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everythingelseisextra · 9 months

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Petty Criminal

Part 3: Treasure the Memory

Part 5: Give Yourself A Reason

Description: A peaceful trail ride deteriorates into an interrogation. Warnings: Language, Brief mention of sexual assault Word Count: 2755 Tag List: @theshelbyslimited @ttaechi @weaponizedvirtue @majesticcmey @babayaga67 @shelbydelrey @globetrotter28 @look-at-the-soul

“You alright?”

“Fine.”

Dark-shadowed, glassy blue eyes stare into yours. Dawn air blows between you, light and cool, but something about the way he looks at you, the way he stands, the way his head is bowed slightly and he stares up at you through his eyelashes, tells you that the morning breeze isn’t refreshing to him. Your jaw tightens. This is a mistake. You’ve invited someone you barely know to ride with you, without acknowledging that maybe he doesn’t want to do this. There’s a small seed of doubt growing in your stomach, branching up towards your throat, and, if this goes badly, it’ll strangle you.

You gesture to the barn. “Draco and the horse I’ll be riding are tacked up already. We’ll just grab them and go. I’m assuming you have experience riding…”

He nods and starts for the barn, leaving you to trail after him. Before you’re fully prepared for it, you’re both on horseback, heading out the other side of the barn into the countryside. For miles, all you can see is gray-green, an ocean of hills and valleys and harshly-cut paths that crawl through the small mountains like snakes. You glance over at Thomas, the way he sits on the horse, the way he holds the reins. His hips move softly with the movement, his hands give and take gently. Draco’s neck is arched, but his head isn’t pulled to his chest.

“You have soft hands,” you say quietly.

“He’s sensitive.” He nods to Draco. “Don’t need hard hands on him.”

You nod. Thomas has been riding your horse for mere minutes, and has already picked up on his personality, his needs, and is adjusting himself accordingly. You’re impressed, and, honestly, relieved. Draco needs a quiet rider, and you weren’t sure Thomas would be one.

You walk in silence for a while, the wind blowing between you. Your horse, a paint thoroughbred you call Nifty, chews on the bit. Goose pimples raise on your arms as you start to climb a hill, twisting and turning up the trail, horses breathing hard.

“Used to do this as a kid,” Thomas says, breaking the slow silence. “Race up the hills. Explore bloody dangerous paths.”

“We can do some of that, if you like.” You smile faintly. “Just let them get warmed up first.”

He shakes his head. “Won’t be the same.”

“Of course it won’t.” You squeeze your horse’s sides with your legs, cueing him into a faster walk. “But it’s still worth it if you can— I don’t know— maybe have some fun? Why else would we have horses? Draco’s fast. Powerful.”

Thomas stays quiet, head inclined, cap low over his eyes.

“Come on. It couldn’t hurt.”

“Guess not.”

Grass and bits of dried grain whistle and rattle together around you. The ears of your horses flick forward, then back to you, then to the sides, always watchful, almost paranoid. Metal shoes on their hooves hit rocks on the path and clang. A salty, fresh scent travels along on the wind, and you breathe deep.

“There’s a left turn up here.” You hold your reins in one hand and point with the other, your fingers tracing a ridge up ahead. “And then it’s straight up the side of the mountain.”

His tired eyes follow your hand to the brown pathway ahead of you, and when he speaks, there’s a hint of life to the words, like the sunlight and wind has brought him, at least a little, out of that fatigued state. “That’s where we race, eh?”

“Yep.” You smile. “I’ll win.”

“Don’t be so sure.” His low voice barely carries over the wind. You find yourself focusing on his lips to read his words.

“If you fall off, I’m not liable.”

This coaxes a chuckle from him. “I won’t fall.”

You reach the bottom of the hill. You turn your head to start a countdown, but before you open your mouth, Thomas’ heels are on Draco’s sides, and they’re shooting off at a full sprint.

A racehorse at full speed is a thing to behold. Muscles flexing, blood pumping, legs a blur of movement. The clatter of clashing hooves and the flash of mane and tail. Thoroughbreds are freaks of nature, so athletic they have a habit of severing their own bones from the motion. Draco’s fiery body blazes in front of you, Thomas up and out of his seat, heels down and hands forward, giving the horse his head. Hot on his tail, Nifty’s body pushed to its limits in speed, you grab mane and take a moment to admire.

Thomas moves naturally with the animal, as if born in the saddle, his cheeks flushed with the cold air, hair pushed back out of his face. And, you can barely believe it, a smile is on his lips. Because he’s winning.

And you’re letting him, because you want more of that smile, more of those flushed cheeks, more of the exhilaration on his face.

You reach the precipice of the hill, and you sit back to slow your horse, giving him silent cues with your reins and body. Thomas does the same, but his hands grip at the reins, yanking back to his hips, and Draco prances, glistening red coat gleaming. Nifty comes quietly to a walk, but Thomas doesn’t let go. He gives no release when the horse listens to him.

Before you have the time to say something, Draco is rearing, front legs lifting into the air, head tossing wildly to try to relieve himself of the pressure in his mouth.

“Your hands!” You call, trying to get through to Thomas. It’s hard to listen to someone when an animal five times your size is reacting in a way you don’t understand. “Put your hands forward!”

Instead, Thomas pulls on one side of the horse’s mouth, forcing him back to the ground, but the next second, he’s back up, rearing so high that terror hits you hard. Horses can flip over on themselves when rearing, crushing the rider underneath them.

“Thomas!” You yell. “Let go!”

This time he hears you. His hands go forward, his fingers lace themselves in Draco’s mane, and he clings there in midair, waiting. Draco takes two steps forward on his hind legs, then comes crashing back down to the ground, head thrown forward. He prances, snorting, moving back and forth in place.

“Relax.” You soften your voice, moving Nifty closer to the panicking horse and rider. “I know it seems counter-intuitive, but you’ve gotta let go. Relax, Tommy. Relax.”

“Can’t fucking relax when he’s—”

“Your legs are on his sides, Thomas. He’s reacting to you.” All you can do is explain, try to teach. “Relax your legs and loosen your reins.”

His jaw tightens, then, slowly, you watch his legs release from Draco’s sides, watch his hands move forward once more. Draco’s wild eyes soften and his constant movement hesitantly comes to an end.

“He’s claustrophobic.” You find that your breath, as well as Tommy’s, is short, as though you just rode an intense bout of rearing, instead of him. “He gets scared when he feels trapped. Jockeys will yank a horse’s face until they slow down, he’s used to being hurt. He just got scared. I’m so sorry, he just got scared.”

“Fuck.” Tommy’s voice comes surprisingly weak, his head bowed, chest heaving. “Fuck.”

“Jesus. Are you okay?” You move Nifty closer, trying to get a decent look at his face.

“Don’t.” He turns his head away from you, hiding. There is shame in being seen, in any form, in any moment, but especially when you’re hurting. Especially when a stranger doesn’t know how to help, and those you know don’t know how to help, and you don’t know how to help yourself.

Your heart jumps to your throat and you swallow hard. Before you realize what you’re doing, you’ve slipped off the back of your horse, and you approach him, on the opposite side of where he’s facing. He deserves privacy, or what little you can give him.

You reach up and gently unravel his fingers from the reins. Holding Draco in one hand and Nifty in the other, you lead both horses towards softer ground. You’re now on the smallest hill, surrounded by larger ones. Above you, the sky is deliriously blue, and a cold wind whistles around you.

“I’m going to lay Draco down.” You let go of Nifty’s reins and allow him to ground-tie. “You’re going to get off, and we’re going to walk.”

Silence in response. You glance up and catch a glimpse of hazy blue eyes, looking off towards the shadow of the mountains around you.

With some trepidation, you tap on Draco’s belly, and the horse lowers himself to the ground, folding his long, sweaty legs underneath him. Tommy steps off immediately, and Draco, as if knowing instinctively, reaches his nose out to gently nuzzle his arm.

“He’s sorry,” you murmur. “Let’s walk.”

It can help, you think, to move. To literally move away from fear, head towards the horizon, give yourself something to do other than sit in the terror. You start off, and anxiety pulses through you, inflating your lungs like a balloon so no more breath can seem to fit inside of them. You breathe anyway. Only one person can panic at a time. It was Draco’s turn, now it’s Tommy’s, not yours

Out of instinct, or maybe even out of fear, you start to speak. “I’m sorry, Thomas. I’m sorry he freaked out on you. He should be over that by now. Some things just stick with us, I think. I’m… sort of impressed, though. Most men I know would punish a horse who acted up like that. Most men I know would beat a horse just for stepping out of line.”

Tommy stays quiet. His head tilts towards you, his lips part slightly, like he wants to speak, then close, like he thought better of it. The two horses follow placidly behind you, and you walk along the ridge of the hill, a cliff dropping off into the rising sun on one side of you. Silhouetted by the burning light, he looks more delicate, as if made of porcelain and blue zircon.

“I still say you’re not scary,” you say quietly. “I still say so.”

“Did some asking around.” His voice comes hoarse, as if he’d spent hours in silence, not just minutes. “You came from Paris; you were born in America. Word is, you didn’t leave either by choice.”

Your turn to stay silent, to look away. One of the horses snorts behind you and you flinch. Your muscles tense and you reach up to rub your eye, the motion an attempt to brush off the anxiety.

“You don’t know my name. How did you ask around?” The leather reins gathered in your hand grow slippery with your palms sweating. “No one knows who I am in Birmingham.”

Thomas glances at you, then returns to staring ahead, eyes brooding. “I have friends outside of Birmingham. I have friends in the police force. You have a record.”

You stop short. “You saw my record?”

“You’re a fucking petty criminal.” He nods vaguely, a faint smile on his lips. “My guess is, you—”

“No. I don’t want to hear the story you’ve assumed explains my past.” You shake your head. Your heart pounds, your arms wrap around yourself. You want to drop the horses, turn, and run, get away from this man who knows too much, who has concocted some wild tale to explain a past you want nothing more than to forget.

“Tell me, then.” He crosses his arms, turns towards you. You’re suddenly very aware that you’re alone in the middle of nowhere with a man who claims to do very bad things. You’re suddenly very aware that, as strong as you are, as wiry as your muscles, you’re at a disadvantage to someone who’s a fighter and knows it. One of his eyebrows raises.

“Why do I owe you an explanation?” You step back, and Nifty’s muzzle touches your shoulder, nibbling at your shirt. You reach back absently to stroke his nose. “I haven’t done anything wrong. I don’t deserve this shit from you. What, because my horse scared you, you have to get back at me?”

“Because,” he says slowly. “Nothing goes on in this city without me knowing about it.”

“I don’t live in your city!” Draco steps forward, responding to your raised voice, tail swishing. “Whatever deal you have going on with Birmingham, I want no part of. I’m just— fuck, Thomas, this was supposed to be relaxing!”

“No. You’re not part of that.” His eyes stay steady on you, cool and collected and infuriatingly blue. “I need to know who it is I’m chasing after.”

“Who it is you’re—” You take a gasping breath, leaning your head back to look up at the gray-blue sky. “So, you need to know because you have trust issues.”

“I need to know, because the business I run is important, and I can’t have someone—” He steps forward, inclining his head to look you in the eyes. “I can’t have someone get caught up in the wrong side of things.”

“What are you talking about?” You move towards him, leaving just a few inches between the two of you. “Do you think I can’t see for myself what’s going on?”

His lips part. You can see every detail of his face, every tiny freckle, every scar, every kaleidoscope pattern of his eyes. There’s a moment of silence, your eyes locked together. You can feel his breath on your face, feel the warmth coming from him. His eyes flick down.

You look away. “Fine. I’ll tell you some.”

He releases a breath and steps away.

“My mother was assaulted and got pregnant with me through that. As soon as I was old enough, she sent me away to boarding school in France. I never went back. All the ‘petty crimes’ you saw were me trying not to starve or freeze or die of dehydration or exposure. So, you happy? Do you feel better now?” Your lip quivers and you clench your jaw, trying to chase away the lump in your throat. There’s more to it than that. There’s so much more to it.

But, if he gets too close, and he sees the story you run from, sees all the versions of yourself that you murdered to become who you are, then you’ll never get another do-over. You’ll never get another chance. You will never be who he hopes you are.

“How did you—”

“Get the horses?” You complete his sentence for him, too wired to wait for him to finish. “Draco was my first. Given to me by someone who couldn’t handle rehabbing him. I was supposed to sell him and never did. People realized I was good at it and started giving me their rejects to rehab. I realized I could make some money off of it. Never looked back.”

He nods slowly. “I was wrong.”

“Yeah. People usually are about me.” You glance back at the horses. “Should’ve just let you tell me who I am and agreed to it.”

“You’re not that kind of girl.” He smiles faintly, reaches out for Draco’s reins. “If you’re lying, I’ll know.”

“Alright, Thomas.” You sigh. “Alright.”

“You have horses.” He pulls Draco over to him with the reins, flips them over the horse’s head, and walks over to tighten the girth and ground-mount. “I have work.”

“Yeah,” you say, heart sinking slightly. You walk over to Nifty and climb back onto his back. Thomas does the same with Draco.

Part of you, the part that keeps you up at night with dreams of grandeur and friendship and love, wants to tell him. Wants to split your skull open and let him look into the crack, ask if he, like you, hates what he sees. You want someone to tell you, for once in your life, that you’re okay, that they accept you, that it’s alright to be who you are.

After you get back, Tommy dismounts, leaving you with both horses to untack and wash. He gives you a polite goodbye, his eyes lingering on you a little longer than typical, and you watch him drive away. Once again, you wish he’d turn back. And, once again, all that’s left of him is dust.

It isn’t until hours later that you realize you still have his coat.

#thomas shelby #tommy shelby #peaky blinders #peaky blinders x reader #tommy shelby x reader #thomas shelby x reader #peaker blinders fandom #peaky blinder imagine #peaky blinders imagine #peaky fucking blinders #thomas shelby x y/n #thomas shelby imagine #thomas shelby fanfic #tommy shelby imagine #tommy shelby fanfic #peaky blinders fanfic #only the wild ones

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youredreamingofroo · 3 days

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LOVE TRAIN INBOUND !! 🚂💨💨

This is inspired by @acuar-io !! Thank you for doing this and THANK YOU FOR THE TAG!! (even tho it didnt tag me properly 🤧)

Tumblr is silly and while I will tag ppl, I know not everyone will be properly tagged, so if u see this, skim thru the list for your name ESPECIALLY if your my mutual ! 🫶

To start off, I just wanna say that Fae (acuar-io) has some absolutely STUNNING sims, it's hard to exactly word it, but their sims are SUPER recognizable, and their saves (Snow flower, Cozy save, etc) are SO nicely edited, so aesthetically pleasing to the eyes 🫶😩

@oshinsimblr is the reason why I started storytelling (even before my simblr time) and why I try and find a story-related reason on why my sims/characters do certain things, her videos are also SO comforting and i love her lovesick series!!! and of course, @minimooberry the whole inspo for this simblr and why I render in blender!

@mattodore and @cinamun are AMAZING simblrs if u want rich storytelling and/or well-thought out characters, River has inspired me to really tear into my characters and give them more personality, and cina just genuinely makes such realistic characters and the tea is ALWAYS hot and simblr aside, she has very good takes >:P

@groovetrys and @circusjuney have been around on my blog and as my mutuals for a LONG time and they really are some of my biggest hype people, lori has an AMAZING legacy going on with her sim, Melody, and u should DEF check it out, and june makes the most amazing clown sims 🥹 theyre always so pretty and STUNNINGGGG

-> To add onto the above category, id also consider @miralure as one of my biggest hype ppl!!! Although they havent been around as long as june and lori, they always hype me up and it makes me stupid happy 😭 they make REALLY good lookbooks and i love their sim style SMMMM

if u dont know about @rebouks what are you DOING with your simblr-life, bc becca has some of the most human-feeling story/dialogue, i always get a stupid sappy smile on my face when i read her story posts

@jarakio has an AMAZING story called Girls with Guns and its prolly my fav story that ive read on simblr, the dialogue? amazing, the poses? amazing, the vibes? AMAZING, i'm ALWAYS hooked in whenever i see GwG pop up on my dash

@stellarfalls just HAD to be on this list are u kidding me????? Bree has a PHENOMENAL save called Valley, even tho there's no dialogue, each image and gif speaks more than words could, she's inspired me to kick up the quality of my posts and also start making gifs, I also consider her to be one of my biggest hype ppl, she always be coming in with the best compliments 🥹🫶

@torissims !!! She makes BEAUTIFUL posts, her blog is very yellow and orange and i LOVE IT, she pulls a lot of inspo from Studio Ghibli and even tho ive never seen any SG Movies, I can just see and feel the inspo, shes def underrated af 🥹

@amburgundy has BEAUTIFUL builds, and they dont just do TS4, they also make builds in other sims games!! (u did a phenomenal job with Madi's legacy house amber 🤝) I LOVE the clutter and they always looks so cozy 😭

@flovoid is another one of my hypemen LMFAOOO bro you and your tags literally make me so happy, i LOVE reading them. Flo makes AMAZING SIMS, and you should check out literally ALL of their sims, especially their sims Roo and Norman from Majima Land (first post under my Roo tag is me reacting to one of their posts with Roo and Norman, funniest introduction to a blog ever), Also their sim, Draco Almond??? He's got me tucking my hair behind my ear... 🫦🫦

@elderwisp has some of the most immaculate editing ive ever seen, the lighting, the vibes, the dialogue, the poses, the expressions, i be eating those posts up like im fine dining 😩😩

@changingplumbob is so chill, I love how much passion she has for her rotations, and her love for cats?? Perfect mutual to have, I also literally LOVE reading her behind the scenes posts, they're literally so funny 😭😭

@tricoufamily and @dejasenti99 make absolutely phenomenal renders, like if theres any renders on simblr that im gonna recognize immediately, its these two's renders, they're genuinely more HQ than my fucking eyes 😭😭

-> Also Nat (Missatan) makes incredibly HQ renders as well, these three are like... my biggest blender render inspos...

@buttertrait @missatan @virtualfolk @pearlean @claudtrait all have BEAUTIFUL sim styles, butter's is very unique, i know they arent really a sims 4 blog anymore but i ALWAYS recognize butter's sims when i see them on my dash and I genuinely love their sim style sm. Nat (Missatan) has SUCH a gorgeous sim style, you've heard of them hips dont lie, well her sims' lips dont lie 😩🫦 Virt (Virtualfolk) and Sam's (pearlean) sim styles are SO animated (if that makes sense), they're like eye-candy. Den (claudtrait), like Nat, has a sim style with the most luscious lips and poutiest faces ive ever seen and are just SOO pleasing to look at, like i just feel blessed in the eyes when i see their sims

@yukikocloud 's Apricot save and storytelling is incredibly reminiscent of Bree's posts, and I just LOVE looking at and reading her story posts, this post in particular just absolutely captivated me, I was drawn in and just get so giddy seeing the Apricot save pop up on my dash 🥹

@alientown @venriliz @nefarrilou @druidberries @machinegrl make STUNNINGGGGG occult (or cyber/robotic in Baja/Machinegrl's instance) sims. Nef always makes beautiful sims for their Cryptid "series", im just in AWE when i see their cryptids... Ven and Ana (alientown) both always make absolutely gorgeous alien sims and they also just have very unique/beautiful sim styles 😍 Baja's cyber girlies are just >>>>>>>>>>>>> I love her whole dystopian/cyber theme, its literally so good and so cool, and her Deadstars series? SO good. Alexis' (druidberries) elowen is so pretty, and her sim style, especially with occults, is just MWAH chefs kiss, literal eye candy

@swallowprettybird is just one of the sweetest people on simblr, I love reading what she has to say about mine and others' posts, and she makes amazingggg posts, I loved that one national geographic inspired post with the zebra, it was so well done

@softle0 makes some absolutely stunning builds, they always look so lived in, so cozy and I would ABSOLUTELY live in pretty much every single build they make

and honorable mentions to @droolski @felysline @pamsimmerstories @swiftviolets @weirdosalike @mushbop @calicosimgirl @shadowtrait and @seriallovertrait because I feel like they're all SO underrated, they're all passionate about their own stuff and I just love seeing their posts, and if you're seeing this, FOLLOW THEM 🫵🫵

Thank you Fae (acuar-io) once again for starting this train up, I love seeing stuff like this and it's so sweet to see what everyone has to say about one another, I may have spent 1 or 2 hours doing this, but it was INCREDIBLY well spent to be able to admire and appreciate all these people, them and every other simblr person, whether i follow them or not, deserve every last drop of love and appreciation genuinely

#tw yap nation LUHMAO #well deserved yap nation i loved doing this #i love doing stuff like this i love the lot of you 🥹#i just know tumblr is gonna untag so many people and its gonna make me so sad #simblr #simblr community #yapping

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harrysmmm · 10 months

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𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝟏 - 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐇𝐞𝐢𝐫 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐏𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐜𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐒𝐥𝐲𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐧

Fanfiction: The Relics of Hogwarts (CLICK THE LINK BEFORE READING THIS)

Draco malfoy x Y/N Riddle (f!reader)

A/N: First chapter of the fanfic! It took me a whole week to write this, and a whole week to create the plot of the story. This chapter sets the tone for what is to come - more draco and the reader's interactions will happen in the following chapters. I am beyond excited to be posting this, I hope you guys enjoy it - I really had the best time writing it (it helps me deal with reality which I very much thank). Also, two things before you go and read it: one, my mother tongue is not English, once again, so forgive me for any mistake or wrong word that I might've used; two, every paragraph or conversation that is written in italic is a flashback (I think it was clear but just to be hella clear). That's everything for me to say... also you don't know the amount of research I've had to do in order to be precise on every description, family line, Hogwarts system... it's crazy the number of tabs I've opened during the creation of all of it. Last thing, I have never done this before but if you'd like to be on the taglist for each time I post a new chapter, put it in the comments or write me an inbox and I'll gladly do it! I'm going to try to do my best and post a chapter every week - two would be ideal. I tend to write pretty long chapters so it takes me a lot of time to finish them. I'm going to stop writing, this is becoming addictive. Love you, this fic is for all of you out there.

W/C: 4.3K

masterlist here

Summer was about to come to an end. It was pouring rain in the Scottish mountain range; a wild, twisted, ravaging storm that left a lifeless valley at its steps. Someone was rushing through the vast hallways, crackling footsteps as he was approaching the stone gargoyle. He whispered in a low, hoarse voice: “Cockroach clusters”. A stoned spiraled staircase revealed itself behind the statue, he marched them upstairs.

At the top, a wooden door was slightly opened revealing at its gap a dim light and an overwhelming heat. Under this particular weather, there was a need of a fireplace.

The professor stepped in the headmaster’s office.

“Severus,” Albus Dumbledore, headmaster of the Wizarding School, Hogwarts, greeted the man, “what can I do for you in this, rather hectic evening?”

“I –” he stopped, having been interrupted by a loud thunder, “have some news from You Know Who.”

Dumbledore froze for a moment. “Ah!” he uttered, heading towards his centered desk, and sitting down. “Tell me what you know.”

“You Know Who’s daughter is supposedly coming to Hogwarts this year.”

“How is that possible?” Dumbledore seemed confused.

“He has gotten back in contact with her, after seventeen years,” Snape said in a monotone voice of his range. “I have been told to keep an eye on her.”

The storm was heavily attacking the gleaming windows.

“This is no coincidence - I suppose you know that, Severus.”

“I… assumed.”

“Voldemort has something in mind – something that involves the school – or Potter.”

“The child has always been in his sight, why would it be that now he is looking to get to him by sending his abandoned daughter off to school while she has a cursed bloodline herself, it seems a little…odd… from my perspective, Professor.”

“You’re right, Severus - but we need to be en garde.” Dumbledore was looking all around his desk seeming to try to dismantle this new information. “Does the girl know why she’s coming?”

“It seems like she does.”

“U-huh,” he replied. “Well, the link between Draco’s commended mission to kill me and the arrival of Voldemort’s daughter is evident; he’s trying to gain some presence within the school.”

“And,” he continued, “the girl and Draco have known each other merely from birth, they’ve grown up together as siblings, haven’t they, Severus?”

“I wouldn’t use the word siblings, Professor – as far as I know, they roughly consider each other cousins.”

“Right, right, cousins…”

“Professor,” uttered Snape.

“Huh?”

“What should I do?”

“Well,” Dumbledore got up and walked towards the animal that was gripping a stand cage. It was an elegant phoenix; he had crimson feathers covering his entire body and a long golden tail resembling that of a peacock. His name was Fawkes. Dumbledore caressed the animal as he continued, “you have no choice – she will have to attend this year at Hogwarts. In fact, she will directly be put into Slytherin, that way your task will be eased.”

“If I may, I don’t think she would’ve been sorted into any other house, giving her lineage, Professor.”

“Right, descendant of Salazar Slytherin, right…” Dumbledore didn’t seem to be there, his thoughts spiraling up, trying to find the connecting factor.

“I see you… pensive” said Snape in return.

Dumbledore moved from the bird to the East of the room and stood next to the recollection of memories bottled up in glass jars.

“We both know, Severus, that Voldemort doesn’t hold any sort of affection towards his daughter; he’s incapable of it.” He frenetically moved to the West of the room. “That girl has been raised by Druella Black, mother of the living Bellatrix Lestrange and Narcissa Malfoy. The girl has never had any contact with her father, nor her mother for that matter.”

“If I may ask… what happened to the mother?”

“Well, no one knows what happened to her; no one even knows who she is. Voldemort hasn’t had any known-of partner in his life.”

“Right,” replied Snape. “Although the girl has, so it seems, a tight relation with the Diggory family.”

“The Diggorys… Cedric Diggory? The boy that Voldemort killed during the Triwizard Tournament?” inquired Dumbledore.

“Indeed. She’s presumably close to his father, Amos Diggory, who works in the Ministry of Magic.” completed Snape.

“How?”

“I don’t know, but she will come to the school as his niece, omitting her last name Riddle.”

“A façade.” Dumbledore had a lost look.

“Yes.”

“There’s a lot of things that we can’t grasp, Severus. You will keep an eye on her, I will deal with the rest.”

“As you wish.”

Snape turned around, swinging his cape as he moved to the door.

“Severus,” Dumbledore called him, before he could walk away, “Hogwarts is, once again, being threatened. This time, it might be the last time”. He looked at his hand, a black dark magic had scattered through most of it.

Snape understood his words but didn’t reply.

A black figure made his way down the enchanted staircase.

ྀ࿔

The hallways were full of students. Bustling chatter about summertime and vacations was spreading around the walls of the entrance hall. First years were arriving in canoes through the Great Lake that surrounded Hogwarts while upper years were progressively making an entrance, after getting off the Hogwarts Express.

She noticed the attunes of most students. Black robes seemed to be the official uniform, with varying colors on the hood, sleeves and the edge of the front depending on the student who was wearing it. At the front of it, there was a patch in accordance with the colors of the robe – she assumed it was the house patch of the student. She particularly laid her eyes on the green one, the one who seemed to have a snake in the middle. She knew that Father had attended the school – and even if she was mostly ignorant about the school system and supposed houses, she knew her father had been a green-robed student.

Snape started to climb up the Grand Stairs, she followed him. Various students and professors were hectically going up and down the stairs, making her have to pay attention to not brush shoulders with any of them. Snape was not looking back at her, swinging from side to side as if he knew seconds ahead who was going to go up or down.

Her mind wondered back to the reason why she was there; to the mission Father had commended her to do. She had heard about Wizarding Schools, Hogwarts in particular, since nearly her birth. However, Druella never wanted her to get mingled with academic wizards and witches, fearing for her life as a Riddle. That last name did not follow any welcoming reception in the Wizarding World. But after Father’s come back, things have changed all around.

She couldn’t help but travel back to the moment it all started.

“F-father?” she called him, pitch black consuming the entire room of the Malfoy Manor.

She could hear him moving. Hollow wooden floorboards slowly crackling at his steps. She could also hear his snake hissing - that’s how she knew he was standing in front of her.

“Child,” he finally said with a whispery, throaty voice, “I missed you.”

She felt two arms making their way to her ribs while slowly tangling behind her on what seemed to be a hug. She didn’t move, shivering of horror.

“My daughter.” She felt the air of his voice in her ear, making her swift breathing be noticed.

She understood that he knew she was afraid.

His arms were no longer wrapping her, and she felt how he was circling her by the crackling wood yet again.

“How have the Blacks been treating you?”

She gasped.

“Fair enough…Father.”

He seemed to have moved to the other side of the room.

“And the Malfoys? The young boy, Draco, is he nice to you?”

She tried to relax her breathing.

“He is - they all have always treated me as one of their own.”

“But you’re not one of them, are you?”. He moved closer to her again, as she felt his snake sliding next to her foot.

“I-I guess I’m not.” She could’ve sworn she saw a monster in front of her. She closed her eyes tightly.

“Your stay with them might’ve been enjoyable, but I’m afraid you must leave.”

Something in her stopped when she heard those words.

“Where?” she inquired.

“To the Diggorys.”

“I don’t know who they are.”

He was standing in front of her. She could sense it.

“They are nice people that will take you under their roof – now, I need you to befriend them, become one of them. You will need to take on their last name.”

She didn’t say a word and let him continue.

“I need some things that lay within the walls of Hogwarts; some things that someone wants to steal.”

“Harry Potter,” she whispered, not being able to contain herself.

“Do not mention his name!” he raised his voice, and she could feel his face almost touching hers.

She nearly started sobbing.

“You don’t get to say his name in front of me, do you understand?”

“Yes.”

“Good.” He leaned back some inches from her. “Some objects that are in the castle belong to me. I hid them so they would be safe - but it has come to my attention that they might be in danger.”

She kept listening.

“When the time comes, I will need you to go to Hogwarts as a Diggory and bring those objects back to me. You will be fully awarded for the act,” he paused, “and gain your place by my side.”

She heavily breathed when she heard that. After all those years, her father was offering her a chance to make him proud, to honor her last name, to have a family.

“What are these objects?”

“You’ll must bring me the cup of Helga Hufflepuff, the diadem of Rowena Ravenclaw, the locket of Salazar Slytherin and the sword of Godric Gryffindor. All of them make the Relics of Hogwarts.”

“Now,” he continued, “you will leave to the Diggorys tomorrow morning. I will be back to tell you when you will attend Hogwarts.” He paused. “I’m afraid I must leave you now, dear girl.”

“Father?” She needed to ask.

“Yes?”

“Who is my mother?” she asked away. She figured that now that he needed her, he couldn’t hurt her for asking.

The seconds that lasted the silence lingered in her like a death sentence.

“Your mother ran away as she had the chance. I would be tarnishing your name by speaking of her.”

She knew that wasn’t the truth; she sensed it in his voice.

“Did you love her?”

He breathed heavily; he was getting tired of this conversation. He swiftly approached her once again.

“Love does not exist. Don’t let them bewitch your mind.”

And just like that, he vanished through dark smoke.

ྀ࿔

“Hogwarts. What a pathetic excuse for a school,” Draco snapped. “I’d pitch myself off the Astronomy Tower if I had to continue for another two years.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Pansy Parkinson, close friend of Draco, replied.

“Let’s just say, I don’t think you’ll see me wasting my time in Charms class next year.”

Draco, Pansy and Blaise were sitting down in a wagon of the Hogwarts Express. Draco knew it was his last time returning to Hogwarts. He also knew his biggest stress this year was not going to be about returning good grades home or beating Potter in the Quidditch finals. The Dark Lord had commended him a very important mission, and now that his father was facing sentence in Azkaban, he had to bear with the responsibility of the family’s loyalty towards the Dark plan.

Blaise blurted out a small chuckle to Draco’s words.

“Amused, Blaise?” the blonde boy replied. “We’ll see just who’s laughing in the end.”

Draco heard a noise coming from the rack above their seats and saw his bag having slightly been moved. Someone was eavesdropping on the conversation through an invisibility spell, and he bet on bloody Potter. He didn’t talk much after knowing the conversation was not confidential. In what twisted pathetic adventure was Potter trying to be the hero on this time? His blood was boiling by just having to pretend not knowing he was there. That tosser that everyone always praised – he wouldn’t last two days in his position. After all, life was not about heroic acts, corny speeches, and lucky fate – some people had been given a family name to respect, an expectation to be met. He thought, once again, about the mission that had been commended to him by the Dark Lord; how his wand would have to end the life of the greatest wizard alive; how he would go onto History as the man who assassinated Albus Dumbledore. He realized his hands were sweaty and his heartbeat higher than normal. He tried to keep his composure in front of everyone in the wagon and fixed his gaze on the rich green Scottish fields – clouds welcoming him to a thunderstorm.

ྀ࿔

“Ah! Y/N Diggory! Come in, come in…” Dumbledore greeted the girl in his office.

“Thank you,” she replied, following Snape. She didn’t take too much time to have a look at the curious, but glamorous place.

“Do you fancy my office? I must admit I am really fond of collecting peculiar objects,” he approached a table where all sorts of outlandish things were scattered. She noticed the blackness of his hand when he grabbed one of the objects, “I don’t always know what they do but I find them really unique as room decoration, don’t you think?”

“I’m sure being the headmaster has its advantages when it comes to decorating.”

“Oh, being the headmaster has plenty of advantages, Miss. Diggory,” he replied in a whispery tone.

“Now, you, as a new Hogwarts student, have also a lot of advantages;” he continued, “First of all, you are skipping from year one to year six, so you won’t have to bear first years’ Potions on how to make a cure for boils or first year’s Defense Against the Dark Arts on how to cast an Expelliermus.”

You simply nodded.

“Then, Professor Snape has told me that you’ve already passed through the Sorting Hat and you have been assigned to Slytherin, is that correct, Severus?”

“It is.”

It was not correct. She hadn’t gone through any house assignation, but she understood that Dumbledore didn’t know about it, and that Snape had probably settled her in Slytherin for a reason – therefore, she didn’t question it.

“Wonderful. An ambitious, clever girl, I see”.

She smirked at him. She bet he was not by any means a Slytherin himself.

“Lastly, I assume you have all this year’s textbooks, ingredients, plants, constellation maps, perhaps? Oh! I assume you have a pet by now! And a wand…”

She looked at Snape, knowing that she hadn’t bought any of those things herself. Except for the wand that she got at Ollivanders when she was eleven, after Druella had told her she would get a private tutor to teach her magic.

“She has,” Snape simply replied, without giving her any look back.

“Then everything seems to be settled. How are you feeling, Miss. Diggory?” Dumbledore deeply stared at her. This time, she felt like he really wanted to know the answer.

“Really honored to join the school, Sir.”

“My door is always open for any visits. Never underestimate the magic of being listened, Miss. Diggory.”

She nodded and followed Snape downstairs, thinking she was probably never going to step into that office again.

Snape and Y/N arrived at the dungeons of the school, where the Slytherin dormitories could be found. Snape turned around to talk to Y/N.

“All of your things are in your dorm, number 3, all the schedule and times are also in your dorm, the password to the common room is pure-blood… don’t want you sneaking after ten p.m. or you could get… into trouble.” His intimidating black eyes were on hers. He turned around with a swing of his cape.

“Oh,” He turned towards her again, “supper starts at six.”

She was alone in the castle for the first time. She uttered the password on a low voice and a bare stretch of stone wall opened, leading her to a corridor. Once she walked through it, only lightened by torches hang up on the stone walls, she arrived at the common room. It was a high ceiling, ample room; dark green shades flickering from the multiple windows. Low backed black and dark green button-tufted, leather sofas were placed all around the room; skulls on top of tables; and dark wood cupboards. Tapestries of numerous medieval figures decorated the walls. Y/N noticed the highlighted portrait of an old man that she recognized to be Salazar Slytherin, founder of the Slytherin house and one of the four founders of Hogwarts. She knew this because she was a distant relative of his, through her father of course. She noticed she was alone and headed directly to her dorm.

Her dorm was a five-bed room with one bathroom. She recognized her bag next to one of the beds. On the side table, she found a pile of textbooks; she started leafing through some of the books: Advanced Potion-Making, A Guide To Advanced Transfiguration, Flesh-Eating Trees Of The World… Her eyes wondered to the parchment at the right where her schedule and attending courses were shown. She started to read through the different school norms and times when she felt something brushing her leg. She startled at the contact when she saw a small black kitten going under her bed. She kneeled and grabbed it, putting it on the bed. The kitten had big emerald eyes that were looking into hers, as if it had some sort of human spirit inside.

“You must be my pet, huh?” She grabbed it again and looked to confirm the sex. “A Miss… Should give you a name, shouldn’t I?” She laid down on her bed caressing the kitten on her chest, thinking of a name for her. She realized that it was the first time she let herself sink down and relax since her arrival. A lot of thoughts were constantly crossing her mind telling her to focus on everything, to plan everything, to think about everything – it was exhausting. Exhausting… she came up with something.

“Your name is Exhonia. What do you think?” she asked the kitten as if she was going to reply. The kitten was scratching her jumper.

“Okay Exhonia, don’t get too ahead on yourself.” She grabbed the rather turbulent cat and placed it next to her on the bed.

The only time she had ever dealt with a cat was a the Diggory’s house, near Ottery St Catchpole. Cedric’s pet had been a brown and white cat, a rather upset one she might add, especially when Cedric was not around anymore. She had gone to the Diggory’s a month after the boy’s death when Father had asked her to.

“What can I do for you, dear?” a middle-aged man, short and plump opened the door of the cottage.

“My name is Y/N, Sir – is this the Diggory’s house?”

“Yes, yes… what is it that you want?” he wouldn’t entirely open the front door, as if he didn’t trust the world outside.

“I came to talk to you. I was really close to Cedric.”

The man seemed to freeze.

“And I was hoping to come and meet you since you would’ve been my father-in-law”.

And that is how she managed to spend a year living under the roof of the Diggorys. Amos Diggory fully believed her when she told him the story of how she was supposed to marry Cedric once he would end the Triwizard Tournament; how they had wanted to wait until the end of it to tell his parents. She told him, through a little bit of sobbing, how her parents had dropped dead on a car accident, being herself a muggle-born, and that the only family she had left was the Diggorys – even if she had never met them before. Amos and his wife found in her a beam of light; the spirit of Cedric in a beautiful fifteen-year-old girl. They never questioned the story, nor her intentions and adopted her as a Diggory that had always belonged in the family. It was not until one year later that Y/N shared with them her dream of attending Hogwarts, as Father had contacted her back and told her it was time she fulfilled her mission. They accepted with little objection, happy that they could spoil a girl as they once did to Cedric. Y/N, as a sign of gratitude, asked them if she could inherit their last name, to which they happily agreed. She became Y/N Diggory, niece of Mr. and Mrs. Diggory, as she told them it would be more appropriate taking into consideration that no one knew about her planned marriage with Cedric. Even if Y/N didn’t really want to get mingled in the Diggorys life, she knew they were living in delusion, desperately looking to fill the void of their son’s death – which Y/N, in a way, managed to do. They were in need of a miracle, she offered them the fairiest of fairy tales… who cared if it was all a script of lies at the end of the day?

Her thoughts came back to the present moment when she heard a bell chiming the hour. Six, so she counted. She decided to go down for supper, still curious that no students had yet come to the common room.

She walked up the stairs and dived through the hallways, meeting no one on the way. When she started to hear some familiar voice she recognized as to Dumbledore’s, she followed it, understanding she was somehow late to some sort of first day speech. But in the middle of her wanderings, an old-wrinkled man with a cat yelled at her.

“And what do you think you’re doing lurking in the hallways?” He firmly grabbed her by the arm.

“I was looking for the Great H- let go of me!” she replied, trying to get rid of his grip.

“The headmaster will hear about your wanderings, young lady!” He dragged her towards the doors of the Great Hall. Both doors slammed open when he pushed them with his bare hand. Dumbledore’s speech was immediately interrupted. Hundreds of eyes turned towards the old man’ and Y/N’s direction.

“Headmaster, sorry to provoke such an entrance but I found this girl wandering around the castle, missing the opening ceremony” he gave her away to everyone in the room. He pushed her forward so everyone could see who he was screaming about.

She stood at the beginning of the corridor between the students’ tables. She looked ahead, Dumbledore standing up in a podium, several professors sitting down behind him and, of course, a few inches away from her, long tables filled with students of different ages, different houses, staring at her like she was the most bizarre specimen. She decided to say something.

“Sir, I-“

“There’s no need, Miss. Diggory,” after her last name had been dropped, all students started to look at each other, mumbles starting to form, “you can join your table with the other Slytherin students.”

She didn’t reply, hearing how the room had become a cloud of voices at this point.

“Thank you Argus for the help. But, Miss. Diggory was just lost, being this her first day at Hogwarts.” The voices intensified. “Now, while it is always very joyful to welcome new students, I must ask you to stop the chatter.” Students seemed to listen to him, and seconds later there was little to no sound.

Y/N sat down on the first free seat at the Slytherin table, still feeling like half of the students’ gazes were settled on her. Once Dumbledore had proceeded with his speech, she discretely took a look on the people that surrounded her. Four large tables divided the Great Hall, one for each house. Her gaze wondered through the Gryffindor table, looking for a certain scared-boy. She of course knew about the prophecy, as well as she knew the history between him and her father. She had thought about eventually meeting Harry Potter but never really figured how she would react to his presence. Should she hate him, pity him, fear him? The boy was her age – which didn’t leave a lot of room for fear. But she was still curious to see how they would react to one another, even if the boy was unaware of who her father was, as well as everyone. She guessed she would eventually meet the chosen one during class.

Her eyes turned back to Dumbledore, who was finishing talking, when someone pulled their arm towards her.

“They are calling you from there,” a dark-haired boy told her, while pointing to the other side of the long table.

She switched her focus to look for the person who was calling her. A blonde boy tilted his head down to meet her gaze. He playfully tilted his eyebrows while a smirk made its way to his face. She smiled at him while slowly shaking her head. It was no other than the heir of the Malfoys himself. He stared deep into her eyes a little longer, then shifted his gaze back to some Professor that had started talking. She looked at him a little longer, letting herself feel for no more than five seconds the accelerated heartbeat that she was still unfamiliar with. She eventually switched her gaze back to the Professor too. The Slytherin heir was back at Hogwarts, and this time, she had the Prince of Slytherin by her side.

part two

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shockinglyangel · 1 month

Text

REMINISCE - THEODORE NOTT x fem!reader

MATURE, Warnings: 18+, NSFW, Inappropriate touching, fingering, Fem!receiving, Mentions of nudity, Strong language, Light teasing, Edging, Orgasm denial

NOT PROOFREAD

"So?" You leaned back into your boyfriend, your fingers entangled with his while your back was to his chest, the two of you laying on the common room sofa with a large green blanket to cover you. "I don't see the issue."

Theo's mouth fell agape. "You don't see an issue with it?" He laughed and let his unoccupied hand play with your hair, his fingers getting lost in the strands.

You nodded and looked up, your eyes finding his chin before meeting his own eyes when he looked down at you. "I thought Draco was the one to bring it up."

He shook his head, his light brown locks dancing along with him. "A test." He explained.

You sat up to face him now, your body placed in between his legs. "Why would he test her by asking her if she wanted a threesome?" You pulled the blanket around your shoulders so it covered you completely, Theo's legs now only covered by his trousers.

Your boyfriend shrugged a response and placed his hands on your thighs, softly rubbing up and down a few times. "To see her loyalty, I assume." A smile grew on his face, his expression seeming like a lightbulb had just come a spark in his head. "Would you ever have a threesome with me?"

You rolled your eyes and turned to your side, laying back down on Theo's chest, your body scrunched and the blanket covering you. "No, but that doesn't mean Draco's test was ok." You admitted.

Theo's hand found your waist, squeezing it lightly. "You would never need one with how good I fuck." He smiled proudly. He allowed two of his fingers to trace against your legs and wherever else the blanket wasn't covering. You just nodded and closed your eyes, feeling the tip of his touch gracefully caress your exposed skin. His fingers stopped at the hem of your shorts. "You know," he got closer to your ear. "There's only one other person in in here, if your quiet."

His touch etched higher before you grabbed his fingers, your hand wrapping around his two digits. "No," you felt him pull away from your ear, his warm breath no longer being felt. "Not right now Theo, we'll get caught."

"Enzo's in our dorm," he thought for a moment. "How about we use yours."

You shook your head, turning to face him. "My dormate's in there studying." You sighed.

Theo went silent for a second before pulling his hand away from yours, something he rarely did since he quite enjoyed the feeling of your touch, and would never do anything to jeopardise how much he got per day. "If we cant do anything," a smirk arose to his face for another time. "What if I tell you what I want to do to you?" You nodded a silent response and let your eyes fall shut, his voice soothingly began to speak.

He pulled the blanket back over the two of you, your back to his chest, your fingers wandering over his legs that were either side of you. He allowed his own fingers to trail down your neck, taking a quick look around to ensure that the only other remaining person in the common room wasn't close enough to hear. "If I had you alone right now," he started, his fingertips stroking lightly up and down your neck. "I'd start off by kissing your lips," he graced over your collarbone. "Then I'd kiss you neck," his thumb moved up to your jaw while his fingers stayed where they were. "I'd cover you in hickeys, that way everyone knows that you're mine."

You took a deep inhale when feeling his hand on the top of your shirt, him playing with the thin fabric between his thumb and forefinger. You couldn't help but shuffle slightly at what he was telling you, hoping that the other student in the common room couldn't hear Theo's hushed tone as he whispered all the things he wished to do to you.

"Then," he continued, bringing you from your haze. "I'd rip off this shirt, and I'd kiss down the valley in between your tits," he paused for a moment, his hand slipping under the shirt to hold stroke down the center of your boobs. "Then Id take one into my mouth, while playing with the other." His hand massaged over one of your nipples before moving to the next, the sensitivity of the touch making your nipples harden.

Theo smirked, "I'd lick down you stomach, and get on my knees," his other hand began to play with the drawstring of your shorts. "I'd look at you and your nervous state under my touch, and then I'd remove your shorts." He allowed his hand to slip under, one of his fingers pressing lightly onto the wet patch in your underwear.

You shuddered at the feeling, exhaling and pressing your head harder to his chest. "Theo." You really didn't want to get caught.

"Then I'd ask you if this is ok," he cocked his head to the side and waited for you to look up at him, his hand now cupping your core.

You looked up at him with pleading eyes, your body involuntarily grinding up into his hand. You thought about it for a moment, if it was quick and quiet, you would be able to get away with it, but if there was even an ounce of noise, a tiny squeak, you would get caught. You nodded and closed your eyes.

Theo chuckled quietly to himself. "I'd tell you to use your words."

Your eyes shot open, looking back into his. "Yes, this is ok." You finally replied and he returned your answer with a smile.

"Next, I tell you how wet you are, and I ask you if this is all for me." He carried on.

"Yes." You breathed out.

He smirked another time and his hand slid into your underwear. "I'd remove your underwear, then I'd lick a line up and down your slit."

You felt his finger run over your slit, coating itself in your juices. You bit your lip at the feeling, your eyes falling closed again.

"Then," He moved closer to your ear, his lips touching your delicate skin. "I'd wrap my lips around your clit," his thumb massaged your bundle of nerves. "And then I'd suck on it"

Theo pushed a finger inside of you, your back arching at the sensation, a gasp leaving your lips.

"I'd let my other hand play with your tits again." He moved his free hand back down tie shirt, you letting out a small moan at the feeling of him fingering you and fondling with your boobs.

You quickly covered your mouth, your eyes looking over to the boy at the back of the common room, he was not paying attention.

The rhythm of Theo's fingers started to get faster, his fingers pinching your nipples and making your body jolt. You held back several moans, trying desperately not to get caught. Theo was talented at everything he did, whether it was Quidditch, guitar, even singing, he was true perfection. But the way he'd studied your body so well to know your every minor reaction. He knew what you liked and didn't like, he knew you. Theodore was known for his reputation of being a sex god, and that was the only thing people didn't have wrong about him.

Your eyes shot open and you gasped. "Theo!" You whisper shouted, your hand shooting down to his wrist to grab it forcefully. "Too deep."

Theo was no idiot, he knew that you were coming closer and closer to your climax, your eyebrows scrunched, while your hip began to grind on his palm. He couldn't let you have it that easy. You pushed his finger deeper into you, hitting some sort of nerve and jolting you from your thoughts. He smirked, looking down at the blanket that was hiding the sinister acts underneath.

He wasn't going to let you cum unless he could hear you. And in the Slytherin common room, you were not being vocal enough for his liking.

He pulled his hands from your underwear and placed a kiss on your head before forcing you to sit up. Theo got off of the couch, grabbing his blanket from your body, his eyes enjoying your already wrecked state. Your hair was a mess and your cheeks were puffy, your shirt slightly falling off one of your shoulders.

He was not going to let you have it.

"Thedore!" You sat cross-legged on the couch, your arm outstretching to whack him.

Theo leaned down and gave a kiss to your bare shoulder before placing another on your cheek. "See you in the morning, love."

You shook your head and got up off the couch, following after him as he innocently wandered off to his dorm. "Theo!" Your voice got louder. "Don't you dare leave me here! Theodore." You stopped in your tracks, whining at the absence of your boyfriend and the growing feeling of need inside of your body.

What a fucking jerk.

#slytherin boys react #theodore nott #slytherin #slytherin boys #harry potter

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