#wait for part 1.2

[dandadananalysis]

Turbo Granny Arc pt.1.1/4

Part 1: Episode 1/Chapter 1

Part 2: Episode 2/Chapter 2

Part 3: Episode 3/Chapter 3+4 [post credit: Bonus Vol.1 Chapter 5]

Part 4: Episode 4/ Chapter 5-8 (first 3/4) [1/4 rest is for AS arc]

How I divide my parts: I have already posted: -> Part 2/3 Serpo Arc

This post will include: reviewing the episode/chapter, compare the differences between the two, my opinion of the episode/chapter.

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First episode/chapter is kinda cheesy and sweet, basically like most animes/mangas, first episode/chapter is always shown as a plot of the whole story.

We were firstly introduced with Ayase Momo, a gyaru, and she basically got dumped by a terrible "boyfriend" who likes to do dirty stuffs with her for money.

After cursing him with seafood, ofc she is depressed. But oh well, she got very good and supportive girl friends in class who seemed to also be gyaru (I will discuss about gyaru in a future post). They all told her to dump him anaways because of his attitude is unacceptable. Momo claimed she only dates guys who look like Takakura Ken, a famous Japanese actor (he is real).

And while depressed about her first "ex-bf" dumping her (the way she was walking is actually from a dance/reference, I will discuss in a future post about her), she passed by a nerdy friend's classroom. He was bullied by other guys because of being weirdly, and passionately obsessed with alien stuffs, and always reading books about them.

Momo was pretty much annoyed with the nerd's attitude that he didn't stand up for himself, so she blocked the boys from throwing crumbled papers at him. Pretty much you can see, she was defending him from the bullies.

When she left, the nerd called and followed her. He thought that she was interested in aliens and space so he just went all-out telling her everything :))) Ofc Momo was mad.

Also I noticed a very small detail they changed in the anime: They changed President Barack Obama from manga to President Donald Trump in anime! If possible, you can actually read what is in the book that Okarun brings in anime if you know Japanese

When she was pissed because of his annoyance, and not interested in aliens because she thought they didn't exist, the nerdy friend is pretty sad about it, but of course she really didn't mean to say mean things at him, it's actually because she is interested in ghosts, spirits, which our nerdy friend smickered at her that they weren't real. And that turned into a debate/argument, whether aliens or spirits exist.

Each other challenged the other one to go to the rumored places. Momo went to an abandoned hospital, and Occult-kun (his temporarily nickname) went to an abandoned tunnel.

When they were on their phones, this is when they started to tell the other about their childhood why they are interested in aliens/spirits. Momo started by explaining that throughout her childhood, she's been living with her grandma who is a spirit medium because her parents are gone.

Every day, her grandma always told her to do a certain ritual for good luck, and her friends always mocked her for being abnormal and the boys teased her. And most painful one is her crush was one of those boys. (I mean, I would be devastated like Momo, too)

From that day onwards, she was pretty mad at her grandma for being a lame and fake spirit medium and stopped doing the ritual. But then she realized, it's not because of the ritual that she was mad at her grandma, it's actually because her friends were making fun at her grandma that made her angry, because she know deep down, she truly love her grandma :")))

After she finished her story, she asked Occult-kun why he was interested in aliens, he pretty much ignored the question and keep going onwards, until he saw some footsteps

Here's a small great detail that really does make a huge difference between the anime and manga: The manga actually didn't have the bloody footsteps on the tunnel, but the anime does. And that makes the scene more realistic, we can implictly understood that Occult-kun was getting closer and closer to the spirit

AND he met her. Turbo Granny.

Damn, first impression, a pervert granny :))))

Even worse, challenging her to a running competition.

In the manga, Okarun manages to escape from the tunnel and on his bike riding away, but Turbo Granny managed to get him. But in the anime, the studio made Okarun stuck in the endless tunnel, hiddenly stated that once you are in Turbo Granny's territory, there is no escape. Making the whole scene turned red, indicating that this is her territory and her ability, so she had the upper hand

Eventually he got cursed by Granny and suddenly lost contact to Momo. Even her smartphone was red

AND then Momo saw the aliens. They are even more lewd: ripping off her clothes!

(Youtube didn't have this scene :"))) but you can find it from other sources on the Internet!)

She was introduced with the Serpo alien, their species only has males and they reproduce by multiplication. Because of the modern technology, they wanted to know more abt female humans for experiments. They wanted to have the female reproduction organ (the w0mb/cervix) (The banana organ is actually implied for male body part, the reason the Serpoians said that because they are only male, so they basically dunno what it's called for female)

Luckily, her phone rang, and we saw Okarun in a form of being possessed by Turbo Granny! He defeated one of the aliens!

(Why is Turbo Granny biting one of the Serpo's p3n1$ ? :")))

If you watch the anime, you can actually notice that when the Serpo appeared, their territory was blue, and when Turbo Granny appeared in their territory, Okarun's body has a red aura, indicating that his aura trying to fight against the blue territory.

Seeing a major risk of a male human, the Serpo revealed their true form, and they attacked Occult-kun. And that made his red aura disappeared.

(Sorry, gotta stop this post for now, I reached max 30 pics already)

Part 1.2 is going to post next!

[chemicalarospec]

writing can be so ridiculous. I wanted to write a cute librarian AU, but since the non-librarian is going to the library for their mom's holds (they're not the bookish type), I had to figure out why they moved back in after having lived on their own for a while (since librarians need master's degrees it would mess with the dynamic have the older person suddenly two years younger & straight out of college).

So now I'm writing a fic about the 2007-2009 financial recession.

[writting-stuff-sometimes]

Or you just told us to do it...- Lando x F reader

Summary: Y/N is the McLaren community manager. Lando leaves a comment on the latest Mclaren post, y/n is not happy about it.

Warnings: Slightly suggestive

Word Count: 1.2 K

Notes: My romance book delulu mind instantly thought of something when reading Lando's response. I'm working on the Play with fire part 3 but it will be a long one

Your job as a McLaren CM was awesome, as it was stressful. You had two young drivers and complete freedom from the managers to do all sorts of trends. And you would if you weren't dealing with a PR nightmare and a black cat.

As much fun as it was when the two of them were in the mood to record stuff, sometimes it could be a torturous nightmare if one was in a funky mood or couldn't deal with pr at that moment.

But after the last race and all the comments on the most recent McLaren post about Oscar deserving more support and Lando being a spoiled diva, plus all sorts of posts on social media about the two of them doing an eventual Hamilton vs Rosberg. The heads of coms had requested to do as much damage control as possible. So the moment you walked in the garage and saw a tyre trolly laying around, you got an idea.

You sent the drivers a text requesting their presence at the garage entrance.

Both drivers knew why you wanted them, so they stalled as much a possible, making you wait over 45 minutes.

"Hey, sorry for the delay." Oscar said with his classic half smile

"Yeah, sorry for the delay. We didn't really want to come." Lando spoke both their minds. Oscar just turned towards him with a look of disapproval but held back a smile.

"I'm just doing my job, guys." You lifted your hands in defeat.

"So, what dance are we doing today?" Lando walked and took your phone from your hand.

"No dance today." You said, yanking the phone back and trying to hide your blushing cheeks. "This will be super simple. You'll push each other on this trolley." They both stared at you, not a single emotion on their faces.

"You're serious?" Oscar wasn't usually so critical, and it almost made you doubt your idea, but you were certain this would please the fans.

"C'mon you guys, this will be gold. It's fast, easy, and the fans will love it."

"You've become so good at describing Lando" Oscar said and then laughed silently as he inspected said trolley.

"I ain't that easy," Lando tried to defend himself

"Or lovable," you replied softly, looking down at your phone.

"Hey, I heard that." Lando turned to look at you, offended.

"Anyways, please, help me with this, and I won't bother you for the rest of the day."

"Promise?" Oscar asked.

"Promise" You answered, crossing your fingers in front of your heart.

"Fine, c'mon Lando, before she comes up with another weird trend."

Both drivers did their best to look entertained, and as much as they hated your idea initially, they ended up having a good 20-minute play date with the trolley, giving you enough material for the day.

After they were gone, you posted the video to Instagram, and like you imagined, it got tons of reactions right away.

At lunch, you checked your phone again, reading through the comments and smiling at your success. Most of them were positive and praised how fun both drivers looked; a couple of mean ones remained, but this was normal. Then a blue check mark caught your eye.

lando "Or you just told us to do it..."

"I'm going to kill him," You said out loud.

"Lando?" Mike, the engineer eating beside you, turned to look at you, amused.

"Who else?"

"You two are like an old married couple." Mike said as he took his coffee and walked towards the exit. "Don't hurt him much; we need him for quali" Mike shouted back as you took your stuff from the table and stormed towards his driver's room. If you weren't so angry, you would've been worried about people thinking about you and Lando as a married couple.

You knocked a couple of times, but there was no answer, then opened the door to find an empty room. You weren't about to search for him around the entire track and make a scene out there. He had to eventually come back, so you decided to sit there and wait, reading the comment whenever you felt the anger was easing down.

Finally, after an hour and a half, you heard his distinctive laugh approaching.

When he opened the door, his eyes went from amused to worried in two seconds, your expression far from friendly.

"Jon, can you give us a sec?" Lando asked his trainer without taking his eyes off you, as if you were an animal about to attack their prey.

"Told you it was a bad idea." Said the trainer before stepping out and closing the door behind him.

Lando walked towards you, but you stretched out your arm, your hand on his chest, making him stop at arm's length.

"Are you trying to get me fired?" You asked, staring right into his soul.

"I was just messing with you."

"No, Lando. You're messing with my job."

"C'mon, it was just a comment." He pushed your arm to the side and walked to hug you tight against his chest. Your arms stuck to your sides, not wanting to fall for his sweet cologne or warmth.

"No, it wasn't. I got specific instructions from coms! We needed this to ease the shit going around"

"People will always say shit" He spoke against your head, his tone slightly tinted with sadness. Social media hasn't been the same for him, at least for the last couple of seasons. The moment you felt his sadness, you couldn't hold back and placed one arm around his waist; he wasn't fully forgiven yet.

Your phone rang in your free hand.

"Ugh" you pushed yourself away, just enough to lift your arm and read the message.

Steve Hello, can you stop by my office in ten?

"He's going to fire me." You let your head fall back and sighed.

"I'm sorry," his voice filled with honesty. "I didn't think."

"Sounds like your MO."

"Hey, unnecessary rudeness."

He hugged you tight again, giving a kiss to your exposed neck.

"If you forgive me, I will let you film me later in our room; I bet the fans would love that," he whispered in your ear. As much as the comment had you blushing and feeling warmer than the scorching sun outside, you had an uncomfortable meeting with your boss to think about.

"If you want to get me fired, just say so. I will sign my resignation right now."

"Fine, we can tape that, and I will let you keep it for personal use."

"You're unbelievable."

Your phone rang again.

Steve Sorry, something just came up. See you in an hour.

"Excellent, extend the torture" you sighed loudly again.

"I'm really sorry" Lando spoke against your neck, giving you goosebumps. "How about I make it up to you?"

You stared at him, eyebrow raised and a serious look on your face.

"I don't have to be out there for another 40 minutes; we can have some nonsocial media-approved fun." He started laying open-mouth kisses to your neck as he took the hem of your shirt and pulled it up.

"And what are we doing for the other 35 minutes?"

"Forget it." He said, unwrapping his arms and turning to walk towards the door.

"Come here." You took his McLaren-issued shirt and pulled him back to join your lips. He had done it bad this time, but Steve was probably just going to give you a slap on your wrist, and you would just blame it on Lando.

__________________

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Tag List: @wtrmlnsgr94, @ricsaigaslec, @ironmaiden1313, @formulas-bitch, @f1fantasys, @formulaal, @widow-cevans @aleatorio1234 @stylesmoonlight12

[shotmrmiller]

Masterlist

18+ Blog! MDNI

Simon 'Ghost' Riley

I'm your only situationship

Mistress

Inevitable

Situationship into Relationship

Tormented by a Ghost

Submitting to his dominance , part 2, part 3

Please stop staring (or don't)

Good thing we're all dogs

Not a dog, but a rat, part 2

Uninvited, unexpected

Big man, Big mouth

John 'Soap' MacTavish

Maybe Dessert first

John 'just the tip' MacTavish

You'd look better as mine

John Price

Happy trails, John

Loba

Soulmate AU part 1, part 2

Kyle 'Gaz' Garrick

A chance encounter

Drabbles

Ghost being a toxic ex

Ghost with pre-parenthood

141!spotter Simon

141!spotter John

Dom!Ghost

cbf!Johnny

pathetic!Simon

pathetic!Simon extra

pathetic!Simon 1.2

pathetic!Simon 1.3

pathetic!Simon monopolizing you

blindfolded

König

cbf!johnny 1.1

cbf!johnny 1.2

Alpha!Ghost

Alpha!Ghost 1.2

pup!Ghost ask

cbf!simon dbd inspire

neighbor ghoap x reader

neighbor ghoap x reader 1.1

cbf!simon would kill for you

biblically accurate simon

davy jones!simon

ups!simon

cbf!simon teaches you everything

ex-husband simon

ex-husband simon with a twist

simon's not a guy you take home

pen pal simon, 1.2

hate sex ex bf ghost

wrong number w/ simon

single dad simon and related asks

ghoap :)

Reqs

Ghost NSFW

Best friend!Johnny & FWB!Simon AU

Ghost is the unexclusive fwb

Ghoap x reader

Johnny helps with your monthly

You don't need anyone else but us

Escort AU

Needs must, part 2, part 3 (simon, johnny, simon)

Sensual Domination (kyle)

Price

Pet!Reader

Simon meets John's cat

Simon plays with John's cat

Betrayal pet au

Betrayal pet au 1.2

Betrayal pet au 1.3

The boys take you from your old owner

Old owner sees you with the boys

The boys take care of you

Taken to a new home

John doesn't come home to his kitten

Pet needs comfort

Pets exchange hands

Johnny gets himself a fox

Bun waits for Gaz to come home

Multiverse COD

'09 Ghost's wife meets '22 Ghost, part 2, part 3 pre part4, part 4

multiverse asks

Pornstar!AU

pornstar ghost, part 2, part 3

ps!ghost and of!reader prompt

ps!ghost and of!reader, 1.2, 1.3

[sofiatarot]

What Is Your Future Self Dying to Tell You? Pick a Card

TIP JAR - FREE READINGS - PAID READINGS

1.2

3.4

Group 1

Your future self is asking you to recognize where you’ve been neglecting your own growth. There’s a part of you that’s been putting others first or investing energy into situations that drain rather than nourish you. It’s time to shift your focus inward. Reflect on the ways you might be holding yourself back by ignoring your needs and desires. You have the ability to create abundance, but it starts with taking care of your foundation.

Clarity will come once you stop second-guessing yourself. You’ve been searching for answers outside of yourself, but your intuition already knows the truth. The uncertainty you feel is temporary, and they want you to trust your inner voice. Stop looking for validation in others and begin to trust your own instincts.

You might feel as though your efforts aren’t paying off, but the future-you is here to remind you that not all seeds bear fruit immediately. Some situations aren’t meant to grow, and it’s okay to let them go. Focus on what truly matters to you, rather than trying to force outcomes that aren’t aligned with your path.

There’s a message here about communication and observation. You may be learning valuable lessons by watching how others handle conflict or challenges. Your future self encourages you to approach situations with curiosity rather than judgment. Be mindful of your words, as they hold the power to heal or hurt.

Rest and reflection are crucial right now. You may have been pushing yourself too hard, and it’s affecting your ability to make clear decisions. Take a step back and allow yourself the space to recover. Your future self reassures you that rest is productive—it prepares you for the next chapter.

There’s a lesson here about letting go of the need to "win" at all costs. They want you to prioritize peace over pride. It’s time to walk away from conflicts that drain your energy. Choose your battles wisely, and don’t allow others to pull you into unnecessary drama.

Finally, this future version of you is guiding you toward balance. There’s a sense of harmony waiting for you, but it requires you to juggle your priorities with care. Celebrate the small victories along the way, and remember that true stability comes from within. Your efforts will lead you to a place of celebration and fulfillment.

Group 2

Your future self wants you to know that the delays you’re experiencing are not failures. It’s natural to feel frustrated when things don’t go as planned, but these setbacks are helping you build resilience. This is a time to focus on refining your goals rather than rushing ahead. Trust that the universe has a plan, even if it’s not immediately clear to you.

Conflict or competition may be present in your life, but your future self encourages you to see this as an opportunity for growth. Challenges can help you sharpen your skills and clarify your priorities. Stay grounded and avoid getting swept up in unnecessary arguments. Choose collaboration over conflict whenever possible.

Abundance is within your reach, and they want you to know that your hard work will pay off. There’s a sense of independence and self-sufficiency in your future, but it requires you to stay committed to your goals. Celebrate the progress you’ve made and take pride in how far you’ve come.

There’s a warning here about seeking external validation. They want to remind you that success is not about the approval of others. Focus on your own definition of fulfillment rather than trying to live up to someone else’s expectations. Stay true to yourself, even when it feels like the world is pulling you in different directions.

A new emotional beginning is on the horizon. This future-you is encouraging you to open your heart to new opportunities for love, connection, or creativity. Let go of past disappointments and make space for something beautiful to enter your life. Trust that you are worthy of the joy that’s coming your way.

You might feel a sense of lack or loss, but they want you to know that this is temporary. Sometimes, letting go is necessary to make room for something better. Don’t be afraid to walk away from what no longer serves you, even if it’s difficult. Trust that brighter days are ahead.

Your future self sees you stepping into a more confident and adventurous version of yourself. Embrace your passions, and don’t be afraid to take risks. However, remember to protect your energy and resources. Balance your drive with practicality, and you’ll find yourself creating a life that feels both exciting and secure.

Group 3

Your future self sees you standing at a crossroads, where the options seem endless but also overwhelming. You may feel unsure of what direction to take or what is truly meant for you. The key is to listen to your inner guidance and trust that clarity will come when you step away from external distractions. Avoid the temptation to overanalyze; your intuition holds the answers you seek.

You’re being reminded of the power of stillness and observation. They want you to embrace patience and allow things to unfold naturally. There’s wisdom in knowing when to act and when to simply observe. This is a time to rely on your inner strength and trust in divine timing, even if the path ahead isn’t fully illuminated yet.

There’s a sense that you may be ignoring a difficult decision or avoiding something that requires your attention. This future-you urges you to face these challenges head-on. You’re stronger than you realize, and the discomfort you feel now is only temporary. Once you take action, the weight you’re carrying will begin to lift.

Life may feel unpredictable, as if things are happening beyond your control. They want you to know that even when life seems chaotic, there’s a greater plan at work. Trust that the cycles of change are ultimately bringing you closer to where you need to be. Adaptability is your greatest strength right now.

Despite the challenges, there’s light shining through. Your future self sees you rediscovering your joy and reconnecting with the things that truly make you happy. Focus on the simple pleasures and the people who bring positivity into your life. Gratitude will guide you through any darkness you’re currently experiencing.

They want you to address the doubts or insecurities that have been holding you back. It’s time to release limiting beliefs and embrace your potential fully. Stop underestimating your ability to create the life you envision. You’re capable of achieving more than you give yourself credit for.

Finally, your future self sees you breaking free from the burdens you’ve been carrying. There’s a celebration in your future—a moment where everything clicks, and you realize the hard work has been worth it. Trust in your resilience and your ability to overcome any obstacles in your path. Transformation is inevitable, and it will bring you closer to your highest self.

Group 4

Your future self wants you to reflect on how your past may be influencing your present. There’s something you’re holding onto—perhaps an old memory, relationship, or way of thinking—that is keeping you stuck. It’s time to release what no longer serves you and make space for the new. Healing begins when you acknowledge and let go.

Heartache or disappointment may be weighing heavily on your spirit, but they assure you that this is not the end of your story. Pain often carries lessons, and from these lessons, you’ll grow stronger. Be kind to yourself as you navigate this period of emotional recovery.

You might feel like the world is working against you or that your efforts are going unnoticed. They want you to know that even setbacks are part of the bigger picture. Sometimes, things fall apart so that you can rebuild in a way that’s more aligned with your true purpose.

Stagnation may be frustrating, but this future-you encourages you to focus on the small victories rather than the bigger picture right now. Progress doesn’t always look like forward motion; sometimes, it’s about learning to be patient and trust the process. The answers will come when you stop forcing them.

A breakthrough is on its way, and your future self wants you to embrace this moment of clarity, where the truth becomes undeniable. Use this newfound insight to move forward with confidence and determination. Trust your ability to make decisions that honor your needs and values.

They see you stepping into your power. There’s a fierceness within you, a determination to rise above any challenges. You’re being called to lead with both courage and compassion. Take bold action toward your goals, and don’t let fear hold you back.

Ultimately, your future self is here to remind you that the wheel of life keeps turning. Even when things feel uncertain, change is inevitable. Trust in the cycles of growth and renewal. What may feel like an ending is actually a new beginning. You are stronger than you realize, and this is only the start of an incredible transformation.

-xoxo ✨️

[slut4thebroken]

Obsessed

── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

Pairing | Bucky Barnes x Avenger!reader

Summary | Bucky has a crush on his teammate.

Warnings | Smut, non con, voyeurism, no sex, masturbation, misogyny, stalking, public masturbation kinda, come marking, invasion of privacy, creepy!bucky, dark fantasies.

Words | 1.2 k

Notes | This is lowkey a prequel to another fic that I have in the drafts but shh…

Ao3 link | <3

Masterlist

Kinktober | day 24: stalking + voyeurism

Ever since joining the Avengers, Bucky’s been completely obsessed with you. It wasn’t so bad before he was an official member and he would only really see you on missions. But once he moved into the compound… the intensity of his obsession skyrocketed. Every little thing you did constantly made him hard, from your smile to the way you’d close your eyes and moan after taking a bite of a particularly delicious meal. 

Sometimes he’d use his enhanced hearing and listen to you working out from the room next to the gym, fucking his fist while imagining you were panting because he was pounding your fucked out hole instead. Or when you’d be sparring with Natasha and get hit just a little too hard, he’d memorize the sound of your little whimpers and groans of pain. 

If he was feeling extra ballsy, he’d stand in the dark hallway and watch you. Honestly the fact that you preferred working out in the middle of the night was a blessing. He’d hide in the shadows and watch the way your tits moved in your sports bra. Or the way your tiny little shorts would be constantly riding up your ass. 

He’d hold out as long as he could before reaching a hand in his pants and fisting his cock. The light glimmer of sweat on your skin, the way your cheeks flushed a pretty red, the way your lips parted as you breathed heavily… All of it made him ache for you even more— for your much smaller body to be pinned beneath his huge frame as he pounded into you and made you whimper and moan for him. 

He finished in his pants with a low groan and hid away in his room since your room was barely ten feet from his. Once he heard your door shut, he waited impatiently for the bathroom door to close and the shower to start. After he heard you step in the shower, he slipped into your room. 

Your work out clothes were tossed on top of the rest of the clothes in the hamper. He walked over and picked up your underwear— of course you’d wear a thong, he thought with a smirk. Shoving the item in his pants, he cleaned up his seed as much as he could before tossing the garment back in the pile. 

Walking over to the dresser, he listened carefully, confirming you were still in the shower, then opened the top drawer. A lot of sports bras and cotton panties, but digging a little deeper, he found the lace. Mostly red and black, some light pink and white. God- what he wouldn’t do to see you in this… He closed it and walked over to your bed, finding your pajamas and underwear laid out. He hit the fucking jackpot tonight. 

Picking them up, he freed his cock from his pants and rubbed your panties against the tip. He made sure to rub the inside against it, smearing a subtle amount of precum. The thought of his dick and precum indirectly touching your cunt made him consider using the panties to jerk off… but that would be way too obvious when he eventually came on them. 

He reluctantly put them back how he found them and moved to your nightstand drawer, finding not one… but two vibrators. Just sitting there. You didn’t even try to hide them. He slowly stroked his cock, not wanting to get carried away and lose track of time. Your phone screen lighting up tore his attention away from the toys in the drawer. He didn’t even notice it at first, but this was fucking perfect. 

Ever since he accidentally came across some open tabs on your phone, he’s been dying to find out more. He opened it, already knowing the password, and scrolled through the tabs before clicking on one. 

His hard length slid through my slick folds, making me clench around nothing and whine. He chuckled, but lined himself up with my entrance regardless. Finally, he pushed inside my aching hole, both of us letting out low moans. 

“Jesus Christ.” Bucky mumbled, going to a new tab. 

I squirmed, still half asleep, at the fire growing in my belly. Warm and wet suddenly engulfed my clit, making me cry out. I’ve never had a dream this realistic before. A low groan against my heat made my eyes flutter open. The sight of a mop of brown hair between my legs made me jerk away, but he grabbed my hips and pulled me closer to his mouth. 

He stared at the screen with wide eyes and moved to another tab, still pumping his cock slowly. 

“N-no. Please stop.” I sobbed, trying to push his hips away. Cold metal met my neck and I choked on a gasp. 

“You’re gonna take my fucking cock. Or I can kill you and then fuck you. Your choice.” He hissed, dragging the knife across my neck, almost as if to show me how he’d kill me. When I didn’t respond, he forced his cock inside, making me let out a hoarse scream. He wasted no time with his frantic thrusts in my pussy, both of us listening to the way my arousal created a squelching sound each time he moved. 

“Listen to how wet your pathetic little cunt is for your rapist.” He grabbed my hair so tight that my eyes watered and pushed my head down to watch. “Look at how you’re drenching my cock.” He growled, brutally pounding my already sore hole. 

The sound of the shower curtain sliding open snapped him out of his trance. He locked your phone and placed it back down then swiftly exited the room. He didn’t even bother tucking his cock back in his pants. The second his door was closed, he leaned against it and quickly fisted his throbbing length. 

He thought about threatening you like that— The way your sweet little pussy would drool at his words. He’d tease you about how he can smell you already. You’d whine and squirm and flush in embarrassment, and that would only drive him to do it more. 

He’d cut all your clothes off but remain fully clothed himself. He’d make fun of how fast your heart was beating and how sweet your cunt smells. He’d jerk off right in front of your face before covering it in his seed and forcing you to keep it there. 

He wanted to pull you into his room next time before you could make it to the gym, yank your slutty little shorts and panties down, and jerk off until he came in them, then make you work out with a mess between your legs. He wanted to spar with you and not hold back at all— punching and kicking you, making you whimper and groan in pain. Knowing your ego though, you wouldn’t stop. He wanted to make you bruise— make you bleed… Permanently mark your pretty skin with his name. 

He shuddered as he came, his seed coating his hand and the floor while he imagined you were kneeling in front of him with your mouth open, eager to swallow it down. 

The more he tried to resist these fantasies, the harder it became. It didn’t help that you clearly were craving it too— what with all of the porn you read, you were obviously desperate for a good dicking. 

He thought about maybe asking you first… but if you really wanted consent, you wouldn’t read such filthy stories about being forcefully taken. 

Who was he to deny you what you needed? 

[just-shairahhh]

Safe. Protected. Home.

Pairing: Tim Bradford x Fem!Reader

Author's Note: I finished the entire series in a week and I am literally so obsessed! I cannot wait for the next season and I just had to write for Tim. I really hope you enjoy this. Requests for "The Rookie" are open!

Word Count: 1.2 K

When you think of Tim Bradford, now Sergeant Bradford, a lot of things come to mind. Tough. No-nonsense. Fiercely dedicated. The kind of guy who thrives under pressure and expects nothing less from those around him. Tim’s the guy who keeps people at arm’s length, both metaphorically and literally, a fortress of hard-earned authority. But one thing you’d never peg him as? A sucker for cuddles. Or hugs.

He wasn’t the kind of guy you’d expect to be a sucker for cuddles. Or hugs. Stoic, guarded—those were the words people used to describe him. The guy who kept his emotions in check, always composed, always in control. But after 18 gruelling hours on his feet, every inch of his body ached, and his mind buzzed with exhaustion and all he could think about as he drove home was y/n, the way she’d wrap her arms around him. How she’d rest her cheek against his chest, her warmth seeping into him like sunlight after a storm. It was all he wanted and all he could think about.

The moment he reached home, every part of him itched to burst through the door, stride straight to her, and lose himself in her embrace. He could almost feel it—the warmth of her arms around him, the soft scent of her shampoo filling his senses, melting away the weight of the last 18 hours. But as he reached the door, his hand hesitated on the key. What if she was sleeping? The thought softened his urgency. Quietly, he slid the key into the lock, turning it with deliberate care, the faintest click breaking the silence. Pushing the door open just enough to slip inside, he tiptoed across the threshold, his movements cautious and measured.

But little did he know that sleep was the last thing on her mind. She was curled up on the couch, a book resting in her lap, softly humming along to the faint music playing in the background. The moment her y/e/c eyes met his, her face lit up, and she sprang to her feet, her joy radiating like sunlight through the room. Her expression quickly shifted as her gaze sharpened, scanning him from head to toe with practiced care. She looked for any signs of injury, any hidden pain he might be hiding, her concern as palpable as her love. Only when she was certain he was physically okay, did the tension in y/n's shoulders ease, and a breath she hadn’t realized she was holding escaped. His reaction was the opposite though. The sharp, vigilant eyes that had been trained all day to watch for danger, to stay alert to every possible threat, softened the instant they locked onto hers. In her presence, the edges of his world dulled, and for the first time in hours, he felt something close to peace. Tim Bradford had finally made it to his home.

“You’re home,” y/n said softly, he didn’t say a word, just crossed the room in three long strides and pulled her into his arms. The weight of the world slipped away as her familiar scent surrounded him, grounding him.

"Hey, baby," she said softly, her voice warm and soothing as she pulled him closer. "Rough day? I saw the news. I’m so proud of you."

He let out a weary sigh and pulled back a little, “I’m just grateful we got those kids back to their parents safely," he murmured, his voice heavy with exhaustion yet tinged with relief.

Y/n reached out, her fingers grazing his cheek gently. "You did good," she whispered, her gaze steady and full of admiration. "More than good." Tim only hummed in response as he buried his face further into her hair.

"Are you hungry? Should I warm up some dinner for you?" she asked, her voice laced with concern as her eyes searched his face.

He shook his head, a small smile tugging at his lips. "No, we grabbed something from the food truck near the station before heading out. Did YOU eat?" His hands found her cheeks, cupping them gently as his eyes filled with worry, scanning her face like she was the only thing that mattered in the world.

She grinned, a playful spark lighting her expression. "I did. The last time I offered to wait and have dinner with you after work, you threatened to watch ‘The Bachelor’ without me. Remember that?"

His smile widened into a low chuckle. "And the threat still stands," he teased. "I’m gonna grab a quick shower, and then we can get back to it. Maybe... some cuddles, too?" His voice softened with hope, a rare vulnerability sneaking through his exhaustion.

"Deal, Sergeant," she replied, laughter bubbling in her tone as she poked his chest. "But make it quick, or I’m starting the episode without you."

He gave her a mock salute, his grin growing as he headed for the bathroom.

When he came back, the living room was unrecognizable, transformed into a cosy sanctuary. Y/n had pulled out the couch to its full size, layering it with a soft, inviting blanket and scattering pillows around. A few of her stuffed toys nestled in the corners, adding a playful touch, while a small assortment of chocolates and snacks sat neatly on the table beside the sofa, within easy reach. The fairy lights she’d insisted on months ago— “They add character!” she’d argued—were now casting a warm, gentle glow over the room, their soft twinkle making the space feel magical. The TV was ready, paused at the latest episode of ‘The Bachelor’, the title screen glowing in quiet anticipation. As if that wasn’t enough, a few lavender-scented candles flickered softly in the background, their soothing aroma already working to calm his frayed nerves. She’d remembered, of course—lavender always helped him unwind.

He stood there for a moment, taking it all in, his heart swelling with gratitude and affection. This wasn’t just a room; it was a safe haven. Yet none of it held a candle to her. Y/n was his safe haven. She stood in the middle of it all, a quiet smile playing on her lips, her eyes full of love and a hint of mischief. Y/n wasn’t just the one who made the room feel like home. She was home.

“Hey, you’ve been standing there for a while. Want me to bring the party to you?” she quipped.

With a terse nod, he shakes his head and runs over to her. No words were needed.

As he reached her, she shifted on the couch, sitting upright to make room for him. Without hesitation, he lowered himself onto the soft cushions, resting his head against her chest. The steady rhythm of her heartbeat filled his ears, a soothing melody that made every hardship, every struggle of the last few days, feel distant and almost insignificant. He snuggled in closer, his body melting into hers, while her arms wrapped around him protectively. One hand rested on his back, grounding him, while the other slipped into his hair, her fingers weaving through the strands with gentle, rhythmic motions.

For years, Tim Bradford had carried the weight of the world on his shoulders, always the protector, always the shield. But here, in her arms, he finally felt something he hadn’t allowed himself to feel in far too long.

Safe. Protected. Home.

.

.

.

.

.

[alwaysanundertone]

Love can be overwhelming | poly! marauders x fem reader

angst / fluff

word count: 1.2 k words

CW: mention of an abusive household

TW: panic attack, it’s not a super detailed scene but it takes up like 1/3 of the fic ���

tag list: @staarflowerr @liviessun @reggieswriter @call-me-mishi @moonyxoxo @jaguarthecat @queerndepressed @kerst666 @delusional-4-fake-people @twilightlover2007

part 1 , part 2 , part 3

Unfortunately, you couldn’t ignore your feelings forever, and you had to learn it in the hard way.

You were feeling slightly anxious, but it wasn’t something you weren’t used to, so you just shoved everything down like you always did and started studying. Ten minutes in, your hands were slightly shaking, but still you brushed it off, until it became so bad you hit your ink bottle, spilling the black liquid all over your papers.  

Suddenly you were in your old room, sat at your little pink desk, staring at the mess in front of you, the tears flowing freely at the prospect of having ruined all of your drawings, while your mother was screaming  at you for being so emotional; to her eyes your emotions were a burden, something to be ashamed of, if you cried you were considered a failure. Pretending to be heartless wasn’t really a choice growing up, more like a way to survive.

Your breath became laboured, suddenly the walls of your room were closing on you, and there wasn’t anything you could do about it. Your hands were now violently shaking, your heart galloping in your chest: you felt a sharp pain to your chest. You tried calling for someone, anyone, but your voice came out as a whisper. This was the first time something like this happened, your symptoms were just like the ones that people describe before having an heart attack: this didn’t help your anxious state, at all. 

You saw through blurry eyes Dorcas and Marlene by the door, their mood rapidly shifting, Cas rushing to you while the other one ran out of your dorm, and you could just feel grateful for being found.  

“Heart… attack, Cas” She shook her head. “Honey, I think it’s a panic attack. Come on, breathe.”

You didn’t even realize that you were holding your breath, maybe that’s why your head started feeling lighter. You inhaled sharply, mimicking Dorcas, who was now holding one of your hands on her chest, encouraging you to follow her movements.

Little by little, you felt your heart beating a little bit slower, your hands now only trembling slightly. After a while, Cas stopped exaggerating her breaths, and you fell in an uncomfortable silence. “Listen, Y/N, we have to go to the infirmary.” You started to protest, but she shushed you. “We have to, okay? You have to talk to a doctor about this, I think it was just a panic attack, but we can’t be too sure. Marlene’s waiting for us, let’s go”

You laid on the bed, staring at the ceiling. Madame Pomfrey told the girls to leave, you had to rest, but now you were feeling even more anxious: you thought about all the studying you were missing on to stare at the ceiling. It was pointless, she confirmed it was a panic attack, so what? You couldn’t spend the whole weekend on a hospital bed for it.

You stopped your sulking abruptly, seeing some type of movement in your peripheral vision.  It was slight, so much so that you thought you had imagined it, but then James’s head pop out of nowhere, making you nearly scream.

“Love, we have to talk, but we can’t do it here. So, crawl to me, we’re going to escape” Despite the fight you had, you couldn’t help but giggle slightly, doing as you were told. Once you were both under the invisibility cloak, staring into each other eyes, James sighed slightly, releasing a sigh. “Darling, we’re so, so sorry you have no idea how much. Dorcas told us you had a panic attack, we know we caused it” He kissed your forehead, making you melt under his touch. “The others are waiting for us, let’s go”

So, you followed him, paying extra attention to not make any noise. As soon as you stepped foot in the astronomy tower, Sirius ran to you, hugging you close to his chest. You stayed like that for a while, until you felt him sniffle: looking up to his eyes, they were puffy and red. “Angel, I am an awful boyfriend” You were about to contradict him, but he kept talking. “You had a panic attack and it was all my fault, if you want to break up, you’re totally right: I’ll leave, I shouldn’t have told you all of those things, you are the love of my life, and I messed everything up like I always do, I’m such a shitty-“

You slapped his face slightly, making him startle, then proceeded to kiss him. He melted under your touch, his hands found their way to your waist, holding you impossibly close to him.

After a while, you sighed, pulling yourself away from his embrace. “It wasn’t completely your fault, you know. I haven’t told you this yet, well, maybe I wasn’t even planning to, but I owe you an explanation. My parents weren’t… the best, and I’ve always been emotional. I know it might sound strange, but I cried literally at everything, and they used to shout at me for being weak. So, I had to build some type of armour, you know?” You took a deep breath, smiling despite the sharp pain you felt every time you talked about it, and the knot that made talking feel impossible. “It hurts to think about it, you know?”

“You don’t have to talk about it, we get it. It’s just- Why didn’t you tell us sooner? It’s nothing to be ashamed of, we would have been more careful” James looked at you like his heart just broke.

“I know, I should have, but I didn’t want to be a burden. Sirius receives those stupid letters every month, what I went through is nothing compared to what his family does to this day. My mother hasn’t reached out in what? Three years? It’s not a problem anymore, I just get overwhelmed sometimes”

Remus was frowning, but it was Sirius to talk. “Listen, just because they aren’t there to belittle you every chance they get, doesn’t mean it doesn’t hurt you; these things are hard to get rid of, and I know this better than anyone else. Your body remembers what they told you, and you have to face that, but you don’t have to do it alone, understood? You can talk to us, you can tell us what you need, and we will do it for you, because we love you, and we’ll always be there for you”

You didn’t know if it was Sirius’s words or the fact that for the first time, you felt like you were being listened to, but as soon as the long-haired guy stopped talking you started crying like you hadn’t cried in a long time, your chest heaving. Your inner child was just now understanding that her feeling had always been valid, that she had never been too much.

“Love, what happened, please talk to us?” James voice sounded close to crying, but you just smiled through the tears, shaking your head.

“I-“ You stopped, clearing your throat. “I finally feel seen”

And as they crowded on you, hugging you close to their chest, you knew you’d be alright.

THIS IS THE LAST PART! IF YOU HAVE SOME REQUESTS SEND THEM 👯‍♀️💓

[internetdaddy98]

Silent Admittance 

Previous | Next [Series Masterlist] Pairing: Dr. Michael “Robby” Robinavitch x F!SeniorResident!Reader Summary: You begin your shift with the usual chaos and routine, but your anticipation for seeing Dr. Robby simmers beneath the surface. 

Word Count: 1.2 K Content Warning: Medical procedures, blood, will most likely be medically inaccurate at times, unresolved tension.

Pittsburgh Trauma Medical Hospital’s Emergency Department was already awake by the time you walked through its sliding doors. The blinding fluorescent lights, overhead calls, distant beeping, and the overcrowded waiting area.

You walked over to the nurses’ station to look at the patient board, preparing for the day ahead.

“Alright,” Dana clapped her hands. “Let’s split. Room 3’s got a belly pain and Room 5 is about to deliver a kidney stone.”

You didn’t see Dr. Robby for the first two hours of the shift. Part of you was relieved. The other part kept glancing around hoping for a glimpse of him.

When he finally appeared, he didn’t announce himself. He never did.

You noticed him in the mirror of the trauma room first,  tall, slightly hunched as he looked at the chart, hair still damp from the rain. He was speaking to Dr. Langdon, his longtime friend and the only attending who managed to look cheerful even before 8 a.m.

They didn’t look your way. But when Robby peeled off his hoodie and crossed the ER floor toward the board, you felt it, a tug at something deep in your chest.

The air shifted.

He saw you. And you saw him.

But neither of you said anything.

It was 2:00 p.m when dana called the incoming trauma. 

GSW incoming. ETA 2 minutes. Male, mid-30s. Multiple wounds. Unstable.

You’d barely made it through your notes when the doors burst open.

“Trauma Two,” Dana barked. “Sheridan you’re up.”

You were there instantly, snapping on gloves as the curtain whipped open. Dr. Robby had appeared from thin air, chart in hand, voice calm and sharp as ice.

“Sheridan, you’re running it.”

You didn’t flinch.

The trauma team sprang to life, the ballet of organized chaos unfolding around you. The medics pushed the gurney through the doors fast, the patient groaning, soaked in blood, chest rising in quick, panicked gasps.

“GSW to the abdomen and upper right thigh,” the paramedic rattled off. “Bleeding controlled en route, hypotensive, tachycardic. No known allergies.”

You stepped forward, asserting your voice without a waver. “I’m Dr. Sheridan. We’ve got you. Let’s get vitals, start a two-large bore, draw labs, get him on the monitor.”

The new interns froze for a beat, eyes wide.

You didn’t have time to hold their hands.

“Santos grab the ultrasound. Mel, hang blood. Whittaker, you’re on airway.”

They snapped to attention. You felt the ER pulse through you like electricity, the rhythm of adrenaline, the power of practiced response. Robby moved beside you silently, flanking the patient’s left. His hands worked efficiently, his eyes scanning, but he didn’t take over. Not once.

“BP’s dropping,” Whittaker called out.

��87 over 50,” Princess confirmed.

You turned to look at the vitals “Start a unit of O-neg. Prep for intubation if he drops further. Abdomen is rigid, possible internal bleed.” Ultrasound probe slid across the man’s blood-slicked belly. Free fluid. Too much of it.

“FAST is positive,” Santos confirmed.

“He’s crashing,” Whittaker said the, and the numbers backed it up, HR in the 140s, pressure bottoming out. The man’s skin was gray, lips cracked, barely conscious. You looked up, met Robby’s eyes.

“Surgery?” you asked.

“OR’s not ready.”

“Then we open here.” you nodded to yourself, asserting your decision. 

It was a big call. One that would’ve terrified you two years ago.

Now?

Robby gave a single nod. “Let’s do it.”

You were already reaching for the trauma tray. “Scalpel.”

The air changed. Everyone went still for half a breath, the interns watching, wide-eyed, as the fourth-year with the soft voice and steady hands made the first incision.

Blood pooled fast. Too fast.

“Clamps,” you said, calm. “Suction.”

Mel was already holding pressure on the leg wound. Princess leaned over your shoulder, murmuring vitals.

The minutes blurred. You worked fast, clamping, packing, stabilizing, your body moving on instinct, your mind sharp and focused. The man’s life teetered on the edge, but with every second, the tide turned in your favor.

“He’s responding,” Santos called, eyes on the monitor.

You exhaled, finally, the room slowly settling back into something like normal. Not peace, never peace, but the hum of post-chaos. You stepped back, gloves stained, scrubs soaked, and felt your hands shaking just slightly.

As you discarded the scrubs into the biohazard bin, Robby made his way to you.

“Nice work,” Robby said quietly beside you.

You turned toward him. His eyes weren’t on the patient. They were on you.

Your breath hitched. Just slightly.

“I had a good teacher,” you said smiling fondly.

His gaze softened.

But the moment broke too soon, an intern vomiting into the nearest bin, Dana barking instructions, the OR team finally bursting through the doors to wheel the patient up.

You stood next to each other in the hospital rooftop. A tradition that had long began before the shift between you. You had thought the space to be off-limits but he had shown it to you one day in your second year. After a long day that would stay with you for years to come. 

Forearms perched on the rails, the Pensylvanian unforgiving cold wind against your hair. You both looked out into the city, bright lights and night life buzzing, people walking by unbothered by the trauma of the hospital walls, reserved only for those who walked through them every day like second nature. 

“Sheri,” he said softly.

You didn’t look at him. “Yeah?”

“Your chapter as my student is ending”

That stopped you. The words slipped between your ribs like a secret you weren’t ready to hold. You looked at him, really looked. The fine lines around his eyes. The way he was trying not to say something else.

“Is that a good thing?” you asked, quietly.

“I don’t know yet,” he said, voice low. “But I think it’s going to get complicated.”

You swallowed, then exhaled. 

For a moment, the space between you shimmered with something charged. Something real. You could feel it in the way your shoulder almost brushed his. The way his fingers tensed at his sides. The air thick with a question neither of you dared ask yet.

The lines at the corners of his eyes were deeper in this light, his hair wind-tousled and still slightly damp from the rain hours earlier. There was a heaviness in his shoulders that hadn’t been there before, not from exhaustion, but from restraint. He wasn’t saying everything.

He rarely did.

You wanted to ask what he meant. What would change. What he was afraid of. But instead you stood in the space between knowing and not knowing, letting the silence carry the weight of the question neither of you could voice.

You could feel the heat of him beside you. The gap between your arms on the rail no longer felt like space. It felt like a boundary. One neither of you had crossed, but both had imagined.

The wind howled a little louder across the rooftop, and still neither of you moved. Not toward each other. Not away. Just stood there, holding a fragile stillness in your chests, like anything louder might shatter what hadn't yet been spoken.

But as you followed him back into the storm of the ER, your heart wouldn’t stop racing.

[hoe4hotchner]

The Final Lap

Pairing: F1 driver!Hotch x fem!reader | WC: 2.3k | CW: A little swearing, one midly suggestive comment, champagne, I don't know - is sweat a cw?

A/N: I finished writing this at 2am, so some of the environemt might not make sense, I'm not changing it though ;)

The Ferrari garage was electric, the air thick with the buzz of movement as engineers murmured over headsets, eyes glued to the data screens, pit crew readying themselves for the next stop, and the unmistakable scent of fuel and burning rubber that clung to the humid night air and only got stronger with each lap.

Yet despite the organized chaos around you, your world had narrowed to one thing: the red blur blazing around the track.

Aaron Hotchner.

A two-time World Champion, one of the best drivers this generation of Formula 1 had ever seen. But tonight, that was all coming to an end. He was retiring. Mid-season at that. It had shocked everyone in the paddock.

Retiring in the middle of the season? Unheard of.

Speculation had run wild—injury, contract disputes, internal politics, a baby?—but no one had guessed the truth. Hotch wasn’t leaving because of any of that. He was leaving because he wanted something more than the endless race weekends, the constant jetlag, the hotels, the pressure of performance, and the fear of injury. He wanted a life, and that life had you in it.

For the first time in over a decade, Hotch had found someone he didn’t want to leave behind every other weekend. Someone who made the circuit feel small, someone who was waiting for him to come home, not just to a race but to a life beyond the track and parties.

Right now, he was in P2, chasing down Max Verstappen with only a handful of laps to go.

The garage was tense, every engineer hanging on the telemetry. You stood in the garage, chewing your lip, arms crossed and fingers digging into your skin as you watched the screen, tracking his every move.

“Gap to Verstappen, 1.2 seconds,” his race engineer, Paul, relayed over the radio. “He’s struggling with tire degradation. If we push, we can get him.”

Hotch’s voice came through, steady and composed. “Understood.”

God, you loved him.

You loved how focused he was, how in control he remained even when every part of his body must’ve been screaming for release, for a break.

But not tonight. Not when this was his last race.

A sudden thought struck you, and without hesitation, you turned to one of the engineers, pointing at a spare headset on the workbench. “Can I say something to him?”

The engineer hesitated, looking at you with a raised eyebrow, but then smirked. “Make it quick.”

You pulled the headset on and pressed the comms button, taking a deep breath. The air in the garage felt thick with anticipation as everyone waited for you to make your move, but in that moment, you only had one person on your mind.

“Hey, handsome.”

Silence.

Then, a breathy response came through the radio.

“Sweetheart?” His voice was softer than it ever was during a race. Always so composed, never losing focus—never even swearing, like many of his opponents—yet you could tell by the slight drop in his tone that he was smirking.

You grinned, your heart racing. “You look good out there.”

The air shifted in the garage, the engineers going silent as they eavesdropped on the comms.

“You should see me up close,” Hotch murmured back, and you swore you could feel the weight of his words in your chest.

Hotch flirting mid-race? The fans were going to have a field day with this recording you thought.

You bit back a laugh, suddenly feeling a flutter in your chest. “I’ll hold you to that,” you teased, voice dropping just slightly. “But I think P1 would look even better on you. Let Max eat your exhaust fumes”

A breath from him, holding together a laugh. Then, a low and steady reply:

“Copy that.”

The garage went completely still. The next few seconds would determine everything.

Lap traffic ahead. Two backmarkers. Hotch’s team didn’t even need to tell him twice. He saw the gap, recognized the opportunity, and now it was up to him.

The roar of the engine shifted, the engine note rising as Hotch pushed harder. Paul’s voice cut through the static. “Verstappen’s losing time in Zone 4. This is our chance.”

Hotch didn’t hesitate. He was already setting up for the move.

As they approached the Anderson Bridge, Max hesitated behind the Aston—which was unlike him. It was the opening Hotch needed.

ERS deployed.

He dove down the inside at Turn 12, braking impossibly late. The Ferrari twitched, almost losing the rear, but Hotch held it steady, centimeters from Max's rear.

And then—he was ahead.

The garage exploded into triumphant chaos. “He’s done it!” “He’s in P1!”

Your heart raced, your hands trembling as you pressed the comms button again, breathless with excitement. “Aaron, you absolute machine.”

Through the radio, you heard his low chuckle. “Told you to hold on tight.”

Final lap.

You barely registered the world around you. You were all but consumed by the sheer will of the moment. Every corner was a battle. Every turn was his. The world around you blurred into the background, the only thing that mattered being Hotch and the finish line that was now within reach.

Turn 17.

Turn 18.

The final corner.

The checkered flag waved.

“AARON HOTCHNER WINS THE SINGAPORE GRAND PRIX!”

The words rang in your ears as the Ferrari surged across the line, the crowd roaring, the Tifosi screaming in unison. It was over. The moment had arrived.

The Ferrari garage erupted. Headsets slammed onto tables—clearly not caring if they broke—engineers leaped into each other's arms, and bottles of champagne were already being cracked open. On the pit wall, a sea of red uniforms flooded the monitors, clapping, shouting, barely able to contain themselves as the realization set in—Aaron Hotchner had just won the Singapore Grand Prix. Your breath caught, hands pressed to the headset, every nerve in your body still wired from the last ten laps. The tension had been unbearable—Max had been defending his spot like his life depended on it, and for a while, it seemed like P2 was where Hotch would finish his racing days.

Until he didn’t.

The radio was full of cheering, the entire Ferrari team shouting over each other. Hotch’s voice finally broke through—breathless, steady, softer than you expected. “Yes!” A rare burst of raw emotion. “That was—unbelievable. Thank you, guys.” Paul, his race engineer, was practically laughing.

“Aaron Hotchner wins in Singapore! What a move. What a drive. P1, baby!”

And you? You pressed the comms button, voice teasing. “Told you P1 would look good on you.”

A chuckle—low, warm, the kind of laugh that curled through you like fire on a cold day. “Guess I couldn’t let you down.”

Your fingers tightened around the headset. Out on the circuit, he was still weaving his car side to side on the cool-down lap, burning the last of the fuel, fans screaming his name from the grandstands. Red flares ignited in the sky, casting a glow over the Marina Bay circuit.

The final results came in:

🥇 Aaron Hotchner | Ferrari

🥈 Max Verstappen | Red Bull

🥉 Charles Leclerc | Ferrari

A Ferrari double podium in Hotch’s last race. If the garage had been loud before, it was deafening now. But you stayed rooted in place, eyes locked on the screens.

He pulled into parc fermé, stopping in front of the #1 marker. Engine off. Helmet off. You watched as he climbed out of the car, sweat-soaked fireproofs clinging to his body, hair damp, chest rising and falling as he took in the moment, before climbing on top of his car, with his helmet raised to the sky.

And then—That smile. Not the usual, small, controlled one. This was real. Wide, bright, a kind of happiness he couldn't control. Mechanics surrounded him first as he climbed back down, clapping his back, congratulating him. He took it all in stride, shaking hands, hugging his engineers. But then—He started searching for something.

No, not something.

Someone.

You.

The second the cameras shifted to the post-race interview area, you ran. Through the garage, past team personnel, ducking under barriers as you weaved through the sea of red. And then he saw you. A split second of recognition—Then open arms.

You collided with him, the scent of fuel, sweat, and somehow champagne already clinging to his suit, but you didn’t care. His arms locked around you, tight, body still thrumming with adrenaline. His voice was hushed, just for you.

“I was waiting for you.” Your hands pressed against his chest, feeling the hammering heartbeat. “Had to make sure you really won.”

A smirk tugged at his lips. “You doubted me?”

“Never.”

The Ferrari crew around you whistled, someone muttering something about "Hotch getting a different kind of trophy tonight." You flushed, but Hotch only laughed under his breath, fingers brushing the side of your face before a team official clapped his shoulder.

“Podium time, Hotch.”

You squeezed his wrist. “Go. I’ll be watching.” His gaze lingered before he nodded, turning towards the podium ceremony.

The circuit was alive with energy. Red flares burned, fans roared, and the Ferrari team crowded together in the pit lane, waving flags and cheering.

At the top of the paddock, the podium gleamed under the bright floodlights, a red carpet leading up the stairs where FIA officials and race stewards stood waiting. Above, the massive digital screen displayed the final race standings: Aaron Hotchner in P1. Max Verstappen in P2. Charles Leclerc in P3. If anyone was unsure of the standings.

You stood just below the stage with the rest of the team, heart racing as you watched Hotch climb the steps. His suit was still damp with sweat, the red and black fabric clinging to his body, and yet he carried himself with that same unwavering confidence, like a man who had done this a thousand times before—which it felt like he had. But this time was different. This was his last time.

The podium announcer’s voice echoed across the circuit, listing the finishing positions in order. Charles was introduced first, stepping onto the third-place podium to a chorus of cheers. He shook his head slightly as he adjusted his collar, still breathless from the race. Then Max, accepting his second-place finish with the usual tight-lipped nod, the competitive edge in his eyes refusing to dull—no doubt he would power through several simulations the following days.

But it was when the announcer called Hotch’s name that the world seemed to explode.

Everything erupted. Fans chanted his name, flares burned brighter in the night, and as he stepped onto the highest tier of the podium, he exhaled slowly, drinking it in. His final podium. His final win. But instead of sadness, there was peace in the way his shoulders dropped slightly, in the way he ran a hand over his jaw before placing the Pirelli cap on his head.

Even with the weight of history, of legacy, of an entire nation behind him, his gaze still searched for you.

The American national anthem played first, Hotch standing motionless as the flag was raised above him. Then the Italian anthem, and if the fans had been loud before, they were deafening now. Every single word was sung, voices carrying over the circuit, filling the air with pure, unfiltered passion. And through it all, Hotch stood tall, head slightly bowed, fingers flexing at his sides. You had never seen him look so at home.

One by one, the trophies were presented. Charles accepted his first, shaking his head with an exasperated smile before turning to congratulate Hotch with a playful nudge. Max followed his grip tight on his trophy, still smirking slightly like he was already thinking about the next race. And then, finally, the presenter stepped forward with the massive gold-plated winner’s trophy.

The weight of it was nothing compared to the moment itself, but Hotch lifted it with ease, raising it high above his head.

The second the trophies were set down, the champagne bottles were cracked open. Charles was the first to strike, popping his bottle and immediately drenching Max, who let out an indignant shout before retaliating. The two of them descended into absolute chaos, but Hotch, ever the strategist, waited—watching, calculating—before launching his own attack. He shook his bottle furiously, angling it just right before absolutely soaking Charles in champagne. Charles yelped, attempting to shield himself, but the cameras had already captured his fate. The crowd ate it up, loving every second of the carnage, knowing that they would miss the relationship between Hotch and Charles on the track.

Through it all, you watched, heart swelling with something deeper than pride, something warmer than admiration. You had loved him in so many ways, in so many lifetimes, but seeing him here—drenched in champagne, racing suit and fireproofs sticking to his frame, a rare, boyish smirk on his lips—you had never loved him more.

And then, before you could react, he was moving. Away from the cameras. Away from the podium. Away from the crowd. And toward you. Not caring about the interviews.

His fingers curled around your waist, tugging you in until you were flush against him. He was still damp, still smelled of adrenaline and gasoline, but you didn’t care. His lips brushed your ear, voice low, teasing, the same voice that had made your heart race over the radio.

“I think I like winning.”

You let out a breathless laugh, pressing your hands against his chest. “Then why retire?”

He exhaled, warm against your skin, fingers grazing the small of your back. And then, softly and simply smiled—

“You know why.”

Because it had never been about injuries. It had never been about losing. Aaron Hotchner was retiring from Formula 1 because he had already won the most important thing of all.

You.

[raiffeldrakon123]

DP X DC │ Short Story 1.2

This is the first half of a continuation of the previous short story, even though it takes place before that part. ------------------------------------------------------------------------------ As Danny cradled little Eleanor —Ellie— gently in his arms, the newborn slept soundly, unaware of the chaos that had just unfolded. He’d taken her into his arms after everything had been sorted out at the hospital regarding her custody —Technus had played a key role, ensuring the process went smoothly and keeping everything under wraps; The old ghost had insisted this was repayment for Danny saving him from being ‘ended’.

   Now, with Ellie nestled against him, Danny couldn’t shake the uneasy feeling that gnawed at him. Jazz had given him a parenting book, and Technus had promised to keep the ghosts away from Amity Park for the week, claiming that the birth of a ‘ghost child’ was a momentous occasion —never mind the fact that Ellie wasn’t a ghost and Danny had no idea whether she’d inherited any of his powers. It was a small blessing, and he figured he should use the time to get a crash course in fatherhood.

   But after that, what then? The ghosts would return to attacking Amity Park, of that he was certain. But how would he keep the city safe while caring for Ellie? And school —he couldn’t exactly bring her with him. Jazz would help for a while, but he couldn’t expect her to sacrifice her time indefinitely, especially when he wanted her to focus on her own life as well —He couldn’t keep asking her to look after Ellie while he was at school or off fighting ghosts. He needed a solution, and fast. Either he’d have to figure out a way to stop the ghosts from attacking altogether or find someone who could look after Ellie for him.

— Hey, Danny, -Jazz’s voice called, pulling him from his thoughts. He turned to see her standing in the doorway, her eyes softening as she looked down at the bundle in his arms.- Is that her?

— Yeah, -Danny replied, his voice quieter than usual.- Want to see her?

   Jazz didn’t need to be asked twice. She quickly stepped toward him, and Danny shifted his arms slightly, just enough for her to get a better view. As she looked down at the tiny sleeping baby, Ellie frowned slightly, wriggling as though trying to snuggle closer to Danny’s chest.

— She’s so cute, -Jazz murmured, a smile tugging at her lips as she gently pulled the blanket aside to get a better look at Ellie.- Hard to believe she’s your daughter.

— Hey! -Danny chuckled quietly, but the tone was playful.- Watch it, Jazz. 

   He kept his voice low enough to avoid waking Ellie, though he couldn't help but grin at his sister's teasing. Jazz only smirked in return, unfazed. 

   She lingered for a moment, cooing at the baby with a warmth in her voice before reluctantly letting go of the blanket. As Danny brought Ellie closer to him, she settled back down, her frown disappearing into a peaceful sleep.

— I take it everything went well back in Gotham? -Jazz asked, and Danny nodded, looking more at ease.

— Yeah, Technus kept his word down to a T, -Danny replied.- The paperwork went smoothly, and he made sure no one would find out Stephanie’s her mom.

— I still don’t get why she wanted to keep that hidden, -Jazz said, her frown deepening.

— She probably just wanted to keep her safe, -Danny said, his tone serious.- With how unhinged the Joker and some of the other rogues of Gotham are, I wouldn’t put it past them to go after Ellie if they ever got their hands on Stephanie.

— Maybe, but something still doesn’t sit right with me, -Jazz replied, her voice laced with concern.- Anyway, have you told her you made it back to Amity safe? I know you still have her number on your phone.

— Not yet, -Danny said, bouncing his arms a little when Ellie started to fuss.- I’m waiting a bit longer—gotta make sure it fits with my cover story of getting Vlad to lend me his private jet.

— You could’ve told her you were a meta with portaling abilities, -Jazz said, a teasing glint in her eyes.- Wouldn’t have been that hard to keep up, right?

   Danny frowned, not sharing her amusement.

— And how would I explain it when no meta records come up when we registered Ellie at the hospital? -He replied, glancing down at his daughter.- Besides, even though I trust Stephanie a lot, I don’t think it’s a good idea for her to find out about my powers. It’s safer for her that way.

   Jazz gave him a skeptical look, but Danny didn’t meet her gaze. She didn’t push the matter further, but the doubt still lingered. Instead, she moved on to another issue.

— Sam and Tucker are downstairs, -Jazz said, watching as Danny’s head snapped up in surprise, his gaze sharp.- I managed to keep them occupied for now, but I think they suspect something’s going on.

   Danny’s frown deepened, and he sighed.

— I knew I’d have to tell them the truth about my weird behavior over the last eight months, -He admitted, rubbing a hand over his face.- But I didn’t think it’d be this soon.

   Jazz placed a hand on his shoulder, her expression sympathetic.

— Better to rip the band-aid off now than let it fester, -She said gently.

   Danny took a deep breath, his resolve firming up.

— I know, -He said, eyes hardening as he squared his shoulders.- You’re coming with me, right?

   Jazz gave him a soft smile and squeezed his shoulder lightly before removing her hand.

— Of course, -She said.- Did you really think I’d let you go through this alone?

— Never, -Danny said with a slight smile, his mood shifting slightly. He took a deep breath and headed for the door, his footsteps steady.- I guess it’s showtime, then.

[fairlyang]

18+ smut. mystery girl cont. 1.3 🕷️

w/c: 1.8K

tags: 18+ smut. filth filthy filthy. going back, finding him, voyeurism, surprising him, blowjob, properly riding him, unprotected sex, slightly possessive x2, creampie

a/n: alright we’ll see how long this goes for bc it’s been fun writing them all back to back

part 1.1 | part 1.2

as soon as you got home you took out one of your toys because the sexual frustration was actually killing you.

it was killing you so much that the next morning you drove your ass to the sex toy store again. you didn’t have each other's numbers so you only had to manifest he'd also show up bright and early because he wanted to see you so bad.

you walked into the store and quickly went into the back, then practically ran to the theater. you went through the double doors and you could hear faint moans. the projector was playing some porn with a girl getting fucked by a huge guy.

you gulped and went to the right side and sat on the first seat in the back row. there were only a handful of people on each side based off the moans and groans but only as you were sat down did you decide to take a look around.

you looked at your row and no one was there. you stood up a little and looked at the row in front of you to surprisingly find the man that’s been living in your head.

his chair was slightly reclined and you could see his head on the headrest of his chair. you walked over to the right since he was near the middle of his row and you were now able to hear his moans.

you watched as he jerked himself off intensely watching the screen in front of him. you fought back a moan at the sight and walked to the left to get to him because you needed him so bad.

his eyes were glued to the screen until you came into his view and he gave you a wide grin. you gave him a sweet smile then dropped to your knees.

he frowned and shook his head, “I need to make up for last night.”

you shrugged and took his cock in your hands, softly stroking him while retaining eye contact, “let me do this first.”

“fine but I’m cumming inside you.” he says and spreads his legs so you could get closer.

you kiss his tip and flutter your lashes at him, “is that a promise?”

he groans and brings a hand down to your jaw, “absolutely.”

you squeezed your thighs together and took him in your mouth, not wasting any time and taking as much as you could down your throat. his hand took its place on your head, gently pushing you down to encourage you to take more.

you let him and took more of him as you bobbed your head up and down his length, surprisingly able to take more than half. he groaned and laid his head back as you looked up at him.

he looked down at you and there was just something about you that he couldn’t put his finger on yet but you were definitely going to be trouble. he was already growing obsessed, he just wanted to take you back to his place and take you in every square inch of his house.

but he’d have to wait a bit until that happened.

“that’s such a good fucking girl.” he murmurs making you squeeze your thighs together.

who knew praise from an older man could have such an effect on your body?

apparently he did because he continued.

“you like sucking off a complete stranger’s cock baby?” he murmurs and you moan against him.

he curses under his breath and you go all the way down until you could feel his pubic hair tickle your nose. you then pulled back all the way and let the saliva drip down to his cock as you took a breather.

you stroked it and stuck your tongue out before slapping the tip onto your tongue. miguel was losing it and he was trying his hardest to not pull you off your feet and just take you how he needs.

based on how long it took you to actually take his cock, he decided his against it because if he was one thing he was always a gentleman.

which is why he grabbed your arms, pulling you up before he stood up and he made you sit down. you got comfortable as he got down and spread your legs apart.

he kissed your right ankle and slowly started kissing up your calve to your knee then very slowly kissed up your thigh. he kissed your inner thigh then went up to kiss your clothed clit.

he moved down then licked a strip from your entrance up to your clit which left you breathless. his eye contact was so insane but you couldn’t look away.

and you were definitely already wet enough for him.

“Miguel please I need you already.” you whined with a pout on your lips.

he looked down at your panties and the entirety was soaked. you completely drenched them.

without another word he grabbed you and sat down then pulled you on top of him.

you grabbed his cock and positioned it to your entrance, hoping your body was ready. you moved down just enough for his tip to go inside making you whimper.

you lifted yourself up then went back down, taking more than just the tip. no pain.

You went back up then fully slammed down making you both moan. “Fuck baby-“

“you like when strangers ride your dick?” you breathlessly teased and he just chuckled.

“only pretty ones like you.” he murmured making you clench against him.

his eyes rolled back and you put your hands on his shoulders to help you. his hands were on your hips and he was helping you bounce before he’d take over.

“so fucking pretty.” he mumbled and you bit your lip.

you stared down at his lips and you had an urge to scratch. you leaned in, getting closer to his face as you moved your hips up and down slowly.

he was watching you intently. he could read your mind from a mile away so he didn’t hesitate to lean in and kiss you. you kissed back and brought a hand up to his jaw as his roamed your body.

the kiss was slow at first before Miguel turned it into a hungry and hot one fast by sliding his tongue into your mouth. you moaned into his mouth and you could feel him twitch inside you.

you moved your body faster as you kissed him back with just as much passion when he suddenly pulls away and starts kissing down you jaw then to your neck. “you feel fucking amazing gorgeous.” he murmurs against your skin and you just whimper.

you continue at your pace until Miguel kisses down your chest then cleavage and you go faster. this time you wore another dress with no bra so your tits were bouncing in his face and he felt like he was getting teased.

he took them out and squeezed them, then pinching your nipples having you whimper more for him. you slowed down a little since it seemed like he was going to be giving them attention no matter what.

he squeezed them together then latched onto your right nipple and started sucking. you moaned and with one hand bringing him closer because it all just felt so good. “just like that Miguel-“ you moaned and he pulled away to suck on your left nipple harder.

“Shit-“ you groaned and straightened up but he was latched to you like glue.

He then pulled away once again to suck on your right nipple and you bounced harder making him moan against you. he finally pulled away then pulled back in to suck on the skin right above your right nipple.

he pulled away and admired the red mark he left. he needed you to be all his. immediately if possible. he really didn’t like to share and the way he could see the men watching you from the row behind you, he needed to make sure you would be.

“I’m gonna fuck you now okay? Let me do the work.” He says and you nod.

you lifted yourself up a bit but he shook his head and brought you all the way down. first he pressed the button so the recliner can move back because he wanted to fuck you the same as the first time.

he lifted his hips up slightly then started pounding into you like there was no tomorrow. the noises alone were enough to get the attention of everyone in the theater so some of the guys were just jerking off while watching. luckily your back was turned to them so you had no idea. just completely focused on the absolute pleasure you were getting from this man.

you moved your body down and laid your head against his chest while slightly arching your back. his arms were wrapped firmly around you and you were a moaning mess.

he’s so happy he took the gamble on coming in bright and early hoping you’d come in as well. you had incredible sexual chemistry together and he wasn’t willing to let that go to waste or to have someone else snatch you.

and clearly it paid off.

he murmured sweet praises then dirty nothings right after just so he could see which ones you liked more. considering you clenched against him for both wasn’t a very good indicator but at least he knew you did like both.

“miguel- so good-“ you moaned out as he thrusted deeper he murmured sweet praises then dirty nothings right after just so he could see which ones you liked more. considering you clenched against him for both wasn’t a very good indicator but at least he knew you did like both.

“I know baby. fuck-“ he groaned as you started to kiss his neck and chest.

you then started sucking on his skin because it was only fair you left your mark on him too.

you weren’t too fond of sharing either.

he felt his orgasm coming close and his thrusts started becoming more sloppy and just deep. you hold onto his arms as he twitched inside you. your own orgasm was coming in and he was hitting your sweet spot so perfectly everytime you closed your eyes it was like seeing stars.

“please cum inside me-“ you murmured and slammed your ass into him.

he groaned and his thrusts got harder, his grip on your body was getting loose and your body was starting to shake. you both continued doing your thing at the same time so it was to no surprise that you both came when you brought your ass down as Miguel thrusted deep inside you.

he released all his load inside you and you just let out shaky breaths as he held you and kissed your head gently. your eyes closed and you could hear your heartbeat loud and clear in your ears.

you took slow and steady breaths as you calmed down while miguel did the same. his chest was going up and down and hearing his heartbeat was kind of comforting in a way.

you laid in his arms just cockwarming him and calming yourself down while Miguel shooed all the pervs away because he just made sure to make you his in front of all of them so they wouldn’t forget it.

[madebycloud]

Drowning in Blue

jinx/powder x female reader — 𝐬𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐬⠀𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

summary: you are the chosen one—cursed by a prophecy that will decide the fate of the wizarding world, but the waters of your life have turned to poison, pulling you into a fate worse than death. (Harry Potter AU) requested by anon words: 12.7k warnings/themes: FUCK j.k. rowling, fluff, friends to ??? to ???, hogwarts, slow burn af, soulmates, ravenclaw!jinx, gryffindor!reader, sleep paralysis notes: this is an au of jinx x reader based off the harry potter franchise (but if you haven’t watched/read it don’t worry you’ll be able to read the story just fine!) i do not promote jkr and her transphobia, i wrote this for fun — ✩ part 1.1, part 1.2, part 1.3, part 2.1, part 2.???

“[YEAR 1] The Girl Who Lived”

“Ah, Professor LeBlanc,” Vander greets, eyeing the tabby cat and flashing a smile. The tabby cat then transforms into the pale woman he knows as Professor LeBlanc, with shoulder-length hair and wearing a cloak colored dark green and adorned with red detailing and golden accents.

“How did you know it was me?” Professor LeBlanc asks, walking beside Vander in the quiet neighborhood.

“Let's just say I've never seen a cat sit so stiffly,” Vander answers, readjusting his cloak.

“You'd be stiff too if you sat on a brick wall for that long,” LeBlanc retorts. “Are the whispers on the wind accurate, Vander?”

“Unfortunately… yes,” Vander confirms, glancing sidelong at the pale professor.

“And the girl?” 

“Professor Talis is bringing her.”

“Do you believe it's wise to place such trust in Professor Talis?” 

“Professor Talis is one of the most responsible professors I've had the pleasure of working with,” Vander replies, defending the younger professor against the questioning.

The two professors come to a stop in front of a mansion.

Suddenly, a loud motor sound pierced the night, causing both professors to look up at the sky. 

The bike lands with a screech on the cobblestone street, and a man with short, dark brown hair swings himself off the bike. He lifts his goggles off his eyes, revealing his face, and walks up to LeBlanc and Vander.

“Professor Vander, Professor LeBlanc,” he greets, nodding to the two professors.

“Professor Talis,” Vander greets in return, returning the nod. There is a brief moment of silence before the headmaster asks, “Where is the girl?”

Jayce hums, walking over as she holds the baby wrapped in a bundle over to Vander. 

“Little lady fell asleep just as we were flying over Bristol. Heh. Try not to wake her.” He gently places the bundled-up child into Vander's waiting arms. “There you go,” he murmurs, watching as the larger professor adjusts his grip on the baby.

Vander looks down at the sleeping baby in his arms, admiring her face with her eyelashes fluttering with each breath.

“Vander, do you really think it's safe, leaving her with the Kirammans?” LeBlanc asks, eyeing the girl.

Vander nods his head. “The girl will assuredly find safety within their care.” He hesitates, his voice quieting. “Besides, we have no other options. The Kirammans are the only family she has…”

LeBlanc sighs silently and nods once. “I suppose you are right.” The cat animagus professor turns to look at professor Talis. “Was the trip… difficult?” 

Jayce runs a hand through his hair, attempting to straighten it out. “Uh, I wouldn't say so,” he answers, avoiding eye contact.

LeBlanc hums noncommittally. “You have a bit of motor grease on your cheek.”

Jayce reaches up and touches his cheek, feeling the grease smeared across it. “Oh, yeah, I must have gotten that while working on my bike before I left.”

LeBlanc shakes her head silently, turning her attention to the sleeping baby in Vander's arms. She eyes the scar on her forehead. “Is that where-?” 

“Yes,” Vander replies with a solemn nod, his gaze following hers to the scar. “It will stay with her forever.”

“Couldn't you do anything about it, Vander?” 

Vander contemplates the words. “I could have,” he says slowly, “but it is unwise to meddle with the past.” He adjusts his grip on the child as she begins to squirm.

The three professors approach the large door of the Kiramman estate. Vander carefully lays the baby down on the doormat, and LeBlanc pulls out a letter and places it on top of the baby's blanket-swaddled form.

“I wish her well,” LeBlanc says, looking down at the baby.

“Good luck, little one,” Vander murmurs, crouching and gently stroking the baby's cheek with a large finger.

—

“My letter finally arrived!” you exclaim, running down the stairs towards your cousin who's sitting at the table eating breakfast.

Caitlyn's eyes go wide as they land on the envelope in your hand. “Really?!” she asks excitedly.

You hold up the thick envelope to her view, still panting as you try to catch your breath. “I wonder what house I'm going to be put in,” you say to yourself, finger tracing over the red wax.

“Probably Ravenclaw,” she replies, going back to eating her scrambled eggs, “That's the house our family is usually sorted to.”

You purse your lips in thought. “Maybe, but then again, maybe not.” You turn your attention to the letter, reading it aloud.

Dear Student,

We are pleased to inform you that you have a place at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Please find enclosed a list of all necessary books and equipment.

Term begins on 1 September. We await your owl by no later than 31 July.

Yours sincerely,

Emillia LeBlanc

The Deputy Headmistress

“Looks about right,” your cousin says, sipping her tea. “That's the same letter I got when I was your age.” She smiles at you fondly.

You carefully place the letter down, sitting down in the chair next to her. “Are you going to help me with shopping for school stuff?”

Caitlyn nods. “Of course, silly. What's family for?”

Your heart swells with love for your cousin. You've known your cousin your entire life, and she's acted like a big sister to you. “Thanks, Cait.”

—

It's a bright and sunny day in London, but you feel just a bit chilly. Maybe it's just nerves...

You and Caitlyn walk down the streets, your letter still clutched in your hand, rereading it a hundredth time since its arrival.

“All students must be equipped with one standard size 2 pewter cauldron and may bring, if they desire, either an owl, a cat, or a toad.” You turn to your cousin. “Could we find all this in London?”

“Most likely.” Caitlyn says. “We'll just have to find the right stores. Don't worry, I know all the best ones.”

The two of you stop, and you stare up at the sign above the old, worn-down pub.

“Leaky Couldron?” you say, wrinkling your nose. “Doesn't look like the... friendliest place to be.”

Caitlyn gives you the side-eye. “Looks can be deceiving,” she murmurs but doesn't elaborate.

You follow her as she walks into the dingy pub, glancing back behind you.

Inside is dim and smells of ale and sweat. You're pretty sure you spied a rat disappearing behind a crate of butterbeer. You can spot a handful of people sitting at tables, drinking in the early morning hours.

“Ah, miss prefect,” a gravelly voice calls out.

You glance over to the source of the voice, a man who looks older than dust, his face covered in scars. He walks towards you, limping as he goes.

Caitlyn gives a polite nod in recognition. “Professor Singed.”

He glances in your direction, studying you curiously before a crooked smile spreads across his face. “Who's this young lady with you?”

Caitlyn puts a hand on your shoulder. “This-” she motions to you, “-is my cousin. She just received her letter, and we're here to get supplies.”

“Your cousin, you mean... the girl who lived...?” the man croaks out.

You look to Caitlyn for reassurance, and you frown when you spot the uncomfortable look she has.

The girl who lived.

“Yes,” she replies curtly. “She's my cousin.” Caitlyn's grip tightens on your shoulder. 

Singed smiles, the scars on his face pulling in odd directions. “Lucky girl.”

You don't feel very lucky.

You catch the nod towards you as he straightens himself. “I'll be off now,” he rasps, shifting his gaze back to your cousin. “Have a lovely day, Miss Kiramman.” He turns and walks towards the door, disappearing.

Your cousin's hand relaxes, and she sighs. “Let's just go. We've got a lot of shopping to do.” Caitlyn nods towards the wall before walking towards it, you following close behind. “Professor Singed is my potions teacher.”

That professor was off... but what did he mean by the girl who lived?

“He looked old,” you say with a huff. And kind of ugly too, you leave out.

Caitlyn doesn't look back at you. “Don't mind him, Singed has always been... odd,” she says  in the tone when someone is hiding something. “Let's just get your supplies, okay?”

You stop as the two of you stand in front of a concealed archway, built from bricks that look to be held together with nothing but luck and prayers. Caitlyn pulls out her wand, flicking it towards the wall.

The bricks shift and become transparent, and you're now able to see the street on the other side. The street stretches out, lined by shops and filled with people. People that are wearing capes and cloaks, carrying cats and toads and owls...

Wizards and Witches. They're everywhere.

“Woah… How'd you do that?”

Caitlyn puts her wand back into her pocket. “Simple magic,” she says before stepping through as you follow behind.

The shops are no ordinary shops that you'd find in ordinary towns. They sell potion ingredients, a broom store, a shop selling owls.

There's a group of people walking past you, all dressed in black robes, and your eyes catch sight of a girl who has chin-length blue hair walking backwards as she enthusiastically talks to a pink-haired girl.

Caitlyn glances down at you. “Don't stare,” she whispers, and you turn your head and act like you weren't just ogling the strange people walking past you.

You both stop at the tall, white building. There are words carved into the stone over the door: Gringotts Bank.

“First things first,” she starts, pointing towards the bank. “You need to get your money.”

“...my money?”

“Oh-” she remembers something, her eyes going wide as your words remind her. “I forgot to tell you. Once you get inside, a professor is going to help you. Professor Jayce Talis.”

You look at your cousin, then the large bank. 

Caitlyn pats your shoulder. “You'll be fine. I have some things to do while you're in there.”

“...okay,” you breathe out. “Okay.”

You walk towards the tall double doors of the bank. Caitlyn helps you push the door open, and you step inside.

The inside of the Gringotts Bank is...

It looks like a palace that a king would live in rather than a bank.

There's a giant crystal chandelier that hangs from the ceiling, and fold covered pillars hold the bank up.

There are at least thirty goblins sitting at desks on both sides of you, counting coins and going over paperwork. One or two look up at you, their faces disinterested as they go back to their work.

You look around, trying to figure out what to do next. Then you hear a deep, kind voice.

“Ah, so it is you.”

You spin around quickly, eyes catching on the tall man who's standing there. He has no wrinkles, no blemishes on his face. Kind eyes and a warm honey-brown color look down at you.

“I am Professor Jayce Talis. You must be Caitlyn's cousin,” he says, walking over and crouching down. He offers his hand to you. You take his hand, and he smiles.

“You look just like-” he pauses in the middle of his words, then quickly composes himself when he realizes he said it aloud. He stands up and quickly steers the conversation in a different direction.

“Well, let's get you sorted out, shall we?” He gestures to a goblin sitting at a desk.

Jayce takes you over to a counter at the end, and a goblin turns to look at the two of you. The goblin has sharp, pointed teeth and a hook nose, and his dark eyes look up at Jayce with annoyance.

“Professor Talis,” the goblin greets, his voice dry and scratchy.

Jayce chuckles, leaning on the counter. “Still counting coins, I see?”

The goblin sneers and grumbles at Jayce. “Always.” Then he looks at you. “Who's this then?”

Professor Talis places a hand on your back and pushes you forward a bit. “This is Cassandra Kiramman's niece.”

“Niece…” he repeats, looking you up and down. He turns to look behind him, scanning several scrolls placed on a counter behind him. “...name?”

Jayce answers the goblin with your name. “Just here to collect her galleons,” he adds.

“Does the kid have her key, professor?” the goblin asks.

“Oh!” Professor Talis rummages through his pockets, searching for something. “Where is it... ah!” he pulls out a gold key. “Here it is.” He hands the key to the goblin but then seems to remember something. His hand reaches in his pocket again and pulls out a letter. “Professor Vander gave me this,” he says, presenting the letter to the goblin.

The goblin takes the key and the letter from Professor Talis' hands, then looks at the golden key. He looks over the letter, skimming it over with his sharp eyes. “Hmm…”

Jayce smiles at the goblin. “Is that a I need to see her vault hmm, or a we need to sort something out hmm?”

The goblin just looks at Jayce and narrows his eyes, turning around to his stack of scrolls again.

“I'm guessing that means vaults,” Professor Talis whispers to you.

—

You, Professor Talis, and a goblin named Griphook are riding in a mine cart down a deep and dark tunnel. 

Finally, the cart stops abruptly, causing you to lurch forward, then Griphook jumps out. “Vault 687,” he grunts, holding out his hand expectantly.

Professor Talis wastes no time in handing over a shiny, golden lamp.

You and Professor Talis follow behind Griphook in the dark, the small lamp the only thing lighting your way forward.

You can hear the steady drip of water and rats scurrying around in the shadows.

Griphook stretches out his hand. “Key, professor?” 

Jayce quickly places the key in the goblin's hand, giving it a quick twist. With a loud click, the vault door swings open, revealing piles of gold inside.

You blink a few times, staring at the piles of galleons in your vault… how much is all this?

Professor Talis chuckles behind you and places one hand on your shoulder, giving it a squeeze. “Never thought your parents would leave you with nothing, did you?”

—

Griphook calls out, “Vault 713!”

You turn to Professor Talis and ask, “What's in there, professor?”

Jayce pats your head. “Can't tell you that, kid. Some very secret Hogwarts business.”

Secret. 

You sigh, the mystery of vault 713 intriguing you.

Griphook tells you both to step back, and you obey, watching as the goblin slides a single long finger down the silver door, causing it to melt away.

You and Professor Talis step into the vault, the small space feeling cool and dark. In the center of the vault sits a small, white, stone-looking package. Jayce picks it up, holding it carefully. He then turns to you.

“Listen, kid,” he starts, “you can't tell anyone about this, okay?”

You nod, not sure what's in the little stone package, but you're curious. 

Professor Talis smiles. He pockets the package and pats your head again. “Good, I knew I could count on you.”

—

“Books, parchment, quills, ink, cauldron... and uh…” You walk down the alley as you recite your list. 

Caitlyn nods, looking over the list and checking the items off one by one.

The professor follows behind you two, explaining to Caitlyn that he needs to go with you since you, as a minor, require a guardian.

“...and a wand,” you continue, turning to Professor Talis. “I need a wand.”

“Of course.” Caitlyn glances over the shops that line the alley and points to a smaller looking store. “That store. Ollivanders.”

Jayce hums. “I think we'll stop by Ollivander's before heading to Madam Malkin. You'll get your wand first, then we'll continue down the list.”

The three of you continue walking until you come to a small shop that is much less crowded than the ones you have passed. 

“Why don't you run along there and wait?” The professor begins, “Cait and I just have one more thing to do. It won't be long.” He pats your shoulder as he ushers your cousin away, leaving you to approach the small, crooked shop.

You hear him murmur something, but you're too far away to catch anything. You raise your eyes to the sign above the door. Ollivanders Makers of Fine Wands since 382 BC. 

Seems harmless enough.

You step into the dark store and look around, a fine layer of dust settling on everything, including the boxes stacked on the creaky floorboards.

“Hello?”

There's no one in the shop, only the silence and dust. Is anyone even here?

You walk towards the counter, reaching out and gently rapping your knuckles against the wood. “Hello?”

The silence is shattered by the old man, who you think is Ollivander, stepping out from the back of the store, drying his wrinkled hands on a cloth.

“Ah,” the old man says as he approaches you, his pale, silvery eyes staring at you. “I was expecting you.”

You watch silently as the old man hums to himself, his fingers trace over the boxes, searching for something.

He then pulls a box from the shelf. “It seems like only yesterday when your parents were in here getting their first wands, and now look at you.” He lifts the lid and draws a long, slender stick out of the box.

“13 inches, swishy, cherry with a horned serpent horn core.” Ollivander holds the wand out for you to take. “Give it a try.”

You wave the wand, but nothing happens. You swing it around in a small circle, but... still nothing. You move the wand as if you were drawing something across the-

CRACK! 

Blue sparks fly out of the tip of the wand. You duck, bringing the wand close to your chest. You look up at the old man, and he smiles.

“Not quite.” The old man reaches out and gently takes the wand from you, turning back to the shelf.

He picks up a different box. “Eleven inches, walnut, swishy, unicorn tail hair core.” Ollivander hands you the new wand.

You take it and hold it in your hands, looking at the smooth shaft and carefully crafted hilt. You glance up at the old man, who nods.

You swing the wand around the same as the other one, nothing happens until-

CRACK! 

A vase sitting on the shelf across from you suddenly explodes, sending glass shards everywhere.

You look back at the old man. He smiles once again. “Don't worry. We'll find the right one eventually. It's just a matter of time and patience.”

You hand the old man the wand, and he sets it aside.

The old man hums to himself as he takes another box off the shelf. He opens it up but stops, eyeing the wand. “Mmm,” he muses, shaking his head. “No, I don't think that's the one.”

He sets the box down and turns to look at you, an idea brewing in his head. “I wonder…” he murmurs as he rummages through the box. He withdraws a slender wand and hands it to you. “Try it.”

The second your fingers wrap around the handle, you hear the wand hum inside your skull. You flex your fingers, testing how it feels… perfect.

The shop feels louder, sounds and smells coming at you like you've never experienced before.

Your eyes dart around the room before landing on the old man, who scratches his head as he examines the wand in your hand. “Curious indeed,” he mumbles, “very curious.”

You raise an eyebrow at the old man's response, hoping he'd say something. You clear your throat, but Ollivander doesn't even look up, his eyes still fixed on the wand.

“I remember every wand I've ever sold,” he starts, eyeing your new wand. “Just so happens that this wand's phoenix made another feather, just one other to it.” His eyes lock on the scar on your forehead. “Funny thing, that the brother wand to that one-” he motions to your wand “-is the very one that gave you that mark on your head.” He points a bony finger at your forehead.

Your scar tingles and you reach a hand up to touch it. You’ve never been too fond of the scar, especially since it makes you... different.

Brother wand.

Sounds weird, honestly. Like it's some sort of… prophecy.

You drop your hand from your scar, looking back at the old man. “And who owned that wand?” you question, your fingers tracing the shaft of the wand.

“It belonged to the greatest wizard who ever lived. Before his fall from grace,” he explains, narrowing his eyes at you. “And the phoenix did only ever give one other feather.” The old man taps his chin, his mouth twisting in thought. “It's curious how such an instrument of destruction ended up in your hand, isn't it?”

You look down at the wand again, unsure of what to do. “It's just a wand, though, right?” you say with a frown before looking back to the old man. “It's not like it's evil or anything.”

The old man seems intrigued, a smile growing on his face. “No dear, wands don't hold any form of power of their own. Their power comes from the one who wields it.”

He steps forward, bending down so he's eye level with you. “It's the wizard or witch who decides what their wands do, and if wands are capable of great wrong… they are also capable of great right.”

“Just remember this,” he adds before standing up, “The wand chooses the wizard.” He then turns and begins tidying up the shelves, leaving you alone with your thoughts.

You turn over the wand in your hand, examining every detail. Something tells you this is... important, it's important somehow.

Then, you hear a knock at the window. Turning around, you see your cousin outside the shop, waving through the glass. Professor Talis stands beside her, holding a cat in his arms. You walk over and open the door.

“Well?” Jayce asks, looking over your shoulder at the wandmaker. “Did our little newcomer find a match?”

You nod, holding the wand in the air. “Yeah,” you reply, turning to Professor Talis. “Found one on like, the third try. It kinda hums.”

He chuckles. “That's a good thing, means it's a good match.”

—

The very one that gave you that mark on your head.

That's what the old man said.

Brother wand.

It's weird to describe a wand as a brother. A little creepy too.

Does that mean it's connected to you in some way?

You hear Professor Talis' voice and snap out of your thoughts. “Huh?” You blink a few times, looking up from your own bowl of soup. You've barely touched yours.

“You're being awfully quiet,” he prods. “Something on your mind?” he asks, looking back and forth between you and Caitlyn.

You reach a tentative hand up to touch the scar on your forehead, your fingers tracing over the jagged edges. “He…” you pause, looking up at your cousin, “...he killed my parents, didn't he?”

Caitlyn pauses mid-bite.

Professor Talis stops eating, his eyes slowly moving to you.

You think you've hit a sensitive spot, and the room feels strangely still.

Jayce shoots a cautionary look at your cousin, then looks down at his unfinished soup. “...yes,” he responds finally, shifting awkwardly in his seat. “Your parents… they died at his hands.”

Caitlyn takes a pause from her bread to steal another glance at you, her face twisted with obvious guilt. You don't really know why she feels guilty, but it's pretty apparent.

You lower your hand slowly from your forehead. “Why though?” you ask no one in particular. “Why did he do it? What did they do?”

Professor Talis takes a deep breath, collecting himself for a moment.

“First-” he starts slowly, being careful about what he's saying. “-you need to understand something. Not all wizards are good. Some of them go bad. A few years ago... there was one wizard who... went as bad as bad can get…”

He trails off, looking at your cousin, but she doesn't pay much attention. His eyes dart over to your own, and he pauses. “And his name was… his name… his…”

“Maybe if you wrote it down?” you suggest.

“No, I can't spell it. His name was…” The professor hesitates, uncomfortable, but he finally musters the courage to finish his sentence. “Swain,” he whispers.

Swain.

You blink a few times, rolling the name over in your head. Where have you heard that name before? your aunt never mentioned anything about this ‘Swain’ in your childhood.

“Swain?” you repeat.

Jayce flinches at your words, holding a finger to his lips. “Shhh,” he hushes as he scans the Leaky Cauldron, watching the shadows carefully. He's checking to see if anyone is listening in. Once he's satisfied, he leans back into his chair, taking a long glance around the area.

Professor Talis stirs his soup around with his spoon, staring down into his bowl. “Back then... they were hard times,” he mutters. “Bad times.” After a long pause, he lets the spoon plop back into his soup.

“Some wizards fell to the wrong path,” he continues on, “He gathered some followers. Brought them to the dark side.”

“Your parents... tried to stop him,” his eyes meet yours. “But none of them survived once he set his mind to killing them.”

Professor Talis goes silent for a moment, staring down at his soup again. The spoon swirls around in the soup, circling in a whirlpool of broth and vegetables.

“No one lived,” he whispers, looking up at you. “Except…” Professor Talis pauses before sighing deeply. “Except you.”

You take a long draw of air. “...me?”

Caitlyn nods, finally finding her words. “That scar on your forehead…” her fingers flutter to her own forehead, tracing a line on her own skin, as if tracing the path of your scar. “It's not just any old cut. It's the mark left behind by a dark curse. A curse that only the most evil wizards use.”

“But... what happened to Swa-... to You-Know-Who?”

Caitlyn looks at the professor, who stirs his soup contemplatively, then looks back at you. “Well, some say he died.”

“Codswallop in my opinion,” Professor Talis cuts in. “Nope, I'm not one to bet against that snake. He's out there, and while he's tired now, I don't think that'll stop him for long.” He puts the spoon down and gives you a warm smile, although one tired from stress and worries. “But one thing's for damned sure…”

“...something about that night stumped him,” The professor murmurs. “That's why everybody knows your name. That's why your name rings across the land.” He lifts his spoon, pointing it at you. “You're the girl who lived.”

—

A month later…

“You... expect me to just run through the wall and I'll be in the Hogwarts Express?”

You stare at the wall between platforms 9 and 10, wondering if you've finally lost your marbles.

“Yep! That's how we do it here,” Caitlyn says as she leans against the stone wall with a laugh. “You just run, and you'll smash right into the platform.”

You look at her doubtfully. 

She reaches over and pats your back, encouraging you to continue. “Go ahead and run at the wall. It's okay. You won't get hurt.”

You take a step back, looking at the solid wall. It's just a normal wall. Not only that, it's stone.

There is no way that running into a solid piece of brick will result in anything but you getting seriously hurt and winding up in an infirmary bed, surely.

You look at your cousin, who only nods in affirmation and motions for you to continue.

You hesitate, taking another glance at the wall. Then, with a deep breath, you decide to be bold. Boldly stupid, that is. You let out a grunt of determination before taking off at the wall.

You shut your eyes, bracing for the impact, and- and…

Something is odd. Or rather, nothing is there. You expected to slam right into the hard wall, but now you're...

You peek one eye open, then open your other.

You're standing in... a train station. But not any train station, it's a strangely vibrant platform filled with people walking around and talking with each other.

To your right, a large train sits, a train that looks rather regal. You have to crane your neck to look at its height, and then you have to crane your neck again to see the top of the smokestack, which is spewing out clouds of smoke.

Then the train whistles sharply. The sound is loud enough to ring in your ears and echoes throughout the station, causing everyone—you included—to flinch slightly in surprise.

People rush past you, boarding the train, disappearing into the various open doors.

Caitlyn's voice appears behind you. “You alright?”

“Yeah…” you reply, looking at your cousin.

She pats your shoulder. “Let's get on the train, then.”

It takes you and Cailtyn several minutes to get aboard the train, with how packed it is, and the two of you manage to find an unoccupied compartment.

You both sit down and take a deep breath as you catch your breath from running.

“You can put your stuff here,” she instructs, pointing to a few empty spots overhead. “There's plenty of space. It's probably better to put your stuff up there instead of keeping it down here where it can roll around. Wouldn't want to get squashed, would you?”

You do as Caitlyn says, shoving your trunk and other supplies into the overhead storage.

“There you go,” she says, looking around the compartment, “I'll be back. I've got something to take care of, you know, prefect business.” Caitlyn pats your shoulder. “I won't be long. Try not to do anything stupid.”

“I'll... try,” you say, watching her disappear out of the compartment door.

You sit down. Now that your cousin isn't here...

You're left all alone, and you shift in your seat. At first, you're just sitting there, admiring the interior of the train.

Then, the train starts to move.

You hear the whistle shriek again, the brakes shift, and suddenly the train lurches forward. Slowly, the train begins to speed up.

The train passes through the countryside, past rolling hills and dense forests.

It's peaceful you could almost fall asleep here... until-

“HI!”

“AH!-” you exclaim, before your brain catches up to your instincts.

You spin around to face the open compartment door and see a girl, probably the same age as you, with chin-length blue hair.

“Sorry, sorry,” she says, not looking apologetic in fact, smiling slightly. “I didn't mean to startle you.”

The girl steps into the compartment, awkwardly shuffles into it, and plops herself on the seat opposite you.

You observe the stranger.

She's got blue hair. She's lean and pretty pale. She's also short, but it's hard to tell how short exactly while she's sitting down. She's shifting in her seat as well, not sitting still.

“I'm Powder... firstie, and you are...?”

You're still recovering from the startle but manage to get your brain working, though you still have no idea who this stranger is. Still, you reply with your name.

She repeats your name and looks like she's mulling it over in her mind. Then she snaps her fingers, as if she'd just remembered something. “So it's true! I mean, do you really have the... the...?” she trails off, gesturing at your forehead.

...that was definitely a weird question to ask someone you just met, and the suddenness of it leaves you dumbfounded.

She doesn't seem to notice the odd question, or if she does, she doesn't seem to mind.

You're not sure why the girl needs to know. 

She drums her fingers on her knees while staring at you, as if your silence gave her carte blanche to ask nosy questions.

You purse your lips together, and she suddenly realizes you're not going to reply. Her fingers stop drumming, and she slumps back in her seat.

She's impatient.

Powder folds her arms across her chest and gives you an annoyed look, like she's expecting an answer.

You stare back at her, not sure what to say.

The silence is broken when your stomach suddenly gives a loud grumble.

Powder raises an eyebrow. “Hungry?”

Just then, a welcome rescue from your grumbling stomach arrives in the form of a woman pushing a trolley filled with sweets. She then peeks her head into the compartment. “Care for anything off the trolley, dears?”

Powder suddenly stands up from her seat. “Ooh! I'll take this, and this, and this, and a few of those- ooh, and a box of those-” she rattles off a whole list of things, pointing to every item on the trolley. “Is it all FREE?!”

The trolley lady laughs as Powder rattles off her list. She looks amused at Powder's excitement, though she gives you a brief look of concern. “Of course not. It all costs money.”

Powder's face immediately drops, and her eyes land on her pockets. She fishes out a few coins and holds them up eagerly. “I've got enough for a few.”

The trolley lady gives the coins a quick glance. Her face immediately darkens as she sees the pitiful amount of money Powder is holding.

“A few?” she repeats. “Honey, that's not enough for even one of those...” The woman turns her attention to you. “What about you, dear?”

You rummage through your pocket as the trolley lady looks on. You take out all the coins you took from the bank earlier and give them to the trolley lady. “We'll take the lot.”

—

“Bertie Bott's Every Flavour Beans?” 

It looks like it's going to taste like sweets—not any kind of sweets, every kind of sweets.

Powder looks away from the sweets on her lap and eyes the box of jellybeans in your hands. “They mean every flavor. You get chocolate and peppermint, and I think I've heard of one that's supposed to taste like liver or something,” Powder says. “Be careful with those! my brother once said he got a bogey-flavored one.”

Gross.

But at the same time, the whole every flavor bit intrigues you.

You've never had sweets that tasted like anything but sweets so you have no idea what it would taste like.

You open the box and pluck one, popping it into your mouth.

You expect something sweet and fruity, but the taste of the jellybean is far from sweet.

No, you get smacked with the taste of-

...old, worn sock that's been left out for a week in the summer.

You gag and spit out the jellybean. “Yuck!” The taste doesn't go away, and you stick your tongue out, trying to get rid of it.

Powder laughs. “I told you to be careful!”

“You said they had chocolate and peppermint!”

“Yeah, and liver, and bogey,” Powder retorts.

“Alright, alright. I get it. You warned me.” You sigh and push the box of jellybeans away. “Never again.”

“Don't worry, I've got something better.” She pulls out a box of chocolate frogs from the pile of sweets on the seat. She hands one to you. “Here. These are much better.”

You unwrap the chocolate frog, revealing the actual chocolate underneath.

It looks like a normal chocolate frog, save for the fact that it appears to be moving. You give it a poke with your index finger, and the chocolate frog lets out a loud ribbit.

You try to keep a straight face. “Is that... normal?” you ask, looking back at Powder.

“Yeah, it is. Don't worry, they're pretty common. Besides, they taste great.”

You look down at your chocolate frog. It lets out another loud ribbit. Before you can take a bite, the frog leaps out of your hand and leaps onto the windowsill.

“What-”

“Don't worry,” she reassures. “They do that-” Powder is cut off as your chocolate frog leaps away from the window.

You and Powder both look out the window of the train, trying to find the escaped chocolate frog. It's nowhere in sight, probably hopped away as soon as it found freedom.

“Don't worry, they're supposed to do that. It's kind of a gimmick. I've lost like, three of them already.”

“Supposed to? are they going to come back?” you ask, and Powder snorts in response.

“Yeah, like that's going to happen. They probably went off to breed.”

You give her a flat look that says, ‘are you serious?’ and Powder bursts out laughing.

“I'm just kidding, they don't breed. I don't think they can.”

You roll your eyes, but she keeps going.

“It's actually kind of a tradition to save their cards as a collection. You get a card with every chocolate frog.” She points to the now-empty wrapper. “I've got a whole bunch of them already.”

“You collect the cards?”

She nods, a proud look taking over her face. “Yep. It's a hobby of mine.”

You look at the empty wrapper and flip it over in your hands, finding an image on the back. “Heimerdinger?”

It's an image of a small, yordle-like creature that looks like a gnome.

Powder makes an exaggerated gesture with her hand. “Professor Heimerdinger is like, a legend. Everyone knows about Professor Heim, but I've got about six cards of him. It's pretty neat to have a whole bunch of them.”

You start to read aloud the description. “He is best known for his groundbreaking research in the field of science and his numerous inventions and discoveries, which have helped advance the magical community. Approximately three hundred years old. Professor Heimerdinger enjoys-” you look up from the card, “-three hundred years old?”

“Yep,” Powder agrees. “Most yordles are that old.” She pauses. “Actually, I think all yordles are that old. I saw it in one of my history books.”

If he's really that old... he's probably seen through a lot of history, and you can't even imagine what he's been through.

You stare at the card again. There's empty space where the image of Heimerdinger used to be. “What? It's gone. It was just here.” 

That's a little weird... you turn the card over in your hand, wondering if you just imagined that there was a yordle on the back of that wrapper.

“Hm? Oh, that's normal.”

“Normal?”

Powder nods, unperturbed. “The picture never stays there for too long. It just pops up and disappears again, see?” she points at the card.

You watch as the image reappears on the back of the card, then vanishes again, then reappears, then vanishes.

“See? Totally normal,” Powder assures you. “They're called moving images. It's like a video, but it's a pic-”

“Pow!”

You turn at the sudden noise. There, standing in the doorway, is a boy in a yellow sweater with a badger on it.

“Been looking for you!”

Powder groans, recognizing the boy immediately. “Ekko,” she mutters, “why are you here?”

Ekko ignores this question and turns to you, eyeing you up and down. “Wait, wait, wait... are you the girl who lived?!”

“Is everyone going to start calling me that?” you complain, as Powder sighs next to you.

Ekko grins, sitting himself across from you. “You're kinda famous, you know that, right?” he smirks, propping his feet up on the seat next to him.

Powder smacks his feet off, annoyed. “Don't kick the seats.”

Ekko shrugs, unfazed by her irritation. “Just sayin'. I mean, you're the girl who survived the killing curse.”

You shift in your seat, uncomfortable. It's not like you asked to be famous for surviving something traumatic.

You look out the window at the hills and small villages and towns you pass by. “Yeah, I know,” you mutter, but Ekko either doesn't notice or doesn't care about your annoyance.

“What's it like?”

“What's what like?”

“Being the one who lived. The legend who vanquished You-Know-Who. That stuff,” Ekko clarifies.

“I don't remember any of it,” you say truthfully. “So nothing. I just got a scar out of it.”

Ekko looks dissatisfied with your answer. He stands up, stretching his arms. “Anyway, Pow,” he turns to Powder, grinning, “let's go, your sister is looking for you.”

Powder groans, clearly not wanting to leave your side yet. “Does it have to be now?”

Ekko gestures for her to get up. “Yes, now. You know how she can be when she wants something.”

Powder sighs, standing up reluctantly. She shoots you an apologetic look as she follows Ekko out of the compartment. “Sorry 'bout that. See ya around, yeah?”

You nod, watching as Powder leaves the compartment. Ekko looks back at you, eyeing you curiously, before shutting the compartment door. You're left to your thoughts, feeling slightly lonely without Powder there.

It was nice to have some company, even if it was just for a short while.

It's lonely just sitting in here by yourself... you shouldn't complain. You shouldn't be expecting people to talk to you all the time. But sometimes, it's nice to have... someone to spend time with. Or at least, you think it is.

You feel like you know Powder somehow, yet you just met her. You wonder why that is.

You look out the window again, contemplating... your life?

You don't see your face in the reflection. Instead, you see a pale blue-haired girl with pink eyes staring back at you.

Weird. You're getting tired. You yawn, blinking away the blurry vision.

The girl is gone.

...was she there at all?

Your eyelids are heavy. You're tired, but you don't know why. You've gotten plenty of sleep last night...

Yet you find yourself falling into sleep.

—

You wake up, feeling bleary-eyed and tired.

Everything is black.

You try to look around, but there's nothing to look at. You reach out to feel around, but you can't feel anything either.

Then you hear it—quiet sobs. It's very faint, but you can hear them still.

It's strange... the voice is familiar.

You feel like you should... go towards the sound. You can see a figure in front of you, a girl with long blue hair.

The girl's back is turned, facing away from you. She's sitting on the empty plane of black with her legs curled up to her chest, her head buried into her knees.

You don't know who this girl is, but something about her is familiar. You're not sure how you know her, but you know her.

There's a weird feeling in your stomach.

You watch as the girl raises her head from her knees, turning to look at you... except she doesn't have a face.

The girl's nose is gone. Her eyes are gone. Her mouth is gone. It just looks like a blank canvas where her face should be. Except this canvas is covered in... blood?

This can't be real. But if this is a dream, why can you feel your heart thumping in your chest? why is there a sudden sense of worry in your gut?

In the blink of an eye, the figure's hand shoots out—there's a wand clutched in her hand, and the tip of it is now pointed at you.

The wand doesn't look like much to fear; it's slim and delicate, just a simple stick of wood.

No, fear isn't coming from the wand... it's coming from the strange, faceless girl holding it. She points it at you, trembling, a shaky grip, as if she's been weakened.

“I'm sorry.”

You recognize that voice.

The girl takes a deep, shuddering breath, her hand trembling even more. “I'm sorry,” she repeats.

Your brain goes completely still for a few seconds, trying to process what's happening.

Then, your mouth starts moving on its own, and you say a word you've never said before.

“Jinx.”

It's strange, yet familiar, like you're saying this name for the first time but it still feels weirdly normal to say. You don't know why you said it, and you still don't know who this girl is, but you know that's her name.

You just know.

—

“We're almost here.” You wake up at the sound of your cousin's voice, opening your eyes.

The first thing you notice is that you're staring out a window, except it's dark, and you just see your own reflection staring back at you. You don't really pay it any attention, though, because you find yourself distracted by the strange feeling in your forehead.

But before you can linger on the thought, the weird feeling is gone without a trace, erasing it as if it never happened in the first place.

And just like that, your mind is blank. Completely wiped... you can't even remember what you were just thinking about.

“Are you ready?” your cousin continues.

You look away from the window, focusing your bleary vision on your cousin. The candy and chocolate wrappers are littered all over the compartment, and you watch as your cousin picks them up and puts them in a plastic bag.

“You're back,” you mumble, rubbing your eyes as you sit up straight.

Caitlyn nods, placing the plastic bag down next to the compartment's door. “Yeah, the prefect duties got pretty busy.”

“I bet.” You lean back on the soft seat. “What did you have to do anyway?”

“All sorts of things. Helping first years find their way, breaking up arguments. You would not believe how many rules some students are already breaking before we've even arrived at Hogwarts.”

“Mmm sounds handful.” You make space on the seat beside you for her.

“Sorry, I left you all alone in the compartment.” Caitlyn says, sitting down next to you. “You didn't get up to any trouble, did you?”

You rub your forehead, the feeling that you forgot something nagging at you. “I just took a quick nap.”

“That's good.” She nods, crossing her legs. “I was worried you might get bored.”

“Yeah, not much to do, I guess…” You gaze out the window. It's already night, the darkness outside making it hard to see anything but faint flashes of trees. “The journey so far hasn't been too bad.”

Caitlyn hums, also looking out the window.

You look back at her, noticing the worried look on her face. “You okay?” 

She hesitates for a few seconds before replying, “Yeah, I'm just thinking about…” she looks at you, “your upcoming year.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, I'm your cousin and all,” she starts, choosing her words carefully. “I just worry.”

The sound of the train brakes squealing startles the both of you.

“Are we already there?” You look out the window again.

Caitlyn stands up and opens the compartment door, peering outside momentarily. “Looks like it,” she turns back to you, grinning.

—

“First years! First years over here!”

You step out of the train, taking in a deep breath of the cold night's air, and run your hands down your new robes, trying to get rid of the annoying wrinkles.

You look around the busy Hogsmeade station, searching the sea of robes.

Then, a flash of blue catches your eye, and you notice the same girl from earlier. She's standing with a small group of other first years, exchanging idle chatter and occasional smiles.

The girl sees you, her face brightens into a grin, and she waves. She turns to the other students, says something you can't hear, and then starts walking toward you.

“There you are!” Powder exclaims as she gets close. “I was looking for you.”

“Were you-” you're cut off by the gruff man's voice again.

“All first years gather here.”

You and Powder share a look before walking toward the voice, noticing the man's back was facing you. “Come on,” Powder says, tugging at your sleeve.

You both walk closer until you're standing next to the group of first years. Powder lets go of your sleeve and moves to stand next to another girl.

“Good, good,” the man says, “You're all here. Welcome to Hogwarts.” He looks at the group of first years before nodding. “Follow me please.”

You follow him, trying hard to keep up while also keeping your eyes on your new classmate.

Powder is still glancing over her shoulder at you. When you make eye contact, she grins, waving. You wave back and can hear her giggle.

The man stops in front of a lake, and the first years gather around him. You look out in the distance and notice a large castle on a mountain.

“This is the lake,” the man gruffs.

Everyone looks out at the lake. Some seem impressed, others not so much.

“Welcome to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. I'm Udyr, the gamekeeper here. We're gonna be taking a short boat ride to the castle.”

The first years start talking amongst themselves, whispering about the massive castle waiting for them atop a mountain.

Powder is looking out at the lake, a smile on her face. You wonder if she even knows she's smiling.

Udyr clears his throat, signaling the students to quiet down. “Right, now. Form a line and face the lake. No pushing.”

Everyone lines up in a somewhat orderly line. Powder is only a few people down from you, and she keeps stealing glances at the castle.

“Alright! Time to go,” the gamekeeper calls out, waving his arm.

The first years slowly walk down to the edge of the lake, where a bunch of small boats are tied to makeshift wooden docks.

“There are enough boats for everyone,” Udyr informs, “So get into a boat.”

The first years begin to file off into the boats, with you following suit. You find a spot in one and take a seat, the wood creaking beneath you.

Powder ends up in another boat, leaving you in a boat with a boy with golden blond hair and two girls with colorful hair, one with a light green and the other with pink.

You glance over at Powder's boat and see her laughing at the boy over whatever he had said.

The blonde boy gives you a friendly smile and greets you with a handshake. “Hey, I'm Ezreal.”

Ezreal's grip is firm, his palm clammy to the touch, but that hardly has any negative effect on your impression of him.

You give him your name, and he replies with a nod of acknowledgment.

The other girl with pink hair chimes in, giving a wave as she speaks. “I'm Seraphine.”

Ezreal grins and glances over to the girl with green hair. “And this is Zeri.”

Zeri looks up, her eyes locking with yours. “Hey,” Zeri says, smiling.

Ezreal chuckles as he takes his hand back from your grip. “Friendly lot we've got here, huh?” He shakes his head and leans back, resting his hands on the edges of the boat. The boat wobbles as he does so, causing Seraphine to grab the edge to steady herself.

“Easy there, Ezreal,” the pink-haired girl says, giving a laugh.

Ezreal smiles apologetically at Seraphine. “Sorry.” He glances back at you and then looks down at the castle. “How'd they get the electricity…?”

“They do magic, remember?” Zeri says. “Who needs electricity when you can just cast spells to get things done?”

Ezreal lets out a sigh, rolling his eyes. “No, Z, that's not what I meant,” he replies. “I meant, like, does Hogwarts have plugs and stuff?”

Seraphine laughs. “I don't think they have plugs… It's a magic school, Ezreal. I don't think they have technology.”

Ezreal groans. “Oh man, I'm going to miss phones and video games.”

Zeri pats him on the back. “Hey, you'll survive, Ez.”

Ezreal gives a pout and looks at you. “What about you? What do you think of this place so far?”

You consider the question, looking around the lake. “It's…” you begin, searching for the right adjectives. “Different.”

Ezreal nods, agreeing. “I still can't believe I'm here.”

Zeri and Seraphine also both nod in agreement. “Me too,” Zeri says, while Seraphine adds, “This is all really new to me as well.”

—

You reach the top of the great stone stairs of Hogwarts, leading into the Entrance Hall.

You look up at the woman that stands before you. She gives you an appraising look before her gaze is diverted by Powder walking up the stairs to stand beside you.

The tall, pale woman has a grim look on her face and cold eyes that make you think she'd relish the chance to watch you squirm in fear as she feeds you to a giant squid in the lake if you so much as step out of line.

“Welcome to Hogwarts,” she speaks, her voice just stern enough to make it clear you have a new authority figure to be wary of, yet not unkind enough to make you think she'll actively seek out ways to punish you for your misdeeds.

“My name is Professor LeBlanc, and I am the Deputy Headmistress of this school,” LeBlanc says, giving you, Powder, and the other students around you a look that causes you to stand just a bit straighter. 

“There are four houses, and you will all be sorted into one of them.” LeBlanc says, her eye moving over every student in front of her.

Some of them look excited, some of them look slightly anxious, and others just look bored that they have to sit through another introduction.

“Gryffindor, Slytherin, Ravenclaw, and Hufflepuff,” the headmistress continues. “Each house values different traits in its students.”

“Gryffindor values courage, bravery, and integrity.” Professor LeBlanc turns her attention to a group of students off to the side. The students seem to stand straighter as Leblanc eyes them.

“Slytherin values ambition, cunning, and resourcefulness.” LeBlanc turns her gaze to another group of students, who seem to puff up with pride.

“Ravenclaw values intelligence, creativity, and wisdom.” LeBlanc  then turns her focus to a third group of students, who look nervous now that they have LeBlanc's entire attention on them.

“And finally, Hufflepuff values hard work, dedication, and loyalty,” LeBlanc continues, looking at the last group of students, who all give Leblanc a nervous smile.

She pauses, her eyes momentarily returning to Powder and you. “Your triumphs will earn you points, any rule-breaking will lose you points. In a few moments, we will be entering the Great Hall, and the sorting ceremony will begin.” LeBlanc steps out of the way, gesturing to the doors. “Any questions?”

You look over at Powder, who meets your eyes and gives you a shrug in reply.

“No questions then.” LeBlanc glances at students once more before nodding to herself and turning to the doors, which swing open with a dramatic flourish.

You follow the headmistress through the doors, stepping into the Great Hall, and look up at the ceilings, the night sky painted on in such detail.

It looks so real, as if you could reach out and touch the twirling stars. You can't tell if it's a painting or if it's actually real-

“It's bewitched to look like the sky outside,” a voice whispers next to you. You tilt your head, and Powder is walking beside you. “I read about it in Hogwarts: A History.”

She takes a minute to study the walls of the Great Hall, then turns her attention to the ceiling once more, her eyes darting between the night sky and the floating candles.

“Pretty neat, I guess,” she finally says, voice low. “Can you imagine falling asleep under that?”

The headmistress leads the first years through the Great Hall, stopping near the front of the hall.

An old, tattered looking hat sits on the stool. Its brim is lopsided and the hat looks like it's one strong gust of wind away from falling apart.

“That's the sorting hat,” Powder whispers, her eyes glued on the old hat. “Apparently the hat can read your personality and puts you in the house that will-”

She is cut off as the hat on the stool suddenly starts to twitch, its mouth (if it can even be called that) opening wide. A low, gravely voice came from the tattered hat and began to sing.

When the hat finally finishes its song, it bows to the four houses.

All the students, particularly the first years, start to nervously and quietly applaud the sorting hat, as if it might somehow get angry with them if they don't give it the attention it clearly desires.

The headmistress unrolls a long piece of parchment. “When you hear your name called, you will go up to the stool and take a seat, then the hat will be placed on your head.” LeBlanc says, a few students gulp. “When the hat makes its decision, take a seat at the table of your house. We will begin.”

You watch as several students go up, the sorting hat resting on their heads for a few seconds, then the hat is removed, and the students take their seats at the corresponding house.

Ezreal is sorted into Slytherin, Seraphine and Zeri are placed into Gryffindor.

You look at Powder, who shifts awkwardly as Professor LeBlanc continues to call students. Finally, Powder hears her own name.

“Lane, Powder.”

Powder looks once at you before walking towards the sorting hat. LeBlanc places the hat on Powder's head, then steps back. Powder's mouth is drawn in a tight line, and you can hardly see her eyes, her hair covering them as the hat rests on her head.

The sorting hat is left on Powder's head for much longer compared to the other students before-

“RAVENCLAW!”

One of the tables burst into applause and cheers. Powder blinks before taking the hat off of her head and handing it back to Professor LeBlanc. She walks to the table, finding an empty spot between two students.

You see Powder's eyes dart around the table, searching until her eyes land on you. She smiles.

Professor LeBlanc continues the sorting, and finally, you hear your name.

You keep your head up and back straight, but that doesn't stop your ears from picking up hushed whispers from your fellow students.

“It's her-”

“Do you think it's really her?”

“The girl who…”

Their words barely register in your mind, but your skin feels like it's burning from the attention.

You sit on the stool, trying to look as calm as possible as you look down at the faces staring up at you. You can't look away from them, despite wanting to bury your head in the ground.

LeBlanc places the hat on your head. You hear her say something but can't quite make out the words—not over the sound of your heart thumping in your ears.

The hat sits on your head, and you feel the slightest pressure.

Then, a voice.

Hmm... interesting…

Your eyes flicker down in surprise. The hat was-

...yes... interesting indeed...

You feel a nudge on your mind, like a finger gently prodding it.

So much courage and loyalty... yet no Hufflepuff...

The pressure on your head intensifies, the hat slowly shifting.

Ambition and a desire to prove yourself... you would make a strong Slytherin...

The hat continues to shift on your head, you can hear the voices of students watching you, and some of their words reach your ears.

“What if she's a dark witch?”

Another voice replies. “Don't be stupid. She can't be evil if she-”

...and intelligence and creativity like yours would do well in Ravenclaw just like your mother…

Mother?

You feel the hat shift again as if it had heard your thoughts.

Yes... the same intelligence and sharp wit.

The hat pauses, leaving you in the silence of your own mind.

But you're a different girl than her, aren't you?

Different.

You're different.

In what way?

In many ways. You could do great things...

...or terrible things.

You could... become… someone...

The hat goes silent again, it has a curious feel in your head—you get the impression that it wants to know more about you.

Like a strange parent that doesn't know who you really are.

Or a therapist.

You're not sure why that last thought enters your mind.

The hat speaks again, louder this time, so it could be heard by everyone in the hall.

“GRYFFINDOR!”

You take the hat off your head and hand it to Professor LeBlanc before moving off the stool. You notice the strange looks given to you from the students when they hear the answer.

You walk to the table, taking an empty seat beside a pink-haired girl. You look around the hall before your eyes settle on Powder, gives you a thumbs up.

You also notice Caitlyn's face from across the hall, clapping and smiling widely at you. You have a feeling she's very proud of you. Even though you just sat on a chair and wore a hat.

The pink-haired girl turns towards you with a smile. “Hey,” she says.

Before you can say hello back or even introduce yourself, she takes the time to study you, her eyes flickering all across your face and body.

After a few seconds, she cocks an eyebrow, then continues with a hand held out towards you. “I'm Violet, by the way. You can call me Vi.”

You shake her hand, returning her grin with a smile of your own. “Nice to meet you, Vi.”

Vi jabs a thumb towards the boy sitting on the other side of her. “Mylo, my brother.”

Mylo glances up, lifting a hand in a half-wave. The guy sitting next to him looks over and grins, holding up a hand in greeting. “Claggor.”

Vi leans forward, pointing towards the Ravenclaw table. “And that's my sister, Powder.”

Powder glances over, spotting your eye again, and grins, waving at you. Vi notices you returning her sister's wave and turns with a raised eyebrow. “You know my sister?”

You nod. “Yep,” you reply, “We met on the train.”

“Oh, did you now?”

Before you can respond, Mylo chimes in. “She's the one with the scar, right? the girl who survived that Dark Lord fella's curse?”

Vi's eyes widen. “Wait, seriously? that's you?”

When you nod to confirm it, Mylo lets out a whistle. “Damn. How'd ya manage to survive?”

Claggor smacks him on the shoulder. “Dude, you can't just ask that.”

“Why not?” Mylo grumbles, rubbing his shoulder where Claggor hit him.

Claggor shrugs as he takes a sip from his goblet. “It's kinda rude, asking something like that.” He looks over at you and shrugs with a smile. “No offense.”

“Sorry, sorry,” Mylo says with a sheepish grin. “I didn't mean to offend you, really.”

You wave a hand and shake your head with a smile. “No, no, it's okay,” you say, “I don't mind.”

“I mean-” Mylo starts to say something else, but Claggor shoves him again, shutting him up.

“Ignore him,” Vi says, “He's a bit of an idiot sometimes.”

“Hey,” Mylo complains, but stops when Vi shoots him a sidelong glance.

You then glance at the empty golden plate in front of you. Your stomach growls, reminding you how hungry you are.

Claggor chuckles warmly. “Hungry, huh?”

You nod. “Yeah, I haven't eaten yet.”

That's when Mylo grins. “You're gonna love the food here, it's the best you'll ever have. The house elves cook it all for us.”

The headmaster rises from his seat, a wide smile on his face. “Welcome! Welcome to a new year at Hogwarts!”

The hall cheers and claps, Vi gives an enthusiastic “WOO!”

“To our new students, welcome! and to returning students, welcome back!” He sweeps an arm towards the four house tables. “Let the feast commence!”

—

After finishing your meal, your attention shifts away from the food and towards the long table at the front of the great hall.

Professor Talis glances up and meets your eye. He gives you a smile and a nod before looking back down at his plate.

You spot Professor Heimerdinger sitting at the end of the professors' table. He's the one from the chocolate frog card with the same bushy mustache and small stature. He's engaged in a conversation with a dark-haired professor next to him.

You continue to scan the long table, and your gaze drifts to Professor Leblanc. She's chatting with the burly man seated in the center of the table. You figure he must be the headmaster, Professor Vander.

You turn your attention back to the professors and notice Professor Singed from the Leaky Cauldron, leaning in to whisper something to a man with a scar over one eye. His eyes lock with your own, and then suddenly-

“Ouch!”

You feel sharp pain, like a searing hot wire being pushed through your skull from the scar on your forehead. You wince, bringing a hand up to rub the scar reflexively.

What was that...?

Vi, having finished her food, looks over at you, noticing your pained wince. “What is it?”

The sudden pain in your forehead subsides, and you lower your hand, looking back to Vi. “It's nothing,” you lie, trying to shrug it off.

You look back over at the man with the scar, but he's no longer looking in your direction.

Strange.

Maybe it was just a headache.

“Who's that other professor chatting with Professor Singed?” you ask Vi, nodding towards the two men.

Vi follows your gaze and grimaces. “Oh, that's Professor Silco, head of Slytherin House. He teaches DADA.”

You look at Professor Silco with a frown. There's something off-putting about him. “He seems intense, is he always like that?” you wonder aloud.

“Yeah,” She says bluntly, “intense and cunning. You'd be smart to steer clear of him.”

You watch as Professor Silco listens to Professor Singed, nodding along to his words.

Then, the conversations around the table start to die down as Professor LeBlanc clinks her glass with a spoon. “Attention, please!” she exclaims as the last few conversations fade out. The hall falls silent.

The headmaster rises from his seat, straightening out his robes. “Ah, just a few more moments of your time now that all of you are fed and watered. I've got a few start of term notices to give you.”

Professor Vander clears his voice and continues. “First years ought to know that the forest on the edge of the school grounds is forbidden to all students. And a few of our older students would do well to remember that as well.”

Heads turn briefly towards Vi and Mylo and Claggor, who look away from the headmaster sheepishly.

“I've also been asked by Professor Heimerdinger-” Professor Vander cuts off, gesturing towards the yordle at the end of the table “-to remind you all that no magic should be used between classes in the corridors.”

There's a collective, annoyed “aww” from the students who had hoped to get away with some mischief.

You take note of the rules. No strolling in the forbidden forest and no magic in the corridors. Simple enough.

“Quidditch trials will be held in the second week of the term. Anyone interested in playing for their house team ought to contact Madam Sevika.”

You sit up a bit. You've heard about the different Quidditch positions: seekers, beaters, chasers, and keepers. You wonder if you'd be any good at playing the game.

“And finally,” Professor Vander says, drawing your attention back to the headmaster, “I must tell you that this year, the third floor corridor on the right hand side is out of bounds to everyone who does not wish to die a most painful death.”

That's... a pretty harsh punishment.

You turn to Vi for clarification if the headmaster is joking, but she shakes her head, shrugging. She looks equally confused.

“And now, before we all go to bed, let us sing the school song!”

—

The head boy motions for the gathered Gryffindor first years to follow him. “Gryffindors, follow me, please. Keep up, thank you.”

You wave goodbye to Powder, watching her head off in the opposite direction with the rest of the Ravenclaw firsties.

A girl bumps into your shoulder as she walks past you, mumbling a ‘sorry’ before hurrying off to catch up with her friends.

You follow the head boy and stop on the stairs.

The stairs move.

You look up to see where they're going, only to realize that the steps have split off in two different directions. You make a mental note to be careful.

“Come on, come on!”

You keep walking, looking at the paintings on the walls.

One of them has a man with a very long, silvery beard, who winks at you as you walk past.

Another painting shows a group of men and women in medieval clothing, and one of the men tips his hat to you.

They all look so real, it's crazy to think they're just paintings.

...but then again, you're at a school for wizards, so maybe it's not that crazy.

You hear the first years murmuring curiously around you.

“Did you see the one with the beard?”

“Yeah, he smiled at me.”

“I wonder if they can talk.”

It's not long until you reach the hallway, the entrance to the Gryffindor dorms.

The head boy stops walking in front of the portrait of a lady with a powdered white face and big hair. He then turns to face you.

“This is the portrait for the common room. The password changes every month or week. The current password is ‘caput draconis.’ Remember, don't share the password with anyone from other houses, and the painting will know if you don't give the correct password.”

You and the other first years exchange looks.

“Caput draconis…” someone mutters, trying to remember it.

You repeat the words in your head a few times. Caput draconis. Caput draconis. Caput draconis.

The head boy clears his throat. “The correct pronunciation is ‘KAH-put DRAW-con-is,’” he says, enunciating the syllables clearly.

The others nod, and a few of them practice the pronunciation out loud.

The head boy nods in approval and turns back to the portrait. “Caput draconis.” The portrait then swings forward, revealing a stone archway into the common room.

“Come on, come on, get in,” he urges, gesturing for the first years to enter.

You and the other first years file into the common room, and the head boy follows behind, counting each Gryffindor firstie to make sure they all get inside.

There's a fire crackling in the brick fireplace. Couches and wingback chairs are situated around the room for relaxing, and there are several tables and desks for studying.

Some older students are lounging in the common room, some reading or studying, others chatting with friends.

You see Vi and her brothers waving at you. You wave back before turning your attention to the head boy, not wanting to be rude.

The head boy stands next to the fireplace, clearing his throat loudly to get everyone's attention. “Settle down, settle down, everybody.”

The older students quiet down, and the first years stop chatting and turn to look at the head boy.

“All right, welcome to your new home for the next seven years,” he begins. “I'm Tryndamere, a 6th year prefect. My job is to make sure you follow the rules, keep out of trouble, and help the younger students.”

Tryndamere lets his gaze linger on a few of the shyer students, as if to make sure they're paying attention.

“Now, I'm sure you're all eager to unpack your things, but first, I have to lay down a few rules.”

He then begins listing out the rules and guidelines, which include keeping the common room tidy, respecting the other students' privacy, and following curfew.

He also explains that the boy's dormitories are on the left and the girl's on the right and indicates which ones are for which year before leaving you to find your own.

—

You step into the first year girls dorm and find that your trunk has already been brought up and is now waiting at the foot of your bed, which has scarlet-covered comforters.

On your bed is a note, written in a neat, flowing calligraphy. Judging by the neatness of the writing, you know who it's from.

You pick up the note and unfold it.

Dear Cousin,

I hope you found everything in order and that you haven't been terrorized by other students yet.

I left a small care package on your bed, some sweets and other things you might need.

I'll be in the library studying for my upcoming N.E.W.T.S. See you tomorrow.

- C

You turn back to your bed and on top of the comforters is, as she said, a small package. You decide to leave the package for now, you're just too tired and bed is calling your name.

You take one last glance around the dorm and see that Zeri and Seraphine are already asleep in their respective beds.

There's also a cat, the one that Professor Talis and your cousin gifted, sitting by the window.

You change into your pajamas and crawl into your own bed, pulling the scarlet comforters over you. Your head has barely hit the pillow when the tiredness takes over, and you fall fast asleep.

—

You're suddenly plunged into complete darkness, but not the comforting type of darkness you get in the safety of your own bed. 

This is deep, unending darkness that feels like it lasts an eternity.

But then, the darkness is broken. You see a lone figure, blue hair, slender and pale, with her chin to her knee. Her back is turned away from you, and you think you can hear her sobbing.

You've seen this before.

Something about her is tugging at the back of your mind, trying to make you remember something. But what?

You're snapped out of your thoughts when you hear Professor Singed's voice, “You must transfer to Slytherin.” You turn your head towards him. “It is... your destiny.”

Destiny.

Professor Singed continues, his lips moving, but you're finding it difficult to focus on his words.

You keep your eyes fixed on the figure before you.

Who is she?

Despite the growing feeling that you've seen her somewhere before, your mind has no answer.

Why is she crying?

No answer to that one either.

Why does this all feel so familiar?

Again, no answer. Just a frustrating silence.

Your mind becomes aware of something else.

It feels like... something is wrapped tightly around your neck, like a snake slowly coiling around your throat.

You reach up and feel fabric wrapped around your neck, tightening its grip with every passing second.

Wait, is that Professor Singed's robe?

You look down and see the tail of the robe, the rest of the fabric disappearing into Professor Singed's sleeve.

You turn your head towards Singed, and suddenly, the world seems to slow down.

Singed is laughing.

His lips are spread into a wide grin, showing off his yellow stained teeth. Trapped like a mouse, pinned by his gaze like a bug on a corkboard. And then... then you hear someone else laugh.

Another laugh, a bit different from Singed's.

You turn your head towards the new figure.

Blue braided hair. Slender. Pale face. Pink eyes.

You've seen her somewhere. You know her. But all thoughts fade when the girl turns to a man with a scar on his left eye.

Professor Silco?

You see the girl whisper something to Silco. He gives her a smile and pats her on the head.

The girl's eyes then lock onto yours. Those pink eyes.

“Stay away from Jinx.” 

That's the last thing you hear when there's a sudden flash of bright, brilliant green, and the surroundings begin to spin.

It's like you're on the fastest of fairground rides, with colors and lights swirling all around you. You can hardly make out where you are, and you know you're going to vomit when this ride comes to a ha-

The dizziness stops, and you blink to clear your eyes. You found yourself sitting on your bed in the Gryffindor dormitory, clutching your chest as you try to breathe.

Your fellow roommates are still deep in their sleep. 

You sigh and slump further into your sheets.

It's just a dream.

You close your eyes and curl up further.

You don't remember anything afterwards.

words: it’s over 10k words so far and it’s only part 1.1… i lowkey feel kinda pressured to make each part just as long if not longer than the first part.. i can feel 100k words incoming ughHHH

[itsnesss]

Hi!! I would loveee to request something with Sensei Wolf / Feng Xiao maybe the reader is a LaRusso?👀 Could be smut or really anything💋💋

𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐫𝐨𝐥 | sensei wolf × fem!reader

summary | you reconnect with wolf, seeking more than what your father taught you

warnings | larusso!reader, tension, intense physical interaction, power dynamics, mature themes, and heated confrontation

word count | 1.2 k

author's note | it would help me a lot if you liked, commented and reposted so that more people read what I write and don't forget to follow me, thanks ᡣ𐭩

Since you arrived at the Sekai Taikai, the tension in the air was palpable. Your family, the Larussos, were here, fighting with all their might, but there was something else on your mind that kept you from fully focusing on the training. The reason was a man: Sensei Wolf.

You knew him from before, of course. This wasn’t the first time you’d encountered him, but something had changed since the last time. You had spent years training under your father’s guidance, thinking you had learned everything you needed to know about karate. But there was always something inside you, a need, an emptiness that couldn’t be filled with the lessons he had taught you.

That emptiness, that need for something more, was what led you to seek change, to train in another dojo, away from your father’s expectations. And that’s how you found yourself back with Wolf, the man who, in his cold and calculating presence, offered you something your father could not: an approach that wasn’t just about strength but about self-mastery, discipline, and complete control over what it really meant to fight.

In your early training with him, you saw his ability to teach not just with words but with actions. You knew he wouldn’t be like your father. You didn’t see him as a replacement, but you needed something more, something only he could provide. In every strike, in every move, Wolf showed you that karate was more than a discipline; it was a way of understanding yourself, finding that balance between strength and calm that you so desperately needed.

Now, in the tournament, you felt torn. Your family expected you to be a reflection of what your father had taught you, but you knew there was something inside you that couldn’t just be that. You had changed, you had learned. And part of that learning had come from him, from Wolf.

It was late, the gym lights flickering as the last matches of the day took place. You had stayed behind, stretching and meditating in a quiet corner. You didn’t expect it, but you felt it before you saw him: the pressure in the air, that subtle shift in the environment telling you he was close.

When you finally looked up, there he was. Wolf with his cold expression, almost indifferent, but at the same time so… captivating. He was standing a short distance away, watching you as if he had been waiting for you to notice him.

"Larusso," his deep voice echoed in the empty gym. It sounded like an order, as if he had been expecting your response.

"Sensei," you said, trying to keep your posture, even though something inside you was beginning to tighten.

There was nothing in his face that showed emotion, but the way he looked at you, that penetrating gaze, made it clear he wasn’t missing a single movement of yours.

"Are you here to train or just to watch?" he asked, taking a step forward, with a slight smile that never reached his eyes.

The words hung between you like a taut rope, ready to snap. A shiver ran down your spine, not from fear, but from something much deeper and electric. Something you hadn’t experienced before with any other sensei.

You didn’t know what to say, how to react. Something in his attitude pushed you out of your comfort zone, but at the same time, something in you urged you to challenge him, to face that pressure he created effortlessly. Karate had never just been a sport for you; it was something more. And he, the man standing before you, seemed to be the key to something you still didn’t fully understand.

With a quick movement, you dropped into stance, determined not to let him destabilize you. Though you had no idea why, you felt like you couldn’t let this situation be resolved with just words. It was clear he wanted more from you, from whatever you were capable of.

"Show me then," he said, taking another step toward you, a slight grin on his face that never reached his eyes.

The spar began, but it wasn’t like any fight you’d had before. Every one of your moves was a mix of reflexes and something else, something you couldn’t control. Sensei Wolf’s strikes were precise, fast, and sometimes so smooth you almost felt his breath on your skin before his body moved away. But he wasn’t just challenging you with his hands. He challenged you with his eyes, with his proximity, with every one of his moves.

At the end of the session, exhausted but with your heart still racing, you decided you needed a break. You retreated to a corner, looking for some water, but instantly, the air in the gym shifted again. You felt it before you saw him.

"Tired already, Larusso?" his deep voice filled the space, and before you could react, he was already standing right in front of you.

You felt trapped, not physically, but in a much more intense way. There was something in his gaze that you couldn’t ignore, something that made you question whether you were truly prepared for what he was implying without saying a word.

"Just needed to rest," you responded, with a calmness you didn’t actually feel. Your breathing was still irregular, and the desire for something more than just a confrontation was palpable.

"You know you can’t rest until you master your body, LaRusso," he said as he took a step closer, his tone leaving no room for doubt, for protest. It was an order.

When he closed the distance even further, the pressure in the air became dense. Your chest rose with each breath, and in that moment, without any warning, his hands gripped your waist firmly. The contact was electric, like a spark igniting between the two of you. You couldn’t help it. Your body responded, faster than your mind could process. An irresistible impulse.

"What’s going on, Larusso?" he whispered, his lips just inches from yours, but not close enough to let the kiss happen. He was waiting for an answer from you, something to justify what was starting to unfold.

You didn’t know how you had ended up here, but when his lips finally met yours, everything else stopped mattering. It was a kiss intense, dominant, but also filled with something else: an urgent, uncontrollable need. The feel of his lips on yours made you lose all sense of time or space. There was nothing but him and that uncontrollable spark that had ignited between you.

With every kiss, with every touch, the passion grew, just as the connection between the two of you did. The struggle you’d had all this time to keep control completely vanished. The dojo, the tournament, nothing mattered anymore. There was only him and you.

Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, he pulled away from you, though his hands still gripped you firmly. He looked at you intently, as if evaluating something inside you. Something you perhaps didn’t even fully understand yet.

"Now, Larusso, do you have what it takes to walk this path?" he asked, his voice as cold and calculating as ever, but there was a glint of something else in his eyes. Something that told you this, what had just happened, was only the beginning.

And though you didn’t know what the future would bring, something inside you told you that, with him, the rules were about to change.

[starsinthesky5]

what was songbird and joe’s first kiss like?

a/n: I WAS WAITING FOR THIS ONE

wc: 1.2 k

you are in love masterlist

───────⋆⋅☆⋅⋆───────

it started in joe’s backyard, somewhere between late summer and early fall—the kind of night where the air is still warm but soft around the edges, like it knows the season is changing. he’d strung up a few fairy lights in the trees, buzzing faintly overhead, casting a golden glow that made everything feel like a dream. the grass was a little damp from the humidity earlier, and cicadas hummed lazily in the distance.

he grilled dinner for them, nervously. he’d done this a thousand times before—hell, he could throw a spiral forty yards under pressure—but holding a spatula with her watching him from the porch? whole different game. tongue pressed between his teeth, he concentrated like his life depended on getting those burgers just right. and when she walked out barefoot in a baby blue sundress, smiling like the sun had personally followed her there?

he fumbled the tongs. obviously.

they sat cross-legged on a blanket in the grass, fireflies flickering like tiny stars around them, half-empty glasses of white wine sparkling softly in the golden haze of the fairy lights. the air smelled like earth and late-summer warmth, and their dinner plates sat forgotten beside them as conversation spilled easy between sips and smiles—effortless, familiar, full of quiet laughter and glances that lingered longer than they should’ve. his knee brushed hers, and she didn’t move. he noticed. she caught her bottom lip between her teeth when she looked away, trying to fight the grin tugging at her mouth. he was still watching her. she saw it—caught him in the act—and smiled like she’d known all along.

he swore he could feel the moment building. like something just under the surface was begging to break free.

and then the rain came.

not a downpour—just a soft, shimmery drizzle, threading through the trees like it had been waiting for the perfect moment. it slipped down from the clouds in slow, silver ribbons, spattering onto the fairy lights overhead and catching in the folds of her sundress.

she tilted her head back to the sky, blinking up at it like it was something familiar. like it knew her.

“should we go inside?” joe asked, even though his whole body was begging him not to move. not yet. not when the world felt like this.

“no way,” she said, smiling softly, like the rain was a secret just for them. “it’s too pretty out here,”.

you’re too pretty, he thought, helpless. hopeless. fully gone.

he didn’t say it—didn’t dare—but his eyes gave him away. the way they lingered on her damp lashes, the gentle slope of her neck, the flush high on her cheeks from wine and warmth and...maybe him. the delicate strap of her dress had slipped just slightly off her shoulder, and he thought he might combust trying not to stare.

his palms were clammy. his chest burning from restraint. he’d kissed girls before. this wasn't anything new for him. but he’d never wanted to kiss someone the way he wanted to kiss her. not like this. not with the kind of aching that lived in the deepest part of his heart.

she glanced at him, catching him in the act. “you look like you’ve got something to say,” she teased, almost as softly as rain falling around them.

joe cleared his throat. then cleared it again.

“i—uh. yeah. kinda,” he managed to say, voice cracking just slightly.

she leaned in a little, playfully raising an eyebrow. “joe?”.

and it all just…broke loose.

“i was gonna say something earlier but you looked really happy and i didn’t wanna ruin it and now you’re just—sitting there, looking like that, and it’s kinda driving me crazy because i’ve been trying to hold it together all night but i’m not doing a great job and—,” he laughed nervously, running a hand through his already-damp curls, “—i’ve literally rehearsed this in my head like five times and somehow i’m still messing it up,”.

she blinked, stunned. eyes wide. lips parted.

“joe.” she said, gently...even a little amused at how flustered he'd gotten so quickly.

he winced, “can i kiss you?” then blurted, too fast—“only if you want me to! you don’t have to—i just—i’ve wanted to for a while, and it’s fine if you don’t feel the same, i just thought maybe you might, but i might’ve read it wrong and—,”.

her turn to short-circuit.

“no. god, no, you didn’t read it wrong. i just—,” she let out a breathy laugh, both hands flailing a little in her lap. “i didn’t wanna make it weird. i kept chickening out. i mean, i’ve been catching myself staring at your mouth like a weirdo for weeks and i was just hoping you’d make the first move so i wouldn’t completely embarrass myself—,”.

and then she stopped talking.

because he was kissing her.

it was hesitant at first. sweet. like he didn’t want to scare her off. his hands came up to cradle her face, thumbs brushing the apples of her cheeks, pink from the rain and nerves and the thousand unsaid things between them.

she froze...just for a second. like her body had to catch up to the moment. and then?

then she melted.

she melted like a sugar cube in tea. fingers twisting in his shirt, tugging him impossibly closer, her lips pressing back into his with a sound that lived somewhere between a sigh and a laugh and something like finally.

but, joe being joe, he pulled back too fast. panicked. soaked and wide-eyed and breathless. nervous that he'd made her uncomfortable, like he took away the opportunity to say no away from her. “shit. i shouldn’t’ve—sorry, i thought—i mean, you were rambling too and i just—,”.

she blinked at him, dazed and dewy and utterly floored.

and then she giggled.

not a laugh. not a chuckle. but this tiny, stunned little sound that bubbled up like it had nowhere else to go. her forehead tipped against his, nose brushing his.

she didn't want to say no.

“joe,” she whispered, eyes shining and starry from the rain, “you were right. you shouldn't have kissed me,”.

then...she kissed him.

her hands found his face—rain-slicked curls, stubble along his jaw—and kissed him like she meant it. like she’d been waiting. like she didn’t want to stop.

that's why he shouldn't have kissed her. because now she would never stop kissing him.

and joe? he gave in. completely.

he kissed her like she was made of moonlight and breathlessness and everything he didn’t know how to say. his fingers tangled in her hair, his mouth slanting over hers again and again, drinking in the way she sighed against him, the way she smiled mid-kiss like she couldn’t help it.

the cicadas hummed their sleepy tune. the fairy lights buzzed above them. the drizzle clung to their skin like a promise.

and in that moment, under a wet sky and her steady hands, joe burrow knew—he was done for.

they eventually pulled apart, rain dripping from their lashes, clothes clinging, hearts pounding. he pressed his forehead to hers. “we’re definitely gonna catch colds,” he mumbled.

“worth it,” she breathed, brushing her nose against his.

and when joe crawled into bed later, curls damp against his pillow, all he could do was stare at the ceiling with a stupid, goofy grin. because he could still feel her lips on his. still hear her laugh. still taste wine and rain and everything sweet he didn’t know he’d been starving for.

and somewhere in his chest—right where he kept all the important things—something bloomed.

something wild. something golden.

something like her.

[sofiatarot]

PAC: A promise of better dayz

In this pick a card, we’ll be diving into one of the best days of your life – the moments you have to look forward to, a glimpse into the situations that will bring you immense joy and fulfillment. We’re looking at a promise of your future, the days that will make everything worth it.

TIP JAR - FREE READINGS - PAID READINGS

1.2

3.4

I was listening to THAT 2Pac song, and I just knew I had to take a peek at that day – that day we should all look forward to. Our everyday inspiration should be the faith in that better day, that better day that’s a promise. I don’t know if it’s just a coincidence or if there’s something in the air, maybe it’s the collective energy, but love definitely seems to be in the air. And honestly, it makes me a little emotional – knowing that we’re not, and never will be, truly alone.

Group 1

Cards: Page of swords (reversed), 8 of cups, queen of swords, death, king of swords, ace of pentacles (reversed), the hierophant, the tower (reversed), The star (reversed), queen of cups. (2 of cups at the bottom of the deck)

Okay, group 1... wow. Immediately, I’m drawn to this mix of the queen and king of swords – a powerful pair, matched in intellect and clarity. This feels like one of your best days is intertwined with a connection, potentially a destined partnership. It’s like you've been waiting for this person, consciously or unconsciously. And with the hierophant showing up, this isn’t just any connection. It feels fated, spiritual, like a union that changes the course of your life.

But let’s back up a bit. We start with the page of swords reversed and the 8 of cups. This is you walking away from something, maybe even feeling a bit lost or disillusioned. It’s like you've outgrown a situation or mindset, and that was necessary for what’s coming. The queen of swords follows, showing that you’ve gained clarity and strength from this journey. You’re decisive, ready to cut through the noise.

And then we have death – transformation, an end making way for a powerful new beginning. It’s like you needed to shed an old identity or belief to step into this new chapter. The king of swords mirrors the queen, showing someone who meets you at your level, intellectually and emotionally. This is where that 2 of cups energy comes in. It feels like a meeting of equals, a partnership that’s balanced, mutual, and deeply fulfilling.

Now, the ace of pentacles reversed is interesting. This might indicate a missed opportunity in the past or a delay in materializing something you’ve wanted. But The hierophant is here, almost reassuring you that the wait was necessary. It’s like the universe was orchestrating everything behind the scenes, aligning the timing perfectly.

The tower reversed tells me you’ve already gone through the hardest part – the breakdown, the chaos. You’ve rebuilt, and now you’re standing stronger than ever. The star reversed suggests that maybe you lost hope along the way, felt uncertain about the future. But the queen of cups closes this out, bringing emotional fulfillment and healing. There’s a softness here, a feeling of finally being understood and cherished.

With that 2 of cups at the bottom... yeah, this better day is undeniably tied to love, a destined partnership that brings everything full circle. It feels like meeting someone who sees you, truly sees you, and loves every part of who you are. This day will be a turning point, one of those moments where you look back and realize it changed everything.

Group 2

Cards: The hierophant, the hanged man, knight of cups (reversed), 2 of swords (reversed), 5 of cups (reversed), 7 of pentacles, the high priestess, 2 of pentacles (reversed), 8 of wands

Alright, group 2... the first thing that jumps out is the hierophant and the high priestess. This is no coincidence. These two together are like the ultimate spiritual pair. We’re talking about a connection that goes beyond the physical, something that feels almost otherworldly. This better day is tied to someone who just gets you on a soul level, someone you don’t need to explain yourself to because they understand you intuitively.

I’m looking at the hierophant and the hanged man together, and I feel like you’ve been waiting for this for a long time. It’s like life put you on pause, almost as if the universe needed you to be still, to reflect, to see things from a new perspective. And I get it – waiting isn’t easy. It can feel like nothing is happening, but this wasn’t time wasted. You were learning, growing, and preparing for this moment.

Then there’s the knight of cups reversed. I won’t sugarcoat it – this tells me there’s been emotional disappointment in your past. Maybe you opened your heart before and it didn’t go the way you hoped. It’s like you gave and gave, but didn’t receive the same in return. And that hurt, it made you question if real love was even out there for you. But then I see the 2 of swords reversed, and it’s like a breath of fresh air. You’re no longer stuck in your head, no longer torn between your heart and your mind. There’s a sense of clarity, a decision made.

Now, the 5 of cups reversed... wow. This is emotional healing, but not just the surface-level kind. This is you finally letting go of the past, releasing the grief and disappointments that weighed heavy on your heart. It’s that moment when you realize that all those tears, all those lonely nights, they were preparing you for something better. And the 7 of pentacles confirms this – you’ve been so patient, nurturing your dreams, healing yourself, doing the inner work. You didn’t give up, even when it felt like nothing was changing.

Then we get to the high priestess, and it all makes sense. You’ve always known, haven’t you? Deep down, you’ve always felt that something bigger was meant for you, even if you couldn’t explain it. This is your intuition guiding you, whispering that your patience is about to be rewarded. And then... the 2 of pentacles reversed. It feels like a release, like you finally drop what no longer serves you. Maybe it’s old fears, maybe it’s doubts, or maybe it’s a life that felt out of balance.

And then – boom – the 8 of wands. Everything starts moving. Fast. It’s like all the delays, all the waiting... it was building up to this. Suddenly, the path clears, and everything starts falling into place. I’m getting chills just writing this because it feels like one of those days where life changes in an instant. One minute, everything is normal, and the next, it’s like the stars align.

I can’t stop thinking about the hierophant and the high priestess. This is a spiritual union, and it’s not just about romance. It’s about meeting someone who speaks the same language as your soul. Someone who understands you without words, who sees the real you, the version of yourself that you sometimes hide from the world. This person... they were meant for you. It’s like you’ve danced around each other in past lives, always finding each other again.

And with the 8 of wands, I have to say it – this is coming sooner than you think. It feels so close, like you could cross paths any day now. And it’s going to be so natural, so effortless. You’ll look back and realize that all the waiting, all the heartbreaks, were leading you right here.

I keep coming back to those reversed twos – 2 of swords and 2 of pentacles. It’s like the end of confusion, the end of indecision. You won’t have to question this, you won’t feel torn. It’s going to be so clear, so obvious that this is meant to be. And that, that’s the beauty of this better day. It’s the day everything clicks.

This isn’t just a good day – this is one of the best days of your life. It’s the day you realize why it never worked out with anyone else, the day you feel everything fall into place. It’s the day your heart finally feels at home.

Group 3

Cards: 6 of wands, knight of cups (reversed), page of wands, king of pentacles, strength, 9 of cups (reversed), justice, the fool (reversed), 6 of cups, 4 of wands (2 of cups at the bottom of the deck, with judgment underneath)

Group 3... right away, I’m drawn to the contrast between the 6 of wands and the knight of cups reversed. It’s almost like you’ve reached a victory, you’ve got eyes on you, people admiring you, maybe even celebrating your achievements. But then, there’s that knight of cups reversed, like an emotional offer that’s delayed or held back. It makes me feel like there’s someone who wants to come forward, who sees you shining and feels all these things... but they’re hesitant. It’s almost as if they think you’re too good for them, like you’re out of their league now.

And then we get to the page of wands and the king of pentacles. I’m feeling two very different energies here. The page of wands is excitement, curiosity, this youthful spark of adventure. It’s like you’re ready to take on the world, eager for new experiences. But then the king of pentacles grounds all that fiery energy. This is stability, success, abundance. I’m getting this powerful image of someone who’s worked hard, who’s built themselves up from the ground, and is now ready to enjoy the fruits of their labor. It’s like you’ve mastered the balance between excitement and responsibility, between dreaming big and making it happen.

And right in the middle, we have strength. This is resilience, inner power, grace under pressure. You’ve been through so much, group 3. You’ve faced challenges that could’ve broken you, but you came out stronger. This better day is one where you look around and realize just how far you’ve come, how much you’ve grown. It’s that deep sense of pride in yourself, knowing that nothing and no one can shake you.

But then... the 9 of cups reversed. Huh. It’s that feeling of almost having it all but still feeling like something’s missing. It’s like you’ve achieved so much on your own, you’ve built this amazing life... but you want someone to share it with. And I’m looking at justice and the fool reversed right after, and it hits me – you’re ready for that new chapter, for that balance and harmony, but you’re cautious. You’re not about to take any reckless leaps. You’ve learned your lessons, and you’re not settling for anything less than what you deserve.

Then we get to the 6 of cups, the 4 of wands... and I can’t help but smile. These are such beautiful cards, so full of warmth and joy. The 6 of cups feels nostalgic, like reconnecting with someone from your past, someone who once made you feel safe and understood. And then the 4 of wands... celebration, union, pure happiness. It feels like coming home. And I can’t ignore the 2 of cups at the bottom of the deck, with judgment underneath. This is reconciliation. This is destiny. This is a soulmate.

I’m getting chills because this better day... it’s the day you’re reunited with someone who was meant to be in your life. Maybe you drifted apart, maybe timing was off, but they’re coming back. And it’s so beautiful because it’s not just about love – it’s about deep, soul-level understanding. It’s like meeting a mirror of your own soul. I mean, look at the combination – 6 of cups, 2 of cups, 4 of wands, judgment... this is divine timing. This is fate stepping in.

Oh, and I almost forgot – the judgment card below the 2 of cups. This is a wake-up call, a moment of clarity, of realizing exactly why everything happened the way it did. It’s like looking back and finally understanding the bigger picture. This better day... it’s the day you find closure, healing, and the love you’ve been waiting for. It’s the day everything clicks, and you feel complete.

I have to mention – the knight of cups reversed at the start... this could be them. They’ve been hesitant, holding back, maybe even afraid to reach out. But by the end of this, they can’t resist it anymore. The pull is too strong, the connection too deep. They’re coming forward, and it’s going to change everything.

This is the day your heart finds its home.

Group 4

Cards: King of swords (reversed), knight of swords, 5 of cups (reversed), 6 of swords (reversed), the high priestess, 2 of wands (reversed), the chariot (reversed), 9 of swords (reversed), 2 of swords (reversed), 9 of pentacles (reversed), 7 of wands (reversed) (ace of swords at the bottom of the deck)

Okay, group 4... wow, there’s so much going on here. All these swords... it feels heavy, like your mind has been in overdrive. It’s this overwhelming mental energy – overthinking, replaying situations, analyzing every little detail. I feel like you’ve been stuck in your head, trapped in a loop of “what ifs” and “should haves.”

We start with the king of swords reversed, and this hits me as mental chaos. It’s like you’ve been trying to make sense of everything, trying to find clarity, but the more you think about it, the more confused you get. And then the knight of swords comes charging in... this is impulsive, restless energy. It feels like you’ve been reacting quickly, maybe even saying things in the heat of the moment, or just feeling this urgency to get out of your own head. It’s like you’re trying to outrun your thoughts, but they keep catching up.

Then the 5 of cups reversed shows up, and I feel this release. This is you finally letting go of the past, of regrets and disappointments. It’s realizing that you can’t change what happened, but you can choose to move forward. And yet... the 6 of swords reversed is right there, pulling you back. It’s like something from the past keeps haunting you, something unresolved. It feels like you’ve been trying to heal, trying to move on, but there’s this one thing – or maybe one person – you can’t fully let go of.

But then the high priestess appears, and I get chills. This is your intuition, your inner voice that’s been quietly guiding you all along. It’s like you’ve always known the answer, but you’ve been avoiding it, maybe because facing it is scary, or because it would mean making a difficult choice. But this card... it’s a reminder that deep down, you already know what you need to do.

Then we get the 2 of wands reversed and the chariot reversed. This is feeling stuck, feeling like no matter how hard you try, you’re not moving forward. And it’s so frustrating because you want to move on, you want that freedom... but something keeps holding you back. It’s like being at a crossroads but feeling too confused or too afraid to take the next step.

But here’s where it gets interesting – the 9 of swords reversed. This is you breaking free from that mental prison, from the anxiety and sleepless nights. It’s like you’re finally realizing that these fears, these worries... they’re not as powerful as they seemed. You’re reclaiming your peace of mind.

And then the 2 of swords reversed... clarity. I feel this huge sigh of relief, like the fog is lifting. You’re no longer stuck in indecision, no longer paralyzed by fear. You’re seeing the truth, and it’s setting you free.

And the 9 of pentacles reversed... this is hitting me as a reminder that it’s okay to lean on others. You don’t have to carry this burden alone. It’s okay to ask for help, to admit that you’re not perfect, and that’s perfectly fine. And the 7 of wands reversed – you don’t have to keep fighting, keep defending yourself. It’s safe to let your guard down. It’s safe to be vulnerable.

And then... the ace of swords at the bottom of the deck. This is the breakthrough moment. This is that flash of clarity, that “aha” moment where everything just clicks. It’s the truth cutting through all the confusion, all the noise. It’s like suddenly everything makes sense, and you can breathe again.

This better day... I’m feeling it so clearly. It’s the day you break free from this mental labyrinth. It’s the day you realize that all this overthinking, all this worry... it doesn’t control you. It’s the day you finally listen to that quiet voice inside, the one that’s been guiding you all along. It’s the day you make peace with the past, with yourself.

And looking at all these swords, it’s like you’ve been battling with your own mind for so long... but on this day, you lay down your weapons. You find peace not by fighting your thoughts, but by accepting them, by understanding them. It’s the day you find clarity, the day you find freedom.

It’s the day you choose to let go, to forgive yourself, to stop overthinking and just be. And I can feel how liberating that’s going to be for you. This better day... it’s the day you finally find peace within yourself.

-xoxo🙏🏻✨️