#honestly i just wanted to draw the school robes

[hitorimaron]

those days

[luvrseung]

𝐮𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐥 𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐝𝐨𝐦 𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐞 - TEASER

## synopsis! You were always filled with the urge to destroy perfect things. It just felt wrong to leave things untouched. People weren't an exception. So, what are you supposed to do when an angel appears in front of you? Well... ruin him of course.

## pairing! innocent! heeseung x corrupted fem! reader

## wc: undecided

## cw! biggg themes of religion,, religious guilt is very heavy through this (maybe i'm projecting), suggestive?

## a/n! hellooooo everyone! ive been writing so many things but keep falling uninterested like halfway through. this one tho!!!!! i am very motivated to write it and cant wait to share it! so heres a little teaser :P my reason for this being so religous-y is because i find the juxtaposition of something so pure and untouched with something so dark and corrupted really beautiful! also in no way am i trying to make fun of any religion. i was quite religious myself! i value and respect anyone in any religion! this piece was also kind of a reflection of my own inner turmoil... anyways! i hope you enjoy and please stay tuned to the end for a poll determining something tehe...AND LET ME KNOW YOUR THOUGHTS OFCCC!! NOW ENJOY!! ALSO NOT PROOFREAD SO PLS KEEP THAT IN MIND!

Every Sunday, your mother would wake you up early in the morning to attend church with your family. The thin line between filial obligation and genuine devotion blurred with each sunrise. Your parents approached church with a fervor you used to share. Honestly, you found it quite boring, like a duty. Don’t misunderstand, whispers of belief still flickered within you, undying embers that display a gentle glow. Even in moments of despair or dark times, you often find yourself praying to the Lord; but on top of the catholic school you had gone to for your whole life, you found Sunday services tedious, as en extension of what you went through on a daily basis. You also spent the last two nights wasted beyond belief, and you waking up early for church was the last thing you wanted to do. This Sunday was nothing special, unfortunately. Peeling yourself from the comfort of your bed, you slowly get ready for service.

Sitting in your pew, your mind can’t help but wander. Thoughts of anything and everything fill your mind, in attempts to keep you awake during the priest’s sermon. A gentle nudge from your mother jolted you back to a semblance of piety. Her whispered reprimand, "Focus, darling," carried the weight of disappointment and a subtle plea for adherence. You plastered a thin smile on your face and offered a barely-there nod. You have stared at the front of this church so many times, you could draw it without reference.

The vibrant hues of the stained-glass windows, the worn kneelers that bore the indentations of countless prayers, the stoic statues flanking the entrance, it all felt more familiar than comforting. Behind the granite altar, sat the deacon and altar servers; like usual. Except this time, your eye catches an unfamiliar face on the right side of the deacon. He sat toward the end, two other altar servers on his left side. He was dressed like the others, clad in the customary floor-length white robe. His hair was a dark red, a little bit longer, and parted a little toward the side. His eyes big, as his attention is on the priest and his words.

A sardonic chuckle bubbled up in your chest, a silent stir in the holy air. Angelic. That new altar server looked angelic. How utterly cliché. If you were any closer, your blatant staring would be a cardinal sin in its own right. Minutes bled into an eternity as you wrestled with the tedious sermon and the incredibly good-looking boy behind the priest. Just as his monotone reached a fever pitch, a stirring announced the impending communion. Relief, both welcome and unwelcome, washed over you. Relief from the droning sermon, yet unwelcome because it meant the inevitable procession of the altar servers – and your unexpected fixation. With a practiced efficiency, the servers rose, their white robes billowing as they glided down the aisle. Luck, or perhaps a touch of divine irony, had placed you at the very end of the pew, closest to the spectacle about to unfold.

Angel boy, as you couldn't help but label him in the traitorous corners of your mind, drew closer. His face, bathed in the soft glow of the stained-glass windows, held an enigmatic quality. Was it the hint of a smirk playing on his lips, or the way his eyes seemed to hold a depth that transcended the sterile walls of the church? The closer he got, the more the sanctity of the ritual blurred with a curiosity that felt both illicit and strangely sacred. Your eyes locked. Inevitably, undeniably. And your eye contact lingers for a beat too long. A smirk, barely contained, played on his lips before he flicked his gaze away. But not before a telltale blush bloomed at the tips of his ears. He finally makes his way out of your view. Shame, hot and unwelcome, flooded your cheeks as you watched him disappear down the aisle. Your heart pounded against your ribs, a loud drumbeat against the backdrop of solemn hymns.

The taste of forbidden fruit lingered on your tongue, a mix of guilt and a desire you couldn't quite place. The once-tedious ritual now felt charged with a newfound tension, the air thick with an unspoken something that threatened to shatter the carefully constructed walls of your - currently dwindling - faith.

The altar servers returned, their white robes whispering against the polished floor. As the line snaked its way forward, a playful thought tickled your mind. A sly smile played on your lips, a secret shared only with yourself, as you approached the angel-faced boy holding the communion bread. With hands demurely clasped in front of you – the picture of a devoted daughter – you tilted your head up, meeting his gaze. His eyes, the color of rich chocolate, widened momentarily before flickering down. A hint of rose stained his cheeks. You see his adam’s apple bob as he gulps.

He held a piece of bread out, his voice a mere tremor. "The Body of Christ," he murmured.

“Amen.” You reply, leaning forward slightly, your arms pushing your boobs together and showing cleavage that you know he can see. Instead of extending your hands, you kept them clasped. You stick your tongue out as your eyes look at him through lowered lashes.

He cleared his throat, his hand trembling slightly as he held the bread closer. He placed the bread on your tongue with a slight tremor in his hand. You retracted your tongue with a triumphant smirk, the taste of the bread a mere secondary sensation to the unexpected jolt of electricity that had shot through you at the contact. You met his eyes again, a playful glint in them. A single word, more so a sound, escaped your lips, a soft "Mmm," before you retreated back down the line, a smile playing your my lips. The sign of the cross felt almost sacrilegious in this new context as you maintained unwavering eye-contact with the angel boy.

The brief exchange ignited a thrill within you. This wasn't just harmless interest. An unknown urge, long dormant, roared awake. You craved the challenge of chipping away at that perfect exterior, of shattering the halo that seemed welded above his head. Maybe then, you could see the real boy – and maybe, just maybe, a part of you yearned to be touched by his innocence. Or break it… who knows?

The weight of Monday settled over you uncomfortably and unwillingly. Another week of school stretched before you. In homeroom, surrounded by your friends – Jay, Sunghoon, Jungwon, and Minji – you couldn't help but relive the memory.

Sunghoon, slumped over your desk, groaned, "Church yesterday was enough to put a saint to sleep. I swear, I drifted off right after the Our Father."

"Then why'd you drag yourself to the early service?" you chuckled.

"Blame Minji," Sunghoon mumbled, accusatory eyes flickering towards her.

Minji, unfazed, countered, "Hey, it's not my fault you crashed at my place. You know my parents prefer the eight o'clock mass."

Jungwon chimed in, "Maybe we should stop going out so late on Saturdays?"

Four pairs of eyes shot daggers at him. "Thank the lord I snagged a free pass yesterday," Jay said with a smug grin. "Parents out of town mean no mandatory church duties."

"Yeah, but you missed a nice show," Jungwon piped up, a mischievous glint in his eyes.

"What show exactly, Wonnie?" you feigned innocence, a subtle warning lacing your voice. Jungwon wasn't fooled. "The little performance you put on with the new altar server. You're sick and twisted.”

A playful smirk spread across your face. "Maybe I am, but you love it," you declared, smothering him in a teasing hug. Jungwon squirmed, laughter escaping his lips as he tried to fend you off.

Minji chimed in, “Care to elaborate?”

A conspiratorial glint sparked in your eyes. “Yes, yes mother…Let's just say there's a new, really hot, altar boy… and he’s perfect! Too perfect, if you know what I mean.” A beat of silence follows, confusion falls over everyone before you respond, “Need to ruin him a bit.”

The boys rolled their eyes in unison, but Jay couldn't resist a question. "How exactly do you plan on achieving that, Miss Mother Mary?”

You roll your eyes, feigning annoyance, “Well-“

The shrill of the first bell sliced through your conversation like a choirboy's off-key note. Your homeroom teacher, Mrs. Kim, swept in with a stern expression, instantly silencing the room. You exchanged helpless glances with your friends and raise both your hands in false defeat as they walk away from your desk and to their respective seats. Leaning in with a conspiratorial glint, Minji whispers, “You better tell us at lunch, bitch,” she points her finger at you and you laugh her off with confirmatory nod.

Before the morning prayer could play through the speakers, Mrs. Kim cleared her throat, silencing the room with a single, sharp rap on her desk. "Good morning, class. Today, we have a new student joining us. Please welcome him warmly." Her gesture towards the door was all it took for the air to whoosh from your lungs. Your jaw practically unhinged itself as the angel-faced altar server from Sunday, walked into the classroom. A breathless gasp escaped your lips, “no fucking way”.

You couldn't believe your luck. Here he was, the object of your amusement, deposited right into your everyday life. An unholy grin split your face, the possibilities swirling in your mind like incense smoke in a cathedral. This was exactly what you prayed for the night before.

You tap sunghoon’s shoulder, who was sitting in the seat in front of you. He leaned back, brow furrowed in confusion, as you leaned in to whisper, "That's him." Sunghoon's eyes widened, his mouth forming a perfect "o" before snapping shut in realization. He whipped around in his seat, confirming your words with a silent nod. Jungwon had already caught your message through a glance. You threw him a devilish smile, his lips twitching with barely contained amusement. He leaned over to Jay, who was seated next to him, and relayed the news in hushed tones. Sunghoon, mirroring your earlier action, tapped Minji's shoulder diagonally across the aisle, sending the news rippling through your little group like a clandestine prayer chain. A silent wave of excitement washed over you and your friends. This unexpected turn of events proved to be far more entertaining than any Sunday service. The prospect of having him, the object of your wicked plan, in your daily life was a delicious twist of fate, and you couldn't wait to see how it would all unfold.

“Hello everyone, my name is Lee Heeseung. It’s lovely to meet you all.” He scanned the sea of faces before him, his gaze drifting casually across the classroom. Then, something – you – caught his eye. Your hand twirled a strand of hair with practiced ease. The other waved at him, not a simple greeting, but a slow, deliberate movement that sent a shiver down his spine. You knew exactly what it looked like. An invitation, a subtle message almost saying ‘I know you thought of me last night’. A flush crept up Heeseung's neck, a telltale sign mirrored by the rapid bob of his Adam's apple. He could practically feel the heat of your gaze on him. Mrs. Kim brought his attention back to her, “Nice to have you here Heeseung, there’s an empty seat in the third row by the window.” His gaze met yours once more. He made his way towards his seat, two rows ahead and two rows to the right. Your eyes never left his figure when you noticed the all-too familiar blush at the tip of his ears.

The first bell pierced the charged silence, jolting everyone back to reality. A flurry of activity erupted as classmates gathered their books and shuffled out. You darted playful glances at your friends, their attention firmly fixed on Heeseung. Laughter bubbled up inside you, barely contained. With a final shove of notebooks into his bag, Heeseung seemed to hesitate, catching your eye across the room. You couldn't help but smirk, so excited to ruin him. Picturing how different he would look with pierced ears, a cigarette in his mouth, and you on his lap. You just couldn’t wait. The familiar weight of Jay's arm slung around your shoulder grounded you momentarily. "First period, babe?” he asked, his voice laced with amusement. "Actually, jongseongie,” you began, a mischievous glint dancing in your eyes, "go ahead with the others. I have a… matter to attend to with a certain altar server."

Your friends, well aware of your little new toy, burst into laughter. Jay, however, rolled his eyes playfully. "Imma wait for you outside then,” he announced, resignation coloring his voice. “Or.. you could go to our class? You can’t keep avoiding Giselle forever you know.“

“I do nottt wanna see her _. Also, you know she never liked you, so she gets mad when we walk in together.”

“Whatever you say, Jay.”

He flashed a charming, albeit fake, smile before disappearing out the door. With a final playful roll of your eyes, you turned your attention to the angel at the center of your growing intrigue. Heeseung, now the sole occupant of the classroom, seemed strangely hesitant, his gaze lingering on you. A slow, confident stride carried you towards him, the promise of a delicious encounter hanging thick in the air. Everything about him was a siren song, drawing you in with an irresistible pull. His large, doe-like eyes, framed by dark red hair that tumbled playfully just above his brow, seemed to speak pure and sweet nothings into the air. It’s as if the cruel world hasn’t reach those beautiful big eyes yet. But the most captivating detail was the way his ears, like delicate seashells, flushed a brilliant crimson whenever your gazes met. You already pictured what they’d look like adorned in silver. A slow, predatory smile played on your lips as you sauntered towards his desk. Resting your palms on top of his desk, you leaned in close, the scent of his nervous cologne filling your senses. Your voice, normally laced with mischief, took on a sugary sweetness that would make even the most hardened saint wince. “Nice to see you again, altar boy,” you purred, drawing out the words.

His blush deepens, spreading from his ears down his neck. He stammers a reply, stuttering, "H-hi… I, uh, didn't expect to see you here."

“Likewise…” your smirk widens, reaching out your hand, nails painted red, “I’m _, nice to meet you Heeseung.”

He hesitates before his hand reaches yours, responding to your introduction with a shy smile, his doe-eyes sparkling up at you the whole time. Oh how you wish to swim so deep in those beautiful eyes.

"Well, altar boy," you teased, your voice laced with a sweetness that sent shivers down your own spine. "I'd love to chat more, but wouldn't want to keep you from your first day, would we?"

Fishing out a red pen, you held it between your teeth and uncapped it with a flick of your thumb. "Real quick, though," you bargained, a playful glint in your eyes. You extend your left hand, palm up. Hesitantly, he mirrors your gesture, placing his right arm within your grasp. You scribble your phone number on the smooth skin of his inner arm, finishing it off with a perfectly drawn heart.

"Call me, Hee," you purred, leaning in conspiratorially. "I'll be waiting." With a wink that could melt glaciers, you retreated, your hand brushing against his again as you slipped past him. Out in the hallway, you met Jay, a mischievous grin plastered on your face.

Heeseung, left speechless in your wake, peered out from the now-empty classroom. His fingers traced the inscription on his arm, the warmth of your touch lingering alongside the heat of his blush. With a shaky breath, he tucked your phone number beneath his sleeve. He should probably get to his first period class, but his mind was already swirling with the image of you.

© luvrseung - do not plagiarize, repost, translate, copy, or alter any of my content please and thank you.

AUTHORS NOTE: HELLOOOO!! now for the poll: would you like smut in this? yes or no!

[lilac-ravenclaw]

Hello and welcome! Let me introduce my Hogwarts Legacy MC, Raven Fawlty. I love her so much and want to share her adventures with everyone.🪻

• Is it ok to draw Raven?

Yes, please! Just please tag me with your drawing. In return I’ll draw your Hogwarts MC! 👩🏻‍🎨✨

Instagram | DeviantArt | ArtStation

✨ artof.ravnbee on Ko-Fi ✨ Thank you!

If anyone is interested, I created a playlist on Spotify. Music that reminds me of my MC and her personality, things she's going through, or her relationship with Sebastian. I'll continue to add songs as time goes on. Hope you enjoy!

🎧 Spotify Link 🎧

General Info

Name: Raven Fawlty - { reason for her name for me } “Ravens” often represents ancient wisdom, transformation and intelligence. The name “Raven” means “dark haired or wise”. “Fawlty”… honestly this was a gimmick at first. As I love the show, Fawlty Towers with John Cleese. Ran in the mid-late 70s with only 12 episodes, and was hilarious imo. it was the first name I could think of when creating my character.

Birthday: January 29, 1874 { The Raven was published in Jan 29, 1845 }

Zodiac Sign: Aquarius

Sex/Gender: Female { she/her }

Ethnicity: Latina and English

House: Ravenclaw

Wand:

Stalk: Dark Brown

Wood type: Willow

Core type: Unicorn Hair

Flexibility: Reasonably Supply

Wand Length: 12”

Handle: Checkerboard - Blue

Patronus: Black Bear

The Black Bear is known for their adaptability and resourcefulness. Others will see her as a fierce opponent who will protect herself and those close to her. Only those close to her will know of that softer side she usually keeps hidden away.

Physical Appearance

Eye color: Light Violet

Skin color: Tan/light brown, with olive undertones.

Hair: Long length and black, usually worn in a braid.

Height: 5’1” (155cm)

Weight: 110lbs (49kg)

Body type: Hourglass and petite

Birthmarks: small mole on the face, left cheek

Fashion style: Loves wearing a comfortable trouser, but will still wear a button up blouse and a skirt. Doesn’t care for the traditional school robe, but favors a nice blazer/jacket when needed.

Accessories: Pierced ears for small earrings, (wears a pair of snake gold snake earrings Sebastian gave to her as a birthday gift).

History

Place of birth: Somewhere in the UK

Childhood: Grew up in orphanage in London. Doesn’t know who her parents are, or her real name. She has a love for literature and took the name “Raven” after Edgar Allen Poe’s poem, The Raven. The orphanage she resided in was very strict and had a harsh living environment. The caretaker was mean to the children, much like a Miss Hannigan from the show Annie. So much so, that is how Raven acquired her last name “Fawlty”. A homonym for “faulty”, meaning of faults, inadequate, or wrong. (Which is also why the show, Fawlty Towers, got its name too.) Unknowingly to be a future Ravenclaw, took the insult of a name as a challenge to succeed and learn all she could and be the best version of herself.

Family history: Her father originally from South America and went to Castelobruxo, a wizarding school in Brazil. Being from the heart of the Amazon rain forest, he had a profound love for magical creatures. Which is where Raven gets her love for magical creatures as well. He had traveled all over the world and eventually made his way to Europe where he met Raven’s mother, was also traveling abroad as well. She had also attending Hogwarts in her youth, being a former Ravenclaw too. She loved astronomy, and music literature (her mother, Raven's grandmother, was a music instructor). It is unknown what happened to her parents in their untimely death, and how Raven ended up at the orphanage. **Keep in mind, Raven herself doesn’t know this. I just wanted to write this down to know where she gets her personality and interests come from ☺️**

Notable events/milestones: Raven always knew somehow.. she was different. Though, according to the wizarding world’s standards, it took a little longer for her powers to emerge. Even small things would happen here and there, without her realizing what had happen and that she was the cause of such strange occurrences. Until one day when the orphan keeper (the person who runs the orphanage) was “disciplining” one of the children and Raven stepped in to protect them and that enough was enough. She had forced a large shelf to fall over onto the orphan keeper… it was as if what she was thinking became a reality. Afraid of what would happen, Raven ran away, seeking shelter where she could. As Professor Fig was assigned the task of giving Raven her letter and bringing her to Hogwarts, it still took no time at all for Professor Fig to find Raven even though she was missing from the orphanage. She was hesitant at first but overall wasn’t scared at all, and actually was relieved to know there were others like her. A whole world like her just waiting to be apart of and that was the happiest day in her life.

Other notes: She had studied with Professor Fig for the duration of the summer before starting at Hogwarts. Having only gained her powers after the school year had finished. He had become the first father figure to Raven.

Psychological Traits

Personality type: INFP (Mediator) is a personality type with the introverted, intuitive, feeling and prospecting traits. These rare personality types tend to be quiet, open-minded, and imaginative, and they apply a caring and creative approach to everything they do.

Personality traits: intelligent, witty, adventurous, warm, courageous, emotionally intuitive, and quick-thinker.

Introvert/Extrovert: Sometimes both. Loves to be around her close friends, but doesn’t mind spending time alone reading a good book or flying on her broom.

Hobbies: Star-gazing, tending to the magical beasts in the Vivarium, reading, and singing. Doesn’t audition for the school choir til her 6th year. She doesn’t tell anyone except Poppy if she should try out, as Raven was 100% nervous about it and never sang in front of people.

Loves: Flying on her broom and singing in the choir.

Morals/Virtues: Values being compassionate and always being there for her friends/loved ones at a moment’s notice. Tries to do right by them and stand by their side when times are tough. She knows what it feels like to be alone in certain situations and doesn’t want her friends to go through the same thing.

Phobias/Fears: Being trapped in a “cage” and being forgotten.

Relationships

Love Interest: Sebastian Sallow… From the very beginning she felt like there was some sort of connection, but was a bit too oblivious to see it at first. He’s very charming and almost flirtatious with other girls, so figured she wasn’t any different. Sometimes she will catch him sneaking a glance in her direction during class, while studying in the Library or at mealtimes in the Great Hall. It was so easy to stand by him and help him find a cure for his sister without even a second thought. It may have been foolish, but Raven knows what it’s like to have no support when at your lowest. To feel like all hope is lost. She can understand losing your parents at a young age.

Parents: Deceased, Names Unknown

Grandparents: Unknown, Names Unknown

Best friends: Poppy Sweeting and Natsai Onai

Friends: Ominis Gaunt, Garreth Weasley, Amit Thakker, and Imelda Reyes

Rivals: Leander Prewett, not in a bad way. It's mostly a friendly competition when playing Summoner's Court.

Enemies: Peeves the Poltergeist, damn him for catching them in the Library!

Clubs: Crossed Wands, Summoner’s Court, and Hogwart's Glee Club ( was super hesitant in trying out for the school's choir, but her best friends Poppy and Natsai gave her the confidence she needed to try out).

If you’ve made it this far then thank you so much for reading. Hope you enjoyed learning about my MC✨💙

[braveclementine]

Chapter 15

Warnings: 18+ readers only

Copyright: I do not own any Wizarding World characters that J.K. Rowling wrote. I do however own Elizabeth Kane (main character) and Trang Nyguen (best friend). There should be no use of these two names without my permission. I also do not condone any copying of this.

🤎🤎🤎🤎🤎🤎

"𝖂𝖍𝖆𝖙 𝖉𝖎𝖉 𝖞𝖔𝖚 and Dumbledore argue about?" I demanded as I got ready for the day. Severus yawned, running a hand through his unkempt hair and waved his wand so that the shades opened, light streaming into the windows.

I slipped out of bed, stretching. Severus' shirt was very warm and I didn't feel like getting out of it.

"It was nothing." Severus said, throwing his nightgown into his wardrobe and pulling on his uniform black robes. My eyes flicked from his body to my bag where my secret drawing was being kept.

"Uh huh." I said, unconvinced.

"Don't you already know anyways?" Severus asked, disgruntled.

"No." I replied honestly. "Well, I know that you argued about Dumbledore taking too much for granted and also not wanting to do something anymore."

"I don't want to kill him." Severus said.

"You want Draco to kill him?" I asked in slight disbelief. "You know Dumbledore is trying to save Draco's soul."

"And what about my soul?" Severus asked fiercely. "Apparently it means nothing to Dumbledore!"

I sucked in my cheeks. I shouldn't have asked. I should've let it stay between Dumbledore and Severus. Why had I intervened?

I turned away, grabbing my bag, switching out Friday's books with Monday's books. I hated that it was going to be so cold during Care of Magical Creatures class. But I couldn't skip, not with me being the only student in the class.

I heard Severus grumbling behind me and I said, "I think all this business about souls is stupid."

He didn't answer,

"Your killing him out of mercy." I replied. "And to show your last act of loyalty. That you were always Dumbledore's and never Vol-"

"Don't say his name Elizabeth." Severus said sharply.

Now I said nothing.

Severus sighed, sounding frustrated and knelt behind me, wrapping his arms around my waist, "Sorry." he muttered.

"You should be used to it." I muttered, "Dumbledore uses his name."

"Dumbledore is a great wizard." Severus argued, "The only one the Dark Lord fears."

"Well what would you want me to call him?" I said, very close to snapping at him as I stood up, hoisting the bag onto my shoulder.

"Anything else." Severus said.

I tried not to grin as I turned around, picking up my quill and said, "Then the last act of loyalty is killing Dumbledore, showing that you were always Dumbledore's and never anything else's."

There was a bit of awkward silence and I figured I was going to leave now when Severus grabbed me by the shoulders, spinning me around, and kissing me fiercely, "Smartass." He whispered through our lips, moving one hand down to my ass to smack it lightly.

I laughed lightly, kissing him back hungrily. I'd always thought that being in love, you eventually got tired of each others' presence. Perhaps we just hadn't been together long enough. Either way, I was going to savor every moment I was with him. He pulled away and said, "Also, that's my shirt you're wearing."

"And you're not getting it back." I teased as I pulled it off so I could get dressed in my Hogwarts robes.

"Looks better on you anyways." He said, pulling me back towards the bed.

Needless to say, we were both running late.

We made our way down the stairs together, sneaking kisses until he set his book down on the desk, and I made my way out the door, grinning broadly.

The news that Ron had been poisoned had spread throughout the school quickly by noon, but there was no fear about the occurrence. Rather, most were regarding the incident as an accident because he had been in the potions office. He must've picked up the poison on accident. Plus, he'd been healed almost immediately, therefore, it wasn't that big of a deal.

What was a bigger deal with the Gryffindors animosity towards the Hufflepuffs. This was because of Zacharias' commentary during the Gryffindor vs. Slytherin match, something I wished had never happened.

I was actually quite excited with the idea of the Quidditch match since I had never played against Harry captain v captain. This would certainly be interesting, especially since we were both seekers as well.

However, we still had a week before that happened.

Over the next few days after attending classes I would spend time in the common room, helping with the first-years questions and such. I also upped Rose and Grace's private lessons with me from just Friday to Wednesday and Friday.

I also spent time in the common room in the corner, working on the mid-draft for the drawing, adding more details. I wanted there to be something that connected each Professor to their job. Now, instead of Trelawney having her hands clasped in front of her, she was now holding out a crystal ball. Professor McGonagall had a tabby cat by her feet. Firenze was holding a bow, a sling of arrows across his back.

But before the Quidditch match could approach in full, Severus cornered me one night into the discussion.

"Hufflepuff is playing Gryffindor this week?" Severus asked casually, dipping his quill into his ink and writing a 3 out of 10 on one of the papers.

"Yes." I replied casually, adding detail to Dumbledore's glasses. Severus did not know what I was working on but I would not let him see it and he was respecting my privacy.

"Zacharias is the captain, right?"

I thought maybe he was joking and I laughed casually, "Of course not. I am."

"You are?" Severus asked strangely and I looked up from the drawing.

Severus seemed mad, but he didn't look mad.

"Yes. . ." I said slowly, frowning, "You did know that, didn't you?"

Severus' face flushed and he said, "I thought you would have given it up!"

"Why would I do that?" I frowned, trying to figure out what I was missing here.

"Because you're pregnant!" Severus exploded and I felt the blood drain from my face when I realized what his problem was.

"Oh." I whispered, setting my drawing utensil down and quickly put the drawing away. "But Sev, I'll be fine. I'm a good flier, I'm not going to get hurt."

"You don't know that!" Severus said fiercely, shoving the homework aside, throwing the quill down. Ink splattered on the pages.

He shoved the chair back, standing up quickly and I looked at him in amazement and somewhat fearful. He was angry, extremely angry. I had to say something.

"Sev!" I stood up now, holding a hand out to touch his chest. "Breathe, alright?" I said this as lightly as possible. He closed his eyes, his hand reaching out and taking mine, keeping my hand against his chest.

"Look." I said softly, reaching up, touching his cheek softly with my other hand. "The match is going to be smooth. I foresee Hufflepuff winning."

Severus breathed in deeply and then said, "I don't want you to get hurt and even more, I don't want the child to be harmed either."

"You've watched me fly for five years Sev." I said gently. "I usually come out unscathed."

"Right." Severus said, "But there have been close calls."

"I'm playing against Gryffindor, remember, not Slytherin." I said this as gently as possible. "They're not going to be trying to seriously harm me."

Severus gritted his teeth, most likely because he had no way of defending the Slytherins and also me at the same time and he said, "If you get hurt-"

"I won't." I said firmly.

We stared at each other for a moment, almost like a staring contest and he relented, sitting back down in his chair.

I sat back down on the bed, pulling out the drawing and started to work on Hagrid's character.

"What are you working on?" Severus asked curiously and I lifted the paper slightly so that he couldn't see.

"You'll see when it's time for you to see." I said, methodically adding tiny bristles to Madam Hooch's broom.

Severus sighed in an exaggerated way before turning back to his work. I was worried that things were going to be bad between the two of us. I wasn't sure he'd completely let go of the idea of me not playing at the game this Saturday.

When we finally went to bed, there did seem to be space between the two of us that wasn't usually there at night. I didn't say anything though. It was my choice about whether or not I was going to play at the game this week. Nothing was going to happen and there was no reason for him to be upset with me.

I tried putting myself in his shoes. The baby was his child too and as such, he really should have a say in the child's safety. He had to try and get me to keep the baby safe.

I wondered what Trang would say if she knew that I was playing in the game this week. Would she agree with me? I had promised not to participate in any fights. But that had been with Death Eaters and students. Did Quidditch count?

If I did stop, what was my excuse? I certainly couldn't say an overload of homework, because the others were more overwhelmed than I was. There was nothing I could say that was an adequate excuse for giving the captain ship over to Zacharias.

I shifted uncomfortably onto my side, my back facing Severus, looking out at the dark room. I certainly couldn't tell the Quidditch team I was pregnant for goodness sake! Even Hermione didn't know.

Severus breathing turned into soft snoring and I slipped out of bed, unable to sleep. I went over, sitting by the window, looking out at the dark grounds. Then I shifted my eyes, turning my head so that I could look up at the sky.

The moon wasn't full yet, though it was getting to that point. I wished I could talk to dad, but that wasn't possible. The little girl in my stomach kicked me, though it felt like a feather kick. I put a hand on my stomach, wishing for the millionth time that I knew the countercharm to Dumbledore's spell. I would've liked to see the bump.

I fell asleep at the windowsill, looking up at the sky, but woke up in bed, Severus arm wrapped tightly around my shoulder, my cheek resting on his nightgown. His breathing was uneven, I wondered what he was dreaming about.

I rolled over, his arm flopping to the side so that I could check the time. It was a few hours till sunrise, but I no longer felt tired.

I pulled out a new piece of paper and a pencil and though there was almost no light, I started on a drawing that I had wanted to draw for a very long time.

Severus always looked quite peaceful when he slept and it was a good muse for the drawing. Of course, I didn't know how the drawing was going to turn out, considering there was no light. I halfway let my subconscious take control, and halfway not.

I couldn't see the finishing piece, but I finally felt that I could sleep properly and without putting the artwork away, I fell asleep, my head resting on Severus' legs.

"You were restless last night." Severus murmured after he had shaken me awake so that I wasn't late for class.

"Couldn't sleep." I murmured, rolling out of bed and grabbing my robes.

"What's that?" Severus asked, leaning down and picking up a piece of paper. It was the drawing I had drawn last night.

I blushed, wondering how it had come out. Severus' eyes scanned the paper and his mouth curled into a smirk.

"Give me that." I muttered, reaching to snatch the piece of paper out of his hand. He held it out of my reach and I glared at him.

"Great detail." Severus said, openly grinning now. "I hope you weren't planning on selling this one?"

I jumped, grabbing the paper, and turned the drawing to face me. It'd come out better than I had thought. He was right, there was great detail to this drawing, though no where close to the detail I'd give the mystery drawings or the Professor drawings.

I blushed deeper, folding the sexual drawing up, and handed it to him. "No, I wasn't going to sell it. You can keep it if you want."

I grabbed my bag, pulling it over my shoulder. I kissed him on the cheek and hurried out of the office so that I could grab breakfast before class.

Trang met me halfway to the Great Hall and I felt the impending doom of the Quidditch questions coming.

Indeed, the minute we sat down, refreshingly at the Ravenclaw table, she started with, "You're not playing the Quidditch game are you?"

"I've already discussed this with Severus and we feel that there is no danger if I play." I said as firmly as possible while pulling over chocolate muffins.

Trang dropped her mouth, her fork dangling carelessly from her fingers. I wondered if I was starting to see everything as art, each moment a pause in time, a drawing that could be captured. I wasn't so sure Trang would like if I drew her at this exact moment though.

"You're kidding, right?"

I sighed, peeling away the wrapper. I wasn't supposed to have chocolate or muffins or chocolate muffins but I was feeling rebellious this week, and I figured my little girl needed to taste sugar so she grew a sweet tooth anyways.

"No. Trang. I'm not kidding. Especially since we're playing Gryffindor, I'm in no danger and neither is the child." I bit into the sugary mess and was immediately satisfied. I should eat like this more often. Oh wait. . . no I couldn't.

"You promised-"

"I promised not to get into fights with Death Eaters and I extended that to duels in school." I replied, a bit sharper than intended. "I did not promise to stop flying or hand over my captainship. I kept my captain ship all last year despite Umbitches attempts to 'dethrone' me. I don't plan on just handing it over for no reason!"

"But the baby!" Trang complained.

"Trang!" I said sharply, putting my muffin down. "I've already told you that I've talked it over with Sev. If he's okay with it, then it's okay."

Trang hands were clenched into fists on the table, quivering. I got up abruptly from the table, storming off to potions where Harry was star boy and Hermione and I were second-hand for the first time in our lives. Bloody frustrating.

Saturday approached. Trang and I hadn't spoken since our spat at the Ravenclaw table. Severus seemed almost nervous this morning and eventually, his nerves became my nerves because I couldn't help it.

I went down to the Quidditch pitch early so that I could sit by myself in the Hufflepuff locker room. I closed my eyes, leaning my head back against the wall.

An hour later, the other teammates started to come in, chattering quickly and excitedly and I quickly started to get into my own robes.

The match time drew closer and I looked out the door. "Alright Anthony, James, you'll want to fly out of the sun." I commanded and I was glad my voice was sound and sure, "That way the other team won't see the bludgers coming. Of course, I wouldn't be surprised if Harry told his own beaters to do that so be on the lookout. Susan, up to your post."

Susan flew up to the Keeper's post on our end. I noticed McLaggen was already in his spot. I walked out with the rest of my team.

Harry and I stood opposite each other and shook hands cordially, grins on both of our faces. Madam Hooch blew her whistle and we all streaked upwards. My nerves turned into adrenaline and I shot up higher than any of the other players, looking down for the snitch.

Harry was looking for the snitch so that he could get back to the castle and find out what Draco was doing. That was the wrong mindset for the game.

"And that's Smith of Hufflepuff with the Quaffle. He did the commentary last time, of course, and Ginny Weasley flew into him, I think probably on purpose, it looked like it." A dreamy voice echoed through the stadium and I pulled up short in amazement, right next to Harry, and looked towards the commentator post. "Smith was being quite rude about Gryffindor, I expect he regrets it now he's playing them-oh look, he's lot the Quaffle, Ginny took it from him, I do like her, she's very nice. . ."

While I had foreseen Luna commentating Quidditch, I hadn't quite expected this. I noticed all the Quidditch players had frozen for a moment, looking at Luna before moving into motion again. Harry and I exchanged a glance, and we both shook our heads in amazement before we darted off in opposite directions.

Luke took the Quaffle from Ginny. It was a good play too. I ducked a bludger but it didn't come to close. I really needed to keep any eye on the bludgers as well as the snitch.

". . . now that big Hufflepuff player's got the Quaffle from her, I can't remember his name, it's something like Chaddle- no Clartin-"

"It's Cholderton!" Professor McGonagall shouted from behind Luna, loudly enough to be heard through the magical megaphone. The crowd laughed. It was an entertaining commentary.

A moment later, Luke scored. I looked over just long enough to see that McLaggen had been shouting at Ginny, rather than watching where the Quaffle was.

"And Harry Potter's now having an argument with his Keeper. I don't think that'll help him find the Snitch, but maybe it's a clever ruse."

Below, Hufflepuffs and Slytherins were jeering at the Gryffindors. Imagine Slytherins being on your side.

Both Ginny and the other girl chaser on the team whose name started with a D scored a goal and then Luke scored a second one. The game continued on though Luna was trying to draw attention to shapes in the clouds. Zacharias hadn't taken possession of the Quaffle once since his fumble in the beginning and Luna was starting to mention that he might have Loser's Lurgy.

While entertaining, I certainly couldn't have Zacharias with any condition and I zoomed over on my broom.

"What's going on?" I asked while McGonagall shouted that we were up thirty points after Rose scored a goal.

"I just can't seem to play." Zacharias said through gritted teeth. "That Luna-"

"It's all in your head." I snapped, "You're one of my best chasers. Now get out there and show me that you are."

"And now Elizabeth's yelling at Zacharias. Or maybe they're just talking, I'm not sure. I like Elizabeth, she's very popular. It's also rumored that she's working on a surprise for the Professors, but it might not be true."

I blushed. "Bloody hell Luna."

Zacharias grinned, "I think I can score some goals now."

We both sped off into different directions.

"Oh look! The Gryffindor Keeper's got hold of one of the Beat's bats." Luna announced dreamily.

I pulled up short and watched as Harry pelted towards McLaggen. Cormac took a swing, mishit, and the bludger collided with Harry who started to fall.

At that moment, I caught the sign of gold and I dropped, diving after the snitch. I no longer had to compete against anyone to catch this snitch (though I wasn't particularly glad about it). I just hoped that Harry's teammates had enough sense to catch him.

The Gryffindors were moaning and the Hufflepuffs and Slytherins were cheering. I reached out, grabbing the snitch. While originally, I'd seen us winning three hundred and twenty to sixty, the real score under my captainship was two hundred and forty to fifty.

I landed, the rest of the Hufflepuff team catching up to me and we headed off to the lockers amongst the cheers of the Hufflepuffs and Slytherins.

"Brilliant game everyone." I said cheerfully, wanting to find Trang and shake an apology from her but also wanting her to come herself and apologize herself.

"Loser's Lurgy." Rose chortled. "Zacharias has Loser's Lurgy."

"What a little brat." Zacharias muttered under his breath and Rose stuck her tongue out at him, skipping to the locker room.

"McLaggen is unbelievable." Susan said, shaking her head as the rest of us entered the locker room.

"He's in some of my classes." Luke said unexpectedly. He reminded me of Malcolm. He was usually very quiet- I'd only ever heard him say a few words. "Because he knows people in high places he automatically thinks he knows everything."

"Including how to play every Quidditch position apparently." James piped up, putting his beaters bat into the locker.

"You're coming to the party right?" Susan asked as we walked up the slop. Anthony and James were ahead. Rose and Zacharias walked on either side of her. Luke was somewhere behind us.

"Yes." I said. "But I'll be a few minutes late. I want to go and check on Harry on the hospital wing."

"Alright." Susan said as we entered the castle, "See you then."

We split off into opposite directions and I found my way to the hospital wing and stepped inside. Ginny was already there, sitting in a wooden chair between Harry and Ron's beds and was telling Ron what had happened.

"How is he?" I asked, pulling up a chair and sitting next to Harry.

"Cracked skull." Ginny said, looking worried. "I think the rest of the team is going to kill McLaggen. Well-" She sucked air up her nose and spat out, "except Dean."

I looked away, not wanting to get into the middle of everyone else's love business. "Dean laughed?"

"Yes!" Ginny said hotly. "Actually, I think I'm going to go kill McLaggen now!"

She got up, storming out of the hospital wing. I sighed, shaking my head.

"Did McLaggen really do that bad?" Ron asked, sounding hopeful.

"Yes." I said honestly. I would much rather play Gryffindor with McLaggen as Keeper than Ron at this moment. "He kept trying to act as captain and tell the others what they were doing wrong rather than paying attention to what he was supposed to be doing himself."

Ron looked happy about that and then said, "I hope Luna commentates from now on."

I chuckled. "So do I."

I got up, kissed Harry's cheek, and then left the room to go and join the party.

🤎🤎🤎🤎🤎🤎

𝕿𝖍𝖊 𝖓𝖊𝖝𝖙 𝖉𝖆𝖞, I joined Hermione, Harry, and Ron as they were walking down to the Great Hall for breakfast. I was quite glad that Hermione and Ron were friends again and this felt more normal- the four of us.

"Ginny and Dean rowed last night." Hermione mentioned as we walked down the marble staircase.

"What did they row about?" Harry asked casually. A small girl dropped heavy brass scales as we approached. I glared at her, keeping my mouth shut.

"It's all right! Here. . ." Hermione said, hurrying forward the repairing the brass scales.

"I swear they're getting smaller." Ron said after we'd passed the small girl.

"Never mind her, what did Ginny and Dean row about, Hermione?" Harry asked, sounding impatient.

"Oh, Dean was laughing about McLaggen hitting that Bludger at you." Hermione said.

"It must've looked funny." Ron consented.

"It didn't look funny at all! It looked terrible and if Coote and Peakes hadn't caught Harry he could have been very badly hurt!" Hermione replied hotly.

"Yeah, well, there was no need for Ginny and Dean to split up over it, or are they still together?" Harry asked, the casualness not so casual.

"Yes, they are- but why are you so interested?" Hermione asked sharply.

"I just don't want my Quidditch team messed up again!"

"Harry!" A dreamy voice called.

"Oh, hi, Luna." Harry said, turning to face her.

"I went to the hospital wing to find you but they said you'd left. . ." Luna said, thrusting a green onion, a spotted toadstool, and possibly cat litter into Ron's arms. "I've been told to give you this." She handed Harry a roll of parchment that was most likely from Dumbledore.

"Tonight." Harry said to Ron, Hermione, and I after he unrolled and skimmed through it.

"Nice commentary last match!" Ron said to Luna as he handed her stuff back over to her.

Luna smiled at him vaguely, "You're making fun of me, aren't you? Everyone says I was dreadful."

"I loved it." I said sincerely.

"No, I'm serious!" Ron agreed. "I can't remember enjoying commentary more! What is this, by the way?" he added, holding up the onion which wasn't an onion.

"Oh, it's a Gurdyroot. You can keep it if you like, I've got a few of them. They're really excellent for warding off Gulping Plimpies."

She walked off, leaving Ron behind to laugh contentedly.

"You know, she's grown on me, Luna. I know she's insane, but it's in a good-" Ron started happily before he was cut off by Lavender Brown. "Hi?"

"C'mon." Harry muttered to Hermione and I and we sped up.

I distinctly heard Lavender murderously question Ron, "Why didn't you tell me you were getting out today? And why was she with you?"

"Oh yeah," Hermione said as we sat down at the Gryffindor table. "What was Luna talking about during the match yesterday Elizabeth?"

"Which part?" I asked, grinning.

"The thing for the teachers." she clarified.

I moved uncomfortably in my seat, "Oh well, it was supposed to be a surprise. I suppose Luna didn't know about that part."

"What is it?" Harry asked curiously.

"I'll show you guys later." I said, slicing an apple into small pieces so I didn't have to bite into the apple.

"When?" Hermione asked.

"How about later today in the library. I'll be with a group of Hufflepuffs." I said.

"Sure." Harry said. "But it better be good considering all the suspense."

"It's not suspense." I said scornfully. "It's a secret. Students talk, you know? If we keep it amongst a few people, it'll stay quiet from the teachers. Not that Luna helped with that."

"Had you told Luna?" Hermione asked.

"No. It was only discussed amongst a few Hufflepuffs. Perhaps Ernie or Zacharias said something." I suggested, shrugging. "Or perhaps Rose told Grace and Grace spread it around."

"Rose plays well." Harry complimented.

"She does, doesn't she?" I smiled, sliding a piece of apple into the back of my mouth. "I was pleasantly surprised. She has a knack for dodging bludgers."

The rest of the conversation carried out onto the Quidditch matches and Hermione disappeared behind her newspaper. Gryffindor was most likely to win the cup this year, something I was both pleased and disappointed about. I wondered if the difference in the two scores would change things.

Around noon, I went to the library to partly work on my Herbology essay and partly to add some new details to the drawing before I showed it off the Hufflepuffs and Harry, Hermione, and Ron.

I was nowhere near finished, not even close. There were so many more details that needed to be done, especially with the Professors I either hadn't met like Kettleburn, Professors I didn't see any more like Quirrell, Lockhart, and Umbridge, or Professors I simply didn't have like Burbage from Muggle studies.

To top it all off, besides Hagrid, Severus, Dumbledore, McGonagall, Uncle Moody, Firenze, and Dad, I didn't really have the details memorized from all the other Professors which made things quite difficult when trying to call up specific details. Moles, wrinkles, stress lines, the lights of their eyes, the skin deformities, the shapes of their eyes, noses, mouths, ears, hair, their height, crooked shoulders, bent knees, etc.

I knew that the sketch would never be perfect. What I needed to do was to get it to a point of satisfaction for everyone except for me. Only the artist sees the flaws in their own work where others don't. (Except perhaps art critics).

I decided to work on the Herbology essay first because that didn't need to be as perfect as the drawing and would take less time.

Halfway through however, there was an interruption in the form of a person: Trang.

She sat down across from me, red eyed, and with a stuffy nose. I knew she'd been crying and though we'd fought, I immediately set aside my essay to talk to her. I reached out, taking her hand in mine. "What's wrong?"

"I'm sorry." Trang whispered, "You were right. There was no danger after all."

I sighed. "Look, Trang, I'm sorry. In a way, you were right. Something could've gone wrong, something could've happened. At the same time, I don't want to live my life in a safety box, you know?"

Trang smiled hesitantly, "Yes, I know. You never could do that."

I smiled, pulling back the essay and finishing off the last paragraphs. Then I pulled out the art drawing.

"What more do you need to do on this?" Trang asked, frowning at the drawing.

"Lots and lots of details." I said, not taking my eyes off the drawing and pulling out my pencil. "I'm going to have to find and excuse to see some of these Professors. I've got a picture of Lockhart and Umbridge, but Quirrell is going to be harder. Plus I've never met Kettleburn and Grubby-Plank is hard to pull up as well. Not to mention the Professors I've only had for a year like Burbage. I have to do these people justice, and the details are quite difficult." I paused for a second and then said, "Plus, I'd like to add myself into the drawing."

"Like an artists mark." Trang stated in a matter-of-fact way.

"Exactly." I said, my voice rising in excitement. "I think I'm going to do it in cat form. No one will find that weird because McGonagall has a cat on her shoulder, Filch is holding Mrs. Norris, and Fang is by Hagrid's feet. I just don't know where I want myself to be, you know? I was thinking by Firenze's feet but I'm also Severus' wife, but I Severus doesn't exactly show his um. . . what do you call it. . . emotional side to anyone else and him holding a cat isn't as realistic as the drawing could be. So I'm not entirely sure where-"

"In your dad's arms." Trang said and it was such a simple suggestion and the obvious one that I kind've just stared at her for a moment. "What? It'll bind the love that you two have between the two of you in a symbolic and permanent way even after we're all dead."

"Your completely, totally right." I whispered. "Though of course, I'll have to take out the tank under his arm."

"Not necessarily." Trang suggested, tilting the paper slightly to the left instead of getting up and coming around the other side of the table to look at it. "The cat could be drawn by his feet. Or he could be holding you to his shoulder with one hand."

"Of course. . ." I whispered, picking up the paper and holding it up to the light. "Genius Trang! Genius!"

"What's genius?" A new voice said and I quickly rolled the paper automatically, feeling stupid when I saw that it was Ernie, Justin, and Zacharias.

"Is that the drawing?" Justin asked.

"Yes." I said. "I'm just waiting for the others to show so I can show all of you at once."

"Let's go over here." Zacharias said, jerking his head. I carried the drawing while Trang picked up my things and we headed to a corner of the library.

It was circular shaped, bookcases all around. I stayed with my back to the wall so that no one could appear from behind us. There were chairs that were angled around a small coffee table. Ernie, Justin, Zacharias, and Trang all took seats nearest to me. Very soon, Susan and Hannah entered and hurried over.

Rose followed by herself some moments later.

Hermione, Ron, and Harry came in last, settling around with us.

"So what is it?" Ron asked bluntly.

I gave the credit where it was due. "Susan came up with the idea, at least to the best of my knowledge, I wasn't paying attention to the conversation. Anyways, they said we should come up with a graduating present. A token of appreciation to our teachers. I took this a bit literally. . ." I carefully unrolled the drawing, facing it towards them on the coffee table.

"When you meant all of them. . ." Harry said slowly, observing Professor Moody's details.

"All of them." I said solidly. "None of us had Kettleburn, granted, but he was still an incredibly important teacher and he was technically here when we were here."

"This is amazing!" Rose declared. She'd left her seat, kneeling by the coffee table.

"Thanks Rose." I said gently.

"I can't believe you're done already." Zacharias said, his neck cinching a little as he turned his head to look at the drawing rather than stand up to look at it.

Trang snorted, "Done? You should've heard her earlier. Going on about details. She's apparently nowhere close to done."

Hannah's face was quite impressed. She came back after Christmas break with the rest of us. She'd been unusually quiet, but I didn't blame her in the least.

Ernie was also being unusually quiet, observing the drawing as though he had to take a test on it later. I was slightly amused.

"So?" I asked, "How's the rough draft?"

Ernie chuckled. "Rough draft."

"It's wonderful Elizabeth." Hermione said, practically glowing with happiness. "You've captured all of them so well."

"You should make Professor Snape grumpier." Ron pointed out. "He looks to kind in this drawing."

My eyes met Harry's for the briefest second and I said, "Well, I was trying to make them all look a bit nicer."

"Yes, I can tell with Mrs. Norris." Susan said, "Even Filch looks a bit happy in this one."

"That was inspirational." I said honestly. "After Mrs. Norris was unpetrified, I saw him holding her and he looked quite happy."

"I would definitely pay to see a drawing of Professor Snape smiling." Justin said with a laugh.

"Oh, one second." I said, giddy with pleasure. I was human after all and I did like compliments to my drawings. "I was doing some portraits. Pay me for this."

I handed him the artpad, page already up of Severus smiling, standing by the window, holding out his hand.

"Wow." Justin said, laughing and passing the artpad around. "That's. . . wow."

The drawing brought on laughs. After all, no one had ever seen Severus smile before. Harry met my eyes again and gave me a slight nod. I gave him a small smile before sticking the art pad into my bag. Trang gave me a smile as well.

"Well." I said. "I must admit that's all I had. I just wanted opinions, criticisms. I'll take into account of S- Professor Snape looking grumpier. I was also hoping you guys could give advice on what each Professor could be holding or wearing that might contribute to their subject. For instance, Professor Lupin was holding the Grindylow tank or Professor Burbage holding the rotary telephone- that's a Muggle thing. Anyways, I don't need suggestions now but if you guys write down a list or something I can utilize it in the final drawings, deal?"

"Deal." Came multiple responses.

"Great." I said with a broad grin and we all left the library at different times.

🤎🤎🤎🤎🤎🤎

"𝕯𝖔 𝖞𝖔𝖚 𝖊𝖛𝖊𝖗 tell stories?" Severus asked sleepily late that night.

"Through my art, you mean?" I asked, rolling over so I could see part of his face in the moonlight.

"No, I mean physical stories. I know you wrote a couple before giving up the hobby." Severus said, putting an arm around me to pull my closer though he was looking up at the ceiling rather than at me.

"No." I said softly, looking at the wall. "I've never told an adequate story without artwork."

"So if you had a piece of artwork, you could tell a story." Severus said.

I got up on my elbows to get a better look at him, "Why?"

"Something I was simply curious about." Severus said smoothly, pulling me down to the bed again. I gave in, pressing my lips to his warm bare skin.

I looked at him for a moment and then rolled over out of bed.

"Where are you going?" Severus asked. I heard the bedsprings creak and knew he was probably sitting up.

"I'll be right back, I promise." I said gently, turning into a cat and padding out of the room.

I made my way to the Hufflepuff common room. I probably should've put clothes on, I realized too late. I morphed, quickly entered the password and turned back into a cat before anyone could see me. I slinked upstairs to the dorm.

The other girls were asleep and I padded over to where I'd locked the drawings. I morphed again, pulling the blanket off my bed and draping it over me while I unlocked the drawer, pulling out a specific drawing.

It was the drawing of a shop filled with keys. Keys in jars, keys hanging from the ceiling, keys hanging in the garden, keys under class cases and such. There was an old man, rearranging jars on a shelf, his face turned away so that only the back of him could be seen.

I locked the dresser again, turning back into a cat and, carrying the drawing in my small mouth, made my way back to the Defense Against the Dark Arts office.

After my long black tail slipped through the thin opening of the office door, I turned back into a human and closed the door behind me. Severus was grinning from where he was sitting on the bed and I rolled my eyes.

I lit a candle as I passed by, carrying it over near the bed. I handed Severus the drawing.

I touched the drawing too, wondering if this would work. But if I could believe Severus' hypothesis to be true, then if I reached into my subconscious, this could work.

I closed my eyes, the image of the drawing appearing into the back of my mind and I almost back out of the experiment. This was too weird, to much magic for a magical world. But was it? I took a deep breath and then started to speak in a voice that was my own and yet, also not my voice.

"Once there was a man who collected keys. Old keys and new keys and broken keys. Lost keys and stolen keys and skeleton keys. He carried them in his pockets and wore them on chains that clattered as he walked around the town. Everyone in the town knew the key collector. Some people though his habit strange but the key collector was a friendly sort and had a thoughtful air and a quick smile. If someone lost a key or broke a key they could ask the key collector and he would usually have a replacement that would suit their needs. It was often faster than having a new key made. The key collector kept the most common shapes and sizes of keys always at hand, in case someone was in need of a key for a door or a cupboard or a chest."

The man almost seemed to move, walking from the jars to the counter where the large tubs of keys were kept. His face was in view now.

"The key collector was not possessive about his keys. He gave them away when they were needed. (Though often people would have a new key made anyway and return the one they had borrowed). People gave him found keys or spare keys as gifts to add to his collection. When they traveled they would find keys to bring back with them, keys with unfamiliar shapes and strange teeth. (They called the man himself the key collector but a great many people aided with the collecting.)"

Severus fingers trailed up and down my spine, distracting me momentarily.

"Eventually the key collector had too many keys to carry and began displaying them around his house. He hung them in the windows on ribbons like curtains and arranged them on bookshelves and framed them on walls. The most delicate ones he kept under glass or in boxes meant for jewels. Others were piled together with similar keys, kept in buckets or baskets."

As I spoke, I saw each thing that was talked about. Keys hanging in windows though I'd never drawn that. Clearer details of the keys under the glass boxes then from the angle originally drawn. I finally knew what some people talked about drawings coming to life though I thought mine had more sustenance.

"After many years the entire house was filled near to bursting with keys. They hung on the outside as well, over the doors and the windows and draped from the eaves of the roof. The key collector's house was easily spotted from the road.

"One day there was a knock upon his door.

"The key collector opened the door to find a pretty woman in a long cloak on his doorstep. He had never seen her before, nor had he seem embroidery of the sort that trimmed her cloak: star-shaped flowers in gold thread on dark cloth, too fine for travel though she must have traveled far. He did not see a horse or a carriage and supposed she might have left them at the inn for no one passed through this town without staying at the inn and it was not far.

"'I have been told you collect keys,' the woman said to the key collector.

'"I do,' said the key collector, though this was obvious. There were keys hanging above the doorway where they stood, keys on the walls behind him, keys in jars and bowls and vases on the tables.

"'I am looking for something that has been locked away. I wonder if one of your keys might unlock it.'

'"You are welcome to look,' the key collector said and invited the woman inside.

"He considered asking the woman what manner of key she sought so he might help her look but he knew how difficult it was to describe a key. To find a key you had to understand the lock.

"So the key collector let the woman search the house. He showed her every room, every cabinet and bookshelf line with keys. The kitchen with its teacups and wineglasses filled with keys, save for the few that were used more frequently, empty and waiting for wine or for tea.

"The key collector offered the woman a cup of tea but she politely refused. He left her to her searching and sat in the front parlor where she could find him if she needed and he read a book.

"After many hours the woman returned to the key collector.

"'It is not here,' she said. 'Thank you for letting me look.'

"'There are more keys in the back garden,' the key collector said, and led the woman outside.

"The garden was festooned with keys, strung from ribbons in a rainbow of colors. Keys tied with bows hung from trees and bouquets of keys displayed in glazed pots and vases. Birdcages with keys hung on the tiny swings inside with no birds to be seen. Keys set into the paving stones along the garden paths. A bubbling fountain contained piles of keys beneath the water, sunken like wishes.

"The light was fading so the key collector lit the lanterns.

"'It is lovely here,' the woman said. She began to look through the garden keys, keys held by statues and keys wound around topiaries. She stopped in front of a tree that was just starting to blossom, reaching out to a key, one of many hanging from red ribbons.

"'Will that key suit your lock?' the key collector asked.

"'More than that,' the woman answered. 'This is my key. I lost it a very long time ago. I'm glad it found its way to you.'

"'I am glad to return it,' the key collector said. He reached up to untie the ribbon for her, leaving it hanging from the key in her hand.

"'I must find a way to repay you,' the woman said to the key collector.

"'No need for that' the key collector told her. 'It is my pleasure to help reunited you with your locked-away thing.'

"'Oh,' the woman said, 'It is not a thing. It is a place,'

"She held the key out in front of her at a height above her waist where keyhole might have been if there was a door and part of the key vanished. The woman turned the key and an invisible door unlocked in the middle of the key collector's garden. The woman pushed the door open.

"The key and its ribbon remained hanging in midair.

"The key collector looked through the door into a golden room with high arched windows..."

I drifted off and Severus looked at me sharply, bringing me back to reality. For a moment, seeing the images play inside my house, it felt real.

"What?" Severus asked.

"I drew the place that the man is describing." I said softly, mad at myself for breaking the spell. I wasn't even sure if I wanted to finish the story. But Severus prodded me and I closed my eyes again.

"Dozens of candles stood on tables laid for a great feast. He heard music playing and laughter coming from out of sight. Through the windows he could see waterfalls and mountains, a sky brightly lit by two moons and countless stars reflected in a shimmering sea. The woman walked through the door, her long cloak trailing over the golden tiles. The key collector stood in his garden, staring. The woman took the key

"on its ribbon from its lock.

"She turned back to the key collector. She raised a hand in invitation, beckoning him forward.

"The key collector followed.

"The door closed behind him.

"No one ever saw him again."

⬅️➡️

[pinkbowsandprettyprose]

VERY long headcanon ask on the Kishigo X Twisted Wonderland isekai AU (feel free to ignore ajdfalksjd) because I have thought about this more than I should.

Ways to enroll at NRC: either you get that black carriage or you isekai. They were probably in the middle of a fight then boom vanquished. A very chaotic entrace during a regular peaceful day at NRC or an important school event like the entrance ceremony.

Crowley starts crying hysterically unable to understand why the universe keeps vomiting random ass teenagers from other worlds on his school. Guess he's gotta keep them until they go home 🙄. Cause he's so kind.

Ichigo stays at Ramshackle with Yuu and Grim. Grim is kind enough to offer Ichigo some of his canned tuna. She eats it.

Quiche either becomes a Ramshackle resident or gets sorted into Diasomnia (Solely because it fits his aesthetic. Can you imagine Quiche wearing the Diasomnia uniforms? The gloves, the little horn hat? Literally all their fits? That green was made for him. That midriff WILL be censored). Someone photoshop/draw this please bLEASE.

Everyone thinks Quiche is a fairy. He accepts this after a while.

QUICHE WEARING THE CEREMONIAL ROBES.

Quiche with the Diasomnia PE outfit except it's the one with shorts Lilia wears.

Ichigo is just considered a beastperson and not human, I guess. She can have her ears and tail out nobody bats an eye. Freedom.

Quiche is literally the perfect NRC student. Mentally unstable, traumatized, villainous, selfish, scheming and has no problem using other people to obtain his goals. He would fit in perfectly in no time.

Quiche fucks around and finds out by picking fights with the bigger fish in NRC and promptly getting his ass handed to him in one way or another. He gets bullied because he's annoying (promoted by: Ace, Leona and Floyd).

People Quiche has picked a fight with: Ace, Sebek, Rook (for hunting Ichigo for sport), Leona, Jack, Floyd (insert spiderman pointing at another spiderman meme here), Riddle, Epel, Kalim, Cater. He gets humbled. Decides to learn magic (Can he even?? I believe in him honestly) to get revenge. Likes flying faster than everyone in PE class.

Quiche says it's not so bad at NRC. He gets to escape the mess back at his own world and his love rival stayed back too, which means he's the only guy Ichigo could possibly fall for. Lilia reminds him this is an all boys school. Ichigo is surrounded by guys.

Quiche is actually good at his classes lmao. Ichigo not so much. Her best subject is animal linguistics and she often talks to Trein's cat.

Considering Quiche is in Diasomnia, him and Sebek would piss each other off all the time. Quiche actively enjoys annoying Sebek.

Ichigo makes friends with Chen'ya because catgirl x catboy solidarity. No catgirl x catboy solidarity with Leona tho, she thinks he's scary. She also thinks the Octavinelle trio are scary. Besties with Kalim. Besties with the Yuu + Adeuce squad (Epel, Ortho, Sebek). Quiche sits with them at lunch. Nobody likes him.

Quiche is hanging out with Ichigo whenever he can. Like a shadow. He does not want competition. Stay away, NRC mob students.

Quiche actually ends up quite liking the NRC experience. Like the environment was made for him.

Rook looks at Ichigo and thinks "mon dieu, le chat! <3" and then hunts her for sport. Just for funsies he's not serious about it.

Holy shit anon you put THOUGHT into this

Publishing just so everyone can read this and also so everyone in my notes can peer pressure this anon into writing this as a fanfic

[astrangeghost]

stares u directly in the eyes. pllease tell me more about ur dnd ocs

Hehehehehe I actually. Went to draw them all but WOW today is not a good art day so just preexisting art :)

(This is a bit outdated, Mindy is a paladin and Granite's earrings changed!) Granite is a earth-genasi monk who worships Sol, and thus is blind(something about staring into the sun for the sun god, forgot where I read that but yea!) They were found at a temple of Sol and raised there, eventually getting a message from Sol himself to spread his religion throughout the world :) so thats why shes out adventuring! Granite has a good heart and strength to back herself up, and even if they would prefer peace, they could hit you into next week! She does have a streak of self-sacrifice, being the first to give up comfort for the safety of others and she is so dear to me. my first dnd oc : ) Mindy was my second dnd oc I made out of a realll old middle school character fghj shes a taffy paladin from another worldddd! Mindy comes from an alternate universe where war plagues the earth. She and a couple others were made in a lab to fight in the fields, eventually her partners died and something something magicked to a new world to some adventuring party! When transferred to the main universe/world/whatever her memories were wiped and she needs to get them all back :0 her old party were very important to her but shes a very happy-go-lucky sunshiny type of gal :) Cynthia!! Is my bard! Also a centaur ^_^ her right eye is glass I don't have a lot on her tbh <:] shes a good cook and a pleasant friend and she wants to be a musician! She plays the flute, loves jewelry and is very charismatic. Would only let you ride her if it was a life-or-death situation and then never talk about it again. Is honestly kind of insecure about being a centaur and tries to distance herself from her culture. shes blorbo to me My Tiefling I'm thinking of nameing Vayla but I'm not sure yet ^_^; Shes an artificer who was raised by a dwarf and hardly knows anything about being a Tiefling It's science-run, wanting to know everything about the world and discover her heritage. Which is difficult, considering she lives in the icy tundra with hardly anybody else around. It either can control ice or has a sick potion to make ice do what it wants(for instance, her bow+arrow are made of ice). She loves her dad and her home but yearns to see the world for itself and when she turns of age joins a party to discover the world! Marigold!! I just adore!!!! She's a satyr druid :]]] Mari is excitable and ready for anything. She falls in love with every woman she sees. Shes all for public nudity. Marigold is sociable and always down to party, but to the outside eye normally seems pretty laid-back! She has a problem with boundaries and thinking before speaking, but tries her best to get along with other people :) OKAY HES NOT PICTURED HERE BUT I HAVE AN OWLIN AND HES SO IMPORTANT TO ME<3 no name yet also<//3 I would snag a picture but his design isnt finished cause his outfit is giving me nightmares Hes a cleric that worships some god of the moon! I haven't decided yet</3 He is a long-eared owl with heavy robes that he can't fly in. He's quiet, and doesn't know much about surviving but is probably the most normal out of them. The type of guy that knows murder is not okay. He can't carry a conversation unless its about something he likes, which is often something very lame like purifying water. he is everything to me

[skekilla]

https://www.deviantart.com/skekilla/art/Runaway-Train-Act-I-Scene-2-885394689

Golly, what a day this’s been…

It had been just moments after the demons had left. Though the world passed in a terrible flash outside, it looked to be a bit brighter out there now. Quite a few minutes must’ve passed. Whatever time had done so had gone in silence, though. Always one to never speak unless spoken to (and even then, he may not reply), Johnny stayed quiet. He did, admittedly, feel very awkward.

Luckily, he had something to draw his attention away from the woman who lounged in front of him. A little desperately, he fiddled with his malfunctioning leg. It was a real pain to try to get it working again, especially with only one hand to do so with. He was used to it, though, always prepared; a miniature toolkit equipped with a few screwdrivers and patches and such was always in his pocket, he made sure of it. Still, it didn’t make it any less bothersome.

“Now, what’s the story behind this leg of yours, hm?” Sally suddenly asked. Her tone was rather disinterested, her entirely relaxed posture reflecting it.

Johnny was taken aback by that. Honestly, no one cared to or even thought it polite to ask back home. Everyone just assumed if some guy had an injury as bad as a missing limb, it was from the war and best not to ask about it. So for a moment, he stayed in shocked silence, scrambling for an answer. “T-the war, ma’am,” he managed to stutter. “Both my legs and my arm were all blown away in the war.” Just saying that made him lightheaded and queasy at the memory.

To his continued surprise, Sally’s brow furrowed in confusion at what he had said. “The war?” she said, looking him up and down. “You’re young to have fought in it. At least you look it.”

Really? Do I look that young? He’d been told he was a little baby faced back in the studio, but he was sure he didn’t look below the age to enlist. “What’s that?”

“You look young,” she reiterated, a touch of annoyance creeping into her voice. “The war ended fourteen years ago. You must’ve been just out of school then.”

Now it was Johnny’s turn to be perplexed. What’s she going on about? “Far as I know, the fight's still going on,” he said, his voice strengthening in his confusion. Why exactly was she lying about something like this? Rather cruel to do so, he thought.

A burst of laughter left the woman. “Oh, your memory must’ve gone in the war, too. You’re quite the riot!”

That was crossing the line. Though his timidness kept him from saying anything, a part of Johnny wanted to stand up and give her a piece of his mind. However, he just ducked his head with a huff, returning his attention to his leg.

A good few seconds passed between the two before either of them spoke again. “So, would you want some help fixing it up, then?”

Quickly, Johnny’s eyes glanced back up at Sally’s. He didn’t quite know what to say just then. One minute, she’d been telling him he was a fool, the next she was offering to help repair his leg. However, he couldn’t ignore the fact that this could be much easier with some help. Usually, his sister was there to assist if anything went awry. Now, though, that wasn’t the case. Make no mistake, he could certainly handle himself on his own, but it was easier with help. “Sure,” he murmured after a pause.

A satisfied smile played across her dolled-up face. Though she must’ve figured he couldn’t move much, she gestured for him to come closer. She would’ve figured right, but Johnny did his best to scoot to the edge of his seat and hold up his leg. Luckily, he had gotten it outstretched enough for Sally to take hold of it.

The leg of his pants had already been hiked up past his knee, so she took straight to examining the joints and mechanisms. To his surprise, she seemed like she knew exactly what she was doing. He hadn’t quite pinned her as the handy type, what with her fur robe and satin dress and pearls dripping over pearls. Wouldn’t exactly figure myself to be the handy type either, I suppose, he thought to himself.

She examined the parts of the prosthetic, poking around with her fingers. A couple frustrated huffs escaped her. Suddenly, she held out her hand as if waiting for him to put something in it. What does she… “Oh-” It clicked for him; he reached over for the small toolkit, placing it in her hand.

“Thank you.” And then she set to work, clever and quick with her hands. To Johnny’s surprise, he spotted clauses on them. Those were working hands. He knew them from his sister’s own worn out palms.

“How do you know how to do all t-this?” he stuttered quietly. “You’re- w-what I mean to say, ma’am, is you’re very handy.”

A chuckle left her. It didn’t carry the same smugness it usually did, though. More of a bitterness. “Well,” she began. “All us had to get handy now. You know how it is, everyone does. This Depression’s got all of us fixing up everything we can.” She sighed to herself. “Well, c’est la vie, hm?”

Depression? But the Great Depression had been over years ago. Sure, not everyone was living in luxury now, but they were on the upswing, at least. "What do you mean, 'Depression?'" Honestly, he was a little nervous to ask, his voice wavering. He couldn't quite place why he was so wary about it; maybe he just didn't want to be taunted again, like earlier. Then again, maybe it was something else to do with that first conversation. What she'd said about the war, specifically.

"Oh, now you must be joking!" Sally exclaimed. Johnny's continued look of confusion must've told her he wasn't, as her own smile fell. "Really? God, what kind of rock were you living under?"

At a loss for words, a short babble of stutters left him as he shrank down in his seat. I knew this would go badly. "I don't know," he finally settled on, barely a whisper.

With a "hmph," Sally straightened. "For your information, sir, the Depression's got all of us less fortunate folks out of a job. Me, for example-" she paused to tend her hair, much like someone fluffing a pillow, and the same smugness took her over again "-I had been the most lovely singer this side of the Mississippi! Oh, they'd even have me doing tours. Boy, did they love me. I was fabulous."

"Was?"

Though it wasn't Johnny's intention, that sure made her lose some steam. She cleared her throat, slouched back down over his leg. "Well. No one could swing a visit to see me anymore. Money-wise, of course. They'd still love me, I can say that." The clenching of her jaw told Johnny not to pry any further.

He didn't need to, though. That had already given him something useful, something very useful indeed. She was talking about the Great Depression. She had to be. But that would mean… "What year is it?" The question was sudden. It almost sounded insane to ask. After all, who wouldn't know what year it was? Everyone knew it was 1943, Johnny thought. But then again, no one he'd known had ever been on a train populated by demons. Maybe, if what he suspected was true, that wouldn't even be the strangest thing he himself had experienced.

As he'd thought she'd do, Sally looked to him like he'd just asked her how to open a door. She did nothing but scoff for a moment, disbelief clear as day on her face. "Why, it's 1932!"

Oh my lord. Now, Johnny wasn't amazingly clever, but he had sense. And that sense had gathered the pieces—Sally's mentions of the war being over and the Depression being in full swing—and put it all together with this final admission: Sally was from the past. Somehow. He had no idea how that'd be, but it didn't seem there was another explanation. "It's… 1943. For me, at least," he muttered quietly.

"Now that's just ridiculous. You're pushing it too far."

"No, listen!" he squeaked. That was easily the loudest he had spoken so far. Both a little shocked and a little amused, Sally stayed quiet and looked up at him. "I think… this train has done something strange. To both of us. If what you've just told me is true, then… maybe this train is going through more than space." He stared at her right in the eyes, trying to convey seriousness in his wide eyes. It sounded like something out of a cartoon, he wouldn't blame her for doubting it.

Sally held his gaze a moment longer before her own eyes flicked away. "That sounds like a load of nonsense," she stated. She returned to his leg, finishing up the job.

Darn it. That was no good. Why would she have believed it, though? What real proof did she have, other than what she probably thought to be the ravings of a loony veteran? He sighed worriedly. He was probably wrong anyways…

"Though," Sally finally said. Johnny looked to her once again as she meticulously put the tools back in their places, attentive to what she had to say. "Your little idea would make what you've said make some sense. Some other things I've seen here too."

The note of genuine suspicion in her voice made Johnny's eyes light up. "Then you believe it?" he asked, cautious.

"Maybe." But both of them knew then that he was right. Or at least, they knew that something was more wrong here than a couple easily pacified demons. Much more wrong. And much more worth sticking together. For both of their sakes.

[prettierthanurbf]

So What?

Y/n walked down the halls to find her best friend, getting the overwhelming feeling she’d be stuck walking into class alone, when she finally bumped into someone she knew. “Oh, great.” She mumbled irritably.

He turned around with a grin. “Well, hello, y/n.”

She rolled her eyes at his cocky grin. “Where’s your brother?”

The question just made his grin grow wider, making your patience even thinner. “Wouldn’t you like to know.” He teased.

She let her eyes wander around the halls to avoid eye contact when her eyes landed on him, sighing in relief, she pushed past his brother and hurried off to Tom. “Hey.” She said happily.

He looked up from his book. “Nice of you to wake up early for once.” He teased.

She laughed. “My parents are going to cut me off if I miss school to sleep in.” She explained.

He looked over her head, his eyes stopping on something that made his eyebrows furrow. “Mattheo’s staring at you again.” He whispered.

She quickly spun around to meet Mattheo’s eyes, turning back around so quick she almost fell over.

Tom helped her stand. “You alright?” He asked concerned.

She put a hand to her head. “I swear if he hexed me I’ll burn the little bastard.”

Tom chuckled. “Now I might just help you with that.”

Before y/n could say anything else, the teacher opened the doors for everyone in the class to walk in.

The whole class was a blur, mostly because y/n was asleep through half of it and hurrying to copy off of To ‘a notes during the other half, paying no attention to the teacher whatsoever.

Tom had to talk to one of his teachers before the next class started, which left y/n waiting outside on a bench alone with a book until class started.

Mattheo, who had grown bored of his friend group, walked off to bug y/n, sliding onto the bench and taking the spot a little too close to y/n.

She didn’t glance up from her book or move. “What?” She asked calmly.

He raised a brow. “No snarky comment? Hm.” He hummed. “Are you feeling alright?”

She rolled her eyes. “What do you want, Mattheo?”

“Ah, there’s the tone I was looking for.” He grinned. “What’re you reading?”

She clicked her tongue. “You could check the cover, you know.”

He shrugged. “It would sound so much better coming from your lips than mine.”

She shut her book, her finger holding the page she was on, snapping her head to look at him. “What do you want, Mattheo?” She repeated, this time a little less calm.

He smirked. “Maybe I want to help with your anger issues.”

“Maybe you should work on yours first.” She said back.

He laughed. “We could work on it together.”

She rolled her eyes. “I’d rather burn. Over and over. For eternity.”

He shrugged. “I could make it worth your while.”

She raised a brow. “What’s your angle, Riddle?”

He looked away with a small grin. “There’s no angle. I just think we could help each other out.”

“Have fun finding someone for that because I’m not your girl.” She slipped a small piece of paper into her book before getting up.

“But you could be.” Mattheo mumbled, but y/n had already walked off with all her things.

His shoulders slumped. “Great.”

Tom walked over to him laughing. “Did you seriously think whatever you were planning would work?”

Mattheo scowled at his brother. “It’s not like you’ve tried getting with her. Why is she so difficult.”

“She’s not into like that.” Tom said in a ‘duh’ tone.

Mattheo scoffed. “All the girls are into me like that.”

Tom shook his head and laughed a little more. “Not the one you like like that.”

He rolled his eyes. “I don’t like her like that, Tommy.”

“Then stop going after her, because I swear on my life and hers I will make yours a living hell if you break her heart or mess around with her for kicks. Got it?” Tom said sternly.

Mattheo put his hands up, a familiar teasing grin growing on his face. “It’s not that deep, brother.” And with that he walked off, another grinning glance at Tom before going straight ahead to see if he could find y/n.

He didn’t see her until school was over, when the clouds were making weird shapes up and the colors were changing from the sun going down, the black lake always looked prettiest at this time of day, which is why Mattheo chose to walk alongside it, also in hopes he’d find a weird creature in the water and draw it.

He came across y/n when he was walking back to the school, she was laying on her back, her head rested on her book bag, with a different book in her hands than she was reading hours prior. He walked over to her confidently.

“Hey, gorgeous.”

She sighed. “What?”

He sat down beside her. “So this is what you do after school?”

She rolled her eyes. “Quidditch practice was canceled today.”

He nodded. “Totally forgot you were on the team.”

She glanced at him. “Is there any reason you’re here or what?”

He shrugged. “Just wanted to know how you were doing.”

She pulled a piece of paper put of her robe, handing it to Mattheo without looking away from her book. “You read that and tell me how you think I’m feeling.”

His eyes scanned over the paper. “An animagus? Seriously?”

She shrugged. “Now I’ve got to wait for my uncle Newt to come down here and talk to me about everything.”

Mattheo handed the paper back. “So you can’t go home?”

She shook her head. “Apparently my brothers tore up the place pretty bad and they’re trying to get it under control.”

“So why don’t you just stay with me and Tom?”

She snorted. “Because it’s you and Tom. I swear both of you don’t know how to not argue, especially when you’re trying to do something ‘important’.”

Matthe scoffed. “We do not!”

She raised a brow. “So we’re just gonna play that game now?”

He shrugged. “I mean…”

She rolled her eyes. “You’re an idiot if you think you don’t argue with your brother a lot.”

“Just stay with us.” It came out more as a plead than a suggestion, which was not Mattheo’s intention at all.

Y/n laughed. “Beg me.” She joked.

He rolled his eyes. “Oh, ha ha, very funny.” He said sarcastically. “Just stay with us.”

She glanced at him from her book. “If I do will you go away?”

“Maybe.” He said.

She shrugged. “Fine. Just let your brother know so it’s not a surprise or anything.”

“Okay.” Mattheo got up. “Did you finish the other book?” He asked, stopping himself from running off to find his brother so he could talk to y/n some more.

She looked up at him. “Yes. I had most of my classes to read through it.”

“How long have you had this one?”

“Since lunch. Why?”

He grinned. “No reason, no reason.”

“Why?” She repeated, this time sternly.

Mattheo looked down at her. “You’ll find out.” He winked at her before running off to find Tom.

When Spring break rolled around, y/n, Tom, and Mattheo went to Tom and Mattheo’s mansion they inherited when their dad mysteriously passed away.

Y/n explored a little since it was a bit of an upgrade from where the Riddle brothers were staying when she last stayed with them.

She stepped into a dark ish bedroom with lots of books. She walked over to the blinds and pushed them open so she could get a better look in the room.

“I usually like the curtains closed.” Mattheo said, scaring the shit out of y/n.

She turned to him with a hand over her heart. “Warn a girl next time, Mattheo!”

He laughed. “Sorry, sorry.”

She continued to look around. “You know, your room is the darkest one in this whole house. And the most gloomy.” Her eyes landed on the bookshelves. “Except for the books. They’re gorgeous.”

He chuckled. “You can go ahead and take some if you want. I’ve read all of them so I don’t really care.”

She raised a brow before laughing. “You’ve read all these? Like actually, actually? You’re not screwing with me?”

He shook his head. “Is that a surprise?”

“Yes! In all the time I’ve known you, I’ve never seen you open a book.”

“You don’t spend any time in the library.” He stated. “That’s where I am during my free time.”

“When you’re not walking around the lake.” She said.

He laughed. “You stalking me?”

She rolled her eyes. “Don’t flatter yourself, Mattheo. I’ve seen you walking around like a loner because I spend most of my time by the lake. It’s where some of the hot guys at our school swim so it’s a pretty good view.”

Mattheo clenched his jaw before letting out a forced laugh. “I forgot you like staring at strangers who are half naked.”

She shrugged. “If they’re hot, they’re hot. I gotta stare.”

“You’re not like… staring at them like that, are you?” He laughed. “Cause that would be weird.”

“Oh, like how you look at me?” She said, raising a brow as a grin pulled at her lips.

He chuckled. “Now, darling, I think you’re just seeing things.”

“Oh?” She asked, walking over to him. “So if I were to take my sweater off you’d keep looking at my eyes?”

He laughed awkwardly. “Well, I think a lot of people would look, honestly…”

She raised a brow. “If your brother was changing you’d look at his chest?”

He rolled his eyes. “No. Obviously not.”

She nodded. “But you’d have a problem looking in my eyes instead of at my chest?”

“Well you’re not my sister so I can look.”

“Well now you just sound like a creep.” Y/n teased.

Mattheo scowled. “Well now you’re not being fair.”

“Oh no?” She grinned, unzipping her hoodie and sliding it off her arms. “My eyes are up here, Mattheo.”

“Screw this.” Mattheo mumbled annoyed. He cupped y/n’s face gently before pulling her in and pressing his lips against hers.

She pulled away for air after what felt like a short time period. “You do that to all the girls who try to take their sweater off?” She asked dumbfounded.

He shook his head and laughed, his hands still cupping her face. “You’re so blind sometimes, y/n.”

She raised a brow. “And you’re not?”

His eyebrows furrowed. “No?”

“You sound unsure.” She teased. “But you are.”

He rolled his eyes, pulling his hands away. “You are more than I am.”

“I’ve been in love with you since I met you.” She said quietly. “And you never noticed.”

He grinned. “So the flirting was getting to you?” He teased.

“I’ll cut your throat.” She said quickly.

He chuckled. “I’ll take my chances.” He pulled her in for another kiss, pulling away when he heard footsteps getting closer to his room.

She quickly pulled back and stood by the bookshelf, getting a book off the shelf quickly. “What’s this one about?” She asked calmly.

Matthe cleared his throat. “Uh, uhm… werewolves.” He said after clearing his throat.

Tom knocked on the door frame. “Hey, there’s hot water on the stove right now. I’ve got to stop by the market to get some more stuff for dinner. I’ll be back in an hour or so.”

Mattheo grinned at y/n as Tom walked off to get his shoes on and leave for the market.

[daigina-3]

I can not stop thinking about Eddie Munson and Will Byers getting to know each other and initially Will is intimidated by him and honestly doesn’t WANT to like him- this is the guy whose party Mike joined, Mike who was so worried about party loyalty, and who didn’t even TELL him he joined another party right after he moved and so did Dustin and Lucas, when just last year none of them wanted anything to DO with D&D (or Will)- but the second time they meet or so, Eddie finds Will alone on a porch or something and they chat and Eddie lets Will talk about previous campaigns he’s run and when he talks about the ideas he had for that last campaign- the one where he wore those stupid wizard robes and he Lucas and Mike never finished- Eddie LIGHTS. UP. He thinks the ideas are genius, he asks questions, he even says he thinks the wizard costume idea is cool- although Will knows if he saw it in real life, no he wouldn’t- and Eddie invited him to talk about D&D, DM to DM.

And Will goes home with Eddie and Max after school one day- Max flipping them off playfully as she hops out of Eddie’s van and runs across the road to her house. And Eddie pulls out maps and books and when Will breaks out his binder full of sketches and notes Eddie LOSES. HIS. SHIT. Eddie has always sucked at drawing, music and story telling was his thing, and he is in awe of Will’s talent!! There’s a few sketches at the back, one each of previous characters the OG party had played. And Will takes out the one of Mike’s character and as he’s explaining Mike’s role in the campaign, Eddie GETS IT.. his “oh” moment.

And he realizes it wasn’t just D&D that made him wanna be nice and buddy buddy with this kid- he didn’t have to make all this effort, he could have let Wheeler’s friend just be and stay quiet on the sidelines like he seemed prone to do. But Eddie felt bad for the kid and wanted to reach out a hand and now he thinks he must have seen something of himself in Will Byers and it’s crystal clear now. Eddie’s loud, faux confidence with his jewelry and his hair and Will’s insecure, stooping frame look so different on the outside but they’re two sides of the same coin.

Artists, passionate creatives who throw themselves into their work to escape crushing reality, escape feeling different and like they’re on the outside looking in their whole life. Like they don’t deserve the one thing everyone takes so much for granted. They just dealt with it differently- Eddie leaning into the weird and using it as a shield and a wall of safety and Will, trying so hard to blend in until he just disappears from sight. And Eddie doesn’t know if he can do anything for this kid, if he can really make the fear- or the insecurity or the feeling of balancing on a tightrope that any of your closest friends might cut at any moment- any better for Will. But he knows he’s in it for good now. Him and his dumb, bleeding heart that bleeds the same red as Will Byers’.

And Will’s sitting on that couch talking strategy for hours, until Max comes over waving ten bucks around saying her moms at work and left money for pizza and Eddie’s rifling through a couple VHS tapes from Family Video and Will chips in for a two liter of Pepsi and they’re all sitting around Eddie’s trailer watching Labrynth and Will feels so comfortable and so safe, something he never thought he could feel in Hawkins, and he has no idea about all the good things to come, and the relief, and the community, and the tears. But he will.

[the-al-chemist]

The Beginning of a Symphony - Chapter 12

Summary: Ophelia makes her first step in becoming an accomplished woman.

OCs featured: Professor Hemlock @that-scouse-wizard

OCs mentioned: Adelia Selwyn @thatravenpuffwitch, Carolyn Nyberg @lifeofkaze, Siobhan Llewelyn @kc-and-co

Warnings: mentions of poverty and privilege.

February 1896

February had arrived, and that meant one thing: St Valentine’s Day was approaching, a celebration of love in all its forms and an opportunity for individuals to declare their affections to their unsuspecting sweethearts. Though Ophelia had never been excited for St Valentine’s Day before, now that she had made the epiphany that catching a wealthy suitor was her best means of securing a fortune of her own, she had a newfound appreciation for the occasion.

Of course, she would have her work cut out for her before she might expect to receive any attention from the opposite sex; she was not yet what one would call an accomplished woman, after all. Still, that was no matter; she had a whole fortnight to change that. And where better to start than in the music room?

Ophelia sat at the pianoforte and stared at the keys, irregularly alternating between ebony and ivory. They meant nothing to her yet, of course, but they soon would. She placed the tip of her forefinger against one of them, feeling the cool, firm ivory against her skin, and pressed down firmly.

A single note rang out, and Ophelia sang the note back to the pianoforte before choosing another, and singing that note out as well. She repeated the process over and over, playing and singing a dozen or so notes, before sighing heavily to herself. Learning to play the pianoforte was not nearly so simple as she had anticipated.

“Miss Burke?”

At the sound of a woman’s voice behind her, Ophelia turned in her seat. Professor Hemlock, the music teacher, was standing in the doorway behind her, a peculiar expression on her face.

“I was not aware that you were a singer, Miss Burke,” said Professor Hemlock, entering the room.

Ophelia stood up and bobbed into a curtsy, the way one fine lady should greet another. “I am not a singer, professor.”

“I disagree. You have perfect pitch.”

“I am afraid that I do not know quite what you mean.”

“The notes. You can replicate them exactly by ear.”

“Cannot everyone?” Ophelia asked, frowning as Professor Hemlock shook her head. “That surprises me, professor. I am not instructed in music. I cannot even play the pianoforte, when so many other girls my age do so almost effortlessly.”

“They have probably had more practise. I daresay that some have their own instruments at home.”

Ophelia considered Professor Hemlock’s words. It was true, both Adelia and Carolyn certainly had their own instruments. She had once heard that Siobhan Llewelyn of Ravenclaw house had no less than three pianofortes at her father’s manor. Ophelia almost envied her this, but she also knew that Siobhan’s family lived at a dragon sanctuary. She would not have wanted to share her home with a horde of dirty great dragons, not even for all the pianofortes in the world.

Still, she had not realised until this moment how much harder it was to become a fine lady when one was not already at least halfway to being one from the start. But she could not let her disadvantage stop her; she would just have to try harder. Perhaps she should try her hand at drawing instead of music, though it seemed that Professor Hemlock had other ideas for her.

“I wonder, Miss Burke, whether you would like to join the school choir,” the music teacher asked her. “It would be wonderful to have another voice, especially when that voice is as sweet as yours.”

“I had never considered the matter before,” said Ophelia, completely honestly. “Would I require new robes or songbooks?”

“I have all the songbooks, and your uniform will suffice. Though you will need a toad or a frog.”

“A toad or a frog?”

“Yes, it’s a peculiarity of the Hogwarts choir, a great tradition of which we are most proud,” Professor Hemlock informed Ophelia, who backed away from her, horrified. “However, if you do not have a frog or toad of your own, we may be able to provide you with-”

“No. No, thank you,” Ophelia said quickly. “I do not wish to be provided with one. Thank you for your offer but I am afraid that I must refuse. I should now like to take my leave of you.”

Ophelia sped away from Professor Hemlock, and once she was out of the music teacher’s sight, she shuddered. She was not a great lover of creatures - or any sort of lover of them, for that matter - let alone slimy, pond-dwelling beasts such as frogs or toads. Why the Hogwarts choir would be proud to sing with such beings she would never understand. It was a shame, for she had been rather pleased to learn that she had perfect pitch - whatever that was - but be that as it may, she could not imagine that any self-respecting lady would ever sing with a toad.

No bother. She was just going to have to try her hand at something else.

[finelinevogue]

Hello! For the continued part of the blurb in which Harry and YN get casted together; this is the reminder :))

Also here’s a thought about it:

Maybe since like Harry met Olivia on DWD, when Tangled started they're like broken up and so so to make it more realistic (It was more of a suggestion but just do you, your readers would love it either way) :))

Have a great day!!!

yes we will definitely continue this!! okay let’s go;

First day nerves were always the worst.

Whether it was first day of school, first day of a new job, first day at university or, in your case, first day on set, you always got a really bad case of the nervous butterflies. It was just unnerving having to meet new people and try and fit into the way everything worked around here. You were a very social person when you came out of your shell, but you could be a hard one to crack if you weren’t with the right people. Luckily for you this set definitely had the right people. After briefly meeting him on the red carpet for Don’t Worry Darling and then having him text you afterwards, you have to say that now working with Harry Styles seemed like a dream. His music and his charisma shaped him into someone you really liked and really wanted to know more about. He was your all time crush and unfortunately, for you, he’d probably gathered that by now - what with your blushing interview over him.

The weather was beautiful and the buzz on set was amazing. Everyone was rushing around and trying to busy themselves until filming started at 8am. You had just been in hair and makeup and were on your way to set now. The movie wasn’t being filmed in its’ complete order, so the first scene that you were filming was where Flynn climbs up the tower and meets Rapunzel for the first time. Where Harry meets you.

You couldn’t quite believe you were actually here. You were a Disney princess, and your favourite one at that. The purple dress was everything you’d imagined and you felt like a dreamy cloud in it. Your flip flops and robe covered most of your outfit though, to keep you warm until you were needed on set. Instead of going straight inside the filming building, you sat outside on a nearby bench hoping to calm your nerves.

To keep your mind preoccupied you went over and over your lines in your head, cursing yourself when you messed up over something so small. Your fingers picked away at each other, damaging the nail-art that had only recently been put on.

“You’re going to cost the makeup department a fortune if you keep doing that.” You didn’t need to look up to know that it was Harry who was approaching you, but you did anyways. He looked beautiful. His hair was styled the same way as Flynn Ryders and you could see the outlines of his costume underneath the coat he was wearing.

“Oh, sorry.” You laughed nervously, putting your head back down to stop him from catching your blush.

“Hey no need for apologises. Just wanted to make sure you were okay.” He spoke honestly and you felt the warmth of his words spread over your body, like butter on toast.

“Just really nervous.” You admitted shyly.

“Can I…” He pointed towards the bench space next to you.

“‘Course, yes.” You patted the space encouragingly and watched him pull the trousers up from his thighs to sit more comfortably. God, those thighs. You cleared your throat to detach the dirty thoughts from the back of your mind.

It was quiet until he spoke again. “What’s your favourite Disney movie?”

“What?” You asked confused and Harry repeated the question as calmly as he did last time. You expected him to start giving you words of advice, not asking you your favourite Disney movie. “Oh, um, Tangled of course.”

“You know you don’t just have to say that because you’re the lead actress in the movie.” He nudged you with his shoulder, making you laugh as you swayed away and then back to him.

“Yeah I know.”

“Pity.”

“Why?”

“Just would’ve taken you for more of an avid Lion King fan.” He joked, his dimpled smile boasting its’ way onto his cheeky face.

“I am, actually. I just, there’s something about Rapunzel that draws me to her. I don’t know whether it’s her childhood was similar to mine—”

“Wait you were abducted by a weirdly attractive evil woman who claims to be your— wait! So you’re a princess?” Before you can answer he knelt down before you, capturing your hands in his - neither of your missing the tingles of passion when your skin touched skin - and holding them tightly, whilst he began speaking again, “M’lady, forgive me for being so simple.”

“Harry! What are you doing, y’fool?” You laughed at him, trying to get him to sit back next to you as you’d drawn the attention from a few crew members.

“I’m grovelling at the feet of my future Queen.” He said so matter-of-factly you almost, nearly, truly believed him. Chuffing actor.

“Get up you oaf!” And he did with a little more persuasion. “What I meant was that my childhood was quite isolated and lonely - I didn’t have many friends at all.” You spoke from the heart, not expecting Harry’s eyebrows to furrow with confusion or for him to look so sad.

“I’m sorry.” You knew he meant it.

“At least I have Flo, though, now.” You smiled at the thought of your amazing best friend, whom also happened to be Harry’s most recent co-star. Their performances in Don’t Worry Darling were second to none and you were so proud of Flo for delivering such an awe inspiring delivery to her character Alice.

“And me. Don’t forget me.”

“I could never.” You turned to look at him, unprepared to find him staring back at you with hearts in his eyes. You blushed and had to look away, but you rested the side of your head on his shoulder out of natural instinct. It felt right and it felt comforting. “Thank you, though Harry.”

“Always.” He rested his head back against yours, both of you just watching the busy people prepare for your first scene. The nerves had gone though, now, and you were feeling more at peace with yourself - and with him. “Oh and Y/N?”

“Yeah?”

“I think that you’re drawn to Rapunzel, because she embodies your courage, kindness, beauty and compassion.” Your heart swelled at his words. You never thought someone could think of you this way, let alone Harry. You pushed your head tighter against his shoulder, wanting him to wordlessly know that you were really grateful for him.

“Smooth, Harry!” He laughed with you, “How long have you been rehearsing that?”

“Too many other lines to remember to be learning them ones too. That, Y/N, was all ad-lib.” And your heart swooned a little more again. He was just so perfect and he made you feel safe. There wasn’t a good enough phrase or word in the English dictionary to justify how good of a person he was or how much he meant to you.

“You’re too good.”

“Too good to maybe ask you out for a drink after today?” You brought your head away from his shoulder in shock from what he just asked. Harry, the Harry Styles, was asking you, Y/N L/N, out for a drink. What?

“No, I think i’ll let you take me out for a drink.” You smiled at him, admiration sitting heavily in your eyes that there was no way he could miss it.

“Yeah?” His eyes glinted back at yours.

“Only if you stop with the compliments, i’m so bad for accepting them.”

“Hmm, no can do.” You rolled your eyes and reached over to take his hand in yours and he instantly linked his fingers with yours. It felt right. Warm. Safe.

“Fine, but don’t be alarmed if I just jump you for being too nice to me or something.” Your words came out faster than your brain could process and your eyes widened once you realised what you’d just said to him. You’d just threatened to jump Harry Styles. Fuck sake. And now he wad laughing, at you or with you you didn’t know.

“Alright, but you don’t be alarmed if I do nothing to stop you.”

Now you understood why he didn’t need to ask what was wrong or if you were okay, his presence was comforting enough to make your nerves dissipate and focus on the only thing that now mattered; him.

[slytherinspired]

Firsts - A Sirius Black Imagine

Pairings : Young Sirius Black x Reader

Warnings : smut, obviously, unprotected sex, swearing, smoking, alcohol and mild drug use.

Hi love! I did it! Beware, it is quite long, I sort of took the liberty to provide some context, but I hope you'll like it! :)

Masterlist

Sirius is looking back at himself in the mirror, wincing at his reflection. He recognizes his traits sparingly; his dark curls falling to his shoulders, his mocking smirk, his overall nonchalant expression. He knows who he is, but the clothes on his back are completely robbing him of his own identity. He glances bitterly at his beloved leather coat sitting on the back of his desk chair and sighs. The ridiculous black suit he’s wearing barely fits him. He knows it probably used to belong to one of his distant cousins and that it has been quickly and grossly recut to fit him by the house-elf. His parents are downstairs in the drawing room, waiting for him to join them so they can leave for this stupid reception. 

He doesn’t even know what it is about, except that he’s going to this apparent important new Ministry guy’s house who threw a sort of lame introduction party, since he just arrived in London with his family. And what he knows is that he’s going to spend the whole night with the type of people he doesn’t want to be assimilated with. From what he heard, the host of the reception just arrived at the Ministry of Magic to help with the passing of some bill for Muggleborn regulations, as awful as it sounds. He’d like to avoid to go, but Walburga has the upper hand on him, and nothing in the world would convince his dear mother to leave her eldest son behind, knowing full well that if she does so, Sirius is going to get the fuck out of there and join these Muggles mingling Potters fools. 

‘You look dapper,’ says a soft voice behind him.

Standing in the doorway, Sirius’ youngest brother observes him, grinning.

‘Shut up,’ he replies, annoyed by the stupid smile on Regulus’ face. 

His brother crosses his arms and steps into his bedroom. He looks around like he just stepped into some kind of freak show. His gaze rests a little longer on a certain poster. Sirius glances at the Muggle woman dressed in a revealing red swimsuit standing straight in the middle of the picture. He smirks, and caught-red handed, Regulus turns away quickly. She always was his brother's favourite, after all. Whether he wants to admit it or not.

‘Are you going to behave this time?’ he asks, stepping in front of his eldest brother.

Sirius shrugs, trying to adjust the bowtie strangling him. For Merlin’s sake, he thinks, it feels like he’s suffocating already. 

‘I always behave, brother dear,’ he replies, trying to undo the knot around his neck. ‘I just don’t behave the way they’d like me to,' referring to their parents.

Regulus shakes his head and starts fiddling with his brother’s bowtie and adjust it perfectly in one fell swoop, as if it were child’s play. Once the knot is properly buckled, he taps Sirius’ chest in an encouraging gesture, and frowns when he feels something hard hidden in the inside pocket of his brother’s vest. 

‘Really?’ he asks. 

Sirius snorts.

‘Just a bit of courage,’ he admits.

‘And how much courage did you drink already?’ 

‘Not enough, apparently,’ Sirius replies, thinking about the full flask of warm whiskey tucked inside his suit. 

He’d honestly rather be stuck in detention with Snivellus for the rest of his existence then go to this lame-ass party. That alone justifies the whiskey amply.

After a few detours in the city, he finds himself in front of an imposing white manor situated in one of London’s richest Square. Oh, this is going to be a long night, he thinks. Not only it seems like the host is wizard-rich, but he’s also everything rich, period. He rolls his eyes, there’s no issue. Walburga is pressing her long and emaciated fingers into his son’s arm as they step into the great hall of the house. The interior is as posh as the exterior, with its grand marble staircase curving up to the upper floor and its giant diamond-like chandelier hanging over their heads. For God’s sake, is it a live classical assemble he hears playing in the back? As his mother pushes him further inside, the sound of light chatter reaches his ears. He sees his father, dressed in his horrible robes, already on his way to speak with some old acquaintances, quickly followed by Regulus. He scans the principal room for a quiet corner, but it’s filled with this bunch of pricks, and he’s fighting with all his might the panic that is taking over his mind. He finally spots a free corner next to a big window and he walks straight ahead in that direction, hoping no one will recognize him on the way. 

‘I heard his son has found some work as a doctor,’ he hears a shrill voice say. 

‘A Muggle doctor? How peculiar!’ says another voice.

This is exactly the kind of chatter Sirius doesn’t want to hear. In no way he thinks he’s superior because he was graced with magic powers at birth. It is so suffocating, and he feels so incredibly small and inadequate, drowning in this sea of close-minded guests. 

He studies them, recognizes some familiar faces from Hogwarts, but most of them are Slytherins and are not close at all to use them as an escape. A waiter walks in front of him, holding a tray where champagne flutes fill themselves up. He grabs one and drink it in one sip. He’s already quite tipsy, but he doesn’t care. He’d rather be intoxicated right now to bury this hatred deep within. God, he needs air. 

He sees Walburga looking for him in the room, and she’s walking next to a tall and handsome man. For Godric’s sake, why is she walking straight in his direction? The man next to her doesn’t look as old as his mother, but the grey strands in his black hair betrays his age. He looks posh, and haughty. 

‘This is my eldest son, Sirius,’ says his mother in a toneless voice. ‘Sirius, this his our host, Mr Santorini.’

‘Pleased to meet your, Mr Black,’ says the man while he extends his hand. 

Sirius gets up on his feet, subtly struggling to find his balance, under the duo’s concerned stare. He rapidly and weakly shakes the man’s hand and nods. Ashamed, Walburga shoots darts at her son and quickly turns away from him.

‘My youngest, Regulus, is doing quite well at Hogwarts, see, he’s - ...’ her voice fades away.  

Sirius closes his eyes; he needs to find some distraction. And what could be better than the little thing he has brought to the party that is currently hidden in his pocket behind the whiskey flask? He needs to feel something else than the dreadful thoughts he has right now. He struts to the giant marble staircase and finds his way on the upper level without attracting attention to him. That is one advantage when no one cares about you; not being seen. The voices downstairs are slowly fading away and he feels already so much better.

He runs a nervous hand in his dark locks, feeling quite hot, with this bowtie strangling him. There must be a door leading outside. He tries to open the first one on his right, but the handle doesn’t bulge; it’s locked. And Walburga has confiscated his wand at the beginning of the summer upon his return from Hogwarts, so there’s no use. He sighs and adventures further away in the hall.

He has more luck with the second door, and finds himself into a deserted bedroom. His eyes make out the giant bed over the central wall of the room, and spots some sealed boxes on the floor. The translucent curtains discreetly veil the large windows in front of him, and he opens one widely and lights himself a cigarette without a care, pacing into the room nervously. He sees some pictures resting on a vintage dresser on the opposite wall. There are rows of books in the built-in bookcases, and even some disperse vinyls taking up some of the space.  He’s clearly trespassing someone’s intimacy, but whose? Sirius walks to the dresser and opens up the first drawer. A tickling feeling in his stomach at the sight of the several underwear – even in the darkness – makes him wonder how long has it been since he’s been intimate with someone. The last time was before school ended, with Mallory, and it was just snogging. He never went all the way... He chuckles discreetly at the thought and taps the ashes of his cigarette on the floor. Fuck this house, fuck this bedroom, and fuck this posh Pureblood family. 

‘Mm, mm.’

Someone has cleared their throat behind him. He jumps, and tries to hide the cigarette away. 

‘Please, don’t stop for me,’ says a girl in the doorway. 

He can’t make up her traits in the darkness, but she sounds young. She steps right in front of him.

‘I don’t think you should be up here,’ she says.

He feels like a child, caught red-handed. He feels suddenly very trapped. 

‘I heard the owner of this house is quite severe,’ she adds, taking the cigarette away from him, inhaling the smoke into her lungs, and exhaling. ‘If he found us in his daughter’s room, I think he’d torture us without any remorse.’

‘His daughter’s room?’ he replies nervously.

She nods, giving him back his cigarette.

‘A real pest.’

There is an awkward silence. 

‘What were you doing here?’ she adds. 

‘Looking for a way out,’ he replies in all honesty. ‘What about you?’

‘Just about the same.’ She glances at the cigarette. ‘You might want to put it out now.’

‘I really don’t,’ he replies, taking one last whiff, ‘but when do I get what I want anyway?’

He throws it on the hard-wood floor indifferently and follows the stranger in the hallway. She turns around to take a good look at him.

‘I’m Y/N, by the way – ‘ 

He feels like his legs are going to flinch. He doesn’t know if it’s the sudden nicotine rush, or the champagne mixed with the whiskey, or the lights in the hallway shinning over Y/N’s green doe eyes staring at him, or her long black hair waving on her back, or her delicious pink lips, or the gentle freckles on her nose, but he’s suddenly feeling quite light-headed.

‘You okay there?’ she laughs. ‘What’s your name?’

He shakes his head, trying to regain his thoughts. 

‘I’m, er. I’m Si – ‘should he really tell her his real name? ‘I’m Sid.’

‘Sid,’ she repeats. ‘Well, Sid, you don’t look too good.’

‘I don’t feel too good,’ he admits. 

Her expression changes. She’s not amused anymore. She’s pitying him. 

‘Follow me,’ she says, grabbing his hand like she has known him forever, dragging him to the end of the wall where they cross a door and end up on a small balcony overlooking the deserted garden. 

‘How to you know this place?’ he asks, resting his arms on the guardrail, humming the fresh crisp air. 

‘Hung out with the pest earlier,’ she replies.

‘Not anymore?’

‘Told you, she’s a pest. I can’t leave, though. I’m sort of stuck here.’

‘So am I.’

She laughs lightly. The moonlight shines on her beautiful face, and her traits are so soft, and if he was much more like himself, he’d try to charm her the way he knows how. 

‘So, Sid. What are we avoiding?’ she asks away. 

‘My parents, I guess,’ he replies, taking out the flask of whiskey of his pocket.

He takes a big sip and hands it to her. She considers it for a moment and grabs it. The wind flies through her hair, and her perfume reaches his nostrils, a perfectly well-balanced mix of vanilla and gentle notes of citrus. The fragrance shoots up his nose and wafts around his brain. Fuck, she’s so beautiful.

‘What about them?’ she asks away, wincing when she swallows the liquor. 

He snorts. He doesn’t want to talk about his parents right now. Not when the prettiest girl he’s ever seen is standing right in front of him. He has something else on his mind now. 

‘Your accent,’ he says, switching subjects. ‘It’s not from here.’

Y/N nods. 

‘I grew up all over the place, but mostly America.’

‘You don’t sound American.’

She smiles, revealing a straight row of perfectly pearly white teeth. 

‘My family, we’re from Sicily.’

He nods.

‘It’s in Italy – ‘

‘I know where Sicily is, I’m not stupid,’ he replies harshly, a bit offended.  

But Y/N chuckles lightly, and her soft laugh brings his attitude down. He can’t help but stare at her. She’s a bit overdressed to his taste, but hey, so is he. He wonders what is hiding underneath that navy dress of hers, and if her skin is as soft as he imagines it is. He needs to calm down. 

‘First time in London, then?’

She nods. 

‘What do you think?’ he asks, locking eyes with her.

She licks her lower lip without realizing it.

‘Well, I don’t hate the accent,’ she teases. 

Praised be Godric. 

‘Tell me, Sid, you seem to be about my age, yet you’re drunk like an old man with a drinking problem, and you probably smoke like a city boy. I keep wondering if I really should be alone with you right now.’

‘Are you afraid?’ he asks.

She shakes her head.

‘Rarely.’

‘To be honest, Y/N,’ he says, pronouncing every syllable of her name like he could actually taste it, ‘I was alone up there to find a quiet spot for this.’

He shows up the joint between his fingers. She squints for a short moment and smiles.

‘I see.’

Y/N’s eyes bored into him. He wonders if he has crossed a line. He barely knows her, after all.  

‘Let’s go somewhere more private, then,’ she suggests, grabbing his hand. He doesn’t even have the time to appreciate the softness of her skin when he feels himself disapparating, his body swirling in every direction, and a sudden urge of panic takes hold off him. When he reapparates in a loud pop, he shouts:

‘What the hell are you doing? Are you bloody insane?’

‘What, did you never apparate before?’

‘Yes, I did but -,’ he is freaking out, Walburga must think he’s left and is probably fulminating. ‘My mother, she’s going to hex me! Bring us back!’

‘Why?’ Eliana asks, intrigued. ‘How would she know?’

Sirius shakes his head nervously. 

‘She placed some sort of charm on me, I’m not allowed to leave her sight. If she knows I left the premises, she’ll find me and – ‘ 

He stops himself from saying too much. Perhaps it would be a bit intense to share with the girl what would Walburga do to him. At least, he wouldn’t have to explain the healing bruises on his ribcage.

‘Relax, Sid. We’re still on the premises.’

He looks around and spots the house in the distance through a small window. Are they in some sort of guest house? A garden shed? There is nothing around him, he’s just standing on a mat. Relieved, he sits down, running a hand in his hair. Y/N joins him and creates a small fire by flicking her wand, enough to dimly light the room they are in. 

‘You’re actually scared of your parents. Why?’

Sirius chuckles. He’s not scared, he’s terrified of them. She points out the little stick he forgot he was holding between his fingers. 

‘Shall we?’ she suggests.

‘Who says I want to share?’

She pouts adorably. He lights it up and he takes a good breath of the substance and exhales slowly, indulging the heavy smoke, his lungs burning, and a light sensation rushes to his head. Them Muggles can also do magic, he thinks to himself. Under her curious eyes, he passes the stick in her delicate hands, and observes her. Her delicious lips reach it, and she slowly breathes it in. She starts coughing, tears running to her eyes.

‘Wait,’ he laughs, ‘is this your first time?’ 

She presses her hand to her rounded chest, laughing uncontrollably. Sirius shakes his head, following her laugh, and explains to her how to actually get the smoke to her lungs. 

‘There, yes – keep it still a second, let it -, yes, good,’ it’s like teaching children how to mount a broom, ‘and exhale. Brilliant.’

He waits a second before taking another whiff. Y/N’s mouth curves into a smile and she closes her eyes slowly. 

‘Oh,’ she exhales, ‘this is – ‘

‘I know,’ replies Sirius, smiling. ‘I know.’

‘Oh,’ she repeats. 

He stares at her, admiring her delicate features. Her eyes are still closed and he sees her falling on her back, completely relaxed. If his mother saw him right now, smoking pot with a random girl he met at this rich guy’s party, she’d have a good reason to use the Cruciatus curse on him for once. Or she’d cut his head before he could say he’s sorry. He decides to join Y/N and rests his back on the floor. He lays his head just beside hers and fixes the ceiling. He feels better now, and it’s not just the drugs. 

‘I feel so heavy,’ she says, sliding her hands on her naked arms. 

She turns her head and looks at him. 

‘Do you feel heavy?’

‘Kind of,’ he laughs. 

He doesn’t particularly feel heavy. In fact, he feels relieved, and mostly, he feels horny. Good god.  

‘What is there to do in London at night?’ she asks.

‘Mm,’ he hesitates. ‘Pubs, clubs, walking around Southbank, I guess.’

‘Never went to a pub,’ she admits.

He wants to run his finger on her cheek. He wants to grab her face and press his lips on hers.

‘You’re kidding,’ he replies, still fixing that beautiful mouth of hers. 

She shakes her head lightly, and a stroke of her long hair falls in her eyes. Her little red stained eyes. He smiles at the view, and slowly leans closer, replacing the stroke of black hair behind her ear. 

‘I’ll bring you to a pub, one day,’ he mutters, daydreaming out loud. 

‘Wouldn’t you mother kill you if you did?’ she jokes. 

‘She would. It would be worth the risk, though.’

She turns on her stomach and rests her head on her hands. He keeps staring at her, detailing everything. 

‘What are you looking at?’ she chuckles.

‘Just admiring the view,’ he replies frankly.  

She would blush if she wasn’t all flustered already. There’s an odd adrenaline spluttering inside of him as he feels her close, and his pulse quickens and he’s feeling so hot right now, he’s melting into the rug. There’s a comfortable silence between them, and they both enjoy it for a couple of minutes. There is something about this girl, this nonchalant attitude, and her mesmerizing eyes, and her accent, and the way her body moves when she finally sits down again, pulling her dress over her thighs to sit comfortably, making him lose his fucking mind. If he weren’t so distracted by her presence, he’d be sweet talking to her, like he’s so used to do with other girls. But he’s simply incapable of doing so, like she’s robbed him of his means. 

‘We should go back, they’re going to be looking for us,’ she whispers, showing him her hand to help him sit back. 

But he doesn’t want to go back and mingle with the people he hates. He wants to be alone with her, if it is just to stay motionless on this rug in her company. He takes her hand and sits back up, and their eyes lock again, and they stare at each other, and he’s wondering if he’s hallucinating someone so perfect to help him cope with this emptiness he feels all the time. She absentmindedly licks her lips, taunting him, and he has to remind himself how to breathe, as his lips quirk hesitantly, sighing out loud to stop himself from pining her underneath him. 

‘Yeah,’ he stutters, like a fucking coward, and then he clears his throat and steadies his pulse and sternly instructs himself to get it together, dude. James would be laughing at him if he saw him right now. 

But they both stay there, motionless. He can feel the drugs running away from his bloodstream, he’s on another high now, another rush, and it has nothing to do with it. He can’t stop staring at her lips. Her expression washes over him in waves, and he pins a hesitant smile on his face, hoping it will distract her from the bulge growing down there.

‘Or we could just, you know, stay here for a while,’ she suggests.

For fuck’s sake. 

He’s only able to gulp and nod, his cock painfully growing thick through the fabric. He tries to hide the bump by placing his arm over his legs, but instead it catches her attention down there, and her eyes quickly spots it, but she innocently acts like she’s unaware of the effect she has on him. If he could only smack his lips on hers. 

Her emerald eyes are wide open, she leans in and presses her soft lips on his, and he’s never felt so relieved in his entire life, her mouth is warm and soft, and he can actually run his hands in her soft hair, and he can hear his heart hammering in his ears, and she actually lets out a discreet moan in his mouth, and fuck, there he is, gone, he knows there is no way back from there. 

He feels her hands slowly unbuckling his belt and removing those atrocious trousers, and he follows through, pulling up her dress to reveal her skin. He removes his shirt, he has dreamt all night to rip it off his body from the second he put it on, and now she’s pushing him on his back on the hard rug and places kisses in the crook of his neck, sliding her tongue all the way down, and he knows where she’s heading, but he can’t let her do that, or he’s going to cum already. He grabs her head softly, and while he’s busy sticking his tongue into her mouth, he’s unclasps her top, tosses it on the floor, and starts licking her round breasts, circling her hard nipples with his tongue. He realizes it is actually the first time he’s allowed to touch naked breasts, and Merlin, this is so much better when there’s no fabric covering them. 

He pins her small body under him, and he slowly moves down on her. He admires her ribcage moving up and down, and he can hears her heavy breathing, and he feels like he can’t hold it anymore. He runs his lips on her skin, down her stomach, to the birth of her underwear, pulling them down very gently. Sirius can’t believe he just met her a couple of hours ago; he feels like he has been desiring her for an eternity. There was a before her, and there’s now – and all the shit he’s been dealing with since school ended is now tucked away in the back of his mind. He caresses with his lips the soft bump between her legs, indulging the new sensation, and then just takes a mouthful of her sex. Her breathing stops, her ribcage is suspended for a second, and then she breathes out and grabs the back of his head while he tastes her. It’s sweet, and warm, and wet, and salty at the same time, and it’s so fucking good.

She’s squirming and writhing beneath him, her subtle moans amplifying. The gasps she makes sends sparks of unbearable pleasure through him, and he feels dizzy, like his heart is about to explode, ready to jump out of his chest at any moment. He slides one finger into her, and then another, and she spams around his fingers. He observes her perfect body tensing at his touch, cupping one breast with one hand while she orgasms into his mouth, her fluids mixing with his saliva. Her face is flushed and her pupils are dilated, and he could very well be on this high for the rest of his existence. But she places kisses on his lips, tasting herself on him, and his cock is so hard, he can’t help but groan when he feels her hand grabs his sex through the fabric of his underwear, slowly stroking him. It is pure torture.

He feels the small piece of clothing covering him sliding down his legs, and he kicks it on the floor. She stares at him in the eyes and licks her fingers, then moves her hand down there again, gently applying pressure on his hard-on. Sirius’ head tilt to the back, blood rushes through him. That is a different story when it’s someone’s else hand, isn’t? 

She lays down in front of him, and he follows her as she guides is cock at the entrance of her sex, and it’s so wet, how is he going to pull through? He’s shaking with apprehension but pure pleasure. She suddenly frowns.

‘Wait,’ she hesitates, ‘is this your first time?’

He nods. There’s so point in lying. 

‘Do you want to stop?’

Of course, he doesn’t want to stop. He shakes his head, and her face lits up. 

They kiss and he presses the tip of his cock into her, slowly, to get every sensation right, and he closes his eyes and, oh this feels so fucking good, and he can’t help but exhales of relief when he feels the warmth, and he hears her gasping underneath him. He’s sinking into her, and she pushes his length even farther by raising her hips. Why does it feel so good? He starts to pace inside her, like he has known what to do forever, increasing the tempo, and she moans under him. He moves swiftly now, trying with all his might to not just release himself off the pressure. She throws her head back into the rug, he feels sweat pearling at the birth of his forehead, his locks fall into his eyes, and he accelerates his pace and presses her legs on her stomach, and oh my god, this is even better. 

She presses her right hand on his chest, running her fingers over his hard stomach, avoiding the bruises, detailing each parcel of his body. She looks back up and pushes her lips on his, and their tongues meet, and he’s completely melting into her. She finally bucks her hips tightly and Sirius hisses, he can’t hold up anymore. Oh, he wants to hear her say his name – if only he had given his real one – but she lets a loud ‘fuck’ escape her mouth, and she’s damp with sweat, and he never seen something so beautiful, he slams into her harder and faster, he groans while his grip tightens around her delicate waist. He feels almost he’s in pain and something stronger than life itself is burning him; yes, he’s burning up down there, he can’t hold it anymore, his whole body is on fire, he glances at her one last time, and he lets out a guttural growl, while feeling his insides pushing his soul out, and for a short moment, he thinks he’s dying, spilling his warm seed into her, filling her up while’s he petrified, hanging between dream and reality, thinking his heart stopped beating. 

It is only half an hour later that he comes back to the manor, flustered and feeling out of his body, followed by Y/N. She’s even prettier under the warm lights, blushed cheeks, and he relives in his mind what just happened over and over again. That wasn’t bad for a first time, he thinks. 

‘Y/N! Papà has been looking for you forever, where were you?’, a young girl is staring at her. 

She shares similar traits with Y/N, but she looks younger, about Regulus’ age. Her arms are crossed, and she observes Sirius oddly, in a manner that makes him believe she can easily guess what Y/N was doing all the time they’ve been away. 

‘Where is he?’ asks Y/N. 

The young girl points at the host, the man he shook hands with earlier, speaking with Sirius’ father and a couple of older men in the corner of the room. 

‘Clara,’ mumbles Y/N with a threatening expression. ‘non dire niente a Papà.’

The young girl rolls her eyes and leaves them. Sirius frowns. Wait a minute, is this girl... 

‘Didn’t you tell me the host’s daughter was -’ he mumbles, feeling his hands becoming moist.

‘A pest,’ she smiles. ‘My sister.’ 

[the-slytherin-writer-12]

could you make a story of sirius being a father to a a plus size girl and him helping her as she goes through schooling and bullying and her insecurity in the mirror maybe?

Thank you for sending in this ask! Personally, as a plus-sized girl, I relate to this. So I’ll try and write it like I would feel.

Lovely

Pairing: Sirius x daughter!Plus-sized!slytherin!reader

Writing type: blurb

Warnings: talks of bullying

A/N: I changed it up to curvy!reader. Like, she’s still plus sized but shes super curvy. Also, no Voldy, Lily and James survive.

General Masterlist

*imagine that is Ben Barnes and someone else. But we love Oliver and Mia*

Being plus sized was one thing.

Being curvy was another.

Being both was… hard.

Y/N grew up on the thicker side. But, as she got older, she began to develop curves. Her curves became more prominent before any of her other classmates. You would think that curves would draw positive attention to her, but it only drew negative attention.

She was constantly bullied and made fun of for her curves and weight. She was always insecure when it came to clothes and other things. She would always want to go by herself or with her Aunt Lily to get her robes and/or clothes for school.

Boys would constantly laugh at her, even boys in Slytherin-her own house. Crabbe and Goyle being the main goons who did. Draco tried to stop them from making fun of her, but he wanted to uphold his status. He himself, though, never made fun of her.

One boy, though, always encouraged her and never looked at her differently.

Harry.

Harry always treated her the same. He never made comments on her weight and honestly never thought of her any different. In fact, he asked her on a date the summer before 6th year.

Y/N stood in front of her mirror in her undergarments, looking at herself. She looked at her stretch marks and her curves. Tears welled up in her eyes and slowly made their way down her cheeks. She heard a knock on her door and wiped her face, turning around towards her bed and grabbing a hoodie and some shorts. She threw them on quickly and cleared her throat.

“Come in,” she called out. The door opened and her father walked in. He noticed her tear stained and her red-rimmed eyes.

“Hi, sweetheart,” he spoke softly. Y/N forced a grin. “Care to tell me what’s wrong?” Her grin dropped and she pulled her sleeves over her hands.

“Nothin’,” she mumbled. He closed her door and walked over to stand in front of her. He placed his hands on her shoulders and looked in her eyes.

“I know when somethings wrong, mon étoile,” he whispered. Y/N looked into her fathers gray eyes and began to cry again. He pulled her into his chest and kissed her hair.

“Why would Harry want to go out with me? I’m too big,” she sobbed into his shirt. Sirius’s heart broke at his daughter’s words.

“Y/N, ma petite fille, you’re not too big. You’re beautiful just the way you are. Just because you’re a little more matured physically than your friends doesn’t mean you’re too big. You are not too big. You’re a beautiful, powerful, amazing young witch. I guarantee you that Harry likes everything about you, including your size,” he spoke softly. Y/N sniffled into her father’s shirt and looked up at him.

“Thank you so much, daddy,” she whispered. Sirius smiled and kissed her foreahead.

“Of course, mon étoile. Now get dressed for your date. He will be here any moment,” he said. Y/N sniffled and smiled a tiny smile. He let go of her and walked towards the door. As he opened it, he turned around to her with a boyish grin. “By the way, you get your figure from your mother.”

Y/N giggled as he dramatically walked out, but not without a wink.

[dollslayer]

Artistic Intention

Artist!Steve x Reader

Summary: Steve's doing well in his life drawing class, but a new muse throws him for a loop in the back supply room.

W/C: 2,374

Warnings: NO MINORS, p in v smut, unprotected sex, public sex, breeding kink if you squint, swearing

A/N: Hey! I wrote this for @buckyownsmylife 1st anniversary challenge! I love me a good AU so I chose Artist AU+ exhibitionism. Happy tumblr-versary! I made Steve a shy boi in this lol. If you liked this fic pls reblog/comment!! Check out my other fics too! Cheers!

Main Masterlist

It’s 1:45pm and Steve is desperately trying to weave his way through the crowd of people before him. His art folio hits everyone and thing as he makes feeble attempts to apologize to everyone for the bulkiness of the case. He can’t be too apologetic though, he’s running late for his 2pm life drawing class and if he doesn’t make it the professor will close the door in his face.

This is the longest 15 minutes in Steve’s life, he figures. He finally makes it up the steps and jogs up the stairs. His folio hits his leg, he winces but doesn’t stop, he’s only got a few minutes to make it up to the second floor and get himself situated behind an easel. He’s nearly out of breath when he makes it to the second floor and he’s trying to check his watch while running for the door. Two minutes.

Steve bursts through the doors and exhales loudly, he’s not sure he’s ever felt so relieved. His feeling of relief is short lived and quickly replaced with embarrassment as he realizes every pair of eyes in the room is on him. Every pair except for one. The new model for class this week, you slowly turn your head to reveal sharp eyes and a coy smile. He feels himself blush under your gaze and mutters an apology before getting settled in an easel directly in front of you.

He tries his best to focus on getting his paper and charcoals set out in an effort to shrug off the mixture of humiliation and lingering anxiety he had about being late. He feels his heartbeat begin to steady and he lets himself relax a little bit.

“Good afternoon, everyone. We have a new model in class this week, as I’m sure you’ve noticed. She’ll be keeping her current pose for one hour and repositioning for the second half of class. Mr. Rogers, since you had no problem running late I assume you’ll have no problem staying late as well. You’ll clean up after class.” The professor concludes with a short nod.

Steve sighs but nods his head in acknowledgement. He catches you smirking in amusement again at him and he can’t help but to blush all over again. He feels just like he did in high school, embarrassing himself in front of pretty girls. He sighs and picks up a piece of charcoal.

Steve decides to get a proper look at you and almost regrets it when he chokes on his own breath. You’re gorgeous, you’re coy and charming, you’re a muse. He’s still blushing because you’re naked, and beautiful and the feeling of humiliation hits him even more. He’s been in this class before, he knows the models will be naked but none of them had ever caught his attention as more than a subject, none of them were you.

He takes his time admiring your natural curves and appreciates your figure. You are so full of natural beauty, your bare face is perfectly flawed and the sun shining through the window highlights your skin tone. He can see why you were chosen to model for class, you’re perfect. He has to discreetly adjust himself and shuffles his jacket into his lap as he feels his pants tighten. He’s flustered all over again and realizes everyone else is already ahead of him. He puts charcoal to paper and gets to work.

____

As class goes on Steve’s sketch is coming along nicely. He can’t bring himself to look at you for more than a few seconds at a time for fear of getting hard again. When he sends furtive glances your way he catches you looking back at him with that smile of yours. He swears at one point you raise an eyebrow at him like you’re amused by him. He brushes it off and keeps drawing.

Class comes and goes much faster than he anticipated. He wants to pack up and get out as quickly as he can when he remembers that he has to clean up the room. He lets out a groan and waits for everyone else to leave. Now it’s only you, him, and the professor who are left in the room.

“Mr. Rogers I’ve got to get out of here, I trust you can put easels away without incident?” The professor asks. Steve nods and the professor turns to you. “Thank you for your work today, you can collect your pay from the front office. I look forward to having you as a model for this class.”

You smile and nod, waving goodbye to him. By now you’ve slipped on a robe and are reaching for your bag but it feels like you’re lingering. It’s just now that Steve realizes the two of you are alone. He swallows thickly, trying not to pay attention to you out of the corner of his eye. He begins to pack away his own drawing but not before giving it one final assessment. He can’t help himself from his own critical eye, analyzing mistakes and appreciating triumphs.

“Is that supposed to be me?”

Steve jumps in surprise, you’re peering right over his shoulder. He’s caught off guard by your presence and also by your voice, do you always sound this sultry?

He swallows and nods before taking a deep breath. Wiping his sweaty palms on his jeans he turns to face you.

“Uh, yeah. Yes it is. I don’t think it’s very good but I’m trying” He anxiously starts making excuses, assuming you hate it.

But you don’t. You just smile thoughtfully at him and nod.

“It’s good. At least, I think it is.”

“Th-thanks, thank you.”

“Do you always cut it that close or were you just hoping to stay late with me?”

Steve sputters at your boldness. He has to remind himself that he’s not that scrawny, measly kid he used to be. But he can’t help but feel like he is with his sweaty palms and short breaths.

“I, I um, I didn’t realize there’d be a new model. Was kind of expecting the old one. Not- not that there’s anything wrong with you, of course! I, sorry I didn’t mean to imply that, you’re- you’re beautiful too, you’re perfect really, I just. Oh jesus.” He spews the words out faster than his brain can keep up and he’s making a complete fool of himself.

He can’t bear to look at you, so he starts closing up easels and stacking stools. He doesn’t notice you ogling his muscles through his tight t-shirt.

“You think I’m beautiful?” You ask innocently.

“I-, um, yes. I think you’re very beautiful, if you don’t mind me saying so.” Steve answers honestly.

He moves some stools to the large supply room in the back of the classroom and you follow him.

“I think you’re beautiful too. And cute. You’re practically falling all over yourself, it’s sweet”

Are you talking to him? He still sees himself as he was back then, having a hard time thinking that anyone would look at him and find him attractive. It’s why he’s so beside himself now. You’re so completely beautiful and self-assured, there’s no way you’re talking to him. He sets down the stack he’s carrying and realizes you’re much closer than he thought. You’re inches away.

“What do you like the most about me? Is it my body? Don’t think I didn’t notice you readjusting your pants at the beginning of class.” You move even closer and Steve thinks you must be able to hear his heart beat because it’s about to come right out of his chest.

Your hands are on his chest and you have to lean up on your tip-toes for your lips to meet his ear.

“What do you say? You and me in this supply room? There’s hardly anyone here. Come on”

Steve feels like he’s dreaming, he has to check if he is. But then your hand reaches for his dick through his pants and he nearly doubles over from the sensation. He’s never been with anyone so brash and confident, your touch leaves a burning trail on his body.

“But- but what if someone comes in and sees?” He says, using every last bit of coherent reasoning he has.

“Isn’t that what makes it so fun?”

Oh, God. You. You. Smiling that devilish smile at him. He was weak in the knees and you took the opportunity to push him backwards onto a spare desk. You pulled him by the shirt collar to meet your lips and he let out a noise of surprise. Steve pushes his tongue into your mouth and lets out an obscene moan. You feel so good. He knew you’d feel good but not this good.

Steve’s large hands come to your waist and venture lower until he has a handful of your ass and grabs. You let out a little moan and nudge your knee between his legs and he grinds against it. You pull back to catch your breath when your hands go to the ties of your robes.

“We’re a little overdressed, don’t you think?”

Steve doesn’t need to be asked twice as he pulls his shirt over his head. Jeans have never felt so uncomfortable and he’s frantically trying to get himself down to his boxers. He swears he goes slack jawed when he looks back up at you. He’s already seen you naked, he just stared at you naked for hours, but you’re just as gorgeous as before but it’s the way you’re looking at him. Like he’s desirable, almost like he’s a piece of meat. It makes him feel wanted and reassured and he feels himself grow harder.

Your hands slip beneath the elastic of his boxers and slowly slide them down his legs. He can’t help but flush when you let out a small gasp at the size of him. He doesn’t want to get too big of an ego with it but he’s always known he was… gifted.

Before he can let anything go to his head he lets out his own soft gasp as you stroke him languidly. He can’t control his hips as they cant up into your hand. You grab his hand and quickly lead his fingers to your dripping pussy. Steve nearly melts when he feels how wet you are and slides two fingers in easily. He’s pumping them in and out and you let out tiny mewls as you kiss his neck.

There’s no more time for preamble though, you two need to be quick if you don’t want to be caught by some unfortunate custodian. You remove your hand from his cock and he takes his fingers out of your pussy and swears you whine a little. Feeling brazen himself, he makes direct eye contact with you and sucks his fingers clean. You bite your lip and squirm while he revels in the taste.

Reluctantly he takes his fingers out of his mouth and gets up to situate you so you’re sitting on the desk. You spread your legs wide for him and he takes in the sight, committing to memory. Maybe he can draw you like this some time. For now he takes a step closer but falters, remembering one fatal flaw in this whole plan.

“I… don’t have a condom”

You don’t look let down at all, you look excited in fact. Shaking your head, you explain to him.

“Doesn’t matter, ‘m on the pill. I wanna feel you cum inside me”

Steve might pass out before he gets the chance, the way you keep talking with that mouth of yours. He wastes no more time and positions himself at your entrance. He has one hand on his dick and the other on the back of your neck when he looks you deep in the eye and impales you fully in one go.

The moan you let out is pornographic and Steve uses his newly freed hand to cover your mouth.

“We have to stay quiet. Can you do that?”

You nod silently and he removes his hand, opting to grab your hip instead.

He pulls back and begins to start pumping into you. He’s steady at first, trying to keep himself from cumming too quickly. Slowly he starts increasing his speed and the force that he uses is causing the legs of the old desk to scrape against the floor.

Your hand reaches and grabs his ass, pushing him deeper into your pussy. You feel so tight wrapped around him with no barrier and he doesn’t know how much longer he can hold out. You’re trying to keep your moans quiet when he kisses you to silence them all together. He’s trying with all his might not to cum before you do.

His fingers find your clit and he starts rubbing it in tight circles. You have a harder time keeping quiet and you’re squeezing him like a vice. The friction on your clit and his dick hitting your G-spot perfectly is causing your eyes to roll in the back of your head.

“‘M gonna cum, please. Please don’t stop” You beg. Steve feels a wave of power surge over him now that you’re the needy one.

“Go on then, I’m not far behind ya. Wanna feel your pussy cum on my cock.”

With a few moments more he has you seeing stars and you claw at his back and pull him close to you. He continues on in his movements and starts pounding into you in earnest chasing his own release. All you can do is hold on for dear life.

Steve makes one final thrust before he’s cumming deep inside you. The rush of warmth is welcome to you and you kiss his jaw as he tries to catch his breath. The only sound being both of your heavy breathing. Hopefully no one heard you.

Steve can’t believe what just happened. He met a gorgeous girl and she propositioned him in a public place all in the span of two hours. He realizes just how far he’s come from who he used to be. He looks down at you, your noses touching.

“So, what’s your name?”

[willowbleedsonpaper]

Winter In The Shade V

Part V

Sirius Black x Ravenclaw Reader

W.C. : 2913

Requested by @amourtentiaa : It is Sirius’ fifth year at Hogwarts, the same year he ran away from home and to the Potter’s. Soon, he discovers the unfamiliar sight of his brother Regulus smiling and looking truly happy, next to him a Ravenclaw girl who immediately captures his interest. What will happen when the Black family gets involved in their sons lives and the ones they hold close to their hearts?

Warnings: None (?)

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Masterlist | Series Masterlist

“Anything I need to know for the party?” you asked Regulus as you two entered the charms classroom, both sitting in your usual spot while waiting for the rest of the students and the professor to arrive “You know, colors?” you said, raising an eyebrow “Do you want to get matching outfits? Should I be ready to leave at midnight before our carriage turns back into a pumpkin?”

“Pumpkin?” he asked, confused.

“Nevermind.” you waved a dismissive hand in his way, remembering he didn’t even know what a T.V. was. “What I mean is, this party's going to be the last time we see each other for weeks! We need to make it special so I can go back to the memories when the bitter reality hits me and you're not there.” you finished, letting out a dramatic sigh as you placed the back of your hand over your forehead.

Regulus looked at you with concern “Are you being dramatic or serious? I can’t tell.” he asked.

You narrowed your eyes, letting your performance fall as you flew a piece of hair out of your face “You’re not fun.” you grunted “And just so you know, I am being serious.”

“It’s only two weeks, Y/N.” he reminded you “You’ll survive.” He was met with silence, turning to look at you and the angry pout of your lips. He let out a long sigh “You have lived most of your life without me, what’s two weeks?” he asked.

You scoffed, letting your jaw fall as you crossed your arms “I don’t know, you cold hearted man. Maybe two weeks of boredom?” you said, watching as his eyes turned into one of disbelief “Torture.” you added “What am I supposed to do with two weeks by myself?” you asked him.

“What did you do before we became friends?”

Your brain froze at his question, both mind and eyes blank as you stared into the void. Regulus calling your name brought you back and your face turned sour as your eyes focused back on the raven haired boy before you “You are no good influence.” you mumbled sourly.

“Pardon?” he asked, his eyebrows scrunched together as he placed his book down, his attention completely on you.

“Since that day you hit me in the head my entire life revolves around you!” you whispered yelled, watching his shoulders relax as he tilted his head “And don’t try to deny it, we both know it's true.” you said, starting to pick up your things and shoving them inside your bag.

“What are you doing?” he asked, never trying to stop you and instead handing you the things you had placed on his side of the table.

“I, “ you said, placing a hand in your chest as you stood from your chair, looking down at him “am taking space from you. You have consumed my entire life.” you hissed, the urges to laugh coming through as a small smile broke through you every now and then.

Regulus watched you walk a few feet from where he sat, patiently staring at the back of your head with a small smirk “Y/N.” he called, his voice steady and calm “We have class, remember?”

You stopped, sharply turning to face him again from the front of the classroom. You purse your lips, glancing between the door and Regulus. You gave up in the end, letting your shoulders fall and dragging your bag all over the floor until you reached your chair again, falling into it.

Regulus bent down from his chair to pick up your bag from the ground, placing it on the table as he turned to look at you with a small smile “If it makes you feel better,” he said, breaking the silence that had fallen in the classroom “You have consumed my entire life as well.”

Your face broke from the bothered look you had put on, swinging your head so you would be looking at Regulus “It does,” you smiled “We’re attached to the hip.” you said, moving your chair so you would be next to him.

“That’s why we are spending the winter break separate.” he told you, his arm resting around your shoulder “So we don’t get bored and before we end up killing one another.”

You chuckled lightly “The thought had crossed my mind.” you admitted, resting your head on his shoulder “That doesn’t mean it won't be difficult to be away from you. You’re my best friend.”

A silence fell all over the room and took you into it, pondering over the fact that a couple of months before you didn’t even acknowledge the existence of the other. You thought fate was funny in that way, friends you made on the first days after starting your life at Hogwarts were now strangers that glared at you from the opposite side of the Great Hall at dinner, people you knew your entire life now strangers you barely knew how to start a conversation with, even greeting them represented a challenge; friends you thought would be there for the rest of your life were now gone.

You had met Regulus months ago and you couldn’t imagine your life without him, and that scared you. The feeling of not being friends with him, of not knowing if you would ever see him again broke your heart and filled you with dread. Sure, you were spending two weeks apart but you knew you would see him once the holidays were over. The thought of losing someone had never made your stomach twist and your heart race quick the way it did when you thought about losing Regulus.

“I think that’s the beauty of us.” he said, capturing your attention immediately “Time is not the core of our friendship, it’s something else.”

You smiled, relaxing against his side as you hummed “Like what?” you asked.

“I don’t know.” he answered honestly “But I will like to find out.”

“Hmm, me too.” you sighed, another peaceful silence taking over the room “Promise me you’ll write.” you said out of the blue, his chuckle vibrating all over his body and through yours.

“You’ve made me promise I’ll write a thousand times now.”

“I don’t mean just these two weeks. Anytime you need something, that we’re away from each other, or if you just saw someone falling and it reminded you of me just… just promise me you’ll write.”

With his heart skipping a beat, Regulus couldn’t believe the words that had just left your mouth, his gaze falling at the top of your head. Never would have he thought you would be scared of him leaving, that you would be scared of losing him as he is of losing you. In his eyes you were so confident, so sure of what you do every single time, you had lost all our friends and because of what. Because of you, he reminded himself.

“I promise.”

Your mouth was left with a bittersweet taste after charms class. It wasn’t every day that you and Regulus got that deep in your conversations. Usually, the matters you talked about were more sarcastic and almost on the humorous side of the aspects of your life; school work and competitions was common as you spent at least an hour of your day glued to the chairs from the library. Deep emotional conversation was just unknown. You knew Regulus didn’t like it, and yet he seemed to be the most comfortable out of the two of you. He might be your best friend but Rowena Ravenclaw knows, you’ll never fully understand him. You’ve made peace with that.

It was the older Black brother you had trouble with.

Charm class was the last one for the day, Regulus having an extra class he worked on late at night that left you with hours for you to exist by yourself. Something you silently thanked as you walked outside the Great Hall after dinner.

Standing on your toes, you moved your gaze over the sea of heads that flowed from the Great Hall, all the chat and laughter making you snap your head in every direction that sounded slightly similar to the one you searched for. The green and yellow of the robes stood out the most, your eyebrows scrunched together as you lowered yourself to your usual height. You started to move, following the students as you held tightly onto your bag. “Where are all the Gryffindors?” you asked inside your head. And that’s when you saw it, the flaring red from Gryffindor robes as they all ran and cheered down the hills. The Quidditch pitch.

*******

Sirius and James had led the Quidditch team to the pitch, their loud cheers and whistles enough to draw the attention of the entire team and drag them down to an unplanned practice. Although they referred to it as a small game to celebrate Friday night, Sirius knew James wanted them to practice.

They were all in the air as soon as they crossed the lines drawn on the grass to mark the limits of the pitch, bags and school work scattered in the ground without a care. Peter and Remus sat on the grass, chatting calmly as they watched their friends play.

“Hey, Remus.” Peter asked, getting a hum from Remus as he never broke his gaze from the Quaffle, “Do you think Sirius likes Y/N?” he asked with the shake of his head.

Remus let out a laugh, head thrown back in the air as he got a few looks from the players “Was it ever a question?” he asked back, turning to Peter.

Peter laughed, the small chuckle dying down as he stared at one single point in the distance “Yeah, that wasn’t really my question.” he said, their hair flying to their faces as the two seekers rushed in front of them after the snitch. They blinked back, following the game without actually paying attention. “Do you think Y/N likes Sirius?”

Remus’ attention broke from the Quaffle, his look thoughtful as he considered it. What were the chances Y/N liked Sirius? Not many, he thought to himself. “I don’t know.” he answered “If I had to guess I’d say no.”

Peter smiled, his eyes scanning the air as he smirked in James’ direction, the act capturing the Captains’ attention as he followed Peter’s gaze “I think she does.” Peter said confidently, “I actually think she was in the crowd tonight.”

“Right.” Remus scoffed.

“Want to bet?” Peter asked, an eyebrow raised in his direction as he extended his hand towards him.

Remus nodded, clasping his hand in Peter’s as he shook it.

The match lasted a good two hours. Both sides of the Gryffindor team started the game as a playful practice that now had them at each other's throats like the red in their robes had turned green at some point during the game. James yells and instructions could be heard over the commotion of the crowd and the team, the tension palpable in the air as the players flew in the air at top speed. They were flashes of red in the eyes of the crowd. In the end, James’ side of the team won. The entire team flying down from their brooms with grins plastered in their faces.

Peter had jumped to his feet as he saw Sirius lowered himself until he walked on the grass, the smirk permanent on his lips as he walked to greet his friends. “Great game.” Peter said, giving a subtle nod in James’ direction as the smirk he had was mirrored in James’ face. Peter patted Sirius in the back as he was in proximity, his hand holding his shoulder as he leaned on his side “Pulling you best moves for the ladies, huh?” he asked.

Sirius laughed, nodding his head when James walked next to them, nudging Peter’s side knowingly.

“Or should we say Lady?” James asked, wiggling his eyebrows in his direction.

Sirius' face fell, his lips in a line as he recognized the glint in his friends eyes. They didn’t.

“Sirius.” he heard you say, his confused look erased in the blink of an eye as he put on his best smile, turning on his place.

“Hello, darling.” he said, his tone flirtatious.

You smiled briefly, your eyes wandering over all his friends standing too close behind him with expectant eyes. “Hi.” you said to them, all three immediately a mumbling mess as they turned and pretended to fall into deep conversation. You almost wanted to laugh, but you focused on the task at hand “Can I talk to you?” you asked, looking straight into his eyes.

His smile fell momentarily, nodding his head as he made a sign to his friends, who only smiled tightly.

“You little shit.” He heard Remus hiss, making Sirius turn to see James holding Remus back, a smug looking Peter running as fast as he could once Remus got free.

He shook his head with a laugh before he focused on you, following you to a more quiet place, the buzz from the people left behind as you turned to face him “Are you alright?” he asked as soon as you stopped walking.

You let out a breathy laugh “I’m okay.” you assured him, your eyes remaining on him for a second before you recovered your voice, “I wanted to talk about this.” you turned to your side, rummaging through your bag until your fingers felt the soft material of the box, pulling it out and holding it for him to see “You can’t do this.”

He had a confused look on his face, the smirk he usually wore coming back as quickly as it fell “You’re giving me back a rose?” he asked.

You blushed, suddenly feeling stupid for wanting to give it back “No… I mean, yes!” you mumbled, cheeks darker by the second “It’s not the rose, it’s the act.”

“You want me to take back...my actions?”

“I need you to stop.”

He nodded in thought, leaning against one of the wooden posts. He held himself back from teasing you and the red in your cheeks, or the fact that you said need. The only thought in his mind was that you didn’t actually want him to stop.

“So that means you won’t be going to the party with me?” he asked, a fake pout in his lips.

“I have a date.” you said, crossing your arms over our chest.

“You do?” he asked, his back straight as he mirrored your stance.

You ignored his reaction, taking a confident step towards him. You reached for his hand, holding his palm out to you as you placed the box there. “Please, just stop.” you whispered, the volume of your voice enough for him to listen as you stood so close to one another.

He closed his hand over the box, his free hand taking a hold of your wrist as he held it back to his chest, the movement making you stand closer to him “Do you want me to stop?” he asked, his eyes looking directly at yours before his gaze roamed all over your face expectantly.

Your heart started to beat hard inside your chest, your feet rooted to the floor as you stood frozen under his eyes. He tilted his head, his thumb moving over the skin in your arm “Do you?” he repeated.

His skin felt warm against yours, the feeling sending electricity all over your arm before it woke you. You shook your hand out of his grasp, taking a step back with wide eyes “That is what I’m asking you. Yes.” you said shakily, holding your arm against your chest.

He tried to suppress his smile, he really tried but in the end he broke in a grin. “I’ll stop.” he stated, looking down to his palm before he connected your eyes once more “I only ask for one thing.”

He didn’t expect you to stay and listen, your jaw clenched as your look turned into a glare “What is it?” you asked harshly.

“Save me one dance.” he said, his voice soft and rid of any teasing or amusement.

“Right.” you scoffed, turning your face to the sky in disbelief. But you were met with silence, making your arms fall at your sides with a questioning look “You’re serious.” you asked, watching the glint in his eyes light up as he smiled. He opened his mouth to talk but you cut him off, lifting one finger right in front of his face “I swear to Godric Gryffindor if you make a joke you’ll be dancing by yourself.” you said harshly.

He bit the insides of his cheeks, letting himself feel the flutter of his heart at the simple gesture of you stopping his joke, like you knew him already. “Do you accept my offer, then?” he asked, offering his hand.

Your eyes lowered to his hand doubtfully “Do you promise you’ll stop?”

He nodded his head softly and you sighed, taking his hand.

What you didn’t expect was the squeak that left your lips as he took hold of your hand, holding it to his lips as he placed a short kiss over your knuckles.

“I’ll see you then, Y/n.” he told you, turning on his place as he went back to the pitch.

“See you.” you mumbled to yourself, staring at him and cursing him for the hurricane of thoughts left in his place. That didn’t go as planned.

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[tanoraqui]

There actually are enough good fics about postcanon tentative reforging of assorted pairs and even the whole of the Gusu Summer School No Brain Cell Trio to satisfy my niche itch, so pls enjoy these stray snippets of a fic I don't have to write:

Nothing would've happened if the cultivation conference wasn't at Cloud Recesses. But it was, Cloud Recesses with its pale stone and gracefully winding walkways and too many memories, including Lan Xichen sitting the whole thing out in seclusion somewhere... If it'd been at the Unclean Realm, Nie Huaisang would've been busy and if it'd been at Carp Tower the memories only would've been manageably bad, and if it was Lotus Pier or one of many smaller sects, it would've been...fine. Just fine.

But it was Cloud Recesses this year, this first conference since Jin Guangyao's downfall, and specifically it was half past ten at night, and Nie Huaisang was wandering the elegant pathways with a mostly full jar of wine in one hand. The previous jar, now entirely empty, had been left back in his room. He was a Nie, so he was only half as drunk as he'd always used to pretend at these things - but at least twice as drunk as he'd ever actually been.

After da-ge's death, of course. Before that, he used to get plenty drunk. Playfully drunk. With friends.

It would be a terrible idea for him to go appear on Lan Xichen's doorstep. Neither of them was ready for that yet.

So he appeared on Jiang Cheng's.

[ . . . ]

"Fine." Nie Huaisang pouted and turned. "I'll go ask Wei-xiong - "

And Jiang Cheng was easy, he was so easy, he'd always been easy, the only new thing is the faintest edge of wariness to his fury -

He grabbed Nie Huaisang's elbow in a flash and snapped, "Ugh, fine, I'll go - but I'm holding the wine."

Nie Huaisang laughed and handed it over. Jiang Cheng immediately took a deep swig.

[ . . . ]

It must've been a quiet night at the Jingshi. Wei Wuxian's sleeping robes didn't look the least bit hastily pulled on, and his lips were only the slightest bit red and puffy.

[ . . . ]

[for the record, this takes place in a book-show postcanon fusion wherein immediately post-Guanyin Temple, WWX and LWJ ran off to fuck in the bushes at least once a day for as long as possible, but in their absence, various sect leaders voted that Lan Wangji should be Chief Cultivator now, and alas some messenger caught up with them about six months into their honeymoon. Definitely caught them in flagrante delicto. Tragic for all. I’d probably communicate all this hereish somehow. It was definitely NHS who finally tipped someone off on how to actually find them.]

[ . . . ]

"Yes, yes, I'm coming," Wei Wuxian said, with a lidded look at Nie Huaisang, and Nie Huaisang burst into a giggles because the two most unequivocally lethal people he knew were afraid to leave each other alone with him, and it was satisfying to be recognized but also what's he going to do, personally? Cry at them? It'd taken him years to destroy Jin Guangyao, and at this point it'd take him months, if not years again to re-destroy the Yiling Patriarch, much less Sandu Shengshou. Especially when they both kept doing things like watching each others backs while pretending they weren't.

[ . . . ]

"Of course we need more!" Wei Wuxian declared. "This isn't even Emperor's Smile!"

[ . . . ]

"It's just a rat or something," Jiang Cheng scoffed.

"So?!" Wei Wuxian cried grandly. "Are we not noble cultivators? Is it not our duty to investigate this woman's complaint, and to slay whatever monster plagues her good inn’s wonderful cellar, whether deathly or monstrous or rodential it be?" He turned to Nie Huaisang and begged, "Help me out, Nie-xiong. You agree with me, right?"

Nie Huaisang clutched his cup against his chest, eyes wide, and shook his head in sharp jerks. "I don't know! I don't know!"

Wei Wuxian laughed and elbowed him in the side.

[ . . . ]

[while waiting for Wei Wuxian to send some sort of signal]

"You know I don't bear any grudge against Jin Ling, right?"

Jiang Cheng's impatient glare snapped to him, darkening with threat; his hand shifted on Sandu's hilt toward a drawing position. "What?"

"I don't bear any sort of grudge against Jin Ling," Nie Huaisang repeated, holding only the last jar of Emperor's Smile. "That's why you've been side-eyeing me all night, right? All conference." He took another sip (it really was the best!) and added recklessly, "If I wanted Jin Ling dead and disgraced, or all Carp Tower burned to ash, they already would be."

Sandu slid an inch out of its scabbard and Nie Huaisang watch it with fascinated curiosity. From a greater distance, he wondered if that was entirely healthy.

"What about Lotus Pier?" Jiang Cheng asked abruptly.

It took Nie Huaisang a blinking moment to focus on him.

"What about Lotus Pier?"

Jiang Cheng sat beside him on the cold earth and yanked the jar out of his hands, cruelly before Nie Huaisang could take another sip.

"Where's your grand terrible vengeance against me and mine? I get it, but if you're being honest for once right now, you could at least tell me when it's going to hit, and how."

"What?" Nie Huaisang pushed himself against his tree trunk, genuinely confused. "Why would i have a terrible vengeance planned against you?"

"I benefitted from Nie Mingjue's death, didn't I?" Jiang Cheng took another swig of wine of his own, and swung the jar illustratively. "My disciples have hunted in your territory while you 'weren't paying attention.' I absolutely fleeced you in that trade deal four years ago. And I worked with that bastard as much as anyone but Lan Xichen, especially on those damn watchtowers, and you broke him. So when's it my turn?" He pointed at Nie Huaisang, finger only wavering slightly. “If you fuck with Jin Ling, Wei Wuxian, or my sect, I will fuck you back.”

"You- oh, gimme that. Gimme. Gimme!" Nie Huaisang leaned forward and tried to grab the wine jar, and more importantly whined until Jiang Cheng handed it to him.

He stared at it for a moment, thrust it back and ordered, “Drink,” without letting it go, and once Jiang Cheng had dutifully tilted it back, pulled it back and slugged down the last swallows. He needed more alcohol for this much honesty, and so did Jiang Cheng.

He set the jar down very carefully, because the ground seemed to be moving, and leaned forward with even more care. He enunciated clearly, “Everyone fleeced me, and hunted in my territory, and I acsh- ass- let them. Why would I expect you to go looking for trouble with Jin Guangyao, when he had your heart locked in a box in his treasure room?”

Jiang Cheng, who was a respected master of all five arts but probably hadn’t actually read poetry for fun since an instructor had officially declared him as such, and who was himself at least a full wine jar in, squinted in angry confusion.

Nie Huaisang rolled his eyes. “He had final say over where and how Jin Ling spent his time, and could’ve tried to poison him against you. What would you have even have done if I had come complaining?”

Jiang Cheng’s face only fell further, with the very sort of drunken moroseness Nie Huaisang was out here to avoid.

Nie Huaisang attempted to swap him sharply. He failed on both the swap and the sharpness. 

“Stoppit! Stop thinking you’re not useful! You weren’t! I needed to pry er-ge away from him and for that only Lan Wangji would work, and I needed someone to watch his back through thick and deadly thin, and to be so disruptive that even Meng Yao couldn’t...circle, sneaky, planning...”

They were waiting for the pulse of a light talisman from the other tunnel entrance, half a mile away. There was a small but very bright explosion. laced with resentful as well as spiritual energy.

“Motherfucker!” Jiang Cheng cursed, leaping to his feet and drawing Sandu in one hideously coordinated motion. 

“Just Lan Wangji, I think,” Nie Huaisang said, because Nie Mingjue himself couldn’t have stopped him. He groped for his own weapons - fan, check; wine jar - 

“Oh no!” 

“What?”  Jiang Cheng snapped, as he bent and dragged Nie Huaisang to his feet with one hand. (Hideously coordinated. Sword people, honestly...)

“He’s going to be so mad that we finished the wine without him!”

[ . . . ]

[three grown-ass men, two sect leaders and one Yiling Patriarch, flying at high speed through Caiyi Town on one sword, all screaming. Nie Huaisang is clinging to Wei Wuxian; Wei Wuxian is flinging to Jiang Cheng, a little bit to Nie Huaisang, and most importantly to a chicken, Jiang Cheng is flying the sword. There is a bedsheet draped over all of them from where they ran into a laundry line. It’s 2am. Again I say, all are screaming]

[ . . . ]

[it probably wasn’t a rat - not just one, at least. Wei Wuxian does something incredibly clever, possibly including a creative use of that bedsheet; Jiang Cheng singlehandedly defeats something in combat, probably after he and Wei Wuxian shove each other out of the way of blows without either of them acknowledging it. Nie Huaisang shoves them both under cover and then with perfect professionalism tells whoever came to check on the ruckus that they handled the problem exactly as planned with absolutely no involvement of alcohol, and the Chief Cultivator will foot the bill for the unfortunately absolutely necessary property damage. Overall, they did handle the problem, but the local cryptid they were chasing will only have its reputation swelled and its continued existence assumed by all locals. it is possible that they themselves made this cryptid up two decades ago, but idk how heavy-handed we want to be.]

[ . . . ]

Nie Huaisang was leaning heavily on Wei Wuxian by the time they got back to the guest quarters. He could hold his alcohol, he was a goddamn Nie, and frankly he’d had it adrenalined out of him at least twice this evening. But he’d also had rather a lot, and he didn’t have Jiang Cheng’s golden core or Wei Wuxian’s blithe lack of sleep schedule. 

“I missed this,” he admitted, head on Wei Wuxian’s (Mo Xuanyu’s) shoulder while Jiang Cheng opened the door.

Wei Wuxian leaned his head on Nie Huaisang’s. “Me too.”

“You’re both fucking annoying,” Jiang Cheng grouched, which meant, Me too.

Wei Wuxian stripped off Nie Huaisang’s muddy outer robe and tucked him into bed, and Jiang Cheng poured a glass of water from the pitcher by the door, drank it, poured another, scowled at Wei Wuxian for a moment, and set it on the bedside table. Wei Wuxian glanced at him out of the corner of his eye, finished with Nie Huaisang and started backing out of the room.

Nie Huaisang sat up more or less abruptly. “Both of you have got to stop that bullshit. I miss my brothers, okay? I’d I had a second chance...” He sagged back down with the plural, and flung an arm over his damp eyes. There was a glimmer in the sky; it’d be morning by Lan standards soon. “I fucking miss them.”

“...Ah,” said Wei Wuxian, who always spoke even when he didn’t know what to say.

“Yeah,” Jiang Cheng said abruptly, and, “Drink your fucking water.” And the door slammed behind him as he walked out.

[...a few lines of dialogue later...]

“Seriously, you can go.” Nie Huaisang flicked a few tired fingers in dismissal.

“Are you sure?” Wei Wuxian added with an audible smirk, “Because if I stay up for another half hour, I can wake Lan Zhan with a morning...big ol’...loving...”

Nie Huaisang finally adjusted his arm to crack one eye up at him.

“People usually cut me off before I get that far,” Wei Wuxian admitted.

[ . . . a bit more dialogue and the end.]