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avonmom · 8 months

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AVON WHAT'S NEW CAMPAIGN 20 2023

Enjoy a #sneakpeak at what's to come in #Avon C20 beginning September 27th & how #AvonReps can take advantage of demos & exclusive offers. #JenAntunesBeauty #AvonWhatsNew #AvonBodyCare

Avon What’s New Campaign 20 2023 See what new products & special offers you can enjoy in Avon’s Campaign 20 2023’s online brochure beginning Wednesday September 27, 2023 at avon.com/?rep=jantunes Learn more about shopping Avon brochure by checking out Avon 2023 Online Brochures From August 30, 2023 to September 26, 2023, Avon representatives have the opportunity to take advantage of discounted…

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#Anew Platinum #Avon Body Care #Avon Brochure #Avon Campaign 20 #Avon Exclusive Representative Offers #Avon Products #Avon Representative #Avon Representative Benefits #Avon Representative Exclusive Offers #Avon What&039;s New #New Avon Products #Sneak Peak #What&039;s New #What&039;s New Demos #What&039;s New Exclusive Representative

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dergarabedian · 1 year

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Hot Sale: Avon ofrece descuentos de hasta 55%

Del 8 al 10 de mayo se realizará la edición 2023 del Hot Sale, la actividad organizada de la Cámara Argentina de Comercio Electrónico (CACE), y la marca Avon participará en forma oficial con promociones de dos unidades por una, paquetes de productos seleccionados y descuentos de hasta 55%. Continue reading Untitled

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theavonladybridgwater · 1 year

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#platinum #anew #antiageing #skincare #avonskincare

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thebeautyhubwithmichelleg · 1 year

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#avon #skincare #platinum #toprated #skingoals #protinol #avonskincare #anew

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resellerlipcreamterpercayafabil · 2 years

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#lip cream awet dan murah #antifungal lip cream #aesop rosehip seed lip cream #avene lip cream #anti wrinkle lip cream #anew platinum eye and lip cream #ammonia lip cream #avene cicalfate restorative lip cream #abu dhabi nyx lip cream #acyclovir lip cream

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tearskillstardust · 3 months

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❝MY LETTER TO YOU, MY DARLING❞

↻ synopsis.

↷ it's a rare occasion that they let themselves be away from you for too long, however urgent the situation at hand be. hence, when the urgent matter is in your hands, they find themselves at a loss of words. perhaps they can only sigh for now—and write you letters, of course.

↻ genre and warnings.

↷ this is a series work, presented in the form of a letter. i have tried to closely mimic the writing styles of all of them—but it can't always be accurate. world building and characterizations have been paid attention to. no trigger warnings, simply fluff and stories of mischief and love, alike.

↻ author's note.

↷ most of these will be letters that i wrote during the event and later decide to compile here! so don't panic when i start uploading letters like a maniac lmao. many letters will have to be written anew as well, though! hence, there's no fixed order of updates and it may be inconsistent. you may comment to be added to the taglist; have fun! <3

↻ series tag.

#💌my letter to you my darling

↻ your letters.

❛ all is lost; yet your essence remains.❜

001. 𝐀𝐋𝐁𝐄𝐃𝐎—find me when your lamp burns out.

002. 𝐀𝐘𝐀𝐓𝐎—meet me where the sky meets the earth.

003. 𝐀𝐋 𝐇𝐀𝐈𝐓𝐇𝐀𝐌—in your world; lost and found.

004. 𝐁𝐀𝐈𝐙𝐇𝐔—'what a coincidence, love!'

005. 𝐂𝐇𝐈𝐋𝐃𝐄—snezhnayan winds are blowing eastwards.

006. 𝐂𝐘𝐍𝐎—the spark of my love and you the flower; hyperbloom.

007. 𝐃𝐈𝐋𝐔𝐂—midmorning sparkle, reminiscent of your gaze.

008. 𝐆𝐀𝐌𝐈𝐍𝐆—monstrous eyes and pleasant smiles.

009. 𝐆𝐎𝐑𝐎𝐔—watatsumi's trusted pirate.

010. 𝐇𝐄𝐈𝐙𝐎𝐔—'with desperation from my love filled heart.'

011. 𝐊𝐀𝐄𝐘𝐀—with ice, roses, gunpowder, and love.

012. 𝐊𝐀𝐕𝐄𝐇—a worried lover's innocent chant.

013. 𝐊𝐀𝐙𝐔𝐇𝐀—the loving wind that blows from the north.

014. 𝐋𝐘𝐍𝐄𝐘—purring in my hat, the cat in my heart.

015. 𝐍𝐄𝐔𝐕𝐈𝐋𝐋𝐄𝐓𝐓𝐄—revelling in your memory, a lover of yours.

016. 𝐓𝐇𝐎𝐌𝐀—the retainer's call of love.

017. 𝐓𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐍𝐀𝐑𝐈—silver, gold, platinum but greatest is my love.

018. 𝐕𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐈—a lonesome bard's sober musings.

019. 𝐖𝐀𝐍𝐃𝐄𝐑𝐄𝐑—peacock and gold, yet prettier is his lotus.

020. 𝐖𝐑𝐈𝐎𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐒𝐋𝐄𝐘—a game of charades, with all but my love.

021. 𝐗𝐈𝐀𝐎—lonesome transcendence does not make up for love.

022. 𝐙𝐇𝐎𝐍𝐆𝐋𝐈—to the world's best, busiest, and nicest wife.

024. 𝐅𝐑𝐄𝐌𝐈𝐍𝐄𝐓—'awkwardly my pen moves, yet only love translates.'

023. 𝗔𝗘𝗧𝗛𝗘𝗥—in the solemn memory of an old lover.

???. 𝗣𝗔𝗜𝗠𝗢𝗡—'to you, whom i have cherished most.'

#genshin #genshin impact #genshin x reader #genshin imagines #genshin headcanons #💌my letter to you my darling

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lullabyes22-blog · 2 months

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Snippet - The Safeword is 'Piltover' - Forward but Never Forget/XOXO

Prepare for a hellishly long night...

NSFW

Forward but Never Forget/XOXO

Suddenly his grip shifted, and you were dragged up and off.

Woozy, you struggled for air. He was there, too: the taste of him on your lips. Your mouths were inches apart. His breathing, harsh. Yours, ragged.

In the gloom, his eyes glowed hellish and hungry. The poise, the precision, the impeccable facade—all of it had been stripped away. In its place was an unholy transfiguration that reformed the angles of his face into a surface of brute singularity.

This was not Zaun's enigmatic First Chancellor. Nor the kingpin who smiled behind a veil of cigar-smoke. Nor the smuggler who walked two worlds.

This was the pyromancer: a monster tempered in flame, with a heart of ashes.

And he was smiling.

"Enough." A thumb swiped your lower-lip: a smear of wet. "You're a quick little learner. But I don't take my pleasure in the back of a novice's throat." The hand at your nape slid down, down, down. "Hands and knees, sweetling. We'll see how you fare on a different end."

His palm, a guiding weight, set you facedown. Your legs were spread; your hips, arched high.

The indecently vulgar pose had you burning anew.

"Mmm." His hand stroked the dip of your spine. "Lovely. Stay there."

Trembling, you obeyed. The sheets, silk-edged, seemed to whisper secrets in the dark. And you, the star journalist of the Sun & Tower, could hear nothing but the thudding of your own heart.

Distantly, a drawer scraped open. A small bottle, glinting roundly, was set upon the nightstand. The cap was popped: a silvery thread spilled. He warmed the liquid between his palms.

The sweetish scent was, unmistakably, shimmer-laced oil. Not the chemically-crafted concoctions sold in the markets. This was the real deal: a top-of-the-line formula that promised no tingly thrill, but a whole-body high. You remembered reading of its effects. One drop was worth its weight in platinum: a single vial would buy a week's rent at Bluewind Court.

Now it sat at arm's length.

Poison, you thought. Doom.

And yet, you wanted more.

"Before we begin," he said, "let's set a few rules. If I ask a question, you'll answer. If I command, you'll obey. If I want a color, you'll give me one. Green for go, yellow for slow down, and red for pause. And if you wish to stop, all you need say is—" A beat. "Well. How does 'Piltover' sound?"

Mute, you nodded.

"Excellent. I trust you'll hold yourself to a similar code. Honesty. I'll not abide a liar, sweetling. Are we clear?"

"Yes." Your voice was a thread. "Yes, sir."

A chuckle, and the mattress dipped. "Save 'sir' for another day. For now... 'Silco.'"

#arcane #arcane league of legends #arcane silco #silco #forward but never forget/xoxo #forward (never forget)/xoxo #silco x reader

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malebodyexhibit · 1 year

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A Trinity Minus One (a free commission tale)

My best friend was the one who showed me the Grindr profile that day. He was single and stilled used that garbage app. Looking at him still doing hook up culture, made me glad I found my boyfriend of five years. I was so lucky to find a hunky Latino guy. I might be a gringo, but I loved that we were so diverse. Then my friend with trepidation showed me on his phone a profile that showed my boyfriend locking lips with his coworker.

They both worked as mechanics and I thought they were just good friends. I never had a suspicion that José was gay or that he and my boyfriend Germán were hooking up. Much less hooking up as a couple on Grindr. But reading their shared profile, I felt the past decade hollowing into a tangle of lies and deceit.

"Latino couple looking for a bull. NSA. Make me watch you satisfy my boyfriend. No gringos, gracias."

My friend tried to console me but I left and spent the day crying in my apartment. My boyfriend and I shared the place, but he always worked late. Through my tears I saw the red flags: he never came back by dinner, preferring to eat dinner at work; he left early to get extra hours; and always made sure he looked good when he left. I wondered why he would put up with me then.

I thought I was attractive. I was blond with muscle tone, but... no gringos. I guess I was just an apartment and a meal ticket.

I wanted to hate him. To hate them, but they looked so good together. After leaving my friend's place, I downloaded Grindr and stared at their profile. I had thought of messaging them, but... no gringos. I wondered who wrote that. My boyfriend or his? It didn't matter. I was nothing to them. And I actually wanted to be with them. I thought of José and he was hot and funny and charming. I could see why Germán would fall in love with him.

I just wished I could be someone they wanted.

I must have been dreaming because I felt the world around me shift and change. It seemed like the walls separated and fell away, the colors of nature lifted like watercolor and melted, and I felt myself lose the pain of the past hours. Then as swiftly as the world distorted, it returned to normal, except me.

I wished I could be someone they wanted. The loose definition of my body started to collect. It was a tightening of new and old memories. New smells and tastes of a childhood I never had. It was the new sounds of a language I only heard Germán speak. I wished... I stared at myself forming anew in the reflection of the mirror.

My natural blond hair became a shocking platinum dyed crew cut. My white skin became a glowing bronze. Tattoos snaked down my arm, displaying a history on my skin that my old body lacked. My eyes turned sharper, more mature, more determined. The soft upbringing of my white childhood morphed into a struggle in an English-dominated culture. I looked at the naked landscape of my muscular body and felt a rush of hormones, but I wouldn't jack off yet.

Like stars in the sky, I still remembered my old life and could pick out outlines of what happened, though the glow of my Hispanic life was like the sun. I remembered Germán and José. I grabbed my phone and reopened the Grinder app.

While I was still nude with the sweat from the transformation, I took photos and made a profile. My name was Gabriel, like the angel. A second after my profile was made, I got a message from Germán.

"Holy smokes, bro, you're so fucking hot! You dtf?" He texted along with photos of his shirtless body and another of his cock that I had sucked the past five years in my old body.

I didn't feel like talking. I took a picture of my massive, dark cock and sent it to him. "Beg for it, puta."

"Please, please, papí."

I laughed and wanted to torture him some more. Show him more of this body, and tease him, but I remembered the love I felt for him, and simple wrote, "okay, mi amor, don't let me down."

#male body exhibit #male body transformation #male tf #male transform #male transformation #race change #tf

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serenescribe · 6 months

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I'm happy that the reverse containment breach au was received well! So I figured why not give the people a taste of the original reverse CB? (or maybe to them its reverse reverse CB? lol) Subject Lilia cannot sleep due to horrible substitutions to his usual diet and so- in a fit of desperation one night- uses what little power he has to force whoever is on night watch to come to his enclosure. However... he won't believe who wanders in ;)

[✐] ficlet frenzy

When the door slides open, Lilia licks his lips, his trademark grin splitting his face. The remnants of his lingering powers had worked, just enough strength left to coax whichever poor soul was on the night shift to open the door and step inside. Now, all they have to do is come on over and allow Lilia to feed from them, granting him enough strength to break out of here and find his—

Lilia looks up, and immediately freezes.

“Little one,” he breathes, the nickname tumbling from his tongue at once.

Silver stands in the doorway, swaying slightly, one hand wrapped around the jamb. His eyes are glazed over, dulled under the thrall of Lilia’s influence. For what feels like an eternity, Lilia merely stares, his eyes blown wide, and it isn’t until Silver begins to stagger over that he snaps out of his stupor.

“Come, come,” he coaxes, and his dearest boy does. Silver stumbles over, drops to his knees — oh, how much taller he is! How long has it been since Lilia last saw his beloved child? Not since he was eleven cycles, not since that fateful day, and, at Lilia’s wave of a hand, Silver collapses into his lap. There, he lays limply, eyes fluttering the slightest bit as Lilia rakes his blunted nails through his hair — and Lilia cannot help the way his face contorts at the sight of platinum blond locks, the lingering bits of silver only evident in the tips of his son’s hair. Silver has not had his father’s blood in him for a long time — long enough that his natural roots have come in, and it only serves to make Lilia recoil at the knowledge that they have been separated for far too long.

Well, he thinks, as he raises his other hand to his mouth, baring his fangs. That will simply have to be fixed.

With his sharp teeth, Lilia slices a jagged cut right down his palm. Candy red blood oozes out, thick like honey, and Lilia wrinkles his nose at it. His blood has taken on a thicker viscosity, it seems; being deprived of his natural food sources will do that to him. Still, he cannot afford to be picky. As he presses his palm towards Silver, he urges him to drink — and Silver, obedient and compliant under Lilia’s shaky hold, obliges.

As Silver laps at the blood and it enters his system…

A shudder ripples right through Lilia, a dormant sense stirring awake.

It has been so long since he’s been able to sense this — their emotional bond, forged anew, Lilia able to sense every little bit of emotion that his dearest child feels. It settles within his chest like a second heart, their souls intertwined, and Lilia cannot help but preen at the sight of silver streaks running through blond hair, his natural colour returning to its rightful place.

And as for what Lilia is able to see, parsing through hazy memories and scattered emotions…

“Oh, little one,” he murmurs, leaning over Silver and pulling him closer, wrapping his arms around his dearest child — no longer young, but forever his. “What have they put you through? You should never have gone through such dismal suffering.”

He stops and closes his eyes, taking a deep breath. “But you are here now,” Lilia says, a certainty entering his words. “And here you will stay.

“Your father shall not let them separate us again.”

#my writing tag #tumblr drabbles tag #ficlet frenzy #twst #twisted wonderland #twst fanfiction #twst writing #containment breach au #lilia vanrouge #twst silver #target audience: olive and i #this will make sense someday when i have the energy to beta olive's cbau fic #SHIT I FORGOT TO TAG FOR TWST SPOILERS ON THE HAIR #twst spoilers #twisted wonderland spoilers #twst ch7 #SORRY GUYS IM JUST TAKING PRECAUTIONS

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raven-at-the-writing-desk · 7 months

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Hi Ms. Raven! I was wondering if you knew when the Broomquet Birthday Cards would be coming out in the ENG server? I'm dying for Jade's, but with Grim's SSR and glomas, I don't know what I should be saving for 😂😭😭😭 Thank you for all the help! And I hope you're having a great day :)))

In TWST JP, the birthday cycle ends with Riddle (late Aug) and begins anew with Jamil (mid-Sept). JP is currently in their fourth birthday series (Platinum Jacket).

In TWST EN, the birthday cycle ends with Malleus (mid-Jan) and begins anew with Cater (early Feb). EN is on the Union Jacket series (the second set of birthday cards).

Broomquet is the third set, so I believe you don’t need to worry about it coming out until the new year (2024)! If you plan your rolls wisely, you should be able to roll for banners this October without worrying about how it will impact your later Broomquet rolls.

#twisted wonderland #twst #disney twisted wonderland #twst en #twisted wonderland en #Malleus Draconia #Cater Diamond #Jamil Viper #Riddle Rosehearts #notes from the writing raven #question

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avonmom · 5 months

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AVON CAMPAIGN 20 2023 ONLINE BROCHURE

Learn all about #Avon Campaign 20 brochure, sales & special offers you can take advantage of until October 10, 2023. #JenAntunesBeauty #Anew #AvonBodyCare

Avon Campaign 20 Online Brochure Enjoy a fun, interactive catalog when you shop Avon’s well known brochures online with Jen Antunes Beauty at youravon.com/jantunes. SHOP AVON CAMPAIGN 20 CATALOG ONLINE You can now shop Avon’s Campaign 20 online catalog, sales flyers & special offers now until Tuesday October 10, 2023 at youravon.com/jantunes. Help boost your skin’s moisture and visibly improve…

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whatdoyoumeanitsnotcanon · 2 years

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All I Am (For You) - Reader x Yandere Sub!Aemond Targaryen (nsfw)

It's exhilarating, isn't it? Here you are of lower status, having a literal prince of the realm at your beck and call, making him obey, acquiesce, and submit in ways others can't. It's exhilarating, is it? Exhilarating. Delightful. Sublime. All words to describe your... liaison. All words to describe him. The Second Son. Aemond Targaryen.

And what a picture he was, beautiful and dark and deadly all in one. Sublime. The shadows from the fire in your room danced around the eagerness in his eye, one that was not too long ago alight with vengeance and bloodlust as he mercilessly brutalized the poor soul―the bastard had it coming, insulting you and your lesser status within earshot. A person of little consequence, such that he wouldn't even give them the honor of a quick death with his sword. Aemond rationalized his actions and from his perspective, your honor was preserved once more.

He'd have lashed out violently at Queen Alicent and his grandfather for voicing their disapproval if not for the subtle twitch of your mouth and the irritation in your posture. Unbecoming. You rewarded him handsomely later, singing his praises as he feasted greedily on the delicacy between your legs.

And Aemond stood before you once again, justice served. He was eager and wanting and restless and yearning for your praise. Yearning for―oh!!!

You said only a word before you found yourself on your bed, your clothes and his divested. You said only a word before you looked up and saw the platinum fire of his mane buried between your legs and devouring you greedily and bringing you to ecstasy and―and―"Aemond...!"

They would never know your secret, they who seek to rein Aemond's fire in. And you, you of lesser status, laughed wryly at their attempts. They didn't have what you had. They couldn't tame his fire, couldn't tame a dragon as only you could. They would never know how you could pin down such passion beneath you so willingly, how you could make a prince of the realm moan like... like a baseless whore.

It was all tension, need, and adrenaline turned into something raw and primal. It was all a blur after the intensity of your first orgasm, as you found yourself leering at Aemond, your Aemond, his skin flushed, hair a white fiery halo framing his face, and scar laid bare before you. Under you. Singing your praises as you took him without abandon. As you fucked him savagely. Unbecoming. Exhilarating. Delightful. Sublime.

And what a picture he was, voicing his pleasure so loudly, so wantonly. Unlike that of a prince. More like a whore. Your whore. You were brutal in your thrusts and Aemond met you each time, met you as you took him higher and higher, met you as powerful legs tightened around your waist, as his hands gripped the sheets below and he all but roared your name as he came untouched. And once again, you tamed a dragon.

And let all who have ears to hear, hear this. Let all who have ears hear the reverence in Aemond's voice as he says your name, let them hear the whine and delicious groan as you bite into one broad shoulder, as you praise him for a job well done. Let them hear him beg and moan like a wanton whore as the cycle begins anew and you tame the dragon yet again, the second of many times that night.

Let them hear, let them see how Aemond Targaryen, a prince of the realm, the Second Son, fire and bloodlust made flesh was made yours. All of him, yours. Mind, body, and spirit.

Exhilarating. Delightful. Sublime.

#aemond targaryen #aemond x reader #house of the dragon #game of thrones #nsfw.#just needed to get this out of my head and on to my blog lol.#reader is gender neutral.

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talesofadragon · 2 years

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𝐅𝐚𝐭𝐞 𝐈𝐬 𝐒𝐢𝐦𝐩𝐥𝐲 𝐂𝐫𝐮𝐞𝐥

Summary: Right choices have never been Draco’s forte. Years after his reputation has taken a plunge and his guilt has claimed control of his thoughts, he’s offered a second chance at redemption from Hogwarts University’s Principal, Minerva McGonagall.

Reluctant to step back into the origins of his despair, Draco begins to question his fate and the cruel jokes it's been playing on him until he meets a stranger that offers him a different perspective. A stranger that may just force him to repeat the past he was adamant to run away from.

Warnings: College AU | Fluff | Angst | Slow Burn | Age Gap

Pairing: Professor!Draco x Student!Reader

Word Count: 4K

𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐄𝐬𝐬𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐁𝐞𝐥𝐨𝐧𝐠𝐢𝐧𝐠 - 𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝟏

𝐍𝐨 𝐦𝐚𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐚𝐦𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭 𝐨𝐟 𝐟𝐨𝐜𝐮𝐬 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐚𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐦𝐩𝐭 𝐭𝐨 𝐩𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐨 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐥𝐢𝐟𝐞, 𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐞𝐬 𝐚𝐥𝐰𝐚𝐲𝐬 𝐡𝐚𝐯𝐞 𝐚 𝐰𝐚𝐲 𝐨𝐟 𝐛𝐥𝐮𝐫𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐛𝐞𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐞𝐲𝐞𝐬. Whether it was between love and hate, truth and lies, or right and wrong, somehow, one always finds themselves teetering on the edge of the unknown before choosing the path to follow.

Every time Draco would close his eyes, he’d find tales of regret and guilt carved roughly behind his eyelids— a great retelling of the past and the volatility of his choices that have tampered with the translucent veil of his existence.

Life was cruel. That had always been the conclusion he came to whenever he aimlessly wandered the streets of Scotland as he retreated into his self-formed cocoon. Perhaps it was his insecurities or the queasiness inside of him, but he always seemed to believe that people all around him judged his every move. Their eyes bore into him, attempting to see who between his guilt and their hatred would cause him to run away faster.

A bench at Springfield Meadows served as his trusted nest, his shoulders visibly relaxing as he plopped down. The familiarity of the dark wood beneath his long fingers sparked a sense of peace and serenity as he leaned forward, elbows on his knees and fisted hands above his mouth, deep into thought.

“Thinking about it any further will not change much, you know?” Draco heard from behind him. He scoffed as the man stepped forward, proceeding to take a seat next to him.

Silver eyes roamed the expanse of the park, gliding over the white daisies that were beginning to bloom. “The world is nothing short of possibilities, and one thought can change the course of our paths forever,” he replied, craning his head as he faced his friend.

The tall brunette rolled his eyes. He leaned back against the bench with one arm casually draped against the wood behind Draco’s shoulders. “To be or not to be, that is the question.” He raised his free hand in the air, feigning melancholy. “Always the Shakespeare, Malfoy. Eloquent, creative, and ever brooding.”

Draco scoffed, tapping his fingers against his knees. “The world may evolve, but I’ll always be philosophical, and you’ll always remain–”

“Charming?”

“More of a nuisance, to tell you the truth.”

The man hit his friend across his chest, eliciting a groan from the platinum blond. Theodore, the tall “nuisance” as Draco referred to him, raised his left foot, resting his calf on his right knee. He remained silent, watching the birds that soared above them. His hazel eyes gazed at his best friend for a moment, noticing him succumb to his deafening fears once more.

Draco’s attention was elsewhere and nowhere all at once, his knee rising and falling in anticipation of the upcoming decision he was going to have to make. His mind filled with the words he had read this morning–the promise of a chance to start anew.

“Was it you?” he pondered aloud, the back of his head now resting against the wood, silver orbs looking away. “ Where you the one who suggested my name?”

Theodore considered his answer for a moment. “At the risk of sounding like a lousy friend, I didn’t even think about mentioning you, mate.”

Draco huffed out a half-laugh, the ghost of the past paying him an unwanted visit. He hated closing his eyes because he never found the escape he craved to seek refuge in. He’d instead find himself surrounded with traces of a reality so discouraging and shameful, it entangled itself within his worst nightmares. “Then why the hell are they asking me to come back?” After everything.

“Hogwarts has been struggling to find a competent literature professor since you left–”

“Since I was forced to,” Draco corrects bitterly, the bright silver in his eyes dimming, a wounded shade of grey taking the reins.

Theodore nodded absentmindedly, seeking the right words. “Right, well. McGonagall has now been appointed as the university’s president. And she specifically requested for you to return.”

“Hogwarts,” Draco repeated. The word fell from his lips with a bitter taste in its wake. “The most prized institution in Scotland, in Britain, struggling to hire a decent professor? That’s quite hard to believe.”

“I never said the instructors weren’t decent. They just lack your competence, Draco.”

The man let out a deep exhale, his palms digging into his eyes and rubbing away the irritation. Not to sound narcissistic, even though Draco Malfoy is just that sometimes, but there could never be someone that garnered as many skills as he did in that domain.

He knew every cadence of literature. He studied its facades and its realities so vehemently, there was no message that could escape his thirsty eyes, no matter how well hidden it was between the lines. Perhaps this was a result of the sanctuary he found within the pages of every book he has ever read in his times of loneliness. Or maybe, it was the ostentatious life he had lived as the only son of billionaire philanthropists Lucius and Narcissa Malfoy.

Whatever misfortune had led him to acquire such knowledge of the craft was the only tribulation he welcomed so openly.

“I can’t go back.” He shook his head. “Not after everything.”

“You can’t, or you don’t want to?” Theodore didn’t wait for an answer before he completed the rest of the monologue that waiting to be set free. “Listen, mate. I know the circumstances weren’t in your favor, and you’re dreading having to relive the past. But you need this. You need to give yourself another chance.”

Draco closed his eyes and groaned. A thousand scenarios ran in his head laced with fear and doubt, all telling him to run the other way. But Theodore’s words were also there. You need this. Need. Since when was ever Draco granted what he needed in life?

A hand on his shoulder awoke him from his reverie, albeit reluctantly. He peered his eyes away from the monochromatic thoughts he was having, catching Theodore’s hazel orbs. Think about it, the brunette tried to say without so much as moving his lips. And with that, he was on his way.

Draco’s mind was suddenly engulfed by the silence. Again, the man sighed, letting his head fall back against the wooden bench. He didn’t know what was better. The overcrowded streets of doubt and despair that his mind fabricated or the noiseless alleys of solitude he sometimes wandered to.

His fingers unconsciously drummed against the wood–an anchor that was keeping him tethered to reality, fearing he might find himself far too lost.

Suddenly, his forehead creased, and the traffic in his head came to a standstill. Everything became eerily quiet. All those malicious possibilities halted, hanging in the air. His mind stung, an unwelcome sensation probing at the back of his head. He looked around, searching his consciousness, only to find a red light blaring soundlessly, yet ever so brightly, as if it was trying to warn him about something.

Draco opened his silver eyes to the real world, his mind still reeling from the effect of his raging thoughts. He looked around with furrowed brows, trying to decipher what might’ve caused his duress. And then the red lights blared once more as soon as he locked eyes with a pair of curious Y/E/C eyes.

His brow unconsciously arched at the sight of the girl that stood a few mere feet away from him. Clad in a long-sleeved dress, she gnawed at her lower lip, her cheeks heating up as soon as she met Draco’s questioning gaze.

Her eyes fell back down to her lap where her open notebook lay, her pencil gliding over the pages. But Draco paid close attention to the young woman, noting the nonexistent flick in her wrist. While her eyes were cast down, they didn’t seem to be moving—more so trying to find their footing. Instead, they were on the edge of the paper, awaiting the right moment.

Draco’s suspicions were proven true when those same curious Y/E/C eyes met his. Bashful and reluctant, they retreated back to their checkpoint as soon as they were caught.

10 seconds, Draco took note, studying the pattern the girl followed. This time he pretended to look away when his silver eyes were strategically positioned in a way that allowed him to catch a glimpse of the girl.

The same thing happened, albeit this time it took 10 seconds more before the girl’s eyes fled once again.

It continued twice more before Draco decided to do something about it. This time, when the girl snuck a peek, her brows scrunched at the empty bench that faced her. A small, imperceptible sound came out of her lips, almost similar to a sigh. She tilted her head, searching side to side before she yelped in surprise, her hands dropping her notebook, and immediately flying to her mouth.

“You’ve been staring at me for the past five minutes,” Draco remarks impassively, his hand in his pockets. “Care to explain why.”

The girl, who looked no more than twenty-five, fumbled with her hands. She gazed at Draco, her lashes fluttering in trepidation before she moved to pick up the leather notebook. “I wasn’t… I didn’t. I’m sorry. It wasn’t my intention to make you feel uncomfortable.”

“And what was your intention, young lady?” he asked, his brow raised in anticipation.

The girl’s cheeks heated once more at the feeling of being reprimanded like a child, her hands automatically moving to loosen the scarf wrapped around her neck.

“I just… you looked pensive,” she articulated, feeling small against Draco’s intense gaze. Her nails picked at the leather of her notebook, her words almost getting lost in her throat. “Are you okay?”

If Draco’s eyes had been wide before, then they were as wide as saucers now. He studied the girl, an incredulous look overcoming his features. Draco scoffed, loudly at that, turning his head the other way. His hand settled on the wood near her head, causing a certain agitation and jitteriness in the girl at the sight of his long and calloused fingers.

“Why should I answer that?”

“Pardon me, sir. I truly didn’t mean to pry.” She paused, licking her lips and trying to search for the right words to say while attempting to mask her intimidation. “You just seemed to be worried. If… if you’d like to talk about your worries, I would gladly listen.”

“Hasn’t your mother ever taught you not to talk to strangers? Why in the name of God would I want to talk to you about my problems? I don’t even know you!”

“Exactly,” she retorted, unfazed by his hostility. A gust of wind brushed her bangs, causing them to almost cover her eyes. “I’m a stranger. I don’t know you or your back story, so I can’t exactly judge. I can only listen, which is sometimes all that someone needs.”

Draco narrowed his eyes, trying to read the girl in front of him. Despite the blatant glare he was giving her, he received nothing but a kind and gentle smile in return.

He let out a half-laugh half-scoff while repeating the girl’s words in his head, his feet immediately changed course, the sound of fallen leaves wailing beneath the soles of his shoes.

Though his back was turned, his ear picked up on the sound of the girl shifting in her seat. He could hear her pen tapping against the notebook, debating whether or not it was worth going back to doing what she was doing before this conversation even started.

Just as he heard her open her notebook and ruffle through the pages, he surprised even himself at the sound of his own voice. “What do you think about second chances?”

“What?” she asked, surprised. Draco turned around to face her, the glare he gave her made her shuffle around. “Um, well… I think… I believe that we all deserve a second chance. Not just to rectify our first mistake but to prove to ourselves that we can do better. That we are better.”

“Interesting way of phrasing it,” Draco said. He placed his hands in the pocket of his trousers, fallen leaves crunching beneath his feet as he strolled back to the bench.

The girl watched him with a sheepish smile, scooting over to allow him some space to sit. He didn’t.

“We’re often too hard on ourselves, and second chances are a way to help us find a calming voice louder than the sound of our doubts and insecurities,” she declared. This time her voice was steadier and less meek.

“What if we’ve messed up too badly to rectify our errors?”

The girl craned her head and pursed her lips, her eyes narrowing on the grass as she contemplated the question. “Then, maybe this second chance is an opportunity to make sense of those errors.”

“You’re too much of an idealist, kid,” Draco scoffed. He was surprised to see the young woman unfazed.

“Sometimes, reality is too overcrowded with negative emotions. Idealism helps you find glimpses of the truth buried beneath the rubble of self-doubt,” she spoke slowly, a small smile decorating her lips.

“And a philosopher, too,” Draco scoffed. He had heard all he needed to know but hesitated to leave, a single question lingering in his mind. He glanced down at the girl. She stared at him with large doe eyes, her fingers nipping at the leather of her notebook. He looked away then down to his shoes, swallowing the lump in his throat. “What if the truth is that there's no place for you anymore? What’s the use of a second chance then?”

Y/E/C orbs clashed with a stormy silver, somehow, their warmth and gentleness calmed the storm.

“Sometimes, we outgrow the places we've once deeply planted our roots in. After that, it's no matter of fitting in but standing out." Draco’s brows furrowed as he hung on to every word coming out of her lips. “And your second chance becomes an opportunity to find the strengths in what was once your weaknesses, the rights in your wrongs, and the reality in your fears."

Draco remained momentarily silent. His fingers began to clench and unclench as he mulled the words over. Could this perhaps be the reason why he was offered a second chance? Not to rectify his errors but to make sense of them? To look at belonging through a more ideal lens.

He spent so much time thinking about it that he didn’t notice the girl leaving him alone with his thoughts. And when he turned to face her, mouth wide open and mind racing with more questions, he was disappointed to find the bench she sat on empty with no trace of her around. As if she was never there.

When Draco was a child, he struggled to sit still. He remembered always being on the edge of his seat, waiting for a cue that would allow him to dash out of the living area and onto Malfoy Mansion’s open garden.

Maybe that was because he hated the company his parents brought over, or maybe it was an act of rebellion for being molded into everything a toddler shouldn’t have been—stripped from the childhood he deserved.

And somehow, thirty or so years later, he found himself in the same position. But this time, instead of fiddling with his fingers, he was fiddling with the fabric of his green tie. And while he left the Malfoy Mansion behind him years ago, it was the comfort of his apartment in Haven Lane that beckoned him over.

“Mr. Malfoy,” the assistant told him, causing him to abandon his escape plan. He hummed in acknowledgment, passively leaning back against his chair. “President McGonagall is ready to see you.”

To say he was nervous was an understatement. It had been about three years since he last saw Minerva McGonagall. Three years since he last held a coursebook, let alone spoke to someone about academics on any level.

He straightened up, squaring his shoulders, getting ready to meet the president. As he stepped through the contemporary wooden door, he realized that not much had changed. Not the light brown and minimalistic furniture, not the beige-colored walls, and certainly not Minerva McGonagall with her thin-framed glasses and welcoming demeanor.

“Draco, please take a seat. It’s so lovely to see you.”

Draco nodded In acknowledgment, placing his briefcase down and unbuckling the button of his black blazer. “Thank you, Minerva,” he said as if no time had passed. “How are you doing?”

“Very well, even better now that you’re here.” She smiled kindly, extending the cup of tea and water she had already set aside for him. McGonagall cleared her throat, her hands on the table, fingers intertwined together. “Draco, as you well know, your extensive acumen in the subject matter along with your experience make you one of the most eminent literature professors Hogwarts has ever seen. The board and I are aware of what happened during your past tenure; however, we are willing once more to give you a chance.”

Draco gulped down the water, his fingers curling around the glass. He tapped his index finger against the rim, his eyes trained on the principal. “Surely there are other competent professors. So why bother to go through all that trouble and reach out to me?”

McGonagall adjusted her thin glasses, her lips forming a small smile. “Multiple reasons, some you may believe while others not so much. If you want an answer that will appease your doubts, I’d say the principal reason would be our new School of Creative Writing.”

Draco tilted his head, his brow scrunching in confusion. “I’m afraid I don’t follow.”

“A year ago, we opened a new school, offering an array of writing degrees to undergraduates and graduates alike. We’ve been trying to receive accreditation from the Dumbledore Association of Creative Thought, but many of our employed professors have been struggling with the coursework and the basic accreditation requirements. We decided to look for someone who’s resourceful, unconventional, and agile in their way of thinking. We found no one better suited for this role than you.”

“I truly appreciate your words, Minerva. But are you sure there’s no one else?”

“Perhaps there is,” McGonagall answered, reaching for her tea. “But none are quite as deserving as you.”

The day had started fairly well. It didn’t take Draco too long before he slipped back into “professor mode.” He quite missed it actually—the commanding presence he held in the classroom, the eager eyes and ears that lingered on every word that slipped from his lips, and the passion he shared with his students.

He realized later throughout the day, and much to his advantage, that many of his previous colleagues no longer worked at Hogwarts University. Sure, there were some old faces that seemed shocked to find him sauntering carelessly in the hallways, but there were others that were more curious than anything else.

He didn’t dwell too much on the thought, preferring to focus on the second chance life had offered him. He wanted to do it right this time–correct all the previous wrongs. Not just for the sake of his reputation but for his own piece of mind as well.

At precisely two in the afternoon, Draco walked into one of the classrooms on the middle floor of the building. Pushing the golden doors, he strolled through the large beige-colored auditorium where a handful of students sat in their brown chairs. Given the rigorous nature of the Creative Writing program, Draco discovered that no more than 15 students were accepted every year, split between his classes and Theodore’s.

The man placed his books on the table, strolling around it before he leaned against the oak. “How many of you are waiting to get the syllabus for this course before running to catch up over coffee with your friends?” Draco questioned, a small smirk playing across his lips. “It’s okay. I won’t judge.”

He was met with some lighthearted giggles as the seven students, unevenly scattered, adjusted themselves in their seats. Draco placed his hands in his pockets, crossing his legs together. “My name is Draco Malfoy, and I will be your new professor for the length of this course. Some of you may have heard of me while others not so much, and I don’t know whether either is a good thing. To say the least, I’m not your typical course instructor. I don’t follow the rules, because I believe that literature and the creative arts are not meant to be tamed. There will be no syllabus for this course as the topics we’ll cover will depend on you more than on me. I’m here to help turn your passion into something you are proud to share with the world. Some things are not going to make much sense, but as you progress, you’ll begin to understand my methods and their true value.

“If this is not something that you feel comfortable exploring, then you still have time to switch classes and seek Professor Nott’s guidance. However, if you choose to take part in my classes, then I guarantee that you will not only be investigating the depths of writing but also the inner workings of your mind. For those of you who’d like to step out, please feel free to do so now.” A pregnant pause settled as everyone looked at one another, but no one made a move to exit. “Lovely, but please do remember that it’s not too late to change your mind. Now, how about we start with a round of light introductions to get better acquainted with each other? You can go first, Miss…?

“Granger, sir,” the young woman at the forefront answered. She flipped her brown hair back, her brown pools meeting Draco’s. “I’m Hermione Granger, a second-year creative writing major. I’ve been a student at Hogwarts for five years now, having already obtained a bachelor’s in English literature and a minor in communications.”

“Impressive, Miss Granger. And what is it you’re excited to learn in this course?”

“How real-life experiences are translated on paper, and more particularly, portrayed across various mediums of communication.”

“Interesting, Miss Granger. What about you, Miss…?”

“Lovegood,” the blonde replied.

One by one, each student started introducing themselves. Some talked about their passions, others their backgrounds and Draco quickly noticed that a few of the students present have picked his course as an elective. Nonetheless, he listened to them as they expressed their interest in learning more about writing and kindly answered their queries.

At last, there was only one person left—a girl who was writing away in her notebook. Draco curiously studied her hunched frame as her pen danced across the paper, even though he couldn’t for the life of him understand what she was writing about.

“That leaves only you, Miss…?” His voice trailed off as Draco waited to see whether the girl was paying enough attention or not. She placed her pen gently on the notebook and raised her head, adjusting the black frames on her nose.

“Y/L/N, sir,” she replied. The shy voice and the vibrance of her eyes caused Draco’s shoulders to tense as he stood upright upon hearing her speak. “Y/N Y/L/N. First-year creative writing major. A pleasure to meet you, Mr. Malfoy,” she smiled kindly at the man.

Draco gulped, his hand gripping the wooden desk. His stomach lurched, and his head pounded. Sometime, after a beat of silence, he realized that there was something about this girl. It was no coincidence that he met her twice now and would ultimately have to see her for quite more. But something told him that fate was playing a dangerous game, one that Draco was ultimately going to lose. All because of a girl with a radiating smile that was too real to be a farce.

Witchlings, guess who's back?

So excited for this series and the upcoming projects I've planned! What do you think so far?

Until the next one 🪄🤍

#draco malfoy x reader #draco x reader #draco x y/n #draco x you #draco malfoy fanfiction #harry potter fanfiction #draco malfoy #draco malfoy x y/n #draco malfoy x you #draco imagine #draco malfoy imagine #professor!draco #professor!draco x student!reader

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