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#Wizard Rifle
concerthopperblog · 11 months
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Bongzilla w/ Wizard Rifle & Possum Pot: Live at Grantski Records
Bongzilla is a sludge/stoner metal band from Madison, Wisconsin that originally started performing as a band during 1995-2009. After a six-year hiatus, Bongzilla reunited with most of the original lineup in 2015. The band currently consists of Mike “Muleboy” Makela (vocals/guitars/bass), Jeff “Spanky” Schultz (guitars), and Dirty Mike “Magma” Henry (drums). It is worth noting one former Bongzilla alum (2005-2009) was Dave “Dixie” Collins (Weedeater) who played bass. They have released five (5) LPs, seven (7) EPs and Splits, and four (4) Compilation albums with their last release entitled, Weedconsin, courtesy of Heavy Psych Sounds in 2021. You can also pre-order their newest LP, Dab City, by following this link to Heavy Psych Sounds (release date June 2nd, 2023).
Bongzilla embarked on a Spring tour in support of the release of Dab City on March 10th at Planet Mammoth Fest in Scottsdale, Arizona. Luckily for me, they added my hometown on their way to play Boggs Social in Atlanta, Georgia. What makes this show even cooler for me is that it took place at my favorite local record store, Grantski Records, in downtown Augusta, Georgia. This would be my first time seeing Bongzilla and it was something special seeing them at Grantski Records in such an intimate setting. Earplugs were made for just these moments in life because Bongzilla brought that heavy, sludgy sound that rattled the room from start to finish.
You can hear Bongzilla by following this link to their Official Bandcamp page today!
Wizard Rifle is a two (2) piece progressive metal band that started a band in 2010 and hails from Portland, Oregon. The band consists of Sam Ford (vocals/drums) and Max Dameron (vocals/guitars). Wizard Rifle is a two-piece band that packs a heavy punch that leaves you wanting more. I have not had many chances to see Wizard Rifle perform live, so I cherish those moments when they arrive. I enjoyed seeing so many people at Grantski Records get into their set. You can check out my first review of Wizard Rifle from Acid King’s Busse Woods 20th Anniversary Tour with Warish live from 529 in Atlanta exclusively on Concerthopper.com by following this link.
Want to check out Wizard Rifle? Follow this link to Wizard Rifle’s Official Bandcamp page today!
Possum Rot is a stoner metal band from Augusta, Georgia that formed back in 2017. Possum Rot consists of Matt Poppell (vocals/guitar), Tyler Milford (vocals/bass), and Evan Grantski (drums). They have released four (4) singles to date: “Do It Again”, “Pestilence”, “Smoke”, and “Prisoner of The Dirt”. I am ashamed to say that I have not seen Possum Rot perform before this evening. And sadly, I am from Augusta, their hometown. {face palm} Not all my choices are the right choice sometimes, missing Possum Rot numerous times was not the right choice. Believe me. The best way to describe Possum Rot is what if Sleep and The Melvins had a little Sabbath, sludge metal baby? Then you have the greatness that is Possum Rot. I recommend checking out their socials and giving them a follow: Instagram and Facebook.
Follow this link to Possum Rot’s Official Bandcamp page today and give them a follow!
You can still catch Bongzilla with Wizard Rifle on tour during the following dates:
April 29th Grim Reefer Fest Baltimore, MD
April 30th Saint Vitus Brooklyn, NY
May 1st Alchemy Providence, RI
May 3rd Bug Jar Rochester, NY
May 4th Westside Bowl Youngstown, OH
May 5th Ace of Cups Columbus, OH
May 6th Sanctuary Detroit, MI
Curious about Concerthopper? You can find more music related articles, interviews, various photo galleries, indie music reviews, our very own ‘Bars & Bites’ section, our exclusive “She Said, She Said” column, or become a Concerthopper at www.concerthopper.com. Sign up for our monthly newsletter by following this link: The Setlist! Please ‘Like’ our page on Facebook and follow us on Instagram to stay up to date in 2022, on all music-related events/festivals such as: Relix Presents Yonder Mountain String Band, Railroad Earth, and Keller Williams and The Keels: Live at The Eastern, The Parallax II Tour: Between The Buried and Me Live @ The Masquerade, Beartooth and Trivium: Live at Buffalo Riverworks, So Much For (Tour) Dust: Fall Out Boy/Bring Me the Horizon @ Darien Lake Amphitheater,  AmericanaFest (2023), Ghost RE-Imperatour U.S.A. with Amon Amarth: Ascend Amphitheater, The 5th Annual PorchFest, 12th Annual Papa Joe’s Banjo-B-Que Music Festival, Riverbend Festival, Withered, Bathe, and Omenkiller: Live at Grantski Records, The Dark Horizon Tour: In This Moment, Motionless in White, Fit For a King, & From Ashes to New – Live at Buffalo Riverworks, Souls of Mischief: 93’ til Infinity 30th Anniversary Tour @ City Winery (Atlanta), and Yob and Pallbearer: Live at the Masquerade by following us on all social media formats: Concerthopper on Facebook, Twitter, and Instagram.  Also, you can follow my concert hopping on Facebook and Instagram for even more photos not available on Concerthopper.com.
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Had a dream about a virtuoso that used guns instead of knives and I am obssessed with this idea now
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renaultmograine · 2 days
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you ever come up with a sick d&d concept and youre like. damn. if only i played it.
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theentityfromhell · 18 days
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Ur a shooter Harry 🪄🔫
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soldsouls · 2 months
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I just think the companions should be able to move around camp in-game so you can find Luci lounging in random tents and poking through the others’ things — not without consequence
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malaismere · 2 years
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thinking about 4-sided dive and Taliesin talking about Bells Hells being npcs and like...
Reality itself works so different for PCs and NPCs. There’s the obvious class level things but also like. Death saves are a PC thing - it’s an optional rule for NPCs and honestly not widely used. Unless they’re the big bad, or it’s specified nonlethal, basically anyone the main characters knock to 0 is instantly dead, whereas you usually have to work to kill a PC permanently.
There are a lot of fallacies that dnd parties tend to fall into as they get higher levels and less attached to the world. Getting super rich and just giving away gold like it’s nothing when it’s a full days labor. Expecting to find high level magic items for sale in backwater towns or get someone to cast spells for them. Being surprised that the random townie they hit has <5 hp.
Main Characters get to live in the cartoon logic world where they can get stabbed in the gut and be better with a good nights rest, versus everyone else living in this grimdark world where all of these attacks cause serious, permanent injuries, and even if they do get brought up from 0 they’ve got months of recovery.
Every other member of the Bells Hells has either always been close enough to Adventurers that they got caught in the bubble (Orym, FCG) or have been weird long enough they forgot it’s not normal (Chetney, Laudna, Imogen) if they ever knew (Fearne). But Ashton? Ashton feels like they still view the world the way they did as an npc thug.
Of course you run and leave people behind. The only healing you have is potions, and once someone’s down chances are even that won’t bring them up. What’re you gonna do with a corpse, bury it? That’s not worth a life, you leave them behind, no second thoughts...
And going from cartoon world to grimdark world is scary af, suddenly realizing what you do leaves scars - but it’s nothing compared to the reverse. Going from violence having consequences to it all being fixed in the morning. Learning that this could all have been fixed so easily but instead you were watching people be hurt - learning that it’s relatively cheap to bring people back from the dead. That’s horrifying.
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invinciblerodent · 4 months
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Defending the Shadowfell portal for the first time: confused screaming, spamming spells, generally terrified, dear god they won't stop coming, why won't they stop coming
Defending the Shadowfell portal for the second time: Time To Bully Some Undead
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astralflows · 1 year
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playing mch in pvp be like: [marksman's spite you] nothing personal kid.
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writing-prompt-s · 1 year
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Your adventuring party is unstoppable. It has a fighter, able to crush steel armor with bare hands. A cleric, able to cure any wound imaginable. The wizard, who can manipulate energy and matter into anything. And Bob, a random person who found a sniper rifle
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livingawayfromhere · 6 months
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half-asleep
Theseus Scamander x fem!reader Summary: Theseus is willing to do practically anything for his job, including lose sleep-- but Y/N won't let that happen. Word count: 723
The breeze from the open window sent heavy chills down Y/N’s back. The October air was cold, sure– but neither Y/N or Theseus liked to have the window closed. The noises of the streets below held a comfort that they couldn’t describe.
Theseus beside her didn’t seem to notice as he rifled through the file of papers he’d taken home from the office. He’d been assigned a big case on a number of dark wizards that had somehow evaded the Ministry’s eye for two months, and Theseus had a determination to catch them that wasn’t quite as adamant in the other Aurors. Of course, he’d been given the thing three weeks ago, and hadn’t gotten so close as to locating the group. He would’ve stayed another hour (or three) at the office to further examine the case file again, but was ushered home by Travers, who knew just the extent Theseus might go to finish the case.
Y/N, who was part of the Investigation Department and therefore worked closely with the Aurors in cases like such, was more than willing to help Theseus assess the case.
Or at least, she was five hours ago.
They had gotten home at five, and it was nearing ten. Theseus was supposed to be at the Ministry at six o’clock sharp the next morning for an important meeting with Travers and a handful of other Ministry officials. To make matters worse, Y/N could see his eyes drooping more and more with every passing minute, and it seemed like he wouldn’t stop yawning. At one point, she thought she caught him fall asleep for a brief moment when he put his head in his hands.
“Theseus,” Y/N began, giving his sleeve a light tug. “Do you think we should start going to bed–?”
“You know I can’t.” Theseus cut in, barely glancing back at her. “Still lots to go through.”
“But, y’know, it can wait for tomorrow, right? We’ve been at this for so long, I don’t want you to overexert–”
 “Y/N, I’ve been on this for three weeks. It can’t prolong anymore than it already has. I need to do this.”
“Yes, but–”
“Just go on without me, okay? I’ll be there soon.” he shrugged off the hand on his arm.
Y/N frowned. She knew he didn’t mean anything by the action– he had a tendency to disappear from reality when he was immersed in his work, and become bitter– but it could hurt at times.
Rather than follow his instructions, Y/N instead put a hand to his cheek, forcing him to turn her way. “Theseus,”
His blue eyes seemed more of a faded gray as he gazed back at her. 
“You need to sleep. Look at you, my darling, you’re barely even awake,”
Theseus began to argue, but Y/N quickly shushed him, standing up from the chair next to his to pull him in for a hug. “Don’t even try. Come on, come get some sleep.”
She could see him begin to cave. Before he could protest any more, she pulled him up by the hand, leading him to the bedroom. 
To say Theseus collapsed onto the mattress would be an understatement. As soon as his head hit the pillow, Y/N thought he was out.
“Feels nice, doesn’t it?”
“Mmm-hmm.”
Letting out a small laugh, Y/N pulled the blanket over him, leaning over to make sure his opposite side was covered.
“Y/N,” Theseus said, voice barely above a whisper.
Y/N felt a kiss to her shoulder, and failed to bite back a smile. “Hmm?”
“I’m sorry for being mean.”
Y/N moved back over to meet her face with his. She pressed a short, warm kiss to his lips. “Don’t be. It’s okay. You’re tired.”
Theseus shut his eyes, wrapping his arms around her sides to pull her in closer. “What would I do without you, my love?”
Y/N snuggled into his touch, nuzzling into the crook of his neck. “Stay awake and work.”
Y/N could practically hear his eyes roll. 
“I love you, Y/N/N”
“I love you too, Theseus.” Tilting her head up, she pressed another kiss to his cheek.
And the two fell asleep, legs tangled under the blanket, warm in each other’s embrace, far from the work that haunted their day-to-day lives.
-
i do not consent to my work being replicated, modified, reposted, or redistributed.
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the-gnomish-bastard · 9 months
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Own a musket for gnome defense, since that's what the ancient wizards intended. Four high elves break into my tower. "What the fuck?" As I grab my gnome hat and arcane rifle. Blow a bowling ball sized hole through the first elf, he's dead on the spot. Draw my wand on the second elf, miss him entirely because it's bent and nails the neighbors familiar. I have to resort to the arcane cannon mounted at the top of the stairs loaded with explosive goblins, "Eat shit bitch" the goblins shred two elves in the blast, the sound and bone shrapnel spook the griffins. Grab Grankler and charge the last terrified shithead. He turns into a muscular undead chicken with crab legs, then spontaneously combusts. Just as the ancient wizards intended.
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crimewizards · 9 months
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if you know the answer, don't vote, just reblog! i want everyone to know how absolutely nuts this series was
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charmed [16]: 'cat, rat, dog, and dove' (remus lupin x reader)
a/n: WELCOME BACK TO CHARMED. WE ARE HERE. we have arrived to this moment. BUCKLE THE FUCKING FUCK UP.
brief summary: the year has culminated into this one fateful night at the shrieking shack. word count: 9k
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series summary: if you're here, u know what this series is abt im not gonna waste space and recopy it here THIS CHAPTER IS ALREADY TOO LOADED.
series masterlist here
join taglist here
16.
The sun was out. Its rays peeking through the leaves of trees, their heat was much stronger in this month of spring than it was in autumn, when Y/N and Remus took their first early morning walk to escape from the Castle. It became a habit they maintained all school year, and it was so hard to believe that they had already walked their way to final examinations season. Two terms had rolled by, laying down all the tiles needed to strengthen their relationship even more.
Y/N’s arm was around Remus’ bicep. It was warm enough now for them to abandon their jackets, and they strolled through the Castle grounds in simple button-ups.
Remus peeked down at Y/N, who by reflex caught his eye. He shut an eye tightly in an exaggerated wink. Y/N smiled, resting her head against his arm for a second.
“Can’t wait for our kid to experience all that is Hogwarts.” Remus said.
Y/N’s eyebrows knit together as she beamed up at him.
“Rem…”
Their chests burned from elation as they continued in their stride.
“Thinking a bit ahead though, don’t you think, we’ve got more than 11 years before we get to that point.” Y/N chuckled.
“Oh, you’re right. Before that, it’ll be you n’ me teaching them.”
“I agree with you. Sending them to Muggle primary school seems way too risky for exposure.”
“I do worry about socialization though.”
“Hmm. Me too. We should probably get in touch with other wizard families that have children the same age as ours.”
They came to a small halt as they overlooked the train tracks.
“I can’t wait for our kid to get on the train for the first time.” Y/N sighed.
Remus patted her hand in his. “What did you feel your first time on it?”
“Terrified.” Y/N chortled. “I was anxious even as a child. You?”
“Me too. But I guess, something really deep inside me- I don’t know. I just felt like my life was going to change, I guess.”
Y/N smiled softly at the gentle man before her.
“And we have to take that train really soon again.”
“Yeah.”
“Crazy.”
They continued walking, the castle of Hogwarts standing tall against them, hovering and watching over them as it has done for so long.
+
As the year continued to draw to a close, the exam season proceeded on. Today were the Charms finals for the 3rd-years, as well as the 5th-years’ OWL’s. Even the Weasley twins had been spotted with their books open, working in a corner of the library.
Y/N downed the last of her tea, as she rifled through a pack of fresh grading sheets. She waved her wand, and yesterday’s 2nd-year evaluations floated upwards, inserted themselves neatly in a folder, and slid themselves into her briefcase.
She clapped her hands together and got up to the door, opening it to a crowd of her 3rd-years. 
“Ready?”
She let them trickle in and take their seats at the individually separated desks. Walking through the aisles, she placed an exam sheet on each one facing down.
“Alright, everyone, please get your things straight and then leave your bags up here in the front. Remember, you’re only allowed your quills for the written part.”
“You guys have one hour. Don’t forget to check both sides of the paper. Time starts… now.”
A synchronized whoosh of 30 papers being flipped over echoed across the room, followed by the etching of quills.
Y/N hated the written exams. She had nothing to do but to count the tiles in the classroom and twiddle her thumbs.
She was on her 5th recount of how many tiles spanned from one wall to another when a figure flashed in her peripheral.
Remus had passed by and judging the complete silence, assumed Y/N was sitting an exam. He waved cheerily, happy he had opted for practical examinations. Y/N rolled her eyes when she spotted him. Remus turned back around and passed the classroom door again.
“STOP.” Y/N mouth silently, gesturing to her students.
A few of them looked up and laughed, leading to a few more turning their heads.
“Enough.” Y/N shook her head, waving her wand and the door slammed shut, Remus disappearing from their sights.
“Professor Lupin’s just gloating that all his finals are over.” Y/N hushed the group. “Now get on, I’m not giving you extra time.”
She winked at the end, and the students returned to their scrolls, the atmosphere in the classroom noticeably lighter.
+
Light filled the room as Y/N clicked the lamp open. She turned to her side to find Remus wide awake as well.
“Can’t sleep?” She muttered.
“Nope.”
Y/N huffed, stacking her pillows and coming up to a seated position.
“It’s the full moon soon. How are you feeling?”
“The usual.” Remus yawned, turning on his side. He examined the grey circles under Y/N’s eyes through his wrinkle-decorated own. “I just feel a bit weird.”
“Hm.” Y/N responded. “Me too.”
“We’re probably just tired from so many back to back exams and all the grading.”
“Yeah. And my heart is kind of hurting. I just can’t really believe this year is ending. This has been the best job I’ve ever had in my whole life.”
Remus slid his hand under the covers to find hers.
“All good things must come to an end, my love.”
Y/N smiled sadly.
“What are the odds Flitwick needs another year off, eh?”
Remus chuckled.
Y/N clicked the lamp off and the two laid back in once again total darkness. Outside their window, roamed the creatures of the night. Centaurs, unicorns trudging across the Forbidden Forest, Dementors floating outside the Castle perimeter, and strolling stealthily in the Hogsmeade village; a ginger cat and its newfound friend, a big shaggy black dog.
+
Remus strolled along on his daily walk of the Castle grounds. Y/N had opted to stay in bed well into the afternoon that day, feeling more tired than usual.
He found a tree stump near Hagrid’s Hut and installed himself comfortably under it. He pulled a book from the pocket of his robes and opened it to the page he had last marked. About three quarters of an hour passed when he noticed Harry, Hermione and Ron come down and go into Hagrid’s. He returned to his book.
A small while later, he noticed more figures make their way to that direction.  One sported a bowler hat, which he recognized as the Minister of Magic Cornelius Fudge, and two wizards followed him. One of them had a shiny axe attached to his belt, which glistened when it caught the sun.
Comprehension dawned upon Remus. He had heard of Hagrid’s Hippogriff case with Malfoy and the Ministry, and Y/N had told him in passing of the Harry and his friends’ interest in the outcome.
They emerged from the hut and crossed paths with the men. Remus closed his book. Those three better not involve themselves any further with the case, he thought. He didn’t want them to be exposed to the execution.
+
"THE DARK LORD LIES ALONE AND FRIENDLESS, ABANDONED BY HIS FOLLOWERS. HIS SERVANT HAS BEEN CHAINED THESE TWELVE YEARS. TONIGHT, BEFORE 
MIDNIGHT... THE SERVANT WILL BREAK FREE AND SET OUT TO REJOIN HIS MASTER. THE DARK LORD WILL RISE AGAIN WITH HIS SERVANTS AID, GREATER AND 
MORE TERRIBLE THAN EVER HE WAS. TONIGHT... BEFORE MIDNIGHT... THE SERVANT... WILL SET OU... TO REJOIN... HIS MASTER.... 
Harry dropped the crystal ball he was supposed to return to Professor Trelawney and ran.
Thus began a very fateful night.
+
Remus walked through the Castle that evening and felt a weird shift in the air. Exams were over sure, but there was a certain trio that seemed the opposite of celebratory. Making his way down to the Great Hall, he took a seat next to Professor Sprout.
“Evening, Lupin.” She said happily.
“Good evening, Professor.” He responded kindly.
“Y/N coming soon?”
“Hm? Oh, I’m not sure, she’s taking a nap now. She’s been awfully tired this past week.”
“That’s okay, classic end-of-year burnout” she replied, then proceeded to ask him how if he had finished all his grading.
Remus conversed with her a bit distractedly as he watched over the Gryffindor table, spotting Harry, Ron and Hermione. They were visibly pre-occupied and were huddled away from the other students, discussing seriously.
“Have you heard from Hagrid? Poor thing, his Hippogriff’s been sentenced to death today. It’s going to happen tonight, any minute now actually I think.”
Remus turned to face her. “Really? That’s horrible…”
Professor Sprout pursed her lips in agreement before taking another bite of chicken.
Remus looked over at the trio again. They were standing up hastily, walking out of the Hall with quick little steps. He frowned. What were they up to?
He took the time to finish his dinner calmly and bid the fellow staff goodbye. Making his way back into his office, he pulled out his things quietly as the bedroom door was still shut; Y/N was probably still asleep.
He took a seat at his desk and pulled out what looked like an old used piece of parchment.
“I solemnly swear that I am up to no good.”
The map opened and unfolded as traces of ink bled upon its pages, forming its intricate content. He scanned it quickly, before turning his attention to Hagrid’s Hut. Hagrid’s dot was there, along with Dumbledore’s and other names he assumed were Ministry officials.
Running along the path to his Hut, he stopped at the two dots moving right under the Whomping Willow. It was Harry and Hermione. Where was Ron? What were they doing by that tree?
A thought popped in his head and his stomach sank. He moved up the map, praying to God that his far-fetched conjecture wouldn’t be true. Landing on Hogsmeade Village, he looked for the Shrieking Shack. The weight in his stomach sank even further. Ron’s dot was there, accompanied by none other than… Sirius Black.
His hands shook. He had to go help him. But as he watched the dots move, a third one came into view.
It was labelled “Peter Pettigrew”.
At that second, the blood had left Remus’ face. His hands grew cold. He shook the paper. He rapped his wand at it. He blinked and blinked again. The dot was still there, labelled with that name as clear as day.
In that very moment, a 13 year-old puzzle just came together with this one final piece. The web wove itself to completion. He understood… Stuffing his wand in his pocket, he jumped out of his chair and sped out the door.
+
In the Shrieking Shack, blood pressures were high.
Ron lay in the corner, with his weight off his broken leg, clutching his rat Scabbers. Hermione stood in the corner, quiet and pale.
Harry was fuming, frozen with his wand lifted and pointed to a ghastly, ghost-like Sirius Black.
"Going to kill me, Harry?" he whispered. 
Harry stopped right above him, his wand still pointing at Black's chest, looking down at him. A livid bruise was rising around Black's left eye and his nose was bleeding. 
"You killed my parents," said Harry, his voice shaking slightly, but his wand hand quite steady. 
Black stared up at him out of those sunken eyes. 
"I don't deny it," he said very quietly. "But if you knew the whole story." 
"The whole story?" Harry repeated, a furious pounding in his ears. "You sold them to Voldemort. That's all I need to know." 
"You've got to listen to me," Black said, and there was a note of urgency in his voice now. "You'll regret it if you don't.... You don't understand...." 
"I understand a lot better than you think," said Harry, and his voice shook more than ever. "You never heard her, did you? My mum... trying to stop Voldemort killing me... and you did that... you did it...." 
Crookshanks jumped in between the two and sat itself at Black’s feet, looking back at Harry with deep yellow eyes.
The seconds lengthened. And still Harry stood frozen there, wand poised, Black staring up at him, Crookshanks on his chest. Ron's ragged breathing came from near the bed; Hermione was quite silent. 
And then came a new sound - 
Muffled footsteps were echoing up through the floor — someone was moving downstairs. 
"WE'RE UP HERE!" Hermione screamed suddenly. "WE'RE UP HERE -- SIRIUS BLACK - QUICK!" 
Professor Lupin came hurtling into the room, his face bloodless, his wand raised and ready. His eyes flickered over Ron, lying on the floor, over Hermione, cowering next to the door, to Harry, standing there with his wand covering Black, and then to Black himself, crumpled and bleeding at Harry's feet. 
"Expelliarmus!" Lupin shouted. 
Harry's wand flew once more out of his hand; so did the two Hermione was holding. Lupin caught them all deftly, then moved into the room, staring at Black, who still had Crookshanks lying protectively across his chest. 
+
Y/N woke up to a dark room. She groaned and rubbed her eyes. Her entire face felt scorching hot and her mouth was dry like she hadn’t drank in days. She rolled over in the bed. She had crawled under her blankets in the evening before dinner for a quick nap, but judging by the chill and dark air outside, she must have slept into early night.
She felt a tightness in her pelvic area, like cramps. She placed a hand on her abdomen.
Pulling herself out of bed lazily, she head to the bathroom. Her period was supposed to start a few days ago, so this must’ve been it. However, as she sat down on the toilet, there was nothing.
Suddenly, a realization jolted her mind awake.
She ran back to the bedroom, rummaging through her drawer for a pregnancy test. She went back to the bathroom and waited for the result.
Positive.
She put down the test swiftly, looking away as she felt her heartbeat quicken. She couldn’t believe her eyes. Slowly, she picked up the stick and read the result once more.
Holy shit.
She looked around her and it occurred to her that Remus was nowhere to be found. She checked the clock. It was well past 10pm. 
Where the hell was he?
+
"Where is he, Sirius?" 
Remus spoke in a tense voice, cutting through the weighted silence that took over the Shrieking Shack.
Black's face was quite expressionless. For a few seconds, he didn't move at all. Then, very slowly, he raised his empty hand and pointed straight at Ron. 
Mystified, Harry glanced around at Ron, who looked bewildered. 
"But then..." Lupin muttered, staring at Black so intently it seemed he was trying to read his mind, "... why hasn't he shown himself before now? Unless" -- Lupin's eyes suddenly widened, as though he was seeing something beyond Black, something none of the rest could see, "-- unless he was the one... unless you switched... without telling me?" 
Very slowly, his sunken gaze never leaving Lupin's face, Black nodded. 
"Professor," Harry interrupted loudly, "what's going on --?" 
But Harry wasn’t able to finish his sentence, as what followed knocked the wind from his throat.
Remus lowered his wand. He walked to Sirius’ side, seized his hand confidently and pulled him to his feet. He gazed deeply into his eyes for a second, before the two men pulled each other into a deep embrace.
“I don’t believe it—“ Remus gasped, voice muffled.
“God, it’s been so long,” Sirius muttered back, “my friend.”
"DON'T BELIEVE IT!" Hermione screamed. 
Lupin let go of Black and turned to her. She had raised herself off the floor and was pointing at Lupin, wild-eyed. "You -- you --" 
"Hermione —"
“— you and him!" 
"Hermione, calm down —" 
"I didn't tell anyone!" Hermione shrieked. "I've been covering up for you —" 
"Hermione, listen to me, please'" Lupin shouted. "I can explain —" 
Harry could feel himself shaking, not with fear, but with a fresh wave of fury. 
"I trusted you," he shouted at Lupin, his voice wavering, out of control, "and all the time you've been his friend!" 
"You're wrong," said Lupin. "I haven't been Sirius's friend, but I am now — Let me explain...." 
"NO!" Hermione screamed. "Harry, don't trust him, he's been helping Black get into the castle, he wants you dead too -- he's a werewolf!" 
There was a ringing silence. Everyone's eyes were now on Lupin, who looked remarkably calm, though rather pale. 
+
Where the hell was he?
Y/N’s head was spinning as too much was happening at the same time. She glanced around hurriedly for signs of Remus, then remembered she was clutching the positive pregnancy test and looked back at the positive result, then saw the Marauder’s Map was splayed across the desk, still open.
She closed her eyes, and took a deep breath. She stuffed the test in her pocket then headed towards his desk. She’d be able to find where Remus was on the map, then would go back to sleep.
It took a while for her eyes to scan the entire Castle for his name, to no avail. Where the hell was he? Surely he was not outside… It then dawned on her that tonight was the full moon.
Shit. 
She looked over to the Shrieking Shack and nothing could have prepared her to see what she saw. Not one, but six dots. One was Remus, but he was accompanied by Harry, Ron and Hermione, as well as…
Y/N felt her heart freeze. Sirius Black? And… Peter… Pettigrew?
None of this felt possible. It couldn’t be. Grabbing her wand, she rushed out the office.
With this new information, the full moon had completely been replaced in her mind. Unfortunately, the only one who did seem to still remember was a certain Potions professor, on his way up to their office right now, where the map laid wide open.
+
"Not at all up to your usual standard, Hermione," Remus said. "Only one out of three, I'm afraid. I have not been helping Sirius get into the castle and I certainly don't want Harry dead.”  An odd shiver passed over his face. "But I won't deny that I am a werewolf." 
Ron made a valiant effort to get up again but fell back with a whimper of pain. Lupin made toward him, looking concerned, but Ron gasped, "Get away from me, werewolf!" 
Lupin stopped dead. Then, with an obvious effort, he turned to Hermione and said, "How long have you known?" 
"Ages," Hermione whispered. "Since I did Professor Snape's essay..." 
"He'll be delighted," said Lupin coolly. "He assigned that essay hoping someone would realize what my symptoms meant.... Did you check the lunar chart and realize that I was always ill at the full moon? Or did you realize that the boggart changed into the moon when it saw me?" 
"Both," Hermione said quietly. 
Lupin forced a laugh. 
"You're the cleverest witch of your age I've ever met, Hermione." 
"I'm not," Hermione whispered. "If I'd been a bit cleverer, I'd have told everyone what you are!" 
"But they already know," said Lupin. "At least, the staff do." 
“The staff? Does Professor Y/L/N know?” Ron gasped.
Sirius let out a howl of genuine laughter. “Professor Y/L/N!” He cackled. 
Remus scratched the back of his head, suddenly slightly bashful. “Professor Y/L/N and I… have been married for over 10 years.”
Harry, Ron and Hermione’s jaws dropped.
Silence fell over the room once again, as Remus stood there not knowing what to say next and Sirius standing by his side with his arms crossed, a slight smirk on his face.
“Well, we knew that!” Hermione exclaimed, finally. “That was more obvious than the werewolf thing! The whole school talks about it—“
She was interrupted as a new set of footsteps echoed from the staircase. The kids froze as Remus and Sirius turned to face the door, wands at the ready.
In burst Y/N, as if right on cue in a play. She was flushed and was panting, it appeared she had ran the whole way there. 
“Remus!” She cried out upon seeing him. “YOU HAVE A LOT OF EXPLAINING TO DO—“ She took a step forward until she spotted his company, and slowly took the step back. “What…” She murmured shakily, “is happening here?”
“Professor Y/L/N.” Hermione gasped softly.
Her eyes hovered over Harry, Ron and Hermione, who were in shock to see their Charms Professor, before landing upon Sirius. Something unrecognizable flashed across her gaze. She couldn’t believe what, or whom, she was seeing. She had thought the map made a mistake.
Y/N didn’t hear her. “Siri…?” she whispered, fixated on the man in front of her.
That’s when Harry lost it.
“‘SIRI?’ I TRUSTED YOU TOO! SO THIS WHOLE TIME -BOTH- OF YOU HAVE BEEN HELPING HIM?”
Y/N jumped from the sudden outburst and Remus came by her side to put a soothing hand on her shoulder. “Remus, you better explain and you better explain quick.” She said tensely.
“We have not been helping Sirius," said Lupin. "If you'll give me a chance, I'll explain. Look —" 
He separated Harry's, Ron's and Hermione's wands and threw each back to its owner; Harry caught his, stunned. 
“There”, said Lupin, sticking his own wand back into his belt. "You're armed, we're not. Now will you listen?" 
"If you haven't been helping him," Harry said, with a furious glance at Black, "how did you know he was here?" 
"The map," said Lupin. "The Marauder's Map. I was in my office examining it —“
"You know how to work it?" Harry said suspiciously. 
"Of course I know how to work it," said Lupin, waving his hand impatiently. "I helped write it. I'm Moony — that was my friends' nickname for me at school." 
"You wrote —?" 
Y/N caught Harry’s eye and gave him a confirming nod.
"The important thing is, I was watching it carefully this evening, because I had an idea that you, Ron, and Hermione might try and sneak out of the castle to visit Hagrid before his hippogriff was executed. And I was right, wasn't I?” 
He had started to pace up and down, looking at them. Little patches of dust rose at his feet. 
"You might have been wearing your father's old cloak, Harry--" 
"How d'you know about the cloak?" 
"The number of times I saw James disappearing under it...," said Lupin, waving an impatient hand again. "The point is, even if you're wearing an Invisibility Cloak, you still show up on the Marauder's Map. I watched you cross the grounds and enter Hagrid's hut. Twenty minutes later, you left Hagrid, and set off back toward the castle. But you were now accompanied by somebody else." 
"What?" said Harry. "No, we weren't!" 
I couldn't believe my eyes," said Lupin, still pacing, and ignoring Harry's interruption. "I thought the map must be malfunctioning. How could he be with you?" 
"No one was with us!" said Harry. 
"And then I saw another dot, moving fast toward you, labeled Sirius Black.... I saw him collide with you; I watched as he pulled two of you into the Whomping Willow —"
"One of us!" Ron said angrily. 
"No, Ron," said Lupin. "Two of you.”
He had stopped his pacing, his eyes moving over Ron.
"Do you think I could have a look at the rat?" he said evenly.
"What?" said Ron. "What's Scabbers got to do with it?" 
"Everything," said Lupin. "Could I see him, please?" 
Ron hesitated, then put a hand inside his robes. Scabbers emerged, thrashing desperately; Ron had to seize his long bald tail to stop him escaping. Crookshanks stood up on Black's leg and made a soft hissing noise. 
Lupin moved closer to Ron. He seemed to be holding his breath as he gazed intently at Scabbers. 
"What?" Ron said again, holding Scabbers close to him, looking scared. 
"What's my rat got to do with anything?" 
"That's not a rat," croaked Sirius Black suddenly.
"What d'you mean — of course he's a rat —"
"No, he's not," said Lupin quietly. "He's a wizard.”
"An Animagus," said Black, "by the name of Peter Pettigrew." 
"You're both mental.”
"Ridiculous!" said Hermione faintly. 
"Peter Pettigrew's dead!" said Harry. "He killed him twelve years ago!" He pointed at Black, whose face twitched convulsively. 
"I meant to," he growled, his yellow teeth bared, "but little Peter got the better of me... not this time, though!" 
And Crookshanks was thrown to the floor as Black lunged at Scabbers; Ron yelled with pain as Black's weight fell on his broken leg. 
"Sirius, NO!" Lupin yelled, launching himself forwards and dragging Black away from Ron again, "WAIT! You can't do it just like that -- they need to understand -- we've got to explain --" 
"We can explain afterwards!" snarled Black, trying to throw Lupin off. 
Y/N joined and stepped in front of Sirius. “Sirius, please!” She put both hands on his shoulders, causing him to flinch. Her voice was shaking. “They deserve to know the full picture.”
Black stopped struggling, though his hollowed eyes were still fixed on Scabbers, who was clamped tightly under Ron's bitten, scratched, ad bleeding hands. “Fine. But make it quick. I want to commit the murder I was imprisoned for.”
"You're nutters, all three of you," said Ron shakily, looking round at Harry and Hermione for support. "I've had enough of this. I'm off." 
“Ron.” Y/N said sternly. “Sit down. I’m not joking, you’re going to listen.”
Hermione spoke, in a trembling, would-be calm sort of voice, as though trying to will Professor Lupin to talk sensibly. 
"But Professor Lupin... Scabbers can't be Pettigrew... it just can't be true, you know it can't..." 
"Why can't it be true?" Lupin said calmly, as though they were in class, and Hermione had simply spotted a problem in an experiment with grindylows. 
"Because... because people would know if Peter Pettigrew had been an Animagus. We did Animagi in class with Professor McGonagall. And I looked them up when I did my homework -- the Ministry of Magic keeps tabs on witches and wizards who can become animals; there's a register showing what animal they become, and their markings and things... and I went and looked Professor McGonagall up on the register, and there have been only seven Animagi this century, and Pettigrew's name wasn't on the list." 
Lupin and Y/N laughed.
"Light again, Hermione!" he said. "But the Ministry never knew that here used to be three unregistered Animagi running around Hogwarts." 
Y/N cleared her throat.
“Sorry, four Animagi. Although we didn’t really know back then about you, my love.”
Y/N rolled her eyes. “Still, wanted to make sure you got the number right.”
Hermione’s eyes grew wider if it was even possible. “Professor Y/L/N, you’re an Animagus too?!”
Y/N nodded and gestured to Remus to proceed.
"All right... but you'll need to help me, Sirius," said Lupin, I only know how it began..." 
Lupin broke off. There had been a loud creak behind him. The bedroom door had opened of its own accord. All five of them stared at it. Then Lupin strode toward it and looked out into the landing. 
"No one there…"
"This place is haunted!" said Ron. 
"It's not," said Lupin, still looking at the door in a puzzled way. "The Shrieking Shack was never haunted.... The screams and howls the villagers used to hear were made by me." 
He pushed his graying hair out of his eyes, thought for a moment then said, "That's where all of this starts -- with my becoming a werewolf, None of this could have happened if I hadn't been bitter... and if I hadn't been so foolhardy..." 
He looked sober and tired. Ron started to interrupt, but Hermione, said, "Shh!" She was watching Lupin very intently. 
"I as a very small boy when I received the bite. My parents tried everything, but in those days there was no cure. The potion that Professor Snape has been making for me is a very recent discovery. It makes me safe, you see. As long as I take it in the week, preceding the full moon, I keep my mind when I transform.... I'm able to curl up in my office, a harmless wolf, and wait for the moon to wane again. Before the Wolfsbane Potion was discovered, however, I became a fully fledged monster once a month. It seemed impossible that I would be able to come to Hogwarts. Other parents weren't likely to want their children exposed to me. “
Hermione noticed a hint of sadness as she watched Y/N listen to her husband’s story.
"But then Dumbledore became Headmaster, and he was sympathetic. He said that as long as we took certain precautions, there was no reason I shouldn't come to school...." Lupin sighed, and looked directly at Harry. "I told you, months ago, that the Whomping Willow was planted the year I came to Hogwarts. The truth is that it was planted because I came 
to Hogwarts. This house" -- Lupin looked miserably around the room, -- "the tunnel that leads to it -- they were built for my use. Once a month, I was smuggled out of the castle, into this place, to transform. The tree was placed at the tunnel mouth to stop anyone coming across me while I was dangerous." 
"My transformations in those days were -- were terrible. It is very painful to turn into a werewolf. I was separated from humans to bite, so I bit and scratched myself instead. The villagers heard the noise and the screaming and thought they were hearing particularly violent spirits. Dumbledore encouraged the rumor.... Even now, when the house has been silent for years, the villagers don't dare approach it...." 
"But apart from my transformations, I was happier than I had ever been in my life. For the first time ever, I had friends, three great friends. Sirius Black... Peter Pettigrew... and, of course, your father, Harry -- James Potter." 
Y/N sniffed.
"Now, my three friends could hardly fail to notice that I disappeared once a month. I made up all sorts of stories. I told them my mother was ill, and that I had to go home to see her... I was terrified they would desert me the moment they found out what I was. But of course, they, like you, Hermione, worked out the truth...." 
"And they didn't desert me at all. Instead, they did something for me that would make my transformations not only bearable, but the best times 
of my life. They became Animagi." 
"My dad too?" said Harry, astounded. 
"Yes, indeed," said Lupin. "It took them the best part of three years to work out how to do it. Your father and Sirius here were the cleverest students in the school, and lucky they were, because the Animagus transformation can go horribly wrong -- one reason the Ministry keeps a close watch on those attempting to do it. Peter needed all the help he could get from James and Sirius. Finally, in our fifth year, they managed it. They could each turn into a different animal at will." 
"But how did that help you?" said Hermione, sounding puzzled. 
"They couldn't keep me company as humans, so they kept me company as animals," said Lupin. "A werewolf is only a danger to people. They sneaked out of the castle every month under James's Invisibility Cloak. They transformed... Peter, as the smallest, could slip beneath the 
Willow's attacking branches and touch the knot that freezes it. They would then slip down the tunnel and join me. Under their influence, I became less dangerous. My body was still wolfish, but my mind seemed to become less so while I was with them." 
"Hurry up, Remus," snarled Black, who was still watching Scabbers with a horrible sort of hunger on his face. 
Y/N bit her lip as she dared to watch her old friend. She wanted to go touch him, comfort him, after so long… but she remained frozen on the spot as Remus continued.
"I'm getting there, Sirius, I'm getting there... well, highly exciting possibilities were open to us now that we could all transform. Soon we were leaving the Shrieking Shack and roaming the school grounds and the village by night. Sirius and James transformed into such large animals, they were able to keep a werewolf in check. I doubt whether any Hogwarts students ever found out more about the Hogwarts grounds and Hogsmeade than we did.... And that's how we came to write the Marauder's Map, and sign it with our nicknames. Sirius is Padfoot. Peter is Wormtail. James was Prongs." 
"What sort of animal --?" Harry began, but Hermione cut him off. 
"That was still really dangerous! Running around in the dark with a werewolf! What if you'd given the others the slip, and bitten somebody?" 
"A thought that still haunts me," said Lupin heavily. "And there were near misses, many of them. We laughed about them afterwards. We were young, thoughtless -- carried away with our own cleverness." 
I sometimes felt guilty about betraying Dumbledore's trust, of course... he had admitted me to Hogwarts when no other headmaster would have done so, and he had no idea I was breaking the rules he had set down for my own and others' safety. He never knew I had led three fellow students into becoming Animagi illegally. But I always managed to forget my guilty feelings every time we sat down to plan our next month's adventure. And I haven't changed..." 
Lupin's face had hardened, and there was self-disgust in his voice. "All this year, I have been battling with myself, wondering whether I should tell Dumbledore that Sirius was an Animagus. But I didn't do it. Why? Because I was too cowardly. It would have meant admitting that I'd betrayed his trust while I was at school, admitting that I'd led others along with me... and Dumbledore's trust has meant everything to me. He let me into Hogwarts as a boy, and he gave me a job when I have been shunned all my adult life, unable to find paid work because of what I am. And so I convinced myself that Sirius was getting into the school using dark arts he learned from Voldemort, that being an Animagus had nothing to do with it... so, in a way, Snape's been right about me all along." 
“Don’t put it all on yourself,” Y/N said grimly. “The blame’s to share. We both decided to not go to Dumbledore.”
"Snape?" said Black harshly, taking his eyes off Scabbers; for the first time in minutes and looking up at Lupin. "What's Snape got to do with it?" 
"He's here, Sirius," said Lupin heavily. "He's teaching here as well." He looked up at Harry, Ron, and Hermione. 
"Professor Snape was at school with us. He fought very hard against my appointment to the Defense Against the Dark Arts job. He has been telling Dumbledore A year that I am not to be trusted. He has his reasons... you see, Sirius here played a trick on him which nearly 
killed him, a trick which involved me —" Black made a derisive noise. Y/N shushed him.
“Oh, Y/N, don’t go defending him now—“ Sirius chuckled.
“I’m not! I’m just— Rem, continue the story.” She said, crossing her arms defensively.
The two exchanged looks between each other, a bit of playfulness coming from Sirius’ end whereas Y/N still looked conflicted about being in his presence.
"Severus was very interested in where I went every month." Lupin told Harry, Ron, and Hermione. "We were in the same year, you know, and we -- er -- didn't like each other very much. He especially disliked James. Jealous, I think, of James's talent on the Quidditch field... anyway Snape had seen me crossing the grounds with Madam Pomfrey one evening as she led me toward the Whomping Willow to transform. Sirius thought it would be -- er -- amusing, to tell Snape all he had to do was prod the knot on the tree trunk with a long stick, and he'd be able to get in after me. Well, of course, Snape tried it -- if he'd got as far as this house, he'd have met a fully grown werewolf -- but your father, who'd heard what Sirius had done, went after Snape and pulled him back, at great risk to his life... Snape glimpsed me, though, at the end of the tunnel. He was forbidden by Dumbledore to tell anybody, but from that time on he knew what I was...." 
"So that's why Snape doesn't like you," said Harry slowly, "because he thought you were in on the joke?" 
"That's right," sneered a cold voice from the wall behind Lupin. 
Severus Snape was pulling off the Invisibility Cloak, his wand pointing, directly at Lupin. 
Hermione screamed. Black leapt to his feet. Harry felt as though he'd received a huge electric shock. 
Y/N gasped and clutched her stomach. Black slowly grabbed her shoulders and placed himself in front of her protectively.
"I found this at the base of the Whomping Willow," said Snape, throwing the cloak aside, careful to keep this wand pointing directly at Lupin's chest. "Very useful, Potter, I thank you...." 
Snape was slightly breathless, but his face was full of suppressed triumph. "I've just been to your office, Lupin. You forgot to take your potion tonight, so I took a gobletful along. And very lucky I did... lucky for me, I mean. Lying on your desk was a certain map. One glance at it told me all I needed to know. I saw you running along this passageway and out of sight." 
"Severus --" Lupin began, but Snape overrode him. 
"I've told the headmaster again and again that you're helping your old friend Black into the castle, Lupin, and here's the proof. Not even I dreamed you would have the nerve to use this old place as your hideout — and you too Y/L/N. Here you are helping him out, a real criminal couple you two are…”
"Severus, you're making a mistake," said Lupin urgently. "You haven't heard everything -- I can explain -- Sirius is not here to kill Harry --" 
"Three more for Azkaban tonight," said Snape, his eyes now gleaming fanatically. “Though I do feel bad for you, Y/L/N, you never should have gotten involved… in the first place…I shall be interested to see how Dumbledore takes this.... He was quite convinced you were harmless, you know, Lupin... a tame werewolf —" 
“Don’t - you - fucking - dare—“ Y/N said through gritted teeth, wanting to lunge forward to strike Snape, but Sirius and Remus caught her arms, holding her back.
“How sweet.” Snape said sardonically.
"You fool," said Lupin softly. "Is a schoolboy grudge worth putting an innocent man back inside Azkaban?" 
BANG! Thin, snakelike cords burst from the end of Snape's wand and twisted themselves around Lupin's mouth, wrists, and ankles; he overbalanced and fell to the floor, unable to move. Y/N screamed, throwing herself down to check on him. With a roar of rage, Black started toward Snape, but Snape pointed his wand straight between Black's eyes. 
"Give me a reason," he whispered. "Give me a reason to do it, and I swear I will." 
Black stopped dead. It would have been impossible to say which face showed more hatred. 
Harry stood there, paralyzed, not knowing what to do or whom to believe. He glanced around at Ron and Hermione. Ron looked just as confused as he did, still fighting to keep hold on the struggling Scabbers. Hermione, however, took an uncertain step toward Snape and said, in a very breathless voice, "Professor Snape -- it it wouldn't hurt to hear what they've got to say, w -- would it?" 
"Miss Granger, you are already facing suspension from this school," Snape spat. "You, Potter, and Weasley are out-of-bounds, in the company of a convicted murderer and a werewolf. For once in your life, hold your tongue." 
Y/N whipped her head around, hearing the way Snape was beginning to speak to Hermione.
"But if -- if there was a mistake --" 
"KEEP QUIET, YOU STUPID GIRL!" Snape shouted, looking suddenly quite deranged. "DON'T TALK ABOUT WHAT YOU DON'T UNDERSTAND!" A few sparks shot out of the end of his wand, which was still pointed at Black's face. Hermione fell silent. 
“ENOUGH!” Y/N jumped up, pulling her wand out and pointing it straight at Snape. “Hermione, get back.”
“Step aside, Y/L/N. You don’t know what you’re doing.” He grunted.
“I said, get back, all three of you.” Y/N snapped, Harry and Hermione hurrying and backing up to where Ron laid.
“Severus, I’m serious, you need to hear them out.” Y/N said. Her voice was steely. She moved out from behind Sirius and inched her way closer to Snape, softly but steadily like a cat.
Snape ignored her. Remus struggled against his binds, his eyes not leaving Y/N. But deep down, he knew he didn’t have to worry. He had seen her fight during the first Wizarding War, and he knew how much more powerful of a witch she had grown into. Snape unfortunately, did not, as he returned his attention to Sirius.
"Vengeance is very sweet," Snape breathed at Black. "How I hoped I would be the one to catch you...." 
"The joke's on you again, Severus," Black snarled. "As long as this boy brings his rat up to the castle" -- he jerked his head at Ron -- "I'll come quietly...." 
"Up to the castle?" said Snape silkily. "I don't think we need to go that far. All I have to do is call the dementors once we get out of the Willow. They'll be very pleased to see you, Black... pleased enough to give you a little kiss, I daresay... I --" 
What little color there was in Blacks face left it. 
"You -you've got to hear me out," he croaked. "The rat -- look at the rat --" 
But there was a mad glint in Snape's eyes that had never been seen before. He seemed beyond reason. 
"Come on, all of you," he said. He clicked his fingers, and the ends of the cords that bound Lupin flew to his hands. "I'll drag the werewolf. Perhaps the dementors will have a kiss for him too —" 
“Severus.” Y/N warned, wand still at the ready.
Before he knew what he was doing, Harry had crossed the room in three strides and blocked the door. 
“Harry!” Y/N cried.
"Get out of the way, Potter, you're in enough trouble already," snarled Snape. "If I hadn't been here to save your skin --" 
"Professor Lupin could have killed me about a hundred times this year," Harry said. "I've been alone with him loads of times, having defense lessons against the dementors. If he was helping Black, why didn't he just finish me off then?" 
"Don't ask me to fathom the way a werewolf's mind works," hissed Snape. 
"Get out of the way, Potter." 
"YOURE PATHETIC!" Harry yelled. "JUST BECAUSE THEY MADE A FOOL OF YOU AT SCHOOL YOU WON'T EVEN LISTEN --" 
"SILENCE! I WILL NOT BE SPOKEN TO LIKE THAT!" Snape shrieked, looking madder than ever. "Like father, like son, Potter! I have just saved your neck; you should be thanking me on bended knee! You would have been well served if he'd killed you! You'd have died like your father, too 
arrogant to believe you might be mistaken in Black -- now get out of the way, or I will make you. GET OUT OF THE WAY, POTTER!" 
“Okay, I said ENOUGH!” Y/N raised her voice. 
With a wave of her wand, the floor tiles under Harry’s feet rolled upwards in a wave, and sent Harry tumbling back to the back of the room where Ron and Hermione were.
“Snape, I told you to listen,” She said, advancing on him with her wand. “I told you, I don’t want to have to do this. But you have clearly lost your mind.”
Snape turned to face her. His dark eyes darkened even more. “And I told you, to get out of my way.a What are you possibly saying, Professor Y/L/N, you really think I’m going to duel you?”
Y/N cocked her head to the side. “Why, you scared you gonna lose?” She said in a volume just above a whisper.
Snape jerked his wand and a spell flew at her, she whipped her own wand and deflected it. It bounced to the wall and knocked an old painting down.
With her empty hand, Y/N reached out to the trio and conjured a sort of bubble around Ron, Harry and Hermione. It was a protection spell.
Remus screamed in muffled yells as his mouth was gagged, and Sirius tried to free him but to no avail, there was no untying magical ties without a wand.
Y/N’s chest was heaving as she felt her heartbeat quicken.
A rapidfire of spells followed, bouncing between the two like fireworks. Y/N waved her wand, deflecting those Snape sent at her, conjuring out some of her own in the milliseconds in between. 
Snakes shot out of Snape’s wand, flying toward Y/N. She waved her wand and they turned into pink satin ribbons, falling through the air. She flicked her wand one, two, three different motions and jets of orange, red and purple shot toward him. He deflected two of them and managed to physically dodge the third. Snape rose his hands and a ring of fire encircled Y/N.
Remus let out another muffled yell, struggling terribly against his restraints.
“Don’t-“ Y/N muttered through gritted teeth as she began to make effortful circles with both her wand and her non-dominant hand. The others watched in terror. “Piss - me - OFF—“
The molecules of water vapor surrounding her had liquefied and splashed down onto the floor to put out the flames. “The shack’s made out of fucking wood, Snape, you want us all to DIE?”
She raised her wand high above her head, the water getting picked off the floor and she pushed the wave into him. It slammed his body into the wall behind him and with another wave of her wand, the water froze; trapping him there, suspended. 
Remus watched from the ground in awe. He had forgotten how powerful Y/N had become and it was magnificent to witness.
Snape’s head had knocked back and it drooped down, hanging from his neck. He had been knocked unconscious.
Sirius found Remus’ wand and untied him.
Y/N took a deep breath and lowered her wand. She waved her hand, and the protective barrier in front of the trio disappeared. Remus jumped to his feet and rushed to her, capturing her in a soulful hug.
“Are you okay? Are you hurt?” He said, taking her face in his two hands, searching and scanning for signs of distress.
“I’m good, I swear.” She said, steadying her breath.
After what seemed like forever, finally Remus let her go. They immediately turned back around to heightened squeaking noises, coming from a very distressed Scabbers, still stuck in Ron’s tight clutch.
“Professor Y/L/N…” Hermione began. 
“That was amazing.” Ron breathed.
“How you used the Freezing charm to- to- Oh God, Professor Snape.” Hermione gasped once she saw what state he was in.
“This still doesn’t mean I believe you.” Harry said firmly.
Y/N, Remus and Sirius exchanged a look.
“Then it’s time we gave you proof.” Remus said, advancing.
“Ron, give us the rat.”
137 notes · View notes
direwolfrules · 1 year
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Nothing bad happens AU where little 11-13 year old Ezra comes back from his Gathering with the Gunsaber and Jocasta Nu decides that this means he’s the true heir to the lightsaber rifle. There was a prophecy or something, idk. But obviously she can’t just give this child a high powered ancient weapon. Not without the proper training anyway. She takes it upon herself to kidnap little Ezra anytime he’s in the temple for Archivist training.
Meanwhile, Mand’alor Jaster Mereel finds out about the Jetii’ad with a gunsaber and decides he wants to adopt the boy. Now in addition to trying to break into the Archives (he wants those ancient Mandalorian texts dammit!) he keeps ambushing Caleb and Ezra for some light kidnapping forced adoption.
Caleb would just like these old people to stop trying to steal his padawan. Jango would like his dad to stop trying to adopt a preteen because “Buir you’re over 100 and you need to charge your hoverchair, get back here!”
There’s a perpetual tug of war between the wizard librarian and the elderly warrior king over this one child. It only gets worse when Ezra figures out the lightsaber rifle has a shotgun setting.
306 notes · View notes
enbypalsidk · 2 months
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why do wizards all use simple wood staffs?
I personally use a bayoneted rifle for a weapon and an effective spell casting object
usually the spell is bullet
53 notes · View notes
whatsnewalycat · 10 months
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acting lesson
pairing: dieter bravo x ofc louella
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Summary: Dieter convinces you to roleplay with him.
Rating: Explicit (18+ ONLY)
Content Tags/Warnings: LDR, roleplay, bar, drinking alcohol (casual), dirty talk, swearing, public bathroom sex, D/s elements, fluff, impact play, pet names, hair pulling, blow job, unprotected piv sex, graffiti, football mention
Word Count: 4.3k+
Notes: In the Psychomanteum universe between Ch 12 & 13. Could be read as a one-shot. Based on this ask from @frannyzooey:
Dieter and Lou — roleplay He’s an actor, she’s….not 👀👀 How does he indulge her? ❤️
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The idea first came up during one of your many phone calls with Dieter.
It was the kind of call that works as a surrogate for sitting in the room together, despite the some-odd 2,600 miles keeping you apart. Comfortable silences between organic conversation, running parallel to your evening routines. In LA, Dieter hummed to himself while rifling through his kitchen cabinets for snacks. In New York, you stared at up the marigold painting hung above your bed, and you asked him, “How do you act?”
“When I’m with you, like a fool.”
His voice purred through your phone speaker, low and warm. Heat bloomed in your chest and crept up your neck.
You giggled, “I mean, like, for your job. How do you do that?”
“I don’t know. I guess I try to channel the character and pretend to be them. You ever do plays in school or anything like that?”
“In fourth grade I got to play a munchkin in The Wizard of Oz. I had one line and I completely butchered it.”
He laughed, “Seems about right.”
“What is that supposed to mean?!”
“You’re just… very good at being yourself,” he said, and you could hear the smile in his words, “It’s not a bad thing, doll. I like that about you.”
A smile spread across your face. You hummed in acknowledgement.
“If you want, I can show you how I do it. Give you an acting lesson. You could be my scene partner,” he lowered his voice an octave, “We could make it fun.”
Something about this pricked your skin with excitement. You twisted a strand of hair around your finger and smirked, “How’s that?”
“Have you ever done roleplay?”
“Oh no,” you laughed, shaking your head, “I would be terrible at that—”
“Wait wait wait, hear me out,” he protested, “What if you got to play yourself?”
You quietly pondered this, then asked, “Who would you be?”
“I would be… a stranger at a bar. You’d just have to play along,” he rumbled, “Treat me like one of your hookups.”
Warmth trickled down your spine and pooled between your legs. You licked your lips and traced your collarbone over your shirt, “You’ve thought about this before.”
“Maybe.”
“I’m not opposed to the idea. It could be… hot.”
“Yeah?”
“Maybe next time I see you,” you conceded.
And so, this morning, while sipping coffee together out on his patio, he brought it up again.
“Do you remember when we talked about… an acting lesson?”
Your eyebrow quirked and you glanced over at him, “You mean roleplay?”
He shrugged, draping an arm around your shoulders, working his thumb against the starfruit tattoo on your arm, “How do you feel about it?”
“I wondered what it would have been like to meet you like that.”
“Me too,” he said, then scooted closer and murmured, “You know, I’ve always thought that was something so fucking sexy about you. The way you chew men up and spit them out.”
“Really?” you studied him.
The corner of his mouth tucked up in a smirk. His gaze bore into yours, “Abso-fucking-lutely.”
“Not you, though,” you brought your hand to his cheek and smoothed your palm along his cheek, “I like you.”
“No, not me,” he agreed, nuzzling into your touch, “But we can pretend. It’ll be an acting lesson, remember?”
“An acting lesson, yeah, that’s why you wanna do this. Not because you wanna fuck me in a bathroom stall, right?”
“It can be both,” he said, a devilish grin playing on his lips.
You couldn’t help but smile as you stared at him. His dark eyes flicked around your face, searching for an answer. When you released a reluctant sigh and frowned down into your coffee cup, he continued.
“I’ll give you some pointers beforehand, love. It’ll be fun. You just be you and pretend you don’t know me,” he purred, his voice growing lower and more persuasive, “I wanna see what it’s like to be used by you, Lua. Please. Let me be your piece of meat. Chew me up and spit me out.”
How could you say no?
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When you step inside the door, it slams behind you. Outside, the sun still douses Los Angeles in daylight, but the underground bar shows no signs of it. Your eyes sting as they adjust to the darkness, and you find yourself momentarily blinded.
Slowly, things start to come into focus.
Neon beer signs and pucks of dim, golden light studding the low ceiling make their surroundings glow, reflecting off the dark wooden bar and high-top tables. A few clusters of people are scattered around at the tables, and one androgynous person sits at the bar, scrolling on their phone while taking occasional sips from a tall glass of beer. Over the speakers, “You Make Loving Fun” by Fleetwood Mac plays just a decibel too loud, but you have a feeling this is the standard music volume here.
It’s one of those places that seems unchanging. Static. You bet that if you walked in here at any moment, on any day, it would look and feel mostly the same.
You approach the bar and take a seat in one of the tattered barstools. Its red pleather sticks to your legs and back. One of the advantages and disadvantages of wearing your most fuckable dress: it’s really goddamn short.
“What’ll you be having tonight, miss?”
You look to the portly bartender and smile, “Vodka cranberry, please.”
He walks away, returning a minute later with your drink. You slide a twenty across the counter and thank him.
When the bartender brings you your change, he nods at the man pulling out the barstool next to you, who says, “Old fashioned.”
The bartender makes his drink and brings back your change. You leave a few bills on the rail as a tip, then lean back in your chair and look up at the TV. Two college football teams slam into each other on the screen.
The man sitting next to you is not discreet about his ogling. His eyes burn your skin, but you pay him no mind. You lift the drink to your lips and take a few quick gulps to hush the excitement bubbling up your neck.
He does the same, then you feel him lean towards you and ask, “Why do bars always play the most boring shit on TV?”
You look over at him, looking up and down his very expensive looking, and thusly very out-of-place, navy suit, obviously tailored just for him. The top three buttons are undone, revealing his smooth chest that gleams gold in the dim lighting. A lusty ache twists at your center.
You smirk and meet his deep brown eyes, “What, you don’t find the underlying threat of concussion-induced brain injuries to be exhilarating?”
The handsome “stranger” laughs, exposing this big, contagious smile, dimples tugging at his cheeks and everything, “I guess I never thought about it that way.”
You grin, staring down at your drink for a moment, then say, “I’ve found that if I go into it pretending it’s the first half of a horror story I’ll never know the ending to, it’s not as, umm,” a giggle escapes your throat, “fucking boring, y’know?”
“Wow,” he chuckles and shakes his head, “I’m not sure if I want to run for the hills or ask for your hand in marriage.”
“The first option is probably safer,” you wink, then take a sip of your drink.
His gaze lingers on you for a beat before he stammers, “I’m Diego, by the way.”
“Louella,” you take his outstretched hand and shake it.
He holds it there, grazing his thumb along your knuckles before pulling back, “What brings you out tonight? Meeting friends or something?”
You tilt your head at him, dragging your eyes across the broad expanse of his body, “Just, you know… seeing what’s out there.”
His throat rumbles and he drops his gaze to your lips, “Find anything?”
“Maybe,” you grin and take a sip of your drink, “What about you, Diego?”
“What about me?”
“You’re here, having a drink, talking to me. Is your evening going as you’d hoped?”
“Much better, actually,” he murmurs, leaning close, “Didn’t think I’d come across someone as gorgeous as you.”
You smile, and find yourself restraining laughter. Not because he’s doing bad or anything, but because he’s doing so good.
“Quite the smooth-talker, aren’t you?”
He grins, bobbing his shoulders in a shrug, “Is it working?”
At this, you do laugh. You tuck your hair behind your ear and depart from his lustful gaze, glancing down at your drink. A wide palm slides onto your back, warming the skin between your shoulder blades. The magnetic force of his body drawing close makes your breathing stutter.
“Listen,” his voice seems to melt, low and heated, into your ear, the baritone dripping down your spine, pooling between your legs, “If this is too forward, feel free to tell me to fuck off, but… do you want to have sex with me?”
You turn to find him just inches away, hooded eyes dark and heavy with want, flitting around your face like he’s brainstorming ways to make it contort with pleasure. You love seeing him like this. Needy. Aching. Putty in your hands.
“Tell me what you want to do to me, Diego,” you tell him in a throaty whisper, “And I’ll consider it.”
A flash of his pink tongue breaches his lips. He glances around as he scoots his barstool closer, knee brushing against yours, and murmurs in your ear, “As far as the venue goes, we have a couple options. Bathroom, out back, in my car—”
“Romantic,” you tease.
He raises an eyebrow at you, dragging his gaze from your face, down your neck, following the curve of your body, “But you don’t want romance, do you, Louella? That’s not why you’re here.”
“Oh yeah?” you tilt your head and bat your lashes at him, “Then why am I here?”
His throat rumbles. He leans so close, his breath scatters across your cheek when he says, “You’re here because you want to get fucked. Hard, preferably. You want me to bring you into that disgusting bathroom and stretch your sweet little cunt out with my fat cock, isn’t that right? You want me to squeeze your tits and use my teeth. You want it to hurt, not a lot, not enough to draw blood, but enough to make you feel something. Enough to make you feel… real,” he pauses here, smirking at you, licking his lips as he drops his gaze to your mouth, “Hmm? Isn’t that right, Louella?”
You swallow hard and nod, and realize you’re holding your breath. When you draw air in, it’s shaky and subdued.
“Will you let me do that for you?”
His touch trails up your bare leg and makes you shiver.
“Yes.”
He stands from the barstool and takes a cursory glance around, then nods at you, “Lead the way.”
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Miraculously, the bathroom at this shitty dive bar is one of those no-stall, single-toilet situations with a deadbolt to keep the outside world at bay.
Dieter guides you through the threshold with his hand at the small of your back. You peer around the small, dim room, studying the graffitied black tile walls. Colorful tags, crudely drawn dicks, and witty remarks surround you on all sides. The scent of bleach burns your nostrils, which is a little disorientating, but you suppose it’s better than the alternative.
The lock clicks in place behind you.
When you turn to look at him, he’s already burying his fist in your hair and pushing your cheek against the cool tile wall. You gasp with surprise at the force he uses, exhaling a giddy laugh, and he murmurs in your ear, “What’s your safe word, baby?”
Your eyes dart around for inspiration, and you focus in on a cartoon giraffe wearing sunglasses, a cigarette dangling from his lips, next to a word bubble that reads: Giraffiti is cool!
“Giraffe.”
“Giraffe,” he repeats, and you nod as much as his grasp on your hair will allow.
He slides your skin-tight dress up to your waist and yanks your underwear down to your ankles, rumbling, “Fuck, look at this ass.”
His palm slides warm and gentle across one cheek, then he digs his fingers into the soft flesh and groans when you whimper. He lets go, and the deep, bruising grip is quickly replaced with a sharp, hard slap.
A gasp expands your lungs as heat tingles across the site.
“How’s that?”
“Fucking perfect,” you breathe, eyes drifting closed, mouth falling open. He does it again, same spot. Smack. This time you moan.
When he releases your hair, you stay where you are, with your hands and face all smushed up against the tile. He smooths gentle circles into your unmarred ass cheek. When it draws away, you flinch in anticipation, and he chuckles, “Too hard?”
“No.”
It’s followed by another smack, by pain and heat, and you hiss, “Fuck yes.”
His throat makes this noise that’s somewhere between a growl and a moan. He slides his hand around your front, between your legs, and he purrs, “You fucking love this, don’t you, Louella?”
“I do,” you whimper at his soft, exploratory touch, at the gentle way he spreads your arousal up and down your wet, hot middle. Fingertips dig into the curve of your ass and hold there. The contrast between his two hands is excruciating.
“What’s my name?”
Not thinking, you exhale, “Dieter.”
His gentle hand freezes against you. The other lays down a sharp smack that burns your skin and makes you whimper. He grinds out, “That’s not my fucking name. What’s my name?”
“Diego.”
“That’s right, sweetheart,” he coos, putting the hand against your pussy in motion, tracing around your clit, not touching it directly, flooding your body with a tingling, frustrated kind of excitement that makes your heart race and your breathing quicken.
You reach down and grab his wrist, pressing his hand into you harder, rolling your hips against it, and moan at the pressure it relieves.
He yanks his hand away from your grasp and buries it in your hair, pulling the strands taught, smacking your ass again, “Don’t you fucking dare.”
“Please,” you pout, arching your hips back towards him, “Please fuck me, Diego.”
All the air leaves his lungs and scatters across your back.
“Louella,” he rumbles, and all your insides clench at his low, patient cadence, at the way your name vibrates off his lips onto your shoulder, then he says, “You are fucking demanding, aren’t you?”
“No—”
Smack
A hot, searing pain from your battered ass cheek makes you gasp, then whimper. Arousal shoots up your spine. Your cunt aches with need.
“I’ll be patient—I’ll do whatever the fuck you want, Diego, please—”
“That’s it,” he coos, “You’re gonna be my little slut, hmm? Let me fuck you the way I want?”
“Yes.”
The word comes out with a throaty, needy force, almost a fucking sob. You want him so bad it hurts. He chuckles at this, at how fucking desperate you are right now.
“Get on your knees, baby.”
He releases you and steps back. You turn to face him, holding his lust-blown gaze as you drop to your knees like he asked.
“Show me how bad you want it.”
You nod in understanding, your shaky hands clambering at his belt buckle, unzipping his slacks, the mechanism all strained with the force of his bulge. You pull his pants and briefs down with a frantic kind of energy that makes him hum with amusement as he watches you.
His cock bobs out as his pants fall to his feet. You admire it for a moment. How it’s so thick and swollen and twitchy with need, delicate skin pulled taught, a sticky little bead of arousal sprouting up at the tip. You test its weight in your palm, grinning when you look up and see Dieter’s lips part and his eyelids flutter.
“That’s it, baby, show me how bad you want me to fuck that pretty little pussy.”
You open your mouth, batting your eyelashes up at him as you drag your tongue up his length. Again and again, painting his cock with your saliva, using flat, firm strokes, until it’s shiny and soaked with spit.
He moans when you stretch your lips out around him, rolling your tongue against the tip, the salty, heady dribble of pre-cum smearing into your tastebuds. You slide your lips further down his shaft and start to suck him off at a steady rhythm, bobbing your head along his length.
“Oh my fucking god,” he gasps, eyebrows threading together, nodding down at you, “You’re so fucking good at that. Do you like sucking cock, baby, hmm?”
You look up to meet his eyes, mouth all full and stretched out from him, and answer anyway, “Mhmm.”
“Fuck yes you do—you fucking love it, don’t you?”
You pull off of him, replacing your mouth with your hand, jerking him off as you whine, “Yes I do, I fucking love it—”
He grabs your hair and forces his cock back in your mouth, gritting out, “Did I fucking tell you to stop?”
A moan surfaces from your guts. His head rolls back and he twitches against your tongue. You take the length of his cock faster now, the stretched-out band of your lips slick and tingling. He pets your hair and holds your gaze, watching you with awe as you work, quiet groans falling from his parted lips.
The doorknob jiggles, then there’s a knock.
“Occu—”
You sit up higher to plunge your mouth down on him, jamming his cock down your throat. His mouth falls open and he moans while you move in short, quick strokes. A wet gurgling noise echoes off the tiles back into your ears.
There’s another jiggle. Another knock. A faint, feminine, “Hello?”
You pull off of him, gasping for air while you wrap your hand around his cock and stroke him as he hollers, “Occupied!”
A beat goes by while he stares at the door before he brings his focus back to you, shaking his head, kicking his pants off over his shoes, “Get up.”
Your underwear tangle around your heels and trip you up. By the time you yank them off and toss them aside, Dieter has grown impatient. He rips you off the floor by your armpits, pushing your back against the cool tile wall.
Beneath you, your shaky legs buckle, but he slips an arm around your waist to prevent you falling.
As if second nature, he looks you over and draws his body close, cupping your cheek with his palm.
And… fuck, the way he stares at you, with this warm, attentive gaze… you know he wants to kiss you. You know he wants to hold you close and whisper sweet somethings in your ear. He wants to tell you he loves you and that he’ll never stop loving you, forever and ever until he’s dust, and maybe even then, if dust has feelings.
It’s all Dieter, not Diego.
You grin and search his face, then whisper, “You broke character.”
He narrows his eyes for just a moment, as if trying to process what you said. When he realizes you’re right, this big amused smile spreads across his face and he chuckles, “You hush.”
You link your hands at the back of his neck, “We can rewind.”
His throat rumbles as he considers this, brushing his knuckles along the side of your face, glancing down at your lips. The grip around your waist tightens and his hips sway a little.
“You just wanna kiss me and make sweet, sweet love to me, don’t you?”
“Maybe,” he grins, pressing his forehead against yours.
You giggle and comb your fingertips through his mess of curls, “You big softie.”
His smile falters a little and he shrugs, “Sorry.”
Your stomach twists.
“Hey, no,” you pull back enough to meet his eyes and shake your head, “It’s one of my very favorite things about you.”
He furrows his brow and blinks, “Really?”
“Yes,” you giggle, rubbing your palm against his cheek. He nuzzles into your touch and you tell him, “Diego is hot, but Dieter? My Dee? I fucking love him. And he’s hot.”
A bright, bashful smile spreads across his face. He meets your gaze with those loving, loving eyes and asks, “Can I fucking kiss you now?”
“Oh my god, plea—”
His lips cut you off, pressing into yours with passionate force. From its place pinned between your bodies, his cock twitches. He brings a hand to the back of your head and renews the kiss, pulling you closer, slotting his mouth against yours.
You whimper at the velvet of his tongue. The tug of his fingers clamping down in your hair. The persistent, pulsing current where your bodies meet.
The two of you seem to lose yourself here, in the heated kissing and touching and writhing, forgetting your presence in the restroom has a time limit.
Another knock on the door. Harder. Impatient.
Dieter parts from your swollen lips, his mouth a mess of your red lipstick, and hollers at the door, “Give me a minute!”
Then he turns back to you, his gaze all obsidian want, and mutters, “We better hurry before they ram the goddamn door down.”
“How do you want me?” you ask, batting your lashes at him, trailing a fingernail along his jawline.
“Just like this.”
Sometimes you forget how strong he is.
When he lifts your hips you let out a little yelp of surprise and hook your arms around his shoulders.
“Legs around my back, love, I got you,” he breathes. The wall bears some of your weight as you lean against it and wrap your legs around him. He settles in closer, shifting his hips under yours. The tip of his cock nudges your entrance.
“Are you ready?” he asks, caressing your cheek with the slope of his nose.
Normally, he has to work himself in slow. Let your body adjust to the stretch of him in increments. So you know what he means when he asks this.
But when you nod, and he loosens his grip to let gravity take you down, it still shocks you. The pain is immediate. And exquisite. You bury a deep, guttural moan into his shoulder and dig your nails into his skin. Your eyes flutter shut and you inhale a few sharp breaths.
“Fffffuck,” he hisses when you can go no further, “So fucking tight, holy fuck.”
All you can respond with is a whimper. He holds you here, impaled, not moving, as you start to relax around him and the pain condenses into a gooey ember right at the center of you.
“That’s it, love.”
His hips start to roll slow, dragging his cock along your walls, sending sparks up your spine.
“Fuck, Dee,” you gasp.
He snatches a kiss from your trembling lips and asks, “Too much?”
Your mouth gapes open with a ragged moan and you press your sweaty forehead into his, “Issss perfect—So fuuucking good—“
He lets out a raspy chuckle, “Listen to you, Lua, all fucking cock drunk, fuck—”
The laugh you release is delirious, and quickly devolves into moaning as he starts to fuck you faster. He’s not wrong. You feel disoriented and tingly, like you’ve been launched into space and you’re no longer on Earth, but on Planet Dieter.
You can tell he’s starting to unravel when he pants all kinds of filthy things against your frantic breathes, fueling the fire licking your insides, pulling you closer and closer to your ascent.
“You fucking love when I stretch your cunt out, don’t you doll? Hmm?”
You whimper and nod.
“Say it.”
“I—I fucking love w-when you stretch my cunt out.”
“Who’s my little slut?”
“I’m your little slut, Dee—oh, fuck—”
“That’s fucking right, baby,” he grunts, fucking you harder, faster. You clamber up his body, tugging on his hair, pulling him closer, gasping at the brilliant heat expanding at the base of your spine.
“Don’t fucking stop, don’t fucking stop, fuck fuck fuckfuckfuck,” you sob, drawing one more sharp inhale before you fall off the edge, ecstasy shattering you into a thousand pieces, then bringing you back together whole.
“Fuck yes, baby, there we go—oh my fucking god—”
Dieter’s hips drive up into you with a handful of rough, deep thrusts, while your whole body shudders and you release a choked moan. His echoes alongside yours, harmonizing in this unrestrained, unmistakably feral noise.
Every ounce of pressure held under your sweat-drenched, tingling skin deflates.
“Holy fucking shit, Dee,” you pant, ripping your sticky legs away from his, trying to find solid ground.
He lowers you to your feet, and you both stumble back a little, chests heaving, grinning at each other like mad.
“God, I love you,” he says, shaking his head as he doubles over to catch his breath, then he glances around and mutters, “I need to lay down.”
Three hard bangs against the door make you both jump.
“Are you done fucking yet?”
Your wide eyes meet his for a terrified moment, then you both burst with laughter.
“Yeah, give us a second,” Dieter calls back, then scoops his pants off the ground. After adjusting your dress and collecting your underwear, you walk to the sink to wash your hands and notice something resting between the faucet and wall: a metallic silver sharpie.
A smile spreads across your face. You grab it and hold it up to Dieter, who’s buckling his pants, “Do you want to do the honors, or should I?”
He raises his eyebrows when he glances up at you, and when he realizes what you’re implying, grins like a madman, “May I?”
You hand him the sharpie and he finds an unmarred section of black tile on which to write the message, framing the words with a frilly Valentine’s Day heart: DEE + LUA 4EVA!
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