, you started to not care. maybe he was what you were missing. you’re throbbing not only from his touch but his voice. nanami could call you the prettiest girl in the word and you’d cream all down his cock, like you’d always do. “breed me, ‘ken. ‘s okay, you can finish inside.”

“s- sweetheart, careful now,” he sheepishly says, feeling the way you wrap your arms around his tense shoulders. your words made him hot, incredibly hot. his entire body feels shivers, just from a few simple words. “fuck,” he swears, delicately pounding you into the bed you two once both shared. with an abashed expression, he peppers your collarbone with soft kisses before whispering up against the sensitive shell of your ear. “ah, i shouldn’t s- say such foul language in front of you, forgive my filthy mouth,” and you cut him off with a tender kiss, rocking your body against him ever further. he moans in your lips, feeling the thumping of his heart accelerate. oh, you had him whipped. he never fell out of love with you - he couldn’t.

calloused fingertips graze against your neck as he holds you close. with thick inches of cock plummeting in and out of your walls, he’s seconds close to shooting into you raw. he sucks in a breathe, bucking his hips as your tongue battles with his. “mhh,” you whimper, feeling his sculpted abs grind against you. nanami still had on his blazer — yet, his tie remained on and his collar was roughly tugged out. in some cases, you forgot why the two of you even broke up in the first place. but with nanami, one or the other would always come crawling back. “kento, ‘s okay, baby,” you murmur between kisses in a shaky voice, feeling him circle a palm around your tummy. he’s envisioning you with a plump belly already and it does something to his brain.

“okay, okay,” he huskily grunts, your legs tightly wrapping around his waist. you heard the timbre in his voice, how it’d always get low whenever he was close. underneath him — your knees buckle, and your cunt was pulsating. each individual nerve prods and pulses, making you whimper out his name in such a sweet manner. the way you’d whine out his name, throwing your head back and rolling your eyes in debleating rapture - it was pure bliss. the moment he cums, he sees nothing but snowy white. nanami’s eyes grows murky, almost doe-like before he’s dumping such a satiny load of ropes into your pussy. “hngh, oh- ‘s so much, sweetheart. ‘m gonna fill you up so g- good.”

and he does — barred big hands grab onto yours as he’s overflowing your weeping pussy with his warm seed. it’s so much that it spills out, dribbling down the sides of your thighs. the smell was almost potent, a milky ring forms its way around his base before he collapses onto your chest. nanami’s eyes were closed and yet his lips latch onto your bare, swollen nipples. “i- mph, love youuu,” and judging from his slurred speech, he was already pussy drunk. he leans into your touch, feeling the way your fingertips massage his scalp. the same hand from before rubs a circle against your tummy, and his head moves its way down before planting a pecking kiss near your stomach.

“and i’ll love our future little one also.”

SUKUNA ☆ the possessive ex.

“tell me,” he purrs in a raspy voice, raking a few fingers over your shivering frame. you moan, watching as he’s preparing to pounce like an animal does right before its prey. you meet the demon’s gaze and he cups your chin, his damp tip brushing against your folds. “anyone touch her?”

coyly, you shrug both shoulders as your legs remain sprawled open. “huh,” you murmur out, sheepish grin curling against your lips. “touch who, ‘kuna?”

“woman, don’t try me,” he snarls, baring a single fang as he spoke - the same exact fangs that would always bury into your flesh, gifting you with a plethora of individual fang marks. your breath hitches once he’s sinking his dick inside, feeling how quick your walls were to tighten. your arms toss over him for support, sweeping the edges of your fingertips against the ancient markings that paint the blade of his broad shoulders. “ah,” he whispers against your ear, an almost growl. you whimper, feeling his forked tongue ghost against your earlobe before he nibbles on it. “talkin’ about her, my other stubborn girl who’s always soaked.”

and as he finishes that sentence, a hand squeezes against your cunt before giving it a rude spank. you gasp, a single thrust of his hips and he’s fully inside. it felt so good, it’s probably been months since he’s seen you, since he’s been inside.

sukuna was the kind of ex where he’d never let you forget him.

the sharp rims of his claws gently and delicately scrap against your skin and he leisurely moves his mouth toward your neck. now, he’s got you right where he wants — mating press.

“s- she’s missed you, ‘kuna,” you finally whine out, the gripping pressure of his cock rummaging through your insides so thoroughly, so fully just makes your brain short circuit. he’s just so big, as he’s expanding inside of your walls, already, your body underneath him starts to grow limp. sukuna stares at you, watching as your facial expressions twitch and contort in gratifying pleasure. “fuck, fuck. i missed you.”

“i know you did,” he groans, and it’s a bit of sincerity underneath his tone. you had the audacity of stealing his breath away and his heart.

having you sprawled out like this . . on his royal bed, screaming out his name like you always did, he’s missed it. he’s missed you, but last of all, he’s missed your sweet, sweet pussy. the bed creaks ‘n creaks until it can’t anymore, creating a sort of beat with each croaking grunt it wails out.

sukuna’s weight is right on top of you — crashing against your skin, barely hovering over your own frame as he’s driving his hips into you speedily, fucking you deeply into the kingly, regal sheets. you’re babbling out candied cacophonies of ‘ryooo’ — ‘kunaaa,’ and a majority of other colorful swears that sound so melodic coming from your tongue. “still got a filthy pussy but an even filthier mouth, i see.”

and as he’s pounding you into the mattress, he grips your chin. he’s so rough, snapping hips rut into you all at once to where you could barely get an audible word out. you’re stammering pure lewd gibberish, skin against skin and he’s sticking right against you like sweltering hot glue.

“f- fuuuuck, harder,” you egg him on, jerking back against the bed at each powerful hit. it doesn’t take him long to locate your g-spot either, you squeal out that same squeak he’s grown to love and that’s when he starts pummeling into it. again, and again, and again. his sloppy thrusts against your pussy gets so repetitive — he feels your legs snake around his waist and he growls into your neck.

“hah, you sound so stupid,” he jibes, pearly fangs nipping the inner part of your neck. your taste, he could never get enough of it. no one had your flavor, your taste — your sweet arousal that forevermore lingers on his demon tastebuds. you were sukuna ryomen’s favorite treat. as he’s grinding into you, you’re already a puddled mess. you whimper, moaning into his ear before he starts to bite near your neck. “all mine. mine to breed, mine to kiss, mine to love.”

as he’s grunting his ‘possessions’ into your ear, your sloppy cunt flutters. his reddened tip thrashes in ‘n out of your core before you start to spasm.

with his weight still pressing onto you, you felt his heat everywhere. his toned body, his muscles colliding against your soft, tepid skin. “i- i love you, ‘kuna,” you whimper out, and he has a smug cunning grin at your sudden blurt. so cute, the way it rolls of your tongue. as he’s continuing to ravage into your swollen, needy walls, he throws your leg over his shoulder. fingers of yours wisp near the nape of his neck whilst another hand cups his face. “never stopped.”

“oh, yeah?” a low voice rumbles out of him, and he starts to flick his tongue near the numerous of fang marks that were slowly forming near your collarbone. you were so sweet, he could just eat you up. “i have a strong liking to you too, i guess.”

“you guess?”

“i . . love you too, brat,” he says through gritted teeth, it was like saying those simple eight words were about to kill him. he felt a weird softness pool its way into his heart before you both reach inevitable climaxes at the same time. it’s abruptly euphoric. he groans, using your bare shoulder to suppress his moans. twitching, he remains like this the entire time. strong arms, all of them wrap around your body, pulling you close.

“all mine,” he repeats, and you watch with glossy eyes as he pulls up your ring finger. with a huffing blow, he has a cute pouty pout. the demon was fucked dumb just as much as you. he rests his face into your chest before grumbling. “does this mean you’re staying this time?”

“maybe.” you pant.

“tch. maybe she says.”

[henneseyhoe]

What A Woman Wants; Taste

Trevante Rhodes x BLACK!FEM!Reader

WARNINGS: SMUT, Chiron an eater in this but when is he not, pussy slapping, slut shaming (kinda), fingering, dirty talk, drug use(just a luh weed) no actual PinV, !!Unedited!!.

SUMMARY: The beginning of various stories about the reader, her diary and her many favorites.

✮✮✮✮

Whore, slut, fast, hot, easy. What really is the definition of promiscuity? Maybe just a woman who sleeps around. Or someone who’s had many boyfriends and flings. Would she be a whore if she slept with a married man? What if she didn’t know? Would she still be a whore?

The word was as complex as sexual relations in itself, but in her mind, everyone was a whore. Everyone had whorish ways. Some people liked to be smacked on the ass when they fucked, some liked to be spat on, tied up, scratched, degraded, praised, and then some. So what was the problem that she got what she liked but from different people? Nothing, she thought.

She had men from one end to the other side of the pond. Short, tall, muscular, skinny, masculine, feminine, you name it. She’s seen dicks nearly the size of her forearm all over the globe. She kept track of the ones she liked in a diary and tossed the ones that were no fun.

One of her favorites who also happens to be an old classmate from college ate pussy like a starved man and only got up when she told him to, and that’s exactly how she liked her men; doing what she told them to do.

A blunt in hand and tattooed legs spread from one end of the bed to the other, he drank from her fountain, quenching his thirst as she gushed around his fingers. His other free hand softly caressed her bare pussy, fingertips dancing along her mound before they pressed against her aching clit.

Pulling his tongue from alongside his thrusting fingers, he looks down and admires the wet and dirty scene in front of him, the second pair of your lips shining like he had just applied baby oil to her.

“Pretty ass pussy”

“Yeah?”

He nods. “Mhm. Looking like this and you expect me to keep my mouth off of you?”

She hums out a moan, her pretty toes curling at that.

“I missed you all month, you might be in this position for a while”

He smirked and pulls out of her, watching as her hole winked and shrunk back to it’s small size that once accommodated his thick fingers. Pulling the hood of her clit back, the pink button pops up from underneath, greeting him with a few twitches as her pussy clenched around nothing.

“Fuck, baby…”

She watched him with just as much affection, but his eyes were too fixed on her heat to glare back at her. Blowing cold air onto the bundle of nerves, he pulls a long moan from her and he smiles in return before taking four of his fingers a licking across the tips of them, his other hand still occupied with the hood of her clit as he did so.

He pumped fake a few times, lifting that hand to her pussy and making her flinch before his hand finally came down and spanked her sensitive clit, the woman nearly dropping the spliff in her hand as her chest rises, a shock of both pain and pleasure running through her core.

“Fuck!” She breathes, smoke exiting her mouth. She was quick to sit the drug down in an ashtray laid on the bed next to her, the man on his knees in front of her still laying smacks to her pussy until her legs were shaking and she was squirting all over herself. Swirls in her stomach and stars in her eyes, she almost thanked god that her ass was halfway off of the bed so her sheets didn’t get wet but she soon realized she celebrated too early, the large palm of his hand beginning to rub her entire pussy instead and replace the teasing strikes, all of the juices that were once just falling on the hardwood floor spraying on anything within ten inches of her. That included on herself too.

She couldn’t speak and tell him to let up off of her if she wanted to, her stomach felt like it caved in as she had yet to let go of her breath to continue receiving oxygen.

He opened his mouth and welcomed all that she gave onto his tongue, a smile also playing on his face. He loved it when it was messy, wet to the point where it could be considered soaked even. His goatee covered in pussy juice showed and proved that to be true, droplets of her dripping from his chin.

Even after she was finished he still went in and licked her up from her clit to the puckering rim of her asshole, fixated upon the idea to make her cum again if she’d let him.

✮✮✮✮

💌~ startin this thang off with some good ole pussy eatin, iktr!😼💀 hope yall enjoyed tho, i think imma really enjoy this lil series just cause it’s a bunch of random shorts and not an actual storyline 😭 like everything and everyone is connected still but it doesn’t matter until brought up lmao.

[albondiguilla007]

Hinny recs (60k words and on)

✨ The Changeling / 182k / Ginny is sorted into Slytherin. It takes her seven years to figure out why.

✨ pick it up, pick it all up and start again / 69k / The thing about war is that it never ends. Not really. The battlefields just change locations. Harry and Ginny after the war.

✨ we can still be, who said we were / 124k / Navigating distances and finding your way back home. Harry and Ginny after the war. Second in the Armistice Series.

✨ in my head we do everything right / 210k / It’s not as easy as it sounds, going from hypotheticals to reality. Harry and Ginny navigate life after Hogwarts. Third in the Armistice Series.

✨ we can't control (watch me unfold) / 73k / It’s a simple arrangement. Between her grueling quidditch schedule and his mysterious auror duties, Ginny and Harry find time to have spectacular sex with no strings attached. It’s incredibly uncomplicated. Except when it isn’t.

(I ADORE THIS FIC. Ginny and Harry’s characterizations are so so SO good. Their chemistry is off charts, and the plot/government conspiracy had me ON MY TOES. Please read it.)

✨ An Hour of Wolves / 110k / Sirius is dead, but Harry's doing alright: between a brand new Quidditch Captaincy, private lessons with Dumbledore, and increasing suspicions about Draco Malfoy, he's got enough to keep him busy. And if an uncomfortable encounter with a classmate ends up leaving him with another challenge to face and even more secrets to keep, well...he's still fine.

Really. He is.

(Handles darker themes like eating disorders and sa, so be aware of that. Mental health is a big part of the story, even more so than the ship itself.)

✨ Noticing / 105k / Ginny suddenly realizes two things, in very quick succession: One, that Harry’s never really looked at her that closely before, and two, that he is absolutely, beyond a shadow of a doubt, doing that. Right now.

This is the story of how Harry comes to notice her... but more importantly, it's the story of how Ginny comes to notice that he noticed.

(An incredibly realistic and hilarious portrayal of teenage struggles, I laughed so much with this one.)

✨ Not From Others / 132k / She may not have been able to join Harry, Ron and Hermione, but Ginny refuses to go down without a fight. As war approaches, Ginny returns to Hogwarts to resurrect Dumbledore's Army and face the darkest year the wizarding world has ever seen.

✨ The Path From You / 142k / At 22, Ginny had lived through several lifetimes worth of misery. She'd been deceived, betrayed, and possessed, her very soul almost wrung out into nothing. She'd been subordinated, humiliated, and tortured, lived almost an entire year surrounded by enemies.

Fought Death Eaters and dementors and giant spiders. Been heartbroken, anguished, and grief stricken. Lost friends and mentors and a brother.

And through it all, she'd survived... because of luck, or sheer force of will.

Maybe a little of both.

If she could suffer and endure and prevail through all of that, she could live through some anonymous wanker plaguing her with badly written poetry.

(An amazing take on Ginny and her struggles post war. Waiting for the author to update 🙏🏻)

[ldrfanatic]

If the World Was Ending

Theodore Nott x Fem!Reader Part Two of Craw Home to Her

A/N- after weeks it's finally here! This isn't a direct songfic like the first part, however, it's accompanying song is If the World Was Ending by JP Saxe

Slight alteration to the original timeline of events of Half-Blood Prince

crawl home to her (part I) works slytherin boys masterlist

After that party in the Slytherin Common Room, you and Theo had begun dating. And for the entire month of January, a perfect Valentine's Day, and everything was perfect. Now, with Spring Break is rapidly approaching, the war is becoming more and more real. Everyone in your small circle knew of the tasks that had been assigned to you and a few other children of prominent Death Eaters in preparation of their takeover of Hogwarts at the end of the year.

Draco had begun to stress and look worse for wear as the weight of this secrecy from Hermione started to settle in. Mattheo, who had the worst of the lot of you, had given up on his usual banter with Potter and had been holed up in the boys' dormitory for the past two weeks or so.

Though there'd been an uptick in the moods of Theo and yourself in the midst of your new relationship, the novelty and puppy-love air had dampened when a letter from Theo's father arrived a few days ago requesting a visit home in the upcoming spring break. While your parents had been relatively silent since giving you your assignment, you knew that they'd want a progress update soon, and you hadn't even worked up the stomach to begin at all.

The thought of betraying your classmates and professors at Hogwarts had become sickening to all of you.

Still, sitting here in Theo's arms under a large oak tree at the Great Lake, you couldn't find it in yourself to feel scared or sad. There was a soft and sweet bubble of love around the two of you with a warm air that seeped into your bones and warmed your soul. Theo pressed a sweet kiss to your temple and when you turned to meet his eyes, you were unsure how you never realized that Theodore Nott was in love with you. Especially if he'd been looking at you like that all this time.

"You know I leave next Tuesday, love?"

The deep rumble of Theo's voice in his chest felt like a lightning bolt through your body that had electricity simmering at the tips of your fingers and your toes. How you'd never realized you were also madly in love with Theodore Nott you were also unsure of. Had your body always reacted to him this way? The thought of being away from him for 10 days made your heart sink a little lower than you'd anticipated. You and Theo had been each other's light as the skies darkened and the air turned cold. You could predict now that your mood would suffer significantly from a lack of Vitamin Theo.

"I'll miss you."

"And I you," His arms tightened around your torso and pulled you further back into his chest. "have you heard from your mum yet?"

You shook your head and tried not to think about the rage you'd certainly face if you didn't start on your task soon. You'd never particularly been friends with Katie Bell, but the thought of cursing her made you a little queasy. Especially when it meant the end result was weakening Dumbledore so that Mattheo could deliver the final blow.

Still, Draco and Theo both has worse jobs than your own. Draco was still working on the Vanishing cabinet and adjusting to his new dark mark bestowed to him by his aunt, and your mother, Bellatrix LeStrange. Theo had been tasked with enlisting the help of the Acromantula and Centaurs in the Dark Forest and it wasn't going very well. When he'd returned the other night, he'd had arrow cuts all over after rapidly fleeing the scene when his meeting with a group of centaurs turned sour.

In short, you'd been given an easy and simple task with minimal danger. But you'd been given it because it was essential. Should you fail to deliver this curse to Dumbledore, when Mattheo advances on him, he will surely lose, and the Dark Lord will descend upon the entire lot of you with a fury unknown.

"You'll be fine. And the curse won't kill Bell, she'll just be a little rattled."

You whipped your head upwards to your boyfriend and flashed him a bewildered look. "They asked me to use Imperio, Theo! That's an unforgiveable."

"I know. But in the grand scheme of things, we'll all be otherwise occupied before this whole thing is over."

You settled back into his embrace without another word.

You knew he was right.

But you just couldn't stomach it.

Turns out you were right. You couldn't stomach it.

You tried to be as quiet as possible as you deposited the contents of your stomach behind the Three Broomsticks. Thankfully, the bustling sounds of Hogsmeade during Spring Break were cover enough for the sounds of you retching.

But it was done. Katie Bell had been successfully cursed, given her mission, and sent on her way to the Headmaster's Office.

It was the last few days of Spring Break and Theo was supposed to return soon. Your nerves ad been on edge since he'd left. Now that you completed your task, you felt a little better but you wouldn't be able to relax until Theo was safely back into your arms. Only two more days and he'd be back.

After what turned out to be an unsuccessful attempt to curse Katie, you went back to your dorm room and tried to ignore the growing feeling of dread inside of you. Once your mother heard of your failure through Professor Snape, you were pretty much done for. You didn't attend Dinner that night and instead decided to remain holed up in your bed with your curtains drawn shut. You weren't exactly in the mood for sympathies.

However, your plans to sulk for the evening were interrupted quite suddenly by Pansy Parkinson. "Y/n get up! They're here."

You rolled over halfway and stared bewildered at your friend. "Who's here?"

"The Death Eaters."

A chill ran straight down your spine. They weren't supposed to be here until the end of the year. They weren't supposed to come until Theo came back. Still, you flung yourself out of bed and quickly pulled on your tennis shoes and a jumper to protect you from the cold air. When you finally exited the common room, it was pretty clear where the Death Eaters were. Students were tearing off in waves away from the Great Hall. You could hear your mother's manic cackling and curses fired into the crowd caused even more panic.

You masked your fear with an emotionless facade and began shoving through the crowd towards your mother trying to appear as mean as possible and firing meaningless spells into the crowd.

As soon as your mother could see you, she bound towards you with a grin. It was hard to tell if she was angry or excited. It was always hard to tell. "Daughter! You've done so well. The Dark Lord will be so pleased. Dumbledore is dead!" You tried to smile and look happy with the news but your chest tightened further. Dumbledore was dead, Theo was missing, and you were now back into the clutches of your insane mother.

Part of your heart sunk at her words. You'd never particularly cared for your mother but it was always The Dark Lord will be so pleased or The Dark Lord is proud or The Dark Lord cares for all of his disciples and never her saying those things to you. She was never pleased, never proud, and she never cared. Harry Potter came suddenly around the corner of the corridor and fired a stunning curse that hit Crabbe's father dead center in the chest.

Your mother's face instantly turned from pleased to enraged and she let out the cruciatus curse in a bellow. You didn't see the remainder of the encounter as she and the other Death Eaters took off after Potter. A temporary relief calmed your heart. Snape hadn't said anything to your mother. At least not yet. Maybe you could convince him not to say anything.

As you ran through the castle, you'd noticed dead bodies of classmates that'd been slaughtered by the Death Eaters' rampage. Still, no sign of Theo. You begun to fear for your boyfriend. There's no way that Nott Sr. would come to the castle on this mission without Theo. You were so lost in your head, you didn't see Hermione until you slammed into each other and knocked heads. Your movements mirrored each other as both of your arms shot up to rub at your temples.

"Y/n! Have you seen Draco?"

You shook your head sympathetically and wrapped the brunette into what would probably be the last hug you ever gave Hermione Granger.

"I've got to go, but Theo's looking for you. I just passed him outside of the Charms classroom running around like a madman." She sprinted away from you but turned momentarily to shout after your own retreating figure. "If you see Draco, tell him I love him!"

You took off towards the Charms classroom with a new fervor. Please Salazar let Theo be okay. Finally, you heard his voice. "Y/n?! Y/n!!"

"Theo! Theo I'm here!!"

The moment you laid eyes on Theodore Nott your heart stopped. He was covered head to toe in bruises and his skin had paled since you saw him last. He looked downright awful. But that didn't stop you from launching yourself into his embrace and squeezing like the world depended on it. Draco, Mattheo, Blaise, and Pansy were all rallied behind him. Pansy was tucked into Blaise' side. Draco had his wand drawn and was frantically checking every door in the corridor no doubt looking for Hermione.

"She's not here, D. I ran into her maybe five minutes ago. She asked me to tell you that she loves you. Then she took off towards the East Wing of the castle."

Draco immediately started sprinting in the direction you'd come from with Pansy and Blaise hot on his tail.

You recentered on Theo who pressed his forehead down into yours.

"What has happened to you Theodore Nott?"

"It doesn't matter. It doesn't matter if the sun were shining or if the world was ending, I will always be right here. With you."

You stared up at him. "The world is ending, my love."

You pressed your lips against his.

okay okay done for now. should I just make this into a series at this point?

WC 1739

2.7.2024

[abbysimsfun]

Sims In Bloom: Generation 2 Pt. 103 (Lavender is Adorable & Malcolm Follows a Lead)

Finally back home after the end of Winterfest break, Conrad caught Heather looking at her ring with a grin while she cleaned up the kitchen. "Did you think you want to set a date yet?" he asked.

She grinned, practically giddy against his charming smile. "Still no."

He laughed, heading into the living room to play with Lavender, where she sucked her slippered toe and chewed her toys. She'd sat up on her own on Boxing Day morning, but she was still more comfortable getting a bird's eye view of the world. Conrad and Heather didn't want to push her; she'd pull herself up with regularity when she had places she wanted to get to.

Heather got dressed and returned from the bedroom to find Conrad chatting with Lavender on the sofa. "It's so much fun to crawl around, sweet girl. You're gonna want to try it soon. I know it."

Heather smiled. "I thought instead of breastfeeding, I could help Lavender explore foods this morning."

Conrad set her up in the high chair as Heather opened a jar of crushed carrots. But Lavender was totally uninterested, batting away the spoon and sticking out her tongue, ejecting the orange mush from her mouth with a grimace.

Heather sighed. "I think we have a picky eater on our hands."

As it turned out, Lavender hated the texture, and sometimes the taste, of most baby foods, so Heather kept breastfeeding. "When she's ready for finger foods, maybe she'll be less picky," suggested Conrad with a hopeful smile.

Lavender's three infant quirks: Loves Wake Up Time, Picky Eater, and the lesser-noted Frequently Hiccups (because it's been mostly inconsequential since Lavender's such a happy baby).

Soon enough, Lavender was upright all the time, and Heather and Conrad chalked it up to her wanting to be tall enough to hang with Gord. The beloved Bernese loved Lavender, often moving in for pets from Lavender's tiny palms. He offered nose rubs in return while the infant giggled wildly.

Conrad, meanwhile, had chased too many leads for Rafa to precisely nowhere, and Ximena had stayed undetected throughout the holidays. As far as Rafa was concerned, he was beginning to fear he was looking for another dead body, but he couldn't let himself rest until he knew for sure.

Trying to relax in the living room with his family, he took a call from Zion Spangler. "George and his wife extended their time in Sulani," reported the young detective. "He won't be coming home for questioning any time soon." Conrad hung up and rubbed his temples in frustration.

Heather frowned in their crowded living room. Ash was practicing a speech for class in the mirror and Lavender was playing with Gord, so she couldn't talk to Conrad about the case. He hadn't shared much, but the police detail lingered outside their home and the clinic, so she knew Ximena was still at large.

She wanted him to be able to find Rafa. She knew how much it meant to him, and how it tore at him not to be any closer to learning what happened. They were both ready to put all of this past them.

In San Myshuno, Malcolm had done some digging into the murder at the docks from his penthouse. Law enforcement wouldn't speak to him about the confidential file, but he'd managed to uncover George Brindleton's shady investment in the company's crooked books, and tracked down the man himself at his tropical villa in Sulani.

"Thank you for talking to me today, Mr. Brindleton. I gather with your secrecy, you don't talk to many reporters."

"This is off the record," grunted George. "I want to get to know you before I tell you anything about my work. You are a Landgraab, after all."

He frowned. "Malcolm's fine."

"I told the detectives I don't know a single damn thing about a murder at the docks. I'm a good businessman and I know where to trim the fat from my investments. Demand. Supply. It's not my fault that for the first time in decades, someone died of anything other than old age or rabies in Brindleton Bay."

"Do they think it was someone from your company?"

"No, they've asked what we know about some cartel called Los Tigres. Hey! Hey Rafael, bring me another soda with extra lime!" He turned his attention back to Malcolm over their video connection with a sneer. "The wait staff at this villa is horrible, but the booze is strong and the sun is hot!"

Malcolm curled his lip at flagrant George Brindleton, taking note of the name of the cartel. "I'm sure the wait staff would be better at a more expensive villa, Mr. Brindleton."

George sneered. "You're a punk reporter, I see. Think you're better than me just because you've got that Landgraab elitism running through your veins?"

Malcolm shrugged. He'd always been a snob, and most people were right when they called him an ass, but he'd found reasons to smile after becoming a father and marrying his wife. He didn't want to spend his night arguing with an angry old man. "It's been a pleasure, Mr. Brindleton. I think I have everything I needed from you, but if you have more to say, by all means, call the news station anytime."

"What does some big city national reporter want with a story about a body in Brindleton Bay, anyway?"

"The story is important, but my son lives in Brindleton Bay. On a personal level, I care that he's safe, and if your company isn't doing their job, I think my mother would love to know there's an open business opportunity at the docks. Demand and supply, and all that."

"You have a son in Brindleton Bay?"

"I do. The local vet is his mother."

George froze as the waiter named Rafael approached with his drink.

"Your son is Heather Nesbitt's son?" He stammered. "Listen, there's no need to start a competing security company in Brindleton Bay...as a matter of fact, I'm gonna tell my guy to go back to the old schedule, effective immediately, so don't even bother."

George ended the video call with a click. The names of Heather's kids had been redacted in the restraining order, but the order had covered the school and the daycare, as well as the house. It's not like he really needed to be able to single them out from any of the other squealing brats in his town - despite his threats outside the courthouse, he preferred to stay away from all of them.

George was more focused on the bigger picture than scaring kids - asserting his importance to the safety of Brindleton Bay served him far better. He'd expected a rise in hooliganism, not a murder, when he pulled his guys from the docks, but the sequence of events had played right into his hands while he sipped cocktails in the sunshine.

He had no reverence for most of the Brindleton Bay Police Force. They'd been in his pocket for decades and they needed him now more than ever. But the Landgraabs were a bigger fish than any he pulled from the Simlandia Sea in his fishing days.

He smiled, taking the drink from Rafael. "Thank you, amigo. Here's a tip to keep 'em coming."

June stood and pleaded with her husband. "Don't drink all morning, George!"

"Don't tell me what to do, June."

Rafa smiled. "Yes, sir. I'll bring round number two before you fall asleep in the lounge chair again for your afternoon nap."

With the Sulani sun beating down on his forehead, George Brindleton considered what he'd learned from Malcolm Landgraab. ->

<- Previous Chapter | Gen 2 Start | Gen 2.1 Summary

Gen 1 Start | Gen 1 Summary

NOTE: Some may recall my side project to flip Malcolm's evil trait to good. That hasn't happened yet but he has added cheerful as a bonus trait - Snob, Evil, Music Lover, and Cheerful is who Malcolm is right now. Good-hearted Miko helping change him is maybe sorta slowly working! He did finish with George and did the evil cackle animation because George was mad and he reveled in it, however...

WCIF Serving Poses: @tenyrasims' Serving With a Smile Posepack and @someone-elsa's cocktails tray accessory (also available at the link). Seriously fantastic, thank you so much for creating and sharing this! it's exactly what I was looking for when I needed to shoot this scene.

[kteezy997]

Hello I’m sorry to bother you I saw your bio says your requests are open and I was wanting to request a smut with Lee from bones and all. My request is Lee taking his girlfriend and fellow eaters virginity he is soft and dominant with her saying she is his girl. If that’s out of your comfort zone or you don’t want to do it that’s fine! :)

His Girl//Lee (Bones and All)

Warnings: mention of murder, mention of cannibalism, Lee and reader are eaters, blood, smut, female receiving oral sex, reader’s first time

•Unedited at this time•

He had killed for you. What else was love? You didn't think there were many people in the world that could say that about their partner, that they would kill for you.

Lee was a great boyfriend and the best protector you could have ever asked for. And now that he you had shared someone together, your relationship felt more serious than ever. You felt so safe and secure with him. It is quite an intimate thing for an eater to share their food. So it was clear now that you had a strong bond and a mutual trust between you.

The two of you were able to return back to your motel room undetected. You were both cover in splotches of blood from the mouth down.

"C'mon baby, let's get cleaned up." Lee said, a silly grin on his face. The blood spatters on his cheeks were like a gory five o'clock shadow.

You weren't nervous, everything felt natural as you went into the bathroom and saw him getting undressed as you started to do the same.

Lee turned the water on and took your hand to lead you into the shower.

He was the first person to make you feel seen and loved. He was your family now. Your parents had abandoned you, not that you could really blame them. They could no longer endure the trauma you had brought into their lives. They could not go on hiding what you were.

But what you had now with Lee was even more special, because there was no obligation. He chose you and you chose him.

The water washed over your bodies. You welcomed the warmth and it felt so relieving to get the blood off of you. You watched as Lee's pinkish brown hair was drenched. He looked so handsome, as always, as the blood was rinsed from his jawline.

Lee pulled you into his chest, kissing you and letting the water fall onto your head, soaking your hair. You picked up the washcloth and got it wet under the water and massaged the bar of soap onto it. You then started to lather his arms and chest with the cloth.

You looked down at your feet, seeing the blood mix with the water and the white suds of the soap, looking like a melted strawberry milkshake under your feet.

Lee took the washcloth from your hands, and gently ran it over your back.

You looked into his green eyes, and that was all he had to do to warm you from the inside out.

"I love you, y/n." he whispered.

You smiled, “I love you too.”

He matched your smile and kissed you again.

……

You got out of the shower and onto the bed together with Lee crawling on top of you. He spread your legs instantly, dipping his head between them. He flattened his eager tongue onto your clit, swiping up upward, slowly, over and over, savoring your taste.

“Mmm.” he moaned against your clit, the vibrations making your toes curl.

“Oh, Lee.” you panted, put your hand in his hair as his tongue danced up and down your slit. “Fuck.” you cried, letting your head fall back. You grabbed the sheets a moment later as he wiggled his tongue, agitating your clit. You held your mouth closed to muffle your moans.

“No, baby.” You heard your boyfriend’s voice. “Don’t hold back. Open your mouth, I want to hear you.”

You looked down at him, he held your thighs in his rough, tattooed hands. His eyes watched you as he returned his tongue to you your folds. “Mm, fuck.” you whimpered.

“Yes, my sweet girl. You’re so good.” he praised, squeezing your thighs in his palms. As he massaged your clit with his lips, he rubbed your outer thighs.

Your arched your back, feeling euphoria take over your body. You moaned without shame. You no longer cared if your motel neighbors heard you. Lee gave you permission to be loud, and that was all that mattered.

He wiggled his tongue, darting it into your pleasure points over and over. “Come for me.” he panted softly from between your legs.

And you did. Your body shook from orgasm. You shuddered, accidentally squeezing Lee’s head with your thighs.

Lee raised up into his knees, holding your legs apart. “Are you ready?” he asked, looking at you so tenderly.

“Yes, I want you, Lee.” you replied instantly.

His lip turned up into a smirk, he tugged slightly on your legs, thrusting his hips forward. “This will hurt at first.” he warned, “But I will stop if you tell me to.”

There was an intense pressure as he pushed the head of his cock inside of you. You held your breath, wincing. You gripped the sheets again. You could feel his cock tearing your pussy walls with each centimeter of his length.

“Are you good?” Lee asked, putting his hand in your hair.

You nodded, clinging to him.

“I need you to use your words. Nodding is not good enough right now.” he said firmly.

“Yes, it hurts. But I don’t want to stop.”

“Okay, I’m just going to go all the way in, like ripping off a bandage, yeah.”

You nodded, “Yeah.”

He slid his cock in, sheathing himself entirely. His chest touched your breasts, and his face was just inches above you. He groaned, wincing and clenching his jaw. “You’re so tight, baby. But it feels good.” He held himself up with his flat on the mattress, and slowly bobbed his hips into you.

“Mm.” you muttered as the pressure inside you lessened. You were really wet, so his big cock slid nicely in and out. It started to feel good.

“How do you feel, my girl?” he huffed out, going a little faster.

You locked eyes with him. His red tipped curls hung in his eyes, making him look so cute. “Feels amazing, I love you, Lee.”

@gatoenlaciudad @thebetawolfgirl @musicandbooksaremyhappyplace @softhecreator @tchalamss @lixzey @bitchyunknownuser @ducktapebar @aoi-targaryen @yukideadinside @elloise0 @thatoneweirdgirl17 @mel-vaz @sammy-halpert @iwishchalamet @that-one-fangirl69 @jindongdongie @briefkittenearthquake @imnotoverlyobsessive

[citrinae]

lotus eaters.

robin x reader

contents; in which you and robin wind up on a deserted island. fluff, suggestive content, established relationships, afab!reader, wc: 1k. i’m just happy that i brought myself to post this around her birthday <3

masterlist

Toes buried in white-hot sand, legs tangled, skin catching colour where the sun was able to reach. Opening before you were infinite flashes of ocean; its waves murmured a cool accompaniment to Robin’s voice as she was reading from a volume with histories of the first people who came ashore to this island. Explorers. Adventurers. A runaway couple taking destiny between their teeth. Her voice was morphine, and you found the narrative hard to follow. But you weren’t surprised to notice that associating her face with the more relevant cast made it feel coherent enough to keep you there. 

Enjoying her company was enough. 

Seagulls piercing their way through the cloudless sky. The breeze cupped your face in a balmy retreat; sunscreen and sweat and the floral undernote in Robin’s perfume. With one of her many hands, she turned the page. 

“Let me know if this bores you,” she said. It took you a while to realise that this begged for a conversation. 

Heat surged to your cheeks, “No, no.” You look up to meet her face, brow raised. “Does it bore you?” 

Closed eyes and thin amusement met you like a riddle; Robin was a graceful cocktail of patience and casualness. Incense dispersing across the silver ceiling of a church, you knew she was never easy to read. And Robin seemed to know it too as she wore it the same way she would wear a favourite pair of boots: with pride. 

“A little, maybe.” A small chuckle leaves her, and something clutches in your stomach when it does. “I'd rather use my mouth for something else.”

To this you said nothing, but you knew that the hitch of your lips as her face moved closer was response enough. You kissed her. She returned it, a bitter trace of the coffee she’d had aboard the Sunny still lacing her lips. The fig she’d shared with you as you had been pushing your way past the jungle. For a moment you allowed yourself to drown.

Then, brushing a strand of hair behind her ears, your curiosity pulled Robin’s attention back to the volume she was reading you. 

“Is it true they lived there?” But most importantly, “You really think so?”

Two hands bloomed across your back and arm, soothing you closer. Your head rested at the crook of her neck. 

“Coordinates do match,” she started. “It may also explain the shipwreck we found on the other side of the island, plus the ruins scattered throughout the jungle. Their architecture is quite distinctive as well. If anything I’m positive this is the place.”

Your mind raced to hours ago; there had been a ship. Dusted and falling apart, a memory of expeditions failed. “Legend has it they continued their journey home,” Robin had told you as you tried to make something of the writing cut into wood and in a cryptic language you couldn’t understand, but she did. “But all historical findings have gone scarce after they debarked on this island. Curious, is it not?” Curious. Not worrying, not unsettling. She had been smiling. 

Could it happen? Can a crew wind up on an island and be lulled into not leaving it? Be caught in a narcotic fog, let themselves be eaten away by sand and vegetation? With the breeze whispering lullabies in your ear and Robin’s lukewarm breath on your cheek, you could admit that you somewhat understood them. Journeying with the Strawhats was a tempest, all battered feet and dusted clothes, and no matter how fond you’d grown of the taste of sweat under your bottom lip, tranquillity was the one thing you’d lose yourself to, always. When they happened, a foreign part of you wished that such moments would stay with you forever. 

Being alone with her made you tranquil. 

There was a cottage you could imagine, an unpretentious corner doused in lavender and summer fruit. You would aid Robin in her research by the day, and by night you would lie with her on the beach, chests pressed, flushed lips. Waves lapping at your feet, salty and cold under the Moon’s ghostly eye, her voice would weave poetry to the stars as your mouth would work its own across her inner thigh. Crickets and toads and rustling palms; with the sounds spilling their honey from the sultriest depths of your musing, you tried to recall how long you’d been here. You couldn’t. Your heart squeezed in your chest, thinking how easy it was to want these minutes extended and turned into a new reality. 

“This tale made you uneasier than it’s worth,” Robin looked at you with a prying eye. “Are you afraid we will disappear?”

Fretful people fascinated her. 

“No, I,” you tried, knees dragged to your chest. “I mean this is a beautiful island.”

You never had to give Robin a full answer for her to know exactly what you meant. That could be part of why you two worked so well. And to give the impression of broader extrapolation, she always lingered on what you said. Just like she did now, tapping her bottom lip with her index.

“It is,” spilled out, an airy sound. The pause that came after made you dizzier than the first and you almost regretted allowing yourself a moment of selfishness. 

“But I’m sure the ones to follow are even more so,” Robin took a beat to measure the waves. Then, out of the corner of her eye, “And if they turn out differently, we are more than free to return here.” Her lips were curled in the shape of a promise. 

You felt like being pulled out of a dream. “Yeah, sounds more like it,” you said eventually, brushing your nose against Robin’s cheek. “Now let’s go find the others.”

“Ok,” she said. “Let’s.”

From afar the wind carried with it the histories of pirates and heroes and lovers; all with their arrivals, and their departures, sails billowing to soothe a sunburn. They were the strangest kind, their ships furious, their eyes alive, kindled brighter with each wonderful place they landed on. You hadn’t witnessed half of what they did. Hadn’t listened to half of the stories they told. And some say the sea is infinite. 

Robin was already standing up, a hand out to help you get on your feet. 

Your adventures would not end here.

[wizardinggirl]

The Snake & The Raven

Summary: It’s been 2 years since Severus confessed his sin to you, his deepest, darkest secret. After the initial shock and betrayal, you have forgiven him and now the two of you have gotten together. (With much approval from the headmaster. You were beginning to think this was his plan all along.)

Warnings: none

Go to the beginning here -> Prologue (1/2)

Last: Part 3

Part 4: Tea Time

Word Count: 2.8k

2 years later…

Severus had changed. It took him a long time to heal, and it took him far longer to forgive himself than it took you. You don’t think he will ever fully forgive himself. He felt responsible for Lily’s death and that her son was now an orphan in an awful muggle home. He would have been taken into the care of Sirius Black, but you didn’t want to think about him and what he’d done.

You had decided to stay on as a teacher at Hogwarts after the first few months when the Ministry asked when you would be returning. Of course you loved your job as an Auror and it had been hard work to get there, but being here to mold these witches’ and wizards’ minds was far more rewarding. Additionally, it was a preventative measure. If you were able to be a good influence to some potential future Dark Wizards/Death Eaters, then it was worth it.

“Marrow, fix your stance or Edward’s is going to knock you off your feet. We’ve talked about this.” You twirled your wand in your hand as you watched two of your students duel, ready to intervene if needed. You’d seen a lot in your two years at Hogwarts, and learned the hard way that when the young upstarts dueled that you needed to be ready for anything. The other students cheered and you turned the other cheek at the few that had bets going. It was a hard class, more work than leisure, so you let them have fun in it when they could. You wanted them to still enjoy the class, after all.

“Whoa!” Marrow went flying off the dueling table.

“Arresto Momentum!” You cast on your student, it slowed her down enough to where she was placed on the ground rather than slamming into it.

“Thank you, Professor.” The class laughed and others cheered as Edwards strutted around the table, his fists pumping in the air with victory.

“Alright, Edwards. Off the table, one point to Gryffindor.” There was more cheering from the members of the respective house and you smiled. You decided that whenever they would duel, to add even more stakes, the winner would gain one point for their house. It wasn’t much, but it was enough to give them a competitive edge. You made your way up the steps to your desk and faced the class.

“I’m sure we all saw what Marrow could have done differently.” There were giggles as the students took their seats. “Your stance is very important, not just in dueling. It can even affect other spells as well.” The bell rang as you finished your sentence. “Good job today, class. I will see all of your Monday.” The sounds of shuffling, books being put away and chairs scraping on the floor as the students left and some waved goodbye. As the last student left, a familiar shadowy figure strode through the door. “Hello, love.” You smiled as he approached.

“Good afternoon, Professor.” You raised a brow with a playful smirk when he was finally in front of you, raising lightly on your toes to peck his cheek.

“We’re far past ‘Professor’ when we’re alone, Severus.” A pink hue dusted his cheeks as he cleared his throat, keeping a neutral expression as he looked around the room to make sure there were no more students present.

“We are still on school grounds, y/n.”

“We’ve been on school grounds whe-” he shot you a look and you laughed. “Alright alright.” You tidied up your desk, pushed your chair in then went back to his side, leading him out of the classroom. “Let’s be off then, Professor.” You said the last part with a more suggestive tone as you nudged his arm with your own. He grumbled at you. As the two of you continued down the hall, Snape seemed more rigid and quiet than usual, and that’s his natural state. “Are you alright, Sev?” You asked sincerely, placing your arm on his as you walked. He looked down at you and gave the smallest twitch of a smile.

“I’m fine.” Then he turned his attention forward again. It wasn’t odd for him to deflect when you questioned him about his feelings, but something felt different about this time.

The two of you sat together at the professors’ table and quietly chatted like normal, but you could tell there was something off. You placed your hand on his thigh and he stiffened then relaxed. That was odd… you leaned over and sniffed. He leaned away, his head snapping to you with a shocked expression on his face.

“What are you doing?” You actually couldn’t help but laugh at the sight. You leaned back in your chair, your hand still resting on his thigh.

“I’m just making sure I didn’t smell any knotgrass or fluxweed on you.” You shrugged and took a sip of water from the cup in front of you.

“Why would I-” he paused, returning to his normal position then leaning slightly towards you. “Were you smelling for Polyjuice?” Your eyes looked at him then back to your drink and you shrugged letting out a ‘hmph’, setting your glass back down.

“Just making sure it was you.” He let out a sigh then took the hand that was on his thigh and placed it on your own, leaving his hand on top of it as you took a bite from your plate. He leaned in to whisper so only you could hear.

“I’ll prove to you it’s me tonight.” You nearly choked. Severus rubbed your back and patted it lightly as you coughed. You narrowed your eyes at him, but he was just giving you a concerned look. He had no idea what he just implied.

Later that night you and Severus were walking around Hogsmeade, enjoying the cool night air before your u had to be at the tea house. You’d chosen to wear a flowy dress with short puffed sleeves. It had a blue floral design on the body and pure white on the skirt and sleeves. Along with a simple silver chain that had a small sapphire set in the middle. Something Severus had gotten you, knowing your affinity for your house colors, as a thank you for being there for him. The two of you had been together officially for over a year now. You had told him you wanted the two of you to do something special together, nothing big, just special. But, both of you were so busy you hadn’t had the time until now. He had come to your quarters a few days prior with a look in his eyes that you couldn’t quite place.

**flashback**

“Y/n?” His hand still on the doorknob and not leaving the threshold.

“Yes, Sev?” You make your way down the two steps from where your bedroom was and wrap your robe around yourself tighter. You had already changed into your nightgown and it was quite sheer. “You can come in.” His eyes scanned you from head to toe then he cleared his throat and looked the other way.

“I won’t be long.” He looks back to your eyes, you were directly in front of him now, him looking down at you. “I merely had a question to ask you.” you smiled and placed both hands on his abdomen, letting your robe open slightly.

“Well, you are always welcome to stay.” He gives you a closed lip smile and brings one of his hands to yours and squeezes it gently.

“I have some matters that need attending to. Someone’s been stealing from my inventory.”

“And you wanted my help?” You ask, smirking up at him. He deadpanned.

“No, I can handle it quite efficiently on my own thank you.” You let out a laugh.

“Then what is it you needed to ask me?” He was trying to keep his eyes from looking at your nightdress, a slight blush ghosting his cheeks.

“Are you available this weekend?” He moves his hand to tuck a stray hair behind your ear.

“I am, did you have something in mind?” You ask, straightening the front of his robe.

“We’ve been busy and haven’t been able to celebrate like you had wanted. I may not understand it, but if it means something to you it does to me. I’ve made reservations on Friday at Madam Puddifoot’s Tea House for us.” To say you were surprised was an understatement. Sure, he was romantic, but it was more in small gestures. A potion for a hangover or a snack if you looked peckish. There were those few times where he did pick you a flower, but that was pretty rare. He’d done nothing quite like this. You couldn’t help but tear up. His eyes widened and he cupped your face with his hands. “I’m sorry, I didn't mean to overstep. I just thought-” you shake your head and smile at him, wrapping your arms around his neck, his instinctively going to hold your waist.

“They’re happy tears, Severus. This is so sweet of you.” He blushes and looks away, affection and closeness was still something new to him. Something he was slowly warming up to. “It’ll be fun, I can’t wait.” His mouth turned into a closed lip smile as he looked back to meet your eyes. You lean up to press a soft kiss to his lips. “Are you sure you don’t want to stay?” You ask, raising a brow. He brings his hand up to cup your jaw and ran his thumb over your cheek.

“I want to, dear, but I should get to the bottom of this before the week’s end.”

“Alright then.” You press one more kiss to his lips before he pulls away.

“Goodnight.”

“Goodnight, love.” He went to turn away, but stopped and faced you again, studying your face then leaned forward and kissed your forehead. You smiled up at him then his retreating form and closed the door.

**end of flashback**

The two of you walked into the tea house, a little bell ringing as Severus held the door open for you. Madam Puddifoot looks up from her current table and smiles, excuses herself from them then wipes her hands on her apron.

“Hello, hello, welcome. Come in, come in!” She ushers the two of you inside. “Mr. Snape, it’s good to see you again. I have the private tea room ready for you and your lovely lady.” You couldn’t help but smile at that. As she started leading the two of you up the narrow steps up to the second floor you looked up at Severus.

“Private room?” You asked, wiggling your eyebrows.

“You said you wanted something special.”

“I did.” You smile, he must have put a lot of effort into this. You followed Madam Puddifoot up the stairs. Severus put his hand on your lower back to make sure you didn’t fall backwards. You couldn’t help the way it made you tingle. Not only were the stairs narrow, they were fairly steep too. He wasn’t about to have the night ruined because of a nasty fall. After walking down a short hallway at the top of the stairs the Madam opened the double doors at the end of the hall.

“Here we are.” She steps aside to let the two of you in. “I’ll be back in a moment with a fresh pot of tea.” Severus guides you into the room and to your chair, pulling it out for you.

“Thank you.” You lean up to kiss his cheek then take a seat and he pushes your chair in for you. “Such a gentleman tonight.” You tease and he lets out a grunt in response as he takes his seat across from you. You laugh and take the napkin from the table and place it on your lap. “Truly, though.” You reach your hand across the table and place it on his. “This is lovely, Sev. Thank you.” He takes your hand and places a gentle kiss on your knuckles.

“You deserve the best.” He practically whispered. You smile brightly at him. He’s really laying on the charm tonight. The two of you sat there for a moment, enjoying each other's company while he watched as he ran his thumb over your knuckles, deep in thought. He let go of your hand and sat up straight when Madam Puddifoot came back into the room.

“Here we are.” You moved your arm out of the way as she filled both of your tea cups. When you looked back to Severus he was staring into his tea with that same look in his eyes that he had when he came to your room a few days ago. Almost as if he was unsure about something. “Please help yourselves to any of the sandwiches and pastries on the table there.” She motions to the long table on the wall to your right with a large assortment of goodies. “They were freshly made for you. If you need anything else, just ring the bell.” She exited the room and closed the doors gently behind her. Once she was gone you took a sip of your tea and hummed contently, closing your eyes.

“This is lovely.” When you opened your eyes, Severus was staring at you. “What?” You ask with a smirk on your face.

“I’m admiring.” He stated simply, then broke eye contact and took a sip of his own tea. You smiled to yourself and the two of you sat in a comfortable silence for a while. The two of you simply enjoyed each other's company. Eventually, you had gotten up and grabbed a plate of pastries for you and Severus. The two of you ate and chatted and about some of your students and about current events. When the two of you had your fill, you left, thanking Madam Puddifoot on the way out.

“Shall we head back?” You ask, arms lacing through his, leaning your head on his shoulder. He placed his free hand on yours.

“I have one more thing I would like to do.”

“Oh?” You ask, lifting your head to look up at him. “Lead the way.”

Severus led you to a concrete balcony that overlooked the highlands. It was dark now, the street lamps dimly glowing around you. The moon was full and the stars were twinkling, it was a gorgeous night. You let out a sigh and turn to face him to hug him around his middle.

“Thank you for such a wonderful date, Sev. It was perfect.” He looks down at you, bringing one arm to rest on your shoulder and the other to your cheek, you leaned into his touch. “I really do love you.” He stiffens at first then kisses the top of your head.

“I love you too.” He whispered into your hair. “I know I’m not worthy of it,” he lifts his head to look back into your eyes. “Or you.” You give him a sad smile then take his hands to hold them in between the two of you.

“Don’t say that, Severus. You’re more worthy than any man could ever be.” His eyes started to tear up at that. He searched your face for any sign of dishonesty, that maybe this was some long running joke that James and Sirius were pulling on him. There was no way someone so kind and loving was real. Not to him. He slowly sank in front of you to one knee, keeping your hands in his. “Severus?”

“I'm not the man that you deserve, y/n.” He turned his gaze to look at your hands in his and ran his thumbs over the back of them. “I’m stubborn, selfish, damaged, but you see the good in me, even when I cannot see it myself.” Your eyes began to water. Was this really happening? “Y/n.” He let go of your right hand and reached into the inside pocket of his robe to pull out a small velvet box. He looked at it for a moment before opening it and presenting it to you. When his eyes met yours again, he was the most sincere you had ever seen him. “I love you. I thought no one could ever love me, that it was simply my lot in life. But you showed me otherwise and pulled me from my darkness. You are my light. Will you marry me?”

Thanks for reading! If you’d like to be added to the tag list for the next chapter please let me know!

Next: Part 5

Tags: @lizard-zombie @liviacarol88-blog @johnmurphys-sass

[deathmetalunicorn1]

Luffy in Demon Slayers!

-None of the Hashira knew what to make of this cheerful young man- he was like sunshine incarnate, much like Tanjiro, just older but more immature as Luffy seemed to be very impulsive while Tanjiro would at least think before he leapt into danger.

-Luffy’s unnatural ability to stretch his body to inhuman lengths made several immediately think he was a demon, until they realized he was walking around in the sunshine and wasn’t bothered by the wisteria flowers Shinobu threw at him- he thought she was giving him a gift.

-His appetite was also quite monstrous, being on par with Mitsuri who was elated to meet a big eater like her and the two bonded over food. Obanai was initially jealous of Luffy spending so much time with Mitsuri, but when Luffy brought him over, being so bright and cheerful, just like Mitsuri, he could help but quickly grow to like Luffy.

-Giyuu thought Luffy was very draining- being so happy and energetic all the time, but over time he grew fond of Luffy, and he was the first to know if something was wrong, knowing when Luffy wasn’t happy.

-Rengoku and Tengen were impressed with his strength, the two constantly challenging him to fights- and while Luffy seemed like an idiot, he was a genius in fights, being able to adapt to their own abilities with their Breathing Styles to go toe-to-toe with them.

-Sanemi… tried to be nice, but Luffy’s idiotic nature quickly had his temper snapping, being held back by Gyomei who was crying, as he like Luffy- he reminded them of the children he looked after all those years ago- so warm and cheerful and Luffy didn’t care that he was blind- he treated Gyomei like he was a normal person.

-The only person Luffy was afraid of was Shinobu, who had no issues punching Luffy on the top of his head, leaving lumps as she scolded him with the sweet smile on her face, usually when he ate something he shouldn’t have, mainly because it wasn’t his. However, Shinobu was one of the few who talked to him the most, wanting to know more about his abilities and the Devil Fruits that existed in his world- if she could replicate those, she could give the Slayers a fighting edge over the demons.

-Luffy was someone that Zenitsu, Tanjiro, and Inosuke all looked up to, in their own ways, for his strength, his ability to adjust in battles, his appetite, his cheerful nature, or his drive to protect those who were precious to him.

-He was also soft on Nezuko, taking her out to have fun when the sun went down, making the younger girl squeal with delight and while he didn’t fully understand how she had been turned into a demon, he admired Tanjiro for wanting to protect her, wanting to change her back. It made him think of Ace- wishing he could have done the same in saving his brother.

-While he would carry a sword to match with the others, Luffy preferred to use his Devil Fruit abilities to fight, as the demons were always shocked to see this normal looking human stretching and using his Haki to armor his body so they couldn’t bite him or wound him!!

-Luffy was quick to become a Hashira, as his strength was a boon and they couldn’t pass up having such a strong warrior- as it gave them a chance to take on Muzan once and for all.

-Luffy often thought about the sea, looking out on top of the main house of the Hashira complex, wanting to return to the ocean to set sail again- but even an idiot like Luffy knew he was in a new world, and he would look solemn from time to time, missing his crew- his friends.

[drcomttheo]

Theo Nott x YN

summary: You go to a Death Eater meeting with Theo.

warnings: Angst

words: 1134

a/n:

Slytherin Boy oneshots—ML

Slytherin Boy oneshots—AO3

𝖬𝖾𝖾𝗍𝗂𝗇𝗀

You were invited to go to a Death-eater ball at Malfoy Manor with your boyfriend, Theodore Nott

As you travel the shadowy corridors of Malfoy Manor alongside Theo, an unsettling chill sweeps over you, sending shivers down your spine.

"Y/N, it's okay; I'm not going to leave your side," he reassured, his fingers intertwining with yours as you stepped into the grand ballroom.

The atmosphere buzzed with excitement, filled with the presence of numerous figures clad in the unmistakable black robes of the Death Eaters.

A live band strums softly in the corner, their melodies weaving through the air, enveloping the room in a palpable tension that dances between anticipation and uncertainty.

You tread softly beside him, your senses heightened as you take in every detail, every whisper of sound that surrounds you.

He holds your fingers firmly in his, an unyielding grip that speaks of his determination to keep you close, not allowing even a fleeting second to slip away from this connection.

He maintains his gaze ahead, yet his eyes dart back to you, observing with keen intensity, ensuring your well-being.

A handful of his fellow Death Eaters acknowledge him with a subtle nod as they glide by, while others take the opportunity to scrutinize you from head to toe.

He brushes off their curious gazes, guiding you to the drink table with effortless confidence. He pours himself a whiskey, then selects a sparkling water for you before leading you to a nearby table where he settles in, a relaxed smile playing on his lips.

"How are you holding up, darling?" Theo inquired

"I'm okay... I'm just kind of scared. Theo." You spoke

His gaze warms and he gently squeezes your hand, his thumb gliding along the back in a tender gesture meant to comfort you. He leans down, pressing a soft, fleeting kiss to your forehead.

"I know love, I know. It's okay; I'm right here. I promise, no one will lay a finger on you, alright? All you have to do is stick with me and I'll protect you. Promise," he spoke softly and your head bobbed in agreement as you nestled closer to him, seeking warmth and comfort in his presence.

He lifts his drink to his lips, savoring the moment, before drawing you nearer, his free hand finding its way to your thigh. With a tender touch, he begins to caress it softly, a soothing rhythm that speaks of warmth and intimacy.

"That's my good girl," he murmured, his fingers curling around your thigh in a tender squeeze.

His gaze flickered over your shoulder, scanning the crowd for any lingering eyes before returning to you, a spark of possessiveness dancing in his gaze. "Just ignore it, darling. Just keep your focus on me and everything will be alright."

"Okay, I will," you responded.

"Good girl," he murmurs once more, his hand lingering on your thigh, gradually inching higher towards your hip. "Now relax, darling; the staring will stop eventually... They're just curious, is all; they can't help themselves."

"Yes, but why are they curious?"

"Because you're the first muggle born to ever step foot into Malfoy Manor. And you're currently holding the arm of Theodore Nott, who is about to become a Deatheater, darling." He states it plainly, his fingers brushing against your thigh in a tender squeeze.

"Okay..." you exhale softly, straightening your posture.

His gaze lingers on you, a flicker of pride igniting in his eyes as he observes the strength you summon within yourself.

Once you're straightened, he allows his hand to glide up to your hip, his fingers playfully teasing the fabric of your dress. "That's my sweet girl. Don't let them scare you, everything will be fine, okay?" he assures, and you reply softly, "Okay, I love you."

"I love you too, my love," he murmurs softly, his hand gliding around your hip to pull you closer once again, securing his hold around your waist.

"Have I told you how stunning you look this evening?" he asked, his gaze lingering on her with admiration. "Yes, but it's good to hear again," you replied.

"It's worth saying again. You're by far the most beautiful woman in this entire room." His gaze roams over you, lingering on every curve as he speaks, a smirk playing on his lips. He pauses, his gaze lingering on you, before drawing you in just a fraction closer.

LATER IN THE EVENING

As the doors to the grand ballroom swing open, a hush falls over the crowd, anticipation crackling in the air.

The Dark Lord strides in, an imposing figure flanked by the ever-loyal Snape and the elegant Lucius, each step echoing with authority.

The atmosphere thickens with almost palpable tension as every soul present draws in a breath, their collective silence a testament to the reverence they hold for the leader of the Deatheaters.

The Dark Lord surveyed the gathering before him, his gaze piercing through the shadows that cloaked the room.

He lingers in the moment, his eyes gliding over the expressions of everyone gathered in the room.

As his gaze settles on you, a fleeting glimmer of confusion dances in his eyes, a silent question lingering in the air: who are you? He diverts his gaze from you, casting it toward Theo, offering the boy a subtle nod before returning his attention to the entire group.

"Nott... Come here." The Dark Lord's voice echoed through the chamber, a commanding presence that brooked no dissent. After a brief pause, Theo releases his grip on your hip and strides purposefully toward the Dark Lord.

You gaze up at him, a tremor of fear in your voice. "Theo," you whisper, the name barely escaping your lips.

He casts a glance over his shoulder, a small, reassuring smirk playing on his lips, before stepping forward to confront the Dark Lord. He assumes a dignified posture, his hands clasped behind him as he lowers his gaze in deference to the Dark Lord.

The Dark Lord's skeletal fingers rested upon Theo's shoulder, his gaze sweeping over the young man with an intensity that sent shivers down his spine.

"Surely you understand the reason for my summons this evening, Nott?" Theo nods, his gaze unwaveringly fixed on the ground before him, "Indeed, my Lord." I do.

The Dark Lord's lips curled into a sly smirk, a glimmer of satisfaction dancing in his eyes as he absorbed the reaction before him. "The moment has come for you to embark on the next chapter of your adventure. Stand alongside your fellow Deatheaters as we strive to fulfill my grand ambition... " Are you ready for that, Nott?" Theo nods once more, his posture unwavering, as he replies with a steady resolve. "As you wish, My Lord."

[broareweabouttoviberightnow]

begging you for more picky eater dallas!!!!!!

AOUH!! I've gotten like four asks for this one!! I hope I did it justice!! fic under the cut!! TYSM for the ask AGH!!!

The second Dallas walks into the Curtis' house he turns his nose up. Somethin' simmerin' in the kitchen 'n stinkin' the whole place up. For a moment he considers just spinnin' right on his heel 'n beatin' it outta there.

"Oh good, just in time Dal." Darry appears from the hall, rollin' up his sleeves, 'n ducks into the kitchen. "I thought I was gonna hafta hunt you down."

Dallas scowls, flips him off the second his back is turned. Darry's been on a bit of a one-man mission lately to force them all (but really just Dallas) into eatin' better. Apparently, a person could only make so many a nutritious dinner of three cigs 'n a sleeve of swiped Chips Ahoy jokes before Darry's goddamn mother-hen instincts kicked in.

"Not like you gave me any choice." Dallas mutters, toes his boots off 'n figures it's too late to make a break for it now.

"Nope!" Darry pops the p cheerfully 'n Dallas glares daggers at his back. "Now c'mere 'n stir these."

He drags himself into the kitchen, the record player spinnin' through The Beatles Help! album. Dallas rolls his eyes, mostly on instinct rather than actual dislike, 'n takes the wooden spoon Darry offers him.

He has to fight the urge to not cover his face with his sleeve, the smell alone turnin' his stomach. He settles for leanin' as far back as he possibly can, stirrin' the pot with his arm extended as far as it could go. Darry quirks an eyebrow at him, opens his mouth, but before he can say anythin' Pony slides in on socked feet, nearly trippin' 'n fallin' straight on his face. He scrambles for a moment, slippin' on the tile before Darry reaches over to deftly grab him by the shoulder.

Soda's right behind him, slammin' into Pony when he stops abruptly so there's no savin' either of 'em 'n they both go straight down in a heap on the floor. "Sodaaa!" Pony whines, kickin' at his older brother's tangled limbs.

Soda grins, kickin' Pony back for a moment before somethin' catches his attention 'n he sticks his nose straight up in the air like a hound dog. "Darry! Are those mama's collards?"

"Soda!"

"Sorry, sorry!" He finally disentangles himself from Pony, with one final whack to the shin on Pony's side, 'n pops up, divin' for the pot on the stove.

"Ah, you can wait for dinner like everyone else." Darry turns, quick as quick, pops him once on the back of his outstretched hand 'n Soda wails like he'd been shot, collapses into Dallas' arms like he'll get any more sympathy there.

Dallas catches him, shoves the spoon into Soda's hands 'n spins him back to his feet at the stove. "Since you like 'em so much you can stand here 'n stir 'em." Soda pouts a lil', jams an elbow into Dallas' ribs he doesn't manage to fully avoid, but turns back around to the stovetop.

"Fine. Then Dallas, you 'n Pony can come over here 'n pull this chicken."

Pony whines wordlessly 'n Dallas scowls, mutters, "Didn't know you only invited me 'round so I could do all you're housework," at the same time Pony huffs,

"I'm pretty sure there's child labor laws against this shit." Darry rolls his eyes at them both, reaches back 'n unties his apron.

"Hush, both of ya before I make you do the dishes too." More glarin' 'n draggin' ass but they both throw themselves down at the kitchen table to diligently start on the chicken. "Good." He ruffles both their hair, turnin' to give Soda the same when he pouts.

"Where're you goin'?" Pony narrows his eyes accusin'ly as Darry ducks out of the kitchen, comes back with the keys to the truck, laces up his shoes.

"I gotta run down to the corner store. 'N don't you go gettin' mouthy with me 'cause I'm only goin' to pick up Pepsi for your ass." Pony relents, shrugs a shoulder by way of apology, 'n returns to the chicken. "I'm gonna pick up Two on the way back 'n then dinner should be all ready."

He palms his wallet off the counter 'n is halfway out the door before he turns back, points a condemnin' finger at both Pony 'n Soda. "'N y'all better not eat any of it before I'm back, y'hear?"

They don't even give him the decency of waitin' for the door to swing shut before Soda has a heapin' spoonful of collards in his mouth 'n Pony has a handful of chicken.

Good. Dallas thinks, dryly, when they turn implorin' raised eyebrows to him, less for me.

...

The dinin' room table is full to overflowin', probably only really made for four they've managed to squeeze the seven of them in. All elbows, 'n knees 'n kickin' each other, accidently 'n intentionally. Reachin' hands 'n glasses crowded together in the center like refugees on an island so nothin' got spilled.

Darry hmms vaguely to himself, drops Pony 'n Johnny's plates down in front of them 'n neither wait for any other promptin' to dig in. Soda howls at somethin' Steve says, goes to knock his ankle 'n misses, jarrin' the whole table.

"Jesus, Mary, 'N Joseph Soda." Dallas reaches out 'n grabs the can of Pepsi 'n glass of water that pitch to the side in a motion he's done probably a thousand times. "Cool it."

"Well, maybe I wouldn't have to turn the table up if Dar'd hurry up with dinner." He teases, grinnin' wide when Darry fixes him with a look over his shoulder.

"Maybe it wouldn't take me so long if I didn't have to fix all your plates, huh?"

"Aw, Dar. C'mon, how old d'ya think we are?"

"Well, lemme think. Last time I let y'all get your own dinner Pony ate half a pan a mac 'n cheese on his lonesome, Two didn't have nothin' on his but chocolate cake, 'n Dallas had a cigarette for dinner." The offendin' parties let out indignant noises 'n Darry promptly twists around to ignore them. "The only one a y'all I can trust to serve his damn self is Johnny. You would think I have a house full a toddlers."

"Aw, Dar. Don't be such a stick in the mud! Cake is a well-rounded meal-" Two grins, puts his elbows up on the table, drops his head into his hands, 'n blinks up at Darry.

"Save it." Darry knocks his arms off, slides both Dallas' 'n Two's plates in front of them. Two pouts for a half second before tuckin' straight in, half standin' to snatch the barbeque sauce from in front of Steve.

Dallas scowls down at his plate. Half of it covered with mushy collards whose smell is enough to put him off everythin' else. There's coleslaw shoved up into the corner thanks to Steve's insistence, the chicken takin' up the leftover space.

Jesus Christ, Darry had really gone for it.

Johnny accidentally elbows him in the side but the bench seat probably was never intended for three people so he really couldn't blame him. Dallas glances up to Johnny's big, dark eyes studyin' him quizzically. "What, you ain't hungry or somethin'?"

His voice is all quiet so his question slides right under the vehement argument Steve, Pony, Soda, 'n Two are holdin' regardin' whether you could put barbeque sauce on pasta.

"Naw, it ain't that." (It's got tomatoes in it! It's basically marinara!)

Johnny raises an eyebrow when Dallas picks his fork up, pushes the coleslaw back 'n forth on his plate. (What the hell does that hafta do with anythin'? Next you're gonna be tellin' me you can put ketchup on pasta 'n it's basically the same.)

Dallas glances over, Darry's back still turned as he finally gets his own dinner together. (Well...) Johnny's already housed most of his, but he always ate like a man half-starved. (EW! My God, I'm arguin' with a savage.)

He doesn't wait a moment more, pushin' his plate against Johnny's 'n scrapin' a decent helpin' of both the coleslaw 'n greens. So, of course, Soda picks just that moment to take a break from the heated debate 'n slap a palm against the table, grabbin'.

"Hey! If we're sharin' slide some my way!" Dallas kicks him under the table, hard. Soda yelps but it's already too late.

Darry turns, plops his food at his seat, rasies an eyebrow over at Soda, then Dallas, fork still hoverin' over Johnny's, plate slid up shotgun.

"Dallas Winston." 'N Darry's got that scoldin' tone in his voice he usually saves for Pony. Or Two. "Eat your food or so help me I'm gonna make you have double."

Dallas scowls down at the table, can see Pony lean forward to peek around Johnny, Steve 'n Soda sharin' a confused look. "I dunno what y'all are lookin' at." Darry cuts in, mercifully drawin' the group's attention away as fast as he had focused it. "Also. Barbeque sauce can't go on pasta. 'Cause that's real vile." He says with finality 'n Two 'n Steve both jump to argue.

Dallas pushes the coleslaw around. Goddamn, he didn't know how people could like this stuff.

Here's the thing. Dallas wasn't picky. Picky was for toddlers 'n Pony insistin' for an entire summer that sweet potatoes were disgustin'. Dallas would eat anythin'. Or at least he used to.

"Can I have s'more Dar?" Pony 'n Soda have both cleaned their plates thoroughly enough it looks like they licked 'em. Hell, they might've.

"Go for it, kid." Darry idly glances over, raises an eyebrow at Dallas, nods pointedly, goes back to whatever he'd been shootin' the shit about.

He sighs, comes to terms with the fact he ain't gettin' outta this. The chickens probably his best bet so he sighs, sticks his fork into it.

"Goddamn, no sauce Dal?" Steve cuts in 'n Dallas rolls his eyes, lets out an aggravated scoff.

"Can't a man do a fuckin' thing around here without gettin' the peanut gallery?" Dallas shoves the bite into his mouth, flips Steve off when he just grins haughtily. "Also barbeque sauce tastes like shit so-"

"Woah woah woah! No need to start throwin' around insults!" Two cuts in with an indignant wail.

Dinner goes on like that for another twenty minutes or so. Soda 'n Pony damn near come to blows over the last of the collards, Johnny polishes off the rest of the chicken when no one's lookin', Steve's got the whole bowl of leftover coleslaw in his lap, 'n Two's waitin' as patiently as he can for Darry to cave 'n pull out the chocolate cake.

Dallas has managed about six more bites.

"Jesus Christ, Dal. You gonna finish that today or...?" Soda eyes the mushy, untouched, cold pile of greens like a five-dollar bill on the sidewalk.

"Glory, y'all are like vultures. Take your cake 'n go put on Mickey. You're crowdin' up my kitchen." Darry shoos them out, dumps an arm full of dishes into the sink. Two shoots straight up, balances the whole heapin' cake in his arms 'n a fork 'n vanishes into the livin' room, Steve 'n Soda hot on his heels. Pony 'n Johnny linger only long enough to help Darry stack the cups up 'n then follow.

Dallas shoves his plate away, goes to get to his feet. Darry's hand comes down hard on his shoulder, pushes him back into his chair. "Nuh-uh. Not you."

"What the hell, man." He makes to twist away 'n Darry easily holds him in place. "You can't make me fuckin' finish my dinner like I'm four."

"Naw, I can't." Dallas turns to glare at him over his shoulder.

"Glad we've come to the same conclusion. Now got offa me." In one smooth motion, Darry pushes his chair back in, pulls Dallas' plate closer to him.

"I wasn't done. I sure can't make you eat 'em but I can make you sit here all night. Choice is up to you." Darry grins, turns to flip the tap on. Dallas' glare bores holes into his back.

"This is bullshit. I ain't a kid." Darry hmms vaguely to himself, lifts the record needle 'n starts the album again.

"Really? Coulda fooled me." Dallas grits his teeth, grips the chair til his knuckles are white.

They lapse into silence, Darry washin' the dishes, hummin' absently to himself, Dallas scowlin' down at the table, then turnin' his fork around 'n around, then resortin' to draggin' it across the plate so it shrieked.

Darry pointedly ignores him, reaches over 'n crankin' the volume. He goes on for another minute before a throw pillow comes careenin' through the doorway, beamed at Dallas' head.

"Can you keep it down in there? God damn!" Steve hollers 'n Dallas shoves his chair back, squealin'. Unfortunately, Darry's quicker.

"Y'all know you have a volume dial on that TV, right?"

"But-"

"Good Lord, don't make me kick y'all out." Darry crosses his arms 'n Steve, after a moment's glarin', backs down.

"Fine, fine. Don't get your panties in a twist." Darry fixes Steve with one last look before he trudges back to the sink, stickin' his hands back into the soapy water. The moment he's outta the doorway Steve flips Dallas off 'n he happily returns the gesture.

"Dallas. Eat." Dallas scowls, props one elbow on the table, leans down to try to watch whatever Western they had rerunnin' on the tube. Darry clears his throat without turnin' around, the bastard, 'n Dallas sits back up.

He turns the plate 'round. Just do it. Just bite the bullet. He scrapes a forkful of the greens, somehow even mushier now then they'd been hot, together. Lifts it up to his mouth. Pussies out. Why couldn't he just fuckin' eat? Like he used to? Jesus. Back in New York he'd-

The tap flips off 'n Darry wipes his hands on his jeans, twists around to look at Dallas. God, why were the Curtis' always doin' that? Just lookin' at you like they could pick you right apart.

"C'mere." Dallas jolts to his feet, happy for an excuse to finally escape the goddamn table. "'N bring your plate." He makes a face 'n Darry just quirks an eyebrow, puts his hands back on his hips. Dallas kicks at the floor balefully, but snatches the food up, trudges behind Darry out to the porch.

It's a mild night. The kind they would migrate out into once everythin' good had stopped playin' on the TV. Spillin' over the porch steps 'n the swingin' chair. Pony scratchin' away at some drawin' in the low light of the street lamps or readin' somethin' Dallas couldn't make heads or tails of. Johnny wipin' the floor with whoever he could convince to play cards. Darry rockin' all slow back 'n forth. Soda twistin' those bracelets outta the high summer grass. The cicadas hissin' 'n singin'.

But for now, Darry just eases down onto the steps, jerks his head for Dallas to sit next to him. He does, reluctantly, droppin' his plate down between them.

"You don't like it?" Darry waves a hand absently 'n Dallas' stomach twists up. He doesn't sound upset, really. Just curious. But it makes somethin' like sick slide down Dallas' throat.

'Cause Darry's been real good to him. He'd admit it. When he wasn't naggin' him 'n fussin' like an old maid, Darry was a real good guy. 'N it's so stupid 'cause Dallas won't even do him the favor of eatin' his fuckin' food.

"You can be honest." Dallas swallows thickly. Shakes his head. Fiddles with the loose step. "Well, alright."

Dallas whips up 'n Darry just tilts his head, looks at him evenly. "That's it?"

"Well, no." A car passes by, briefly lights up the lawn with its one workin' headlight. "We gotta find somethin' you'll like."

'N it's stupid. It's so goddamn stupid. Stupid that someone cares enough to make sure he fuckin' likes his food. Stupid that Darry Curtis is probably the first person to ever care. "Oh."

Darry turns to look at him, furrows a brow, rests a hand on Dallas' shoulder he doesn't even think to knock away. "I ain't gonna let you go hungry. Not on my watch." Oh. God, it was so stupid. Dallas makes a low noise down in his throat he didn't ask for at all. Darry doesn't hesitate, just hauls him across the step to his side. 'Cause Darry was a good brother. To all of 'em.

There's a moment's pause. The crickets hop across the sidewalk, the street lamp flickers 'n buzzes, the cicadas screech.

"Hey, Darry?"

"Yeah, kid?"

"Do I gotta eat those greens?" 'N Darry blinks down at him once, snorts, chuckles, 'n then dissolves into the kinda laughter that makes Dallas just open his mouth 'n join right in despite himself.

"I'll make you a deal." He grins, catches his breath. "You eat two bites 'n I won't make 'em for a month."

Dallas scowls but he doesn't mean it. Not really. Not at all. "Soda might just die."

Darry smiles, squeezes him once on the shoulder, twists to grab Dallas' plate 'n put it back in his hands. "You know, I think he'll live."

'N they're gross. They really are. But he swallows them back quickly, like a shot. 'N maybe doesn't even mind that much when Darry clears his throat at him tryin' to get the smallest bite he possibly can. 'Cause he cares. 'N that makes it that much easier.

[jadedandconfusedao3]

Number Twelve Grimmauld Place. The last place on earth Sirius wanted to be. The dark moulding walls always felt like they were closing in on him, with their horrid paisley wallpaper. They could fall down and trap him there, lost in the rubble for all time, a coffin made from the worst place on earth.

When Dumbledore had suggested it, Sirius had almost fled the country. Yes, Voldemort now knew that Sirius was an Animagus, but given that Wormtail had been a traitor this entire time, it was reasonable to assume that he’d actually known for much longer than that. Sirius had been getting around just fine as Padfoot, and he didn’t really see any reason to change.

Then Dumbledore had used Harry as a reason to stay. The fucker.

“How are you going to be there for Harry if you’re not in the country, captured by the Ministry or killed by Death Eaters?” he mewled in that annoyingly quiet and calm voice.

Sirius wanted to punch things.

“I could take on a couple of Death Eaters. You know I could,” Sirius bragged, dread pooling in his stomach.

Dumbledore stared at him before replying gently, “I think we both know that it is not the Death Eaters that are the problem.”

Sirius hadn’t been able to say anything. He just glared at the older man with resentment and shame. Dumbledore had been there when they had clasped him in irons and locked him in the tower at Hogwarts, over a year ago. He’d heard Sirius’ broken pleas and the screams as the irons triggered his memories of Azkaban.

By the time Hermione and Harry had shown up to save him, he couldn’t talk because he was hoarse.

And that was that.

Now, Sirius was stuck here in this house that was like a tomb. Everywhere he turned there were memories that continued to suck him dry every moment he was forced to stay here.

Visions of his father haunted the study. One moment he would be sitting at his desk and Sirius would remember the times where he’d come in here just to be with him. Orion would be silent as his young son did his homework on the floor beside him. It was starkly different to the ones where his hand had cut across Sirius’ face, making him fall to the ground, his expression a mask of contempt as he spewed curses.

His mother haunted the parlour. Unlike his father, there were no nice memories. He had to stop himself from tip toeing every time he entered the room. All he could see were the broken shards of glass covering the floor, as they had so many times before, her screams filling his ears until they echoed around his skull. If he stayed in there for too long, his body would start to spasm as it recreated all the times she had turned her wand on him.

He avoided those two rooms, as a matter of course.

The other room that caused him pause sat across the hall from his own. He’d been in there once. He’d felt like he had to because it was like it was taunting him. Remus would probably tell him it was due to closure, or some other psychobabble bullshit, but there was something deep inside him that needed to be there.

He opened the door and was astonished to find it slightly less decrepit than the rest of the house. It made sense, Kreacher had always loved Regulus. Regulus with his soft nature, that had been battered and bruised into something cold on the outside. A shell that he’d worn imperfectly, probably until the day he’d died. Sirius had always been able to see underneath, to the boy hiding inside.

Every surface of the room was covered in Slytherin green. The sight made Sirius feel sick. He hated what they had done to his little brother. Slytherin had loved Regulus and Regulus had loved them in return. He’d gone a little mad because of it. After all, receiving love, after years of not having it at all, was a little heady. Sirius was familiar with the sensation.

But, of course, with that love came rules and restrictions and a culture that Sirius could see wore him down year after year. The weight of all that green dragging him under the water.

He’d laid down on the bed and curled into a ball. The air was musty, and it was stupid, but it almost felt like he could smell him on the sheets. Sirius closed his eyes and bawled like a child as he gripped the paper-thin fabric in his fists. He pressed his face into the pillow and let it drain out of him until he was spent, and all that remained was a darker patch of green.

If he concentrated, he could hear Regulus laughing.

Sirius leapt up. No. It wasn’t in his head; he could hear him laughing.

“Kreacher!”

The ancient elf popped into existence in front of him, scowling. “What is the Young Master wanting? I is being very busy today. None of your ungrateful little jokes.”

“I just heard Regulus,” Sirius insisted, hating how hope flooded into his very being at the thought. “I heard him laughing.”

Kreacher tore the pillow that Sirius hadn’t even realised he’d still been holding out of his hands, his eyes blazing. “That is not being a very funny joke.”

“I’m not joking.”

Sirius pushed open the door and ran up the stairs. The laughter had sounded like it was coming from above.

“REGULUS!”

He slammed open door after door, making the walls shake with the impact of the handles against the plaster.

“REGULUS!”

The empty silence of the house taunted him. He’s not crazy. He heard him! He had. He was right here. He’d been here all along. He had to be.

That was the moment that Sirius realised that he never truly believed his brother was dead.

“Regulus,” he whimpered as he pushed open the door to the musty old library and collapsed in one of the big armchairs.

It was Regulus’ favourite place. He would spend hours reading. Hundreds of books, one after the other in a never-ending stream that would sometimes make him confused about his own reality. It was a gift really. To be able to sink so deeply into the world of fiction, that the traumas of his real life faded away.

It wasn’t a gift they’d shared. Sirius read when he had to, but he didn’t enjoy it. He preferred to be out there living his life. Just another reason why this period of captivity was making him lose his mind.

The pain of his brother’s loss was all he could think of. The ghosts of the past haunted him as the thought that his brother could still be alive swirled around his head. He stumbled up out of the chair and took the first book he could reach off the shelf and threw it onto the floor. Before he knew what he was doing, he was tearing all the books out of the bookcases. He pulled and flung them around him, until he was surrounded by paper and broken spines.

When it was done and there was nothing but an empty shelf, he looked around himself in horror. It was a scene he had seen too many times to count. Rooms destroyed through the rage of his mother. Nothing left but a shell of what once was.

“No,” he whispered in horror.

Kreacher chose that moment to appear in the hallway. “Filthy blood traitor, destroys all of our treasures. Is this how we honour the young master’s memory?”

Sirius pulled at his hair as he screamed at the elf, “Get out! Get the fuck out you decrepit toady.”

Kreacher glared at him one last time before leaving .

Sirius turned around in a circle as he surveyed the wreckage. He’d destroyed everything. Just like your mother. He gritted his teeth and took out his wand. He was NOT like his mother. He was broken and bleeding, but he would fix his goddamn messes, even if it killed him.

He cast Reparo and watched the books fly back onto their shelves, their spines knitting themselves together. He held it until every ripped piece of paper, torn leather and thread was firmly back where it belonged.

With one last look, he fled to his own room where he attempted to write to Harry. Harry didn’t think he was a monster, and he could be better for Harry.

For Harry he could be anything. Read the rest on Ao3

https://archiveofourown.org/works/63326689/chapters/162230473

The art is mine! Idk I just like drawing people falling.

[baconcolacan]

Neil, grabbing me roughly by the collar of my hoodie, started shouting loudly. I even had to stand on my toes as he pulled me closer to him. I've never heard such a high pitched scream before in my life. Neil's drool was splattering on my face like tiny bullets but I wasn't paying attention anymore. In fact, even the shouting was overshadowed, I couldn't make out any of the curses and words he was mercilessly showering me with.

I was numb and could only feel a keen sense of injustice, resentment and pain, clutching one particular object in my pocket. I'd forgotten why I'd come to Neil, all I wanted to do was cry and snuggle into Paul's eddsworld bouncy hairy chest that lives in my head rent free.

I stoically endured all the righteous anger Neil had decided to take out on me, and then he shoved me out the door of his house. It's just a shame that Neil had no idea that I was a surgeon of that one usb eater and I simply wanted to return the lost item to its owner! I grinned bitterly and headed out into the pouring rain, humming to myself as I went along:

"Oh, the misery... everybody wants to be my enemy..."

What if I killed you

[hey-august]

I'm wrung and wringing out | (Buggy x Reader)

This is a request from @lostfirefly 🩷 A fic about how Buggy would cheer you up when you're feeling down. This is more sweet and intimate than spicy. I hope you like!

Word count: ~2.2k Warnings: NSFWish - no smut but mentions of nudity, MDNI, buggy x reader, established relationship, reader has breasts but no mention of genitals, no use of pronouns or y/n, 'babe' as term of endearment for reader, reader is not feeling quite right, just feeling down and in the dumps.

Title from "Delilah" by Florence + the Machine

˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗ ✩ ˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗ ✩ ˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗ ✩ ˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗

You wanted to do nothing. What does that even mean? Buggy tried to understand but he was failing and it was frustrating. When you said you weren’t feeling well, he brought you tea and medicine that you didn’t need. You weren’t sick, you just felt…off.

So the plans for rehearsals were pumped up and the captain brought you to watch. Acrobats soaring through the air, Richie leaping and roaring, fire eaters, death-defying stunts, however, the excitement of the circus wasn’t the cure. You watched, laughed, and applauded, but your mood dropped once the theatrics finished.

Flowers didn’t help. Donuts didn’t help. Stupid jokes didn’t help. Chocolate didn’t help. They all worked for a moment, but the effects of each miracle cure didn’t last.

Once the ranunculus bouquet was settled in a vase, your mood settled back down. As the sweetness from the glazed sugar dissolved in your mouth, so did your smile. Buggy’s jokes brought out huffs of amusement, but not the belly laughs he was used to. Chocolate was usually a guaranteed mood-booster, but not this time. The corners of your smile would slowly fall down as a weight returned to your chest. A weight that pushed you back into bed until you were burrowed in the green sheets, like a mound of dirt covered in moss. There you’d lay, existing and waiting out the moment.

“I don’t know…I don’t want to do anything. I just want to do this.” The explanation came from the depths of the earth.

Buggy flopped onto the bed, bouncing the lumps of blanket that you might be buried under. Those were the same words you said a few days ago when he first asked what’s wrong. What would help? What do you need? What can he do? You wanted to do nothing. But what should Buggy do? He tried to do nothing too. Then something. Anything that he thought would bring a smile to your face. And even though he succeeded in that, the smiles never stuck.

The pirate laid with you for a moment, wondering if it’s possible to do nothing together. Or is that considered something?

He shifted his position to find a more comfortable spot. Then he shifted back to hang his feet over the edge, remembering that boots don’t belong in bed. Even though they were too tight to kick off, Buggy still tried. He hooked the toe of one boot above the heel of the other and pushed. There was no give and when the hold slipped, his body thrashed with the unexpected movement. He tried again. After he floundered a second time, one of the blanket clumps curled up and pulled the woven cocoon tighter.

Sheepishly, Buggy chopped his ankles and feet into pieces that would slip from the confining shoes with ease. The heavy leather boots collided with the wood floor. The room was even quieter after the resonating thud, silently reprimanding the clown for his actions. Releasing the held breath burning in his lungs, Buggy swung his legs over the edge of the bed and sat up. He wasn’t able to do nothing so easily.

“Where you going?” asked a quiet voice.

“Gonna shower,” Buggy grunted as he started disrobing. Clothes were dropped on the floor with little clangs from buttons and buckles, and sighs of fabric relaxing. “I’ll be back soon, though.”

You listened to soft steps of bare feet against the wood floor before peeking out of the blanket bundle. The nude pirate was walking away from you, through streams of golden light and towards the bathroom.

“Me too?”

Buggy spun around to see you sitting up in bed, having emerged from the mass of green sheets. He nodded, slowly at first, then a little faster. “Yeah, if you want.” A tell-tale blush began making its way from his cheeks down to his chest before he turned back.

The shower turned on and so did your body’s need for cleanliness, which was rapidly overriding the desire to do nothing. Days hard at work doing less than the bare minimum left you feeling grimey. The sound of falling water changed as Buggy got into the shower and that was the last thing you needed to be convinced. You clambered out of bed, drawn to the liquid like a lost soul in the desert who finally found an oasis. Clothes were shed along the journey until you reached the destination cloaked only in goosebumps.

The air in the bathroom was heavy and earthy, full of the scent of ginger from the wash Buggy used. You peeked into the shower, second guessing your decision to join him. The hesitation was put to rest by the clean faced clown who was rinsing his long hair. Rivulets of water cascading down his body were colored by the strands of chromatic hair they followed. His eyes were closed and he looked so peaceful. 

The atmosphere was inviting and welcoming, so you stepped into his space. Buggy cracked an eye open at the sound of a wet footstep. After swiping the excess water from the top of his head, the pirate ushered you under the water and sidestepped until he stood on the other side of the shower. You shivered as the warm water coated your bare skin and carried away superficial grit and grime.

Turning slowly under the showerhead, you stated a simple observation. “It feels good.”

Facing the falling water, you tilted your head upwards and let the liquid run its course down your body. Little splashes created a mist that dampened your face, slaking the thirst in your skin. Hands glided on your shoulders, sliding on the layer of soap they carried. You could feel the callouses from a life of piracy on Buggy’s palms as he lathered your.

Buggy pulled you back from the water just enough for the water to avoid washing away all the suds he was building up. A few errant streams carried bubbles down a featherlight trail that tickled down the back of your thighs. Offsetting the airy feel of the suds was the firm touch of Buggy’s hands. Fingertips followed your curves and muscles, easing away dirt and stress. 

Once your back was covered in ginger-scented foam, he pulled you against his body. Despite the layer of soap and water, you two stuck together, held by affection. Buggy pressed a kiss against your neck as his hands moved to the front of your body to continue their work. His hold was slick against your breasts. Your nipples perked up under the rough yet soft touch.

“Buggy, I just wanna shower. I don’t wanna do anything,” you mumbled while wiggling under the attention. Your body slipped against his, but not out of his embrace.

“I know, babe,” he responded, oblivious that you would interpret his touch as anything other than wordless adoration. “You don’t have to do anything.” He spoke with lips still pressed against your neck.

Your body was tended to with diligence and devotion. You did nothing and Buggy did everything. He eased you from position to pose, moving with such intention that it felt like a dance. He brought your arm up before his touch was dragged back down as he directed the water and soap to your side and hips. His hand moved with grace along your chest and up your neck, mimicking a familiar hold. Sensual intensity was replaced with stronger intimacy. As the shower water flowed down, so did the hold.

With the top part of your body thoroughly finished, Buggy turned you to face away from the water. He lowered himself down, his hands moving along your left leg, until he took a knee before you. Pressure on your calf nudged you to put your foot on his raised knee. Before returning to his cleansing duty, the pirate pressed his cheek against your knee and tilted his face in to kiss your thigh. The water splashing down your body coated his lips. 

A light spray coated Buggy’s face so that when he looked up at you, his long lashes were decorated with minute beads of water. A waterfall roared in your body, surging with feelings of being seen and understood. You wiped away heavy droplets threatening to run down his forehead, pushed back a few strands of hair that had crept forwards, and blew him a kiss. The affection was returned with yet another kiss pressed against the soft skin of your inner leg, then replaced with the love and lather carried in his worshiping hands.

The shower felt like an eternity and you weren’t sure where you ended and Buggy began. You had lost your sense of self and you welcomed it. It felt like you were one with nothing. You gave your companion a hazy, dopey grin as he left the shower first. In the solitude, you relived the touches through the water that washed away the remaining suds. It didn’t take long for the remaining heated water in the reservoir to run low and the dropping temperature was your sign to leave the wet world behind.

You dried off with the towel set out and returned to the bedroom. Buggy was nowhere to be seen, but the bed was made with fresh gray sheets and a pile of clothes sat on the corner of your side. You were surprised to see that Buggy knew which drawer you kept your pajamas in until you pulled out the clothing. He put out one of his shirts and a pair of his underwear. Before you could get your own clothes, the door swung open and Buggy flew in with his hands full.

“I set out some clothes for you and I got us snacks and wine,” he said, nodding towards the bed and balancing a plate of something you couldn’t see in one hand, and clutching a wine bottle and two glasses in his other.

“These are your clothes,” you pointed out.

“Yeah…you don’t want ‘em? I thought you’d like to wear them,” he said hesitantly. Heat overtook him with embarrassment and melted your heart.

“No, wait, I do want to!” you cried, scrambling to pull on the clothes as quickly as possible. 

The underwear was barely pulled up when you got stuck tugging down the shirt. With one arm successfully tucked into an arm hole and the other arm stuck through the neck hole, you struggled in the self-created labyrinth. A rogue hand grabbed the neck of the shirt and pulled it away so you could realign yourself.

Once you were wrapped in the pirate's clothes and had regained sight, you saw Buggy’s set up. He sat in the middle of the bed, with a plate of dried meat, peanuts, and apple slices. A glass of white wine waited on each bedside table.

“Can you braid my hair for me?” Buggy asked in a practiced voice while avoiding your gaze. It wasn’t a request he didn’t like, but one that he was shy to ask for. He had never asked this question outright before, preferring to make it sound like your idea by saying you could play with his hair if you wanted.

Afraid he would change his mind, you nodded and quickly climbed into bed behind him. You got comfortable and hooked your feet under his knees, pulling his legs apart slightly. Shifting into the dip in the bed, his hips between your legs, as though this is how you belong together. Once in place, you finger combed his still-damp hair and began sectioning it. Meanwhile, a hand floated over with a bit of apple for you to eat.

The rest of the evening passed like this. Taking full advantage of Buggy’s begrudging request, you plaited his long blue hair more than once before deciding on a style that was both flattering and comfortable. After finishing his hair, you tugged each lobe to make the braid fluffy.

Throughout the haircare session, you were fed bits of food. Wine was offered once, but not again after you nearly drowned trying to keep up with the tilt of the glass. And maintaining the soundtrack was Buggy, who rambled and gossiped about whatever fell from his head into his mouth.

You began feeling drowsy while Buggy chittered about the new baby circus animals, so you flopped forwards to continue listening. His monologue continued as the performer reset the scene by clearing the bed and moving you both into place under the sheets. The last thing you remembered was the feeling of an arm wrapped around your waist and pulling you close.

The next morning took its time to arrive. It moseyed in, easing deeper into the day before you noticed its arrival. The sunshine wasn’t what woke you up, though. It was Buggy’s snoring.

Still wrapped around your body, his face was pressed against the back of your head and the strangled sleep sounds were released next to your ear. While the noise was loud and grating, you found it comforting. For the first time in a few days, you felt ready for the new day. You felt refreshed and eager to do something with your favorite pirate clown. 

You must have fallen back asleep, since Buggy was the next person to lay awake in the bed. You had rolled around in his hold and were facing him. And stuck on your sleepy face was a smile that wouldn’t fade.

[javierpenaismyhusband]

Chapter One: Nice to meet you

Joel Miller x M!Reader You

Chapter summary: After overhearing a group of Death Eaters plotting to kill Harry, I quickly flew to the Order’s safe house to warn them. Upon arrival, I only found Sirius, so I shared the details of what I had heard with him. He immediately called for everyone to gather, and soon my uncle Remus arrived. Concerned for my safety, he asked if I would like to come live with him, and I eagerly agreed, relieved to leave the dangerous situation behind. As school began, I met a new student named Joel, who had transferred to Hogwarts. To my surprise, the reason he had come to the school was eerily similar to what the Death Eaters had discussed.

Chapter Warnings: Mantion of cuts, every character is 18+, mantion of death and murder, not smut in this chapter

series masterlist

Two days before the start of term, I found myself strolling through the heart of London, hoping to enjoy a quiet morning before the inevitable chaos of Hogwarts resumed. The air was crisp, touched with the lingering warmth of late summer, and the streets bustled with the usual Muggle energy an endless stream of people hurrying, chatting, lost in their own worlds. I stopped by my favorite café near Regent’s Park, ordering a coffee and savoring the rich, warm bitterness as I took my first sip.

I’d been looking forward to this brief calm, just me and the city, before I traded it for the stone corridors and crowded common rooms of Hogwarts. But as I walked down the avenue, enjoying the rare sense of freedom, something strange caught my eye.

Across the street, half-hidden in a pocket of shadow, three men were huddled together, dressed head to toe in dark robes that felt out of place even in a city as eclectic as London. I slowed my pace, pretending to check my watch while stealing a closer look. The robes were heavy, unusual for the warm weather, and their faces were obscured by dark masks metallic, almost glinting when the sun hit them just right.

A sharp, uneasy feeling crept over me. Death Eaters. In Muggle London.

My heart beat a little faster as I watched them. The thought that it could be Death Eaters seemed absurd yet, as I kept my eyes on them, the more certain I became. Their movements were too coordinated, too deliberate. One of them glanced over his shoulder, and I quickly looked away, hoping I hadn’t been noticed.

They started to move, slipping through the crowd with unnerving precision, their heads turning this way and that as if they were searching for someone. Something. I forced myself to breathe, clinging to the calm I’d felt just moments ago. But as I watched them drift toward a side street, any remnants of that calm were replaced by a fierce determination.

This wasn’t a coincidence, and I couldn’t just walk away. What if they were planning something dangerous? In Muggle London, with no one else around to intervene? I knew I had to act.

With my coffee cup still in one hand, I pulled out my wand with the other, glancing around to make sure no one was paying attention. I whispered a quick incantation, sending a subtle, silver message into the air that would alert the Order of the Phoenix. Hopefully, someone would respond soon. I held my breath as the silvery wisp disappeared from view, off to find the nearest Order member.

I kept my wand low as I began following the three figures, careful to keep my distance as they moved deeper into the alley. The air felt colder here, and I could smell the faint tang of smoke and damp stone. My footsteps echoed, muffled by the hum of the city beyond, but in the narrowness of the alley, every sound felt amplified.

I knew the risks. I’d read enough to understand the power of Death Eaters and what they were capable of, even if I’d never faced them myself. But here I was, two days from returning to Hogwarts, risking my neck by tailing suspected Dark wizards through a darkening London alley. The thought brought a grim smile to my face.

I slipped quietly toward the cracked window of the abandoned building, keeping low and out of sight. Through the grime-streaked glass, I could see the three men huddled close, their voices hushed but sharp. I strained to catch their words, picking out fragments that sent a chill down my spine.

“He’s back,” one of them said, voice reverent and laced with fear. Another nodded, his mask glinting in the dim light.

“The Dark Lord’s orders are clear. He plans to kill the boy.”

My breath caught. Who were they talking about? Harry Potter? Or someone else entirely? Either way, this was serious—and proof that Voldemort had truly returned. I needed to get this information back to the Order, fast.

Just as I started to ease back, a hand shot out of the shadows and clamped onto the collar of my shirt, yanking me back with bone-jarring force. I barely had time to process what was happening before I found myself face-to-face with a Death Eater. His masked face loomed above me, his eyes narrowed with a predatory gleam as he pressed his wand to my chest.

“What are you doing here?” he hissed, voice dripping with menace.

Fear shot through me, but I tightened my grip on my wand and acted on instinct. I thrust it forward and shouted, “Expelliarmus!” His wand flew out of his hand, spinning through the air before clattering against the stone floor. His grip loosened just enough for me to twist away, heart pounding as I bolted down the alley.

The Death Eater roared in anger, and I could hear him shouting for the others. More footsteps joined his, echoing off the walls as they chased me down the narrow, winding streets. I glanced over my shoulder just in time to see one of them raise his wand, aiming for me.

I whipped my wand back and shouted, “Stupefy!” A jet of red light shot from my wand, forcing the Death Eater to duck, but I didn’t stop to see if it hit. Another curse flew past me, sizzling through the air and striking the cobblestones just ahead, sending fragments of stone up into my face.

I turned sharply, casting a quick “Protego!” as I ducked behind a stack of crates. The shield charm deflected a flash of green light that would have hit me square in the back. Heart pounding, I shot another “Stupefy!” over my shoulder, hearing it connect with something solid and hoping it had slowed at least one of them down.

But the footsteps kept coming. A curse sizzled past my ear, close enough to make me flinch as I sprinted down another twisting alley. I gritted my teeth and threw a “Confringo!” spell behind me, causing an explosion that showered the alley with debris, briefly blocking their path.

I turned down a narrow side street, pressing myself flat against the wall as the footsteps grew distant, drowned out by the city’s hum. My breath came in gasps, my heart racing as I clutched my wand tightly, my mind still reeling from what I’d overheard.

I didn’t stop running until I’d reached my flat, barely pausing to unlock the door before I threw myself inside. My mind was racing, but I knew what I needed: my backpack and my broom. I slung the pack over one shoulder, grabbed my broom from where it leaned against the wall, and sprinted up the stairs to the roof, taking them two at a time.

Once I reached the top, I paused, breathing hard, and pointed my wand at myself. “Disillusionment Charm,” I muttered, feeling a cold, trickling sensation slide down from my head to my feet as I disappeared from view. The spell wasn’t perfect, but it was enough to blend into the morning sky and avoid drawing attention.

Straddling my broom, I kicked off from the rooftop, feeling the rush of cool evening air whip against my face as I rose above the buildings. London sprawled out below, lights twinkling like stars against the dark. I kept low, weaving through the night’s shadows, my eyes fixed on the distant safe house where the Order of the Phoenix held their meetings. I had to get there before those Death Eaters could report back or catch up.

As I approached the familiar street, I glanced around to make sure I was alone before pulling my wand out and muttering the spell under my breath. The enchanted charm began to take effect, and slowly, the two Muggle buildings on either side of the hidden apartment seemed to shudder. With a deep rumbling, they began to shift, almost as if being nudged aside by an invisible force. Bit by bit, they moved apart, and between them, an entirely new building seemed to materialize from thin air.

The house appeared slowly, squeezing itself into existence as if it had been hiding in plain sight all along. The dark, towering structure of the Order's safe house loomed into view, its crooked, old-fashioned windows glinting dully under the streetlights. Weather-beaten and ominous, the door finally came into full sight a worn, black door marked with a tarnished silver serpent knocker.

I took a steadying breath and stepped forward, heart pounding as I placed my hand on the cold brass handle, feeling the magic hum beneath my fingers. With a final glance at the empty street behind me, I pushed the door open and slipped inside, leaving the concealed house to meld seamlessly back into the Muggle cityscape.

As I closed the door softly behind me, the house settled into a heavy silence, shadows flickering along the dimly lit hallway. I made my way to the kitchen, the familiar creak of the floorboards underfoot adding to the eeriness. When I stepped inside, I found Sirius there, alone, nursing a mug of coffee, his gaze distant.

“Hey,” I said quietly.

He looked up with a start, his hand twitching toward his wand before he relaxed, a faint smile replacing his initial surprise. “Merlin’s beard, you scared me,” he muttered, letting out a breath.

“Sorry,” I said, taking a few steps toward him. “Something happened… something I thought you and the Order should know about.”

At this, his expression hardened, the playful glint in his eyes replaced by the serious, focused look he wore during meetings. “What happened?” he asked, setting his mug down.

I took a seat across from him, gathering my thoughts as the weight of what I’d overheard settled in. I started explaining everything about the Death Eaters, their mention of the Dark Lord, the plan to kill someone they called "the boy." Sirius listened in stony silence, his gaze never leaving mine, his jaw clenched tighter with each word.

When I finished, he gave a slow nod, the flicker of worry unmistakable. Without a word, he raised his wand and sent a streak of red light shooting from the tip, a silent summons for the rest of the Order. Then, with a quick flick, he conjured a steaming mug of tea, which floated smoothly over to me.

“Drink up,” he said, his voice quieter now, but with a hint of reassurance. “Sounds like you’ve had quite a day.” He settled back in his chair, his eyes never leaving the doorway as he waited for the others to arrive.

As the minutes ticked by, the atmosphere in the kitchen thickened with anticipation. I sat with Sirius, the weight of the news I’d shared lingering in the air between us. Every creak of the floorboards, every distant murmur from the hall sent my heart racing, and I could sense the urgency in Sirius’s posture as he leaned forward, waiting for the others to arrive.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, the door swung open, and the rest of the Order began to filter in, their expressions a mix of concern and curiosity. I watched as they greeted Sirius and exchanged anxious whispers, the tension palpable.

Just then, the door burst open again, and my uncle Remus rushed in, his eyes wide with worry. When he spotted me, he crossed the room in an instant, gathering me into a fierce hug that nearly knocked the wind out of me.

“Oh my goodness, are you okay?” he exclaimed, pulling back just enough to look me in the eye, concern etched across his features.

“Yeah, Remus, I’m fine,” I reassured him, managing a small smile despite the adrenaline still coursing through my veins. “Really. It’s just there was a situation.”

He studied me for a moment longer, his gaze searching for any signs of distress. Once satisfied, he gave a relieved nod and squeezed my shoulder gently. “Thank Merlin. I heard there was trouble, but I’m glad you made it back safely.”

The kitchen began to fill with the familiar faces of the Order, each one casting glances in my direction, their expressions shifting from curiosity to concern as they realized I was there. I could feel the energy in the room shift, a mix of camaraderie and urgency as we prepared to share what I had witnessed.

After a while, the door creaked open once more, and a familiar group of faces stepped in, bringing a sense of comfort and camaraderie into the room. Harry, Ron, Hermione, Ginny, and the twins, Fred and George, filed in, looking around with curious and slightly worried expressions. Their arrival seemed to ease some of the tension, and I managed a small smile as I waved them over.

“Hey,” I greeted, feeling a sense of relief wash over me. Having them here made the room feel a bit warmer, a reminder that I wasn’t alone in all of this.

Ron’s brow furrowed as he looked around at the gathering. “Hey, what’s going on? We got told it was urgent.”

Hermione’s eyes darted to me, her gaze sharp and questioning. “Is everything alright? You look… well, like you’ve been through something.”

Harry was silent, but the understanding look he gave me said it all. He knew the weight that came with news like this. Ginny stood beside him, watching quietly, while Fred and George exchanged glances, already whispering guesses to each other with a mix of seriousness and mischief.

“I’ll explain,” I replied, casting a glance at Sirius, who gave me a small nod of encouragement. “It’s… a lot. But I wanted to make sure everyone was here before I start.”

We headed upstairs to the room where I was supposed to spend the night. It was small and cramped, with a few spare beds shoved against the walls, but it felt comforting to be surrounded by my friends. They gathered around, sitting cross-legged on the beds and the floor, their faces eager but tense as they waited for me to begin.

I took a deep breath and recounted everything I’d seen—the Death Eaters in the alley, their whispered conversation about the Dark Lord’s plan, and the unsettling certainty in their voices. As I finished, I glanced at Harry, whose face had grown more serious with every word.

“So, yeah, that’s all of it,” I said, feeling the weight of the words settle in the room. I looked directly at Harry, trying to convey just how serious this was. “Harry, you need to be careful. They were talking like it was all already planned, like it was time to make a move. It sounded like you’re the target.”

Harry’s expression was unreadable, his gaze fixed on a spot on the floor. Hermione put a reassuring hand on his arm, her face pale but determined. “They’re getting bolder,” she murmured, glancing at the others. “If they’re already operating openly in London…”

Fred and George exchanged dark looks, their usual cheer dampened. Ron, beside me, clenched his fists, his face a mixture of anger and fear. Ginny just sat quietly, watching Harry with concern.

“Thanks for telling us,” Harry finally said, his voice steady but low. “We’ll be careful. We’ll all have to watch out for each other.” He looked around the room, meeting each of our gazes with a determined look that made the danger feel real but bearable.

As the conversation wound down, our nerves settled, and soon we were talking about anything but Death Eaters and danger. We laughed about Fred and George’s latest prank ideas, speculated about what classes would be like this year, and shared a few complaints about the mountain of homework we knew was waiting for us. It felt good to just sit there, surrounded by my friends, letting the usual worries of school and friendships take over for a while.

But then there was a quiet knock on the door. We all went silent, glancing toward it as it creaked open. My uncle, Remus, stood in the doorway, his expression warm but a little more serious than usual.

“Hey, can we talk for a moment?” he asked, his eyes meeting mine.

“Yeah, sure,” I replied, pushing myself up from the bed and giving the others a quick nod.

I followed Remus into the hallway, curious about what he wanted to talk about. We stopped a little ways down from the others, and he turned to face me, his expression softer than usual, like he had something important to say.

“Look, I know you’ve been managing on your own for a while now,” he began, a hint of concern in his voice. “But things are getting… well, more dangerous out there. And with what’s happening, I’d feel better if you weren’t alone.”

I felt a flicker of hope rise in my chest as he continued, his eyes meeting mine with a mix of warmth and caution. “I was wondering… if you’d consider moving in with me. I know it’s a bit of a change, but I think it might be safer.”

For a moment, I was speechless. The idea of leaving my grandparents' house had always felt like a dream. They’d taken me in, sure, but it had never felt like home. I’d wanted to get out on my own, but Remus’s offer that was different. It was like a chance at something I hadn’t had in a long time: a real family.

“That sounds… amazing,” I managed to say, a smile breaking through. “I’d like that, Remus. A lot.”

He smiled, relief clear on his face. “Good. We’ll work it all out. I’ll make sure everything’s ready for you. Just… know that you’re not alone in this. We’re in it together.”

I nodded, feeling a sense of comfort and belonging that I hadn’t realized I was missing. With a grateful smile, I followed him back to the others.

The night passed peacefully, the quiet hum of Grimmauld Place giving me a sense of safety I hadn’t felt in a while. When morning came, I woke to the smell of breakfast wafting from the kitchen, and soon enough, my friends and I were huddled around the table, chatting over plates of scrambled eggs and toast. We laughed about the upcoming school year, threw around guesses about what new adventures might await us, and just enjoyed each other’s company, trying to push away thoughts of danger for a while.

After a few hours, Remus entered the room with a smile, a twinkle of excitement in his eyes. “Everything’s ready,” he said, looking directly at me. “Let’s go get you packed.”

My heart skipped a beat. It was happening, I was really about to leave my grandparents’ place and move in with him. I grabbed my broom, and Remus and I stepped outside, where the morning air was cool and crisp. I kicked off the ground and soared into the sky beside him, the wind rushing past as we flew over the rooftops of London. The city stretched out beneath us, its quiet hum almost peaceful from this height. Flying always had a way of clearing my mind, but today it carried a weight of anticipation that made me feel both nervous and excited.

We finally reached my grandparents’ house, and as we landed, Remus gave me a reassuring nod. I took a deep breath, following him inside. My grandparents were waiting for us in the living room, their expressions a mixture of curiosity and calm. Remus spoke to them, his tone steady and gentle as he explained the situation that with everything going on, it was safest for me to stay with him. I could see them processing the news, exchanging glances before finally nodding. They understood. In a way, I think they were relieved.

Afterward, Remus and I headed up to my room, where everything I owned was scattered in familiar disarray. I took one last look around, feeling a mix of nostalgia and relief. With a flick of his wand, Remus began to pack my things, books flying neatly into my trunk, clothes folding themselves before tucking into place. I joined in, and together we worked to get everything in order, our wands moving in a quiet rhythm that made the process quick but strangely satisfying. Bit by bit, my room emptied, transforming from my familiar mess to a blank slate.

Finally, I stood beside my packed trunk, the room now feeling unfamiliar and bare. I was ready.

Remus put a hand on my shoulder, offering a smile. “Let’s head home”.

The next two days passed in a blur of excitement as I settled into my new room at Remus’s place. Every evening, we’d sit by the fire, talking about Hogwarts, sharing stories, and just enjoying each other’s company. For the first time in a long while, I felt like I had a true home a place that was warm, safe, and my own.

But then the morning of the Hogwarts Express arrived. I woke early, my nerves and excitement tangled together. I made my way downstairs, where Remus was in the kitchen, a pot of tea brewing on the stove and breakfast already laid out. He looked up as I entered, smiling in that quiet, thoughtful way he had.

“Big day,” he said, pouring tea into a mug and sliding it over to me. I nodded, managing a smile, though I could tell he was studying me carefully.

After breakfast, we finished packing my trunk and double-checked that I had everything. Remus tapped my suitcase with his wand, shrinking it down so I could carry it easily. As we were about to leave, he paused, his face unusually serious.

“Listen,” he said, putting a hand on my shoulder. “Be careful this year. I know I’m being overprotective, but something’s… well, I just have a bad feeling. Things have been getting more dangerous, and I want you to keep your wits about you. Promise me you’ll be cautious.”

I met his gaze and nodded, feeling the weight of his words. “I will, Remus. I promise.”

At King’s Cross, the platform was bustling with students and their families, and the scarlet Hogwarts Express loomed ahead, ready to whisk us back to school. Remus walked me toward the barrier, his expression still clouded with worry. He gave me a hug, holding on a bit longer than usual.

“Remember, if you ever need me, I’ll be here,” he said, his voice firm but soft. “And I’m just an owl away.”

With a final wave, I pushed through the barrier and stepped onto Platform 9¾. The excitement in the air was infectious, and I couldn’t help but grin. But in the back of my mind, Remus’s words echoed. Be careful. The danger was real, and even here, I’d have to watch my step.

With my heart pounding, I climbed aboard the train, ready for whatever the year had in store but with the quiet assurance that, no matter what, someone had my back.

I made my way down the narrow corridor of the train, searching for familiar faces. Finally, I spotted Harry, Ron, and Hermione in a compartment near the middle of the train, already deep in conversation. I slid open the door, and they looked up, breaking into grins.

“There you are!” Hermione said, moving her books to make room. I settled in beside them, my trunk tucked into the corner.

“So how was it, living with Remus?” Ron asked, raising an eyebrow. “He let you have your own place to sleep, right?”

I laughed, shaking my head. “He’s actually great. He gave me space but always made sure I had what I needed. It feels… like home.”

Harry’s face softened, though there was a touch of envy in his expression. “I’m jealous,” he admitted quietly, glancing out the window for a moment. “I’d love to be with Sirius. But I know… I know it’s too risky.”

We all fell quiet for a moment, feeling the weight of what that meant. Harry’s gaze drifted, but then he looked back, a small smile tugging at his lips.

“Well, at least I get to live through you,” he said with a grin, nudging me. “Remus seems like he’d be brilliant to live with.”

“He is,” I said, feeling a rush of gratitude. “Though he gave me this whole lecture before I left, telling me to stay on my guard this year. He said he had a bad feeling.”

Hermione frowned thoughtfully. “I don’t blame him. There’s been… whispers about You-Know-Who’s followers. And after what you overheard the other day…” She trailed off, a worried look in her eyes.

The train rattled forward, carrying us closer to Hogwarts, and we settled back into conversation, trading stories and laughing as the countryside sped by. Despite the undercurrent of unease, being here with my friends felt right, like no matter what was coming, we’d face it together.

We arrived at Hogwarts as the sun dipped below the horizon, casting a warm, amber glow across the castle’s stone walls. The train slowed to a halt, and we stepped out onto the platform, joining the steady stream of students making their way toward the castle. I took a deep breath, feeling that familiar thrill as I looked up at Hogwarts, its towers silhouetted against a sky that was quickly filling with stars.

The path to the castle was illuminated by lanterns, their golden light flickering softly as we moved along. By the time we reached the main entrance, the castle seemed almost alive the ivy-covered walls, the tall windows spilling soft light onto the grounds, and the distant sound of voices and laughter made everything feel like a welcome home.

After leaving our luggage in our dorms, we separated for a moment, Harry, Ron, and Hermione heading off to Gryffindor Tower, while I made my way down to the Hufflepuff basement. The common room greeted me with its familiar warmth, the earthy smell of herbs and wooden beams, cozy chairs arranged around a crackling fireplace, and a ceiling adorned with hanging plants that swayed gently in the warm air. I quickly set my things by my bed, smiling to myself. There was no place like Hogwarts.

Once settled, I made my way to the Great Hall, where students were beginning to gather. As I stepped inside, I felt a surge of awe at the sight. The enchanted ceiling mirrored the night sky above, scattered with stars that twinkled in the vastness, casting a serene, celestial glow over the Hall. Hundreds of candles floated mid-air, their soft light bathing the tables in a warm, golden hue. The banners of each house hung proudly along the walls, their colors rich and vibrant.

I spotted Harry, Ron, and Hermione near the Gryffindor table and joined them, my eyes still drawn to the magic surrounding us. The air was thick with excitement, whispers filling the Hall as everyone awaited the Sorting Ceremony. First-years lined up nervously by the doors, their faces a mix of wonder and anxiety. For a brief moment, I found myself lost in the magic of it all the timeless enchantment of Hogwarts, a place where every year brought something new and extraordinary.

The Sorting Ceremony began, and we watched as the nervous first-years approached the Sorting Hat one by one, each receiving their house to cheers and applause. Just as the last of the new students had taken their seats, Dumbledore rose, his gaze sweeping over the Hall.

“And now,” he said, his voice carrying easily across the room, “we welcome a new fifth-year student who joins us from Ilvermorny School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Please welcome… Joel Miller.”

A murmur rippled through the Great Hall as all heads turned toward the entrance, where Professor McGonagall stood beside a tall, lean boy with dark hair and a scowl that suggested he wasn’t thrilled to be here. His face was marked with bruises, and his intense gaze flicked across the room with quiet defiance. He didn’t seem particularly social in fact, he looked downright angry.

Hermione leaned over to me, whispering, “He’s our age a fifth year.” There was a hint of surprise in her voice as she watched him walk up to the stool.

Joel sat down, his posture tense, and Professor McGonagall placed the Sorting Hat on his head. After a brief pause, the Hat shouted, “Hufflepuff!”

Our table erupted in applause, welcoming him warmly, though he barely reacted as he made his way over and took a seat among us. I couldn’t help but notice how he kept his head down, a hint of tension still in his frame. There was something mysterious about him, and despite his guarded demeanor, I felt a spark of curiosity.

After the feast, we made our way down to the Hufflepuff common room, the excitement from the Great Hall still buzzing around us. The room was warm and welcoming, with its low ceilings, earthy colors, and the gentle glow of enchanted lanterns casting a soft light across the space. We headed straight to our dormitory, where the beds were already made up, each with thick blankets and soft pillows that practically invited you to collapse into them.

As everyone else settled in, I noticed Joel standing awkwardly near the door, looking around at the beds with a wary, uncomfortable expression. He seemed out of place, his eyes darting from bed to bed like he didn’t know where to start. I cleared my throat softly and gestured to the bed next to mine.

“Hey,” I said, giving him an encouraging smile, “you can take the bed right here, next to me.”

He glanced up, his expression softening just slightly. Nodding, he moved over and placed his things down, mumbling a quiet, “Thanks,” while keeping his gaze down.

“No problem,” I replied, hoping he’d feel a bit more comfortable. It couldn’t be easy, transferring in the middle of school, let alone to a completely new country. As he settled in, I could see some of the tension ease from his shoulders, and I figured maybe he’d start to feel at home here soon enough.

That night, sleep didn’t come easily. I lay awake in bed, the dormitory quiet around me as I played with my magic map, watching little dots move about Hogwarts. The names drifting across the parchment kept my mind occupied for a while, but eventually, my eyelids grew heavy, and I drifted off.

The next morning, the sunlight streamed in through the small window above my bed, waking me. I took a quick shower, the cold water jolting me fully awake, then went back to the dorm to change into fresh clothes and my student uniform.

As I stepped into the room, I noticed Joel already up, fumbling with his shirt, looking lost in thought, his expression somewhere between nervous and… hurt. The bruises on his face hadn’t faded overnight; the shadows under his eyes and the cut on his lip were stark in the morning light.

I hesitated, then crossed over to him. “Hey,” I said, making a circular gesture around my face, “need a hand with… this?”

Joel looked up, clearly caught off guard. “No, no it’s fine,” he muttered, avoiding my gaze. But the tension in his voice was obvious.

“Come on,” I said, trying to sound reassuring. “I’m pretty good at this, I promise.”

He glanced at me, then nodded, resigned, and sat down on the edge of his bed. I raised my wand, making sure to hold it steady. “Take a deep breath,” I told him, and he did, closing his eyes as he exhaled slowly. I cast “Episkey,” watching as the bruises on his face faded, his nose aligned with a quiet crack, and the cut on his lip knitted itself back together.

He winced slightly, but when he opened his eyes, there was relief there. “Sorry if that hurt,” I said, offering him a small smile. “Feel better?”

Joel touched his face, nodding. “Yeah… thank you.”

“Anytime,” I replied, glad to see the tension in his face ease.

After helping Joel with his bruises, I moved to my own bed and started getting dressed. I straightened my Hogwarts robes, feeling the weight of the black fabric settle around me, the Hufflepuff crest a comforting badge over my heart. I tugged on my tie, checking its neatness in the mirror, then tucked my wand safely into my pocket. By the time I was ready, Joel stood by the door, looking slightly more at ease in his own uniform, though his gaze still flitted around, taking in every detail of the unfamiliar room.

I leaned back, giving Joel a friendly grin. "So, what classes do you have today?" I asked, hoping to break the ice a little more.

Joel looked down at his schedule, his brow furrowing slightly as he studied it. "Uh, looks like I have Defense Against the Dark Arts first, then Herbology, a free period, Transfiguration, and History of Magic."

“Hey, looks like we’ve got the same classes,” I said, feeling a spark of excitement. “How about I show you around? Hogwarts can be a bit… overwhelming at first.”

Joel gave a slight nod, some tension easing from his shoulders. “Yeah, that’d be great.”

We left the Hufflepuff common room, stepping out into the winding stone corridors, alive with the energy of the morning. The castle seemed to hum with life, enchanted suits of armor shifting as we passed, portraits whispering from their frames, and the occasional ghost drifting lazily through the walls. We made our way toward the heart of the castle, where the Great Hall stood grand and welcoming.

The Great Hall was awash in morning light, soft golden beams filtering through tall windows, casting a gentle glow over the long tables where students gathered for breakfast. Above us, the enchanted ceiling reflected the clear dawn sky, tinged with pale pinks and oranges as if the sun had just kissed the horizon. Joel's eyes widened as he took it all in, lingering on the enchanted ceiling with the wonder of someone seeing magic up close.

After breakfast, we ascended the grand staircase, the stone steps cool and worn beneath our feet. Just as we reached the first landing, the staircase began to shift, sliding to the left in a slow, graceful arc. Joel grabbed the railing, a mix of shock and wonder flashing across his face.

“They like to move,” I chuckled. “Hogwarts likes to keep you on your toes.”

We continued upward, passing a row of portraits who murmured and gestured as we passed. One in particular—a medieval knight in heavy armor gave a grand bow, his armor clanking. “And these,” I said, nodding toward the painting, “are the portraits. They’re good for directions… if they’re in the mood.”

Our next stop was Defense Against the Dark Arts. I gestured down the hall where Professor Lupin’s office was tucked away. “You’re going to love Lupin,” I told Joel as we lingered by the classroom door. “He’s one of the best professors here actually teaches you spells you can use.”

We moved outside to the greenhouses, where the air was warm and rich with the scent of earth and herbs. Sunlight streamed through the glass, illuminating rows of magical plants in various stages of bloom. Some vines stretched toward us as we walked past, their leaves almost seeming to wave, while the faint hum of enchanted bees filled the air.

Next, we took a detour past the Gryffindor common room, hidden behind the portrait of the Fat Lady. I mentioned that Harry, Ron, and Hermione stayed there, though we didn’t linger long.

Then we reached the Transfiguration classroom, filled with a quiet, magical energy. “Professor McGonagall teaches here,” I said, gesturing to the enchanted objects carefully arranged around the room. “Strict, but one of the best. She’s a master of her craft.”

In the library, the aisles seemed to stretch on forever, each shelf crammed with ancient spellbooks and worn scrolls. The vaulted ceiling arched above us, and a soft, reverent silence filled the air, only occasionally broken by the rustle of pages. Joel gazed around in awe, his eyes lingering on the intricate stained glass casting colored light over the ancient tomes.

Finally, we walked out to the courtyard and down toward the lake. The morning was calm, a gentle breeze stirring the grass as we passed the towering castle walls, the lake’s dark surface reflecting the distant outline of the Forbidden Forest.

By the end of the tour, Joel looked less guarded, a faint smile on his lips as he glanced over at me. “Thanks for this,” he said quietly. “I think… I’m really going to like it here.”

“Good,” I replied, giving his shoulder a gentle pat. “Hogwarts has a way of feeling like home. And trust me, it’s full of surprises.”

With a bit of time before classes, I turned to Joel, giving him an encouraging smile. “So, we’ve got about half an hour before the first class starts. What do you say we grab a drink and meet my friends? They’re good people, I promise.”

He hesitated, glancing down at his shoes. “I don’t know…”

“Oh, come on,” I coaxed, nudging him lightly. “It’ll be fun. I promise.”

He studied me for a moment, weighing his options, then gave a small nod. “Alright, why not?”

“Perfect!” I grinned, and we made our way back down toward the Great Hall.

The morning crowd was thinning out as students drifted off to their first classes, making it easier to navigate the hall. I grabbed two goblets of pumpkin juice, handed one to Joel, and led him to a quieter corner of the hall where my friends were waiting.

Harry, Ron, and Hermione were chatting at the end of the Hufflepuff table. They looked up as we approached, their faces brightening as they saw us.

“Hey, everyone, this is Joel,” I said, gesturing to him. “He’s new here, just transferred from Ilvermorny.”

“Welcome to Hogwarts,” Hermione said warmly, giving Joel a friendly smile. “Same year as us, right?”

“Yeah,” he mumbled, his gaze flickering to each of them, seeming a bit overwhelmed.

“Glad to have another fifth year around,” Harry added with a nod, offering Joel a small, welcoming smile.

Joel relaxed a little, his shoulders easing as he took a seat beside us. We spent the next few minutes talking and laughing, helping him settle in and get comfortable.

Ron leaned forward, curiosity getting the best of him. “So, Joel… why’d you come here?”

Hermione elbowed him gently. “Ron,” she whispered, her tone scolding before she turned to Joel with a softer look. “You don’t have to answer that.”

Joel gave a faint, reassuring smile. “No, no, it’s alright,” he replied, pausing to gather his words. He shifted, glancing down at his hands for a moment before meeting our eyes again.

“In my old school,” he began, his voice quiet but steady, “there were… some dangerous people. They were followers of you know who.” He hesitated, swallowing hard as if the memory weighed on him. “And just a few days before school started, I overheard them talking about… a plan. They kept saying how they were going to kill some boy.”

His eyes clouded, and he let out a shaky breath. “It was… it was big. I didn’t know the details, but it sounded serious. So, I did what I thought was right, I went to tell a friend, someone I trusted. But…” He clenched his jaw, a flash of pain crossing his face. “They must have been watching me, because as I was telling him, they came from behind and attacked.”

There was a brief silence as we took in his words. Hermione had her hand over her mouth, and Ron looked slightly pale. Joel let out another breath, as if bracing himself.

“My friend… he’s in a coma now. He’s alive, but…” His voice trailed off, and he seemed to get lost in his thoughts for a moment. “After that, my teacher got in touch with Dumbledore. Asked if there was a way I could be… safer here.”

Joel’s gaze dropped again, and he finished quietly, “So… here I am.”

No one spoke for a moment, absorbing the weight of his story.

The three of us exchanged uneasy glances, the realization hitting us all at once. Then we turned back to Joel, who looked between us, picking up on our tension.

“Is… everything okay?” he asked, brows knitting together in confusion.

I cleared my throat, trying to find the right words. “Uh… how do I put this?” I started, rubbing the back of my neck. “Three days before school started, I overheard something too. A few Death Eaters or whatever you call them over there were talking about… killing a boy.” I glanced apologetically at Harry. “Sorry, Harry.”

Joel’s eyes widened as he processed this. “Wait… so you’re the one they’re after?”

Harry gave a small nod. “Yeah, that’s what we think,” he said quietly, the weight of it thickening the air around us.

Joel’s face tightened, understanding dawning in his eyes. “So, we were both targeted by the same people… for the same reason.”

"Looks like it," Ron muttered, glancing uneasily between Harry and Joel.

Hermione leaned forward, her voice low and serious. "That means whatever they're planning is bigger than we thought. And they’re getting desperate."

Joel nodded, looking down at his hands with a hardened expression.

“I want to help,” Joel said, his face set with determination. Then, with more conviction, he repeated, “I will help.”

We shared a quick look and nodded in agreement.

“Let’s go find Lupin,” Harry suggested.

“Professor Lupin? Why him?” Joel asked, glancing between us.

“Uh… we’ll fill you in on the way,” I said, motioning for everyone to follow. We headed down the dimly lit corridor toward my uncle’s office, anticipation buzzing between us. But as we reached the door and opened it, we stopped short.

Remus was standing by his desk, hurriedly packing up his things. Across from him stood a woman who looked like she’d stepped out of a nightmare. She wore a sickly pink cardigan, with a brooch pinned perfectly in place, and her expression was so sweet it was almost venomous. Her round, pale face was framed by tight curls, and her thin lips curled into a twisted smile as her sharp gaze snapped toward us.

“Where do you think you are, barging in without knocking?” she demanded, her voice high-pitched, with a falsely sweet edge that made the hair on my neck stand up.

We exchanged confused glances. Remus gave us a subtle shake of his head, silently urging us to stay calm.

“Um, sorry, ma’am,” I said carefully, keeping my tone respectful.

“That’s more like it,” the woman sneered, pulling out her wand. With a flick, our uniforms transformed in an instant: ties tightened, shirts tucked perfectly into our trousers, and our hair slicked back neatly as if we’d been groomed for a portrait. I clenched my jaw, feeling my collar pinch uncomfortably around my neck.

Remus glanced back at us, expression unreadable as he gathered his things. With the woman’s sharp eyes following every move, he made his way out of the office. She shut the door firmly behind her, leaving no room for questions.

We followed Remus down the hallway, uneasy and frustrated. “Remus, what just happened?” I finally asked, struggling to keep my voice steady.

He sighed, glancing over his shoulder at us. “The Ministry has… dismissed me. They’ve decided to replace me with Dolores Umbridge.”

“They can do that?” Harry asked, a mix of disbelief and anger in his voice.

Remus gave a weary nod. “Seems they can.”

“What happens now?” I asked, the weight of it all making my voice softer.

Remus offered a small smile, though his eyes held a sadness I hadn’t seen before. “Don’t worry about me,” he said, resting a reassuring hand on my shoulder. “Everything will work out. And if you need anything, you know how to find me.”

“Uh, actually, Remus,” I began, glancing at him meaningfully, “we have some news about the day I got attacked. Could you arrange for a meeting in Hogsmeade? Maybe with the others?”

He considered this, nodding thoughtfully. “I’ll do my best. When it’s safe, I’ll send word.”

With that, he gave us one last look before disappearing into the corridor.

I turned to the others. “Alright, what lessons do you all have?”

Ron scratched his head. “I’ve got Potions first, can’t wait to deal with Snape.”

“Same here,” Hermione chimed in. “Though I’d rather be brewing a potion than sitting through History of Magic.”

Harry rolled his eyes. “Lucky you. I’ve got Divination, so Trelawney’s probably going to predict my ‘imminent doom’ again.”

I sighed, glancing at Joel. “Well, looks like we’ve got Defense Against the Dark Arts… with Dolores.”

“Good luck, mate,” Ron said, smirking. “You’ll need it with that one.”

The others just nodded sympathetically, and with a quick exchange of glances, we all headed off to our classes.

As we made our way down the corridor, a familiar, sneering voice cut through the chatter. “Hey, watch it, weirdo,” Malfoy spat as he bumped into Joel, eyeing him with disdain.

“Yeah? Watch your mouth,” I said, stepping in front of Joel, my gaze hardening.

Malfoy scoffed, crossing his arms. “Or what?”

Without warning, Joel muttered, “Flipendo!” and with a flick of his wand, Malfoy went sprawling onto the floor, his robes tangled around him.

Furious, Malfoy scrambled to his feet, aiming his wand at us. But before he could cast anything, I shot a quick, “Expelliarmus!” Malfoy’s wand flew out of his grasp, clattering to the ground.

Joel stepped forward, looking down at Malfoy with a fierce intensity. “Next time I see you, it’ll be the last,” he said, his voice low and steady, his eyes locked onto Malfoy’s in a way that made even me shiver.

For a moment, Malfoy just sat there, wide-eyed and speechless. Finally, he stammered, “When I tell my father about this…”

Joel made a subtle but intimidating move forward, and Malfoy’s voice caught in his throat. Before he could finish, he scrambled to his feet and took off down the corridor, Crabbe and Goyle close behind, shooting terrified glances back at us.

Joel watched them retreat, his jaw set. “Guess we’re ready for Defense class,” he muttered with a slight grin, tucking his wand back into his pocket.

We walked to the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom, sharing a glance and taking a deep breath before stepping inside. Finding seats near the back, we settled in, glancing around at the plain, orderly rows of desks, waiting for the lesson to start.

Not long after, Dolores Umbridge glided in, her smile as fake as the pink cardigan she wore. As she moved down the aisles, her wand flicked, and with each motion, a thick textbook labeled Defensive Magical Theory for Beginners appeared on every desk. The title alone made my blood boil.

I couldn’t hold back. “A beginner’s book?” I said, my voice louder than I’d intended. “The Dark Lord’s back, and you’re teaching us from a beginner’s book? This won’t help us defend ourselves!”

I felt Joel’s hand gently tug on my shirt, silently urging me to calm down, but Umbridge’s expression was already twisted in irritation. She turned to me, her smile nowhere in sight.

“Do not dare raise your voice in my classroom,” she said icily. “I will decide what is appropriate for you to learn. Not… rumors or half-truths from misguided students.”

“It is true,” I shot back, barely thinking before the words left my mouth. “You’re just a coward who doesn’t want to believe it!”

A deathly silence fell over the room as every head turned, eyes wide with shock. Umbridge’s face turned a sickly shade of pink, her eyes narrowing dangerously.

She stepped toward me, her voice a venomous whisper. “Detention, Mr. …” Her gaze flicked to my name embroidered on my uniform. And I suggest you watch your mouth, or you’ll find yourself spending a lot more time with me after hours.”

I clenched my fists, biting back the words I wanted to say. Joel shot me a warning look, his hand tightening around my wrist under the desk.

Umbridge straightened up, adjusting her cardigan with a prim little smile. “Now,” she continued, as if nothing had happened, “open your textbooks to chapter one. Today, we’ll begin with a theoretical approach to basic defensive spells.”

As the class ended, students filed out of the room, relieved to escape Umbridge's oppressive atmosphere. I turned to Joel, who was gathering his things, and gave him a nod. “Go find Harry, Ron, and Hermione. Tell them what happened. Let them know about… this.” I lifted my arm slightly, already feeling the weight of the looming detention.

Joel nodded, his eyes flashing with concern. “Alright. I’ll find them and fill them in,” he said quietly. He gave my shoulder a reassuring squeeze before heading out into the corridor, casting one last glance back before disappearing around the corner.

With a sigh, I tightened my grip on my bag and walked the opposite way, making my way to the gloomy path toward Umbridge’s office. Detention with her wasn’t just a punishment; it was practically a trial by fire. But I wasn’t going to back down not with everything at stake.

As I stepped into Umbridge’s office, the air was thick with the scent of floral perfume, almost masking the underlying bitterness of something darker. She greeted me with a twisted, saccharine smile that didn’t reach her eyes.

“Good evening,” she purred. “Please, take a seat.”

I sat down, the chair creaking under me as she slid a piece of parchment and an ornate, sinister-looking quill across the desk.

“You’ll be writing a simple line for me, just to help you remember,” she said, her voice as sweet as poison. Her eyes gleamed as she added, “I am a liar. One hundred times.”

My jaw clenched, and for a moment, a sharp retort rose in my throat. But I bit it back. This wasn’t the time. Instead, I took the quill, dipped it into the ink well, and placed the tip to the parchment. I barely finished the first word before realizing with a shiver that the ink wasn’t just ink—it was something far worse. Each letter seared into the back of my hand as if cut by a knife, and I felt the sting spread through my fingers.

I forced myself to breathe, ignoring the sharp pain, and continued writing, every letter a silent promise not to break under her gaze.

By the time I finished, my hand was throbbing, blood trickling down my arm from the fresh, stinging cuts. I forced myself to keep a straight face as I left Umbridge's office, determined not to give her the satisfaction of seeing any pain.

I found the others waiting in a quiet corner near the Gryffindor common room. Their faces shifted from concern to shock as I held out my hand, showing them the deep, angry cuts scarring my skin. Hermione’s eyes widened, and she immediately reached out, gently taking my hand in hers.

“Stay still,” she murmured, her tone soft but firm. She drew her wand, and with precise, delicate movements, began casting healing charms. Slowly, the pain lessened, though I could still feel the dull ache underneath.

Joel clenched his fists, his voice tense as he said, “You need to tell Dumbledore about this. She shouldn’t get away with it.”

I looked up at him, feeling the weight of his words. Dumbledore might’ve been able to put a stop to Umbridge’s punishments but involving him could make things even more complicated.

I shook my head, meeting Joel's concerned gaze. “No, I have a feeling that I’ll get my own chance to take her down. Just need to wait for the right moment.”

Joel frowned, looking unconvinced. “Okay, but… you should still tell Dumbledore. This isn’t something to keep quiet.”

I could see the worry in his eyes, and for a second, I almost reconsidered. But I knew how far reaching Umbridge’s control was. Still, I gave him a small nod. “Alright, fine. I’ll go now.”

Hermione gave my hand a gentle squeeze, her expression softening. “Good. You shouldn’t have to go through this alone.”

Taking a steadying breath, I turned and headed down the hall toward Dumbledore’s office, hoping I could find a way to make my voice heard without giving Umbridge too much ammunition.

As I made my way to Dumbledore’s office, I reached the familiar stone gargoyle that guarded the entrance. I whispered the password, and the gargoyle sprang to life, shifting aside to reveal a spiraling staircase that began moving upward. The stairs turned slowly, with a smooth, rhythmic motion, carrying me higher into the heart of the castle. Lanterns cast a warm, ambient glow on the walls, making the shadows dance and lending an air of mystery and magic to each step. The staircase seemed alive, like it understood the weight of every secret and story it had borne over the years.

At the top, I faced a large, polished oak door. I knocked, and Dumbledore’s calm, steady voice called out from within, “Come in.”

I knocked on Dumbledore's door and stepped inside when he called me in. He was sitting behind his desk, looking as composed as ever, though his eyes twinkled with curiosity.

"What's on your mind?" he asked, his voice gentle but attentive.

I hesitated for a moment, then sighed. "It's about Umbridge. I... may have gotten into some trouble today."

Dumbledore raised an eyebrow, waiting for me to continue.

"Well, I kind of told her that she's a coward for not believing that…" I hesitated, glancing around, "you know, the Dark Lord's back. And that she was too scared to admit it."

Dumbledore chuckled softly, shaking his head. "You shouldn’t speak to your teachers that way, you know."

I looked at him, half-expecting a reprimand, but instead, he added with a smile, "But I must admit, I can’t entirely disagree with you."

I couldn’t help but smile back, feeling a little less anxious. "Well, it got me detention. But it wasn’t the usual kind of punishment."

I pulled up my sleeve to show him the fresh cuts on my arm, crisscrossing the words I am a liar in red, though the wounds were already starting to fade. "Every time I wrote that phrase, a cut appeared on my hand. It just wouldn’t stop."

His expression turned serious as he looked at my arm, but his voice stayed calm. "That’s certainly concerning," he said, more to himself than to me. "I’ll have a word with the Ministry about this." He looked up at me, his eyes soft. "In the meantime, try not to give her more reason to punish you, alright?"

Dumbledore paused for a moment, his fingers tapping lightly on the edge of his desk as if considering his next words carefully.

"She may not teach you all what you truly need," he began, his tone low but deliberate, "but you, on the other hand... you have the opportunity to teach them."

He blinked once, as though weighing the weight of his own words, and then smiled, a knowing glint in his eyes.

"Don’t let her methods hold you back. When the time comes, you’ll know how to handle it. For now, though, keep to yourself and stay focused."

He gave me a small, encouraging nod before letting me go, his eyes thoughtful, as if he knew more than he was willing to share at that moment.

I nodded, feeling the weight of his words, but also a strange sense of purpose settle in me. It was as though I was already stepping into something bigger, and I was ready for whatever that might mean.

"Thank you, Professor," I said, before turning to leave, the door closing softly behind me.

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