#he will appear in my legacy soon!!

[apricote]

andy pancakes; only original girlies remember him

@laeska this hair + beard set is to die for. ;--;

[aurorangen]

I'm in love with you Leilani ❤️

[mickandmusings]

love you, miss you, mean it

*this is a two part series, read part two here!*

**I recommend listening to 'love you, miss you, mean it' by luke bryan. it's a slight inspiration for this story and it's part two. (sorry, my southern roots are showing oops) **

pairing: bob floyd x f!kazansky!reader

word count: 2.6k

summary: before the daggers, before the uranium mission, before even top gun and 'bob', there was just young bobby floyd, finding himself at the doorstep of the kazansky household, year after year, finding family between a father and daughter, and a new understanding of true love.

(based off a request, but i'll post it when i'm finished with both parts, it will give too much away! <3)

warnings: lots of sticky sweet fluff, I accidentally made Ice a single dad??, 'Bobby' as Bob's civilian name, most likely military inaccuracies

-

The very first time Bob Floyd found himself standing on the Kazansky's front door, he was seventeen years old. He had parked his hand-me-down pickup truck on the street in front of the house, crossed the yard in record time, and rang the doorbell. He was standing on the welcome mat in a spiffy black tux, his sweaty palms clutching a plastic box that contained a corsage made of light purple flowers. Bob had no idea what kind of flowers they were, more than happy to leave that to the florist, but he knew they were the same color as the bowtie that seemed to be choking him. He was incredibly nervous, pushing his glasses up his nose in a repetitive nervous habit. His sapphire eyes caught a tall shadow approaching the door, and Bob felt his spine straighten, his heart hammering in his chest. Bob had heard the stories of Admiral Tom 'Iceman' Kazansky, US Pacific Fleet Commander (and more importantly, Y/N's dad) but now, as Iceman stared down at him, he began to realize he certainly lived up to his callsign.

The Admiral's eyes were a cool blue, piercing through the teenage boy's frame as he looked him up and down. He had seemingly only just arrived home from work, still in his Navy attire. His well-pressed, wrinkle-free Navy uniform made him appear taller than he was, a looming presence that demanded respect. The flat, stoic look on his face seemed permanent, only cutting into a small upturn as he spoke.

"You must be the Bobby I keep hearing about."

Bob nods, letting out a measly, "Yes sir," before sticking out a clammy hand to shake Y/N's father's hand.

The Admiral shakes his hand with a firm grip, squeezing Bob's hand so tightly that Bob swore his blood flow had been cut off. Finally, he opened the front door wider to allow Bob in, speaking as he shut the door back into the frame.

"You should probably take a seat, get comfortable. She's been giggling upstairs for hours now, but I doubt she's ready. You'll get used to it, waiting around until she's ready."

Bob chuckles nervously, sitting stiffly on the couch as he watches the Admiral stomp about the kitchen, seemingly making a cup of coffee. The silence is deafening, Bob is too nervous to say anything, but the man's booming voice soon cuts the quiet with ease.

"So, Bobby, Y/N says you're a military brat too, is that right?"

"Uh, y-yes sir, my father, he's in the service as well, my grandfather was too, sort of the Floyd family legacy."

The Admiral nods, absorbing the information.

"What about you, do you have any plans to-"

"Dad!" Y/N's annoyed voice broke the Admiral's sentence. Her heels clack down the wooden stairs, her dress whooshing in the wind created by her motion. Bob turned his attention in the direction of her voice, standing promptly, his jaw dropping as he took in the sight of Y/N. She was dazzling in her pastel purple gown, a slight smile on her face as she spoke. "Stop trying to recruit my prom date."

Y/N and her father shared a look, seemingly speaking without having to say a word before she broke out into a smile, matching the wide toothy grin of her father, before turning back to Bob, a slight pink blush forming across her cheeks. Bob blushed as he saw her walk into the room, making his way over to her.

"Y-You look," Bob swallows thickly, gaining his confidence. "You're beautiful."

Y/N blushes fiercely, straightening the lavender bowtie around Bob's neck.

"You clean up pretty well yourself."

The teenagers' awkward gazing is cut off by Ice clearing his throat loudly, his mug of coffee in his hand as he approached them.

"C'mon, kid. Your grandparents'll kill me if I don't get a thousand pictures of you two before you leave."

Y/N cut her eyes at Bob as he stuck his arm out for her to take, helping her over the threshold of the door and into the yard, the Admiral standing in front of them with his camera ready. They all went through the motions of a typical prom photo shoot-the corsage exchange, the awkward photos in front of the house, the send off.

Finally, she and Bob were down the road in his truck, Y/N smiling in his passenger seat, Bob's shoulders much more relaxed, not feeling nearly as tense in the presence of her looming father.

"Sorry about my dad," Y/N speaks over the music playing in the truck, squeezing Bob's hand where their hands intertwined on the console. "He's just a little protective, and, not very good at small talk." She chuckles lightly.

"No, no, it's fine. He was nice. Intimidating for sure, but nice. Made a joke that you take too long to get ready for everything."

"Of course he did," Y/N smiled and rolled her eyes, leaning her head on Bob's arm. The high school juniors had been dating for a little over six months, but both of them were head-over-heels.

The couple arrived and carried on as usual for teenagers on a prom night-mingling with their mutual friend and indulging on PTO-mom made snacks. As the night wrapped up, the last slow song of the night had Bob and Y/N swaying under the sparkling disco ball in the middle of the gym. Bob's tux jacket had been discarded on a chair hours ago, accompanied by Y/N's heels, both tossed about carelessly in favor of running back to the dance floor. Her head rested on his chest, his hands around her waist sweetly. Neither of them were paying much attention to the song playing, or the other numerous couples swaying next to them. Bob's blue orbs were focused entirely on the girl looking up at him from his chest, his hand moving to brush stray curls that had fallen in her eyes. As he looked at her face, his chest filled with warmth, a funny feeling erupting, one he had never felt before. His eyebrows furrowed, his forehead creasing.

"What's the matter, B?" Her voice came soft, just loud enough for both of them to hear.

"I love you," It came out blunt and honest, with no hesitation. Neither of them had said it before, and he watched as Y/N's face went from one of confusion to one of pure elation, a wide grin forming on her face as Bob lightly pulled her closer, their lips meeting in a kiss more meaningful than their previous ones.

That night, when Bob dropped her off back at her house, with the figure of her father sitting in their living room, he smiled as he helped her out of the truck and closed the door behind her. He walked her to the front door and kissed her again before saying goodnight, a permanent smile etched on his face. He watched her get into the house and waited for the porch light to turn off before peeling out of the driveway, his face aching from his never ending smile.

When he got into his own house for the night, his tux coat thrown over his shoulder, bowtie undone and his feet aching in his dress shoes, he collapsed onto his bed with a content sigh. His phone dinged with a new message, and he smiled as he saw Y/N's name flash across the screen. He opened it quickly:

I love you, too. I miss you already. Mean it.

A blush sprouted across his fair skin, typing back a reply as his heart soared.

-

Over the next few years, Bob found himself on the Kazansky doorstep hundreds of more times-weekend dates, barbecues, birthdays, study dates, movie nights, senior prom, just because, forgetting his house keys in Y/N's room, graduation parties, the list could go on and on forever. He had grown to find the Kazansky household his second home, Iceman's walls slowly melting towards the awkward boy his daughter loved. Y/N's father would allow him to stay over on long weekends and holidays through her first years of college and his of the Naval Academy, letting Bob tag along for family vacations. Bob slowly became an extension of the Kazansky family. Bob learned lots about the Admiral during his days and weeks of being in their home. Iceman loved things that made him seem less and less intimidating from when they first met. Tom Kazansky loved to make homemade banana bread, could often be found dozing off with a book in his hand, leaned back in the recliner closest to the front door, and the Admiral loved rom-com movies with a fierceness only championed by his own daughter. The father and daughter were a well-oiled machine, understanding each other in a way that Bob had never seen before. Bob would observe as the duo would work in fluid motion in the kitchen cooking dinner-knowing what each other was thinking without having to say a word. Y/N tossing her father spices and seasonings as he lifted the spoon to her mouth, and Iceman knowing just how she liked her coffee, her tea, and her favorite shape of ice. They knew one another inside and out, something Bob would often sit in awe of. It was a true display of love for one another, so loved that you know everything about someone, you know what they need without having to say a word.

When Bob had visited the Kazansky's over his final Christmas break from the Academy, he had expected the feeling of closeness and familial love. He found himself in the kitchen with Y/N, an Elvis Christmas record spinning in the living room adjacent. He wordlessly handed her the spoon from the pot he was stirring, her lips pursing as she thought for a moment, handing him a container of salt and other seasonings she knew were needed for the soup. Bob wordlessly adds an estimated amount in the pot before he stops abruptly, realizing what had just happened. His heart hammers, he and Y/N had been dating for nearly five years now, his time at the Academy coming to an end. They had suffered through nearly four years of a long distance relationship-he in Maryland at the Naval Academy, her attending college back in their hometown. They had made it through with phone calls and even letters, long lonely days and nights, and a love for one another that defied odds. He stopped stirring promptly, looking as Y/N was pressing cookie dough onto a pan, her eyes looking up at him.

"B? What's wrong? You look like you've seen a ghost." She smiled at him sweetly, wiping off her hands before placing them on his cheeks. "Do you feel okay? You're really red, you're warm. Do you think you're coming down with a cold?"

Bob couldn't make his dry mouth form many words, finally sputtering out a single sentence:

"I-I need to talk to your Dad."

Y/N's eyebrows furrow, looking at her boyfriend incredulously, as if he had grown another head.

"Um, okay? He's in his office. Bobby, are you okay?"

Bob nodded, leaning down to place a kiss on her head before racing off to the office on the second floor. Y/N only shook her head and continued making her cookies.

Bob knocks on the heavy office door, waiting for a response.

"It's open," Iceman's voice sounds from behind the thick mahogany colored door. Bob creaks open the door, Ice's cool eyes softening as he sees Bob enter.

"She drive you out of the kitchen already, Bob?" His voice was laced with humor. "She's too much like me, taking control of every situation. Sorry."

Bob laughs, "No sir, I just, needed to talk to you."

Ice narrows in on Bob's firmly serious expression, leaning back in his chair and looking at the boy man in front of him. Bob had grown up in the past few years, taller and more muscular thanks to the Academy. He only wore his glasses when required by the military, often opting for contacts when he was home, giving him a more mature look.

"What can I do for you, son?"

Bob's heart hammered in his chest. Was he planning on doing this now? No-he had planned for a lovely dinner, perhaps a walk on the beach before he did all of this. He had certainly, at least, planned on finishing the Academy before all of this, but after their interaction in the kitchen, the complete domesticity of it, paired with his overwhelming love for her, he knew now was the right time.

"Mr. Kazansky-"

Tom interrupts him, shaking his head in a good-natured manner. "How many times have I told you to call me Iceman, or Tom? I've known you for half a decade, I don't think the formalities are necessary."

Bob nods, understanding the man's warmth, but this was different.

"Any other time before this, and after this, sir, absolutely. But I'm coming to you for matters that pertain to Y/N, and I want this to be as respectful as possible."

Tom nods curtly, appreciating Bob's respectful nature, hands meeting in his lap as Bob speaks.

"Sir, I-," Bob swallows. He thought about this conversation a million times over and over as he stared at his ceiling at the Academy every night. "I love your daughter. I have for five years now. She is infinitely kind, and overwhelmingly beautiful. She's far too smart for me to keep up with most days, and she makes even my worst days bright. I think that's truly a testament to your parenting, she's the most headstrong yet considerate person I know. She loves fiercely, and looks after those she loves with the same fervor. She knows me unlike anyone else, and she's quickly become my feeling of home. Her music has taken over my truck, my headphones, and my inner thoughts. Her favorite movies have become part of my repertoire, and her favorite books sit next to mine on a bookcase in my room. Her things are scattered all over my apartment, and she is seeped into my every thought. When something good happens, she's the first person I want to call. When something bad happens, she's the first person I want to call. I want to spend the rest of my life with her by my side. I know this is sort of sudden, but I've spent every night for a year thinking about this, and I-I would like to marry Y/N. I graduate from the Academy in less than six months, and I'll be in aviation school, and I just-I want her to know she's a priority for my future. If I have your blessing, I would like to ask her before I go back to the Academy."

Tom's head nods, standing from his chair behind the desk, causing Bob to stand, Tom's palm meeting his in a handshake, a sign of respect. He suddenly pulls Bob into a hug, a tightness that is only matched by Y/N herself, the infamous Kazansky suffocating hug.

"You've got my blessing, kid."

Bob nods in understanding, pausing as he feels his phone vibrate in his pocket. He smiles lightly at Y/N's name and several emojis beside her name on the screen.

It's lonely down here. :( Love you, miss you, mean it.

He smiles at their simple loving joke that had survived from when she had first said it years ago. He pockets his phone again, looking up at Iceman with a newfound confidence.

"Thank you, Ice, sincerely. Y/N means more to me than I feel like I could express in words."

Tom's face breaks out into a smile, his eyes twinkling with something that might have been the beginning of tears, but that's yet to be confirmed. He lightly slapped a hand on Bob's shoulder.

"For what it's worth, you've got my permission. But it's not mine that matters, kid, it's hers."

-

part two out now!

[holybibly]

Bunnies, I'm in a good mood today, so I'm going to give you a little teaser of my upcoming work with Hwa. I'm going to raise the bar for fanfic writing by creating the most gothic and decadent universe possible. It's a vicious mix of Interview with the Vampire and Dracula, so if you don't like bloody luxury, I feel so sorry for you.

It has always been like this, and it will always be like this—people avoid the village that stands beside the sinister Gothic castle where, according to legend, a beautiful midnight somnambulist holds the guilty legacy of his bloodthirsty ancestors. Dressed in an ancient coronation robe, the magnificent prince of vampires sits alone in his dark, vast house, under the watchful eye of his mad and terrible ancestors, who stare at him from faded portraits, each of them prolonging their dreary posthumous existence through him. He spreads the tarot cards, tirelessly constructing endless constellations of indeterminate possibilities, as if a chance fall of cards on a regal, bloody velvet tablecloth could take him out of this cold, shuttered room and into a land of eternal summer and human warmth, erasing his heart's ancient sadness and allowing him to feel the love for the one who embodies both life and death simultaneously.

His voice is full of the distant echoes of long-forgotten love poems, like an echo that has resounded beneath the layers of the earth: "You have traveled to a place from which there is no return; you have traveled to a place from which there is no return. And he himself is like a dark dungeon filled with lonely echoes—a system of repetition, a closed circle. He is so handsome that his beauty appears unnatural; his beauty is an anomaly, a perfect defect, for in none of his hypnotic features is there even a suggestion of the poignant imperfection manifested in the imperfection of human existence. His beauty is the sign of a fatal disease; his blood is full of poison; and his black tears are the sign of the absence of a soul in him. 

The elegant hands of the beautiful denizens of darkness are the guides of the hand of fate. The nails on his hands are long and sharpened like steel daggers. These nails and teeth—beautiful, glistening in the darkness like snow under the light of the moon—are visible signs of his inescapable fate, which he so desperately tries to escape with magical powers. His claws and teeth have been honed by centuries of brutal wars and bloody orgies; he is the last descendant of a poisonous, barren tree that took root in a time when men worshipped blind gods and the forces of nature. 

As soon as the flaming sun sets, he rises from his luxurious bed and goes to the table, and sitting at that table, he plays his patient game until hunger awakens in him—an insatiable, scorching hunger that burns his whole being. 

[riskyraiker]

Hello!!! I hope you're doing well!! I would like to request cybertronian! Reader with like four arms and that's like the Queen or King of the battlefield in ancient Cybertron history (example: reader was the strongest Autobot ever in history and there's ancient data about reader and photos too ykyk what I'm getting👍🙏😭) and the reader then got summoned by Megatron or idk at that point but you can choose what happens!! :33 I hope this isn't too much😭

OH MY!!! I LOVE THIS!!! but reader is an autobot in this, please tell me if you want to see an decepticon version. You are a head taller than Megatron in this.

---------------------------------

You remembered everything about how you got killed, the crying before you lost your hearing, the optics looking in horror how the strongest autobot is about to die. Now? Nobody has any idea what happened, your body vanished before they started looking for it. Optimus carried your legacy as the one and last prime. He was your friend, but you didn't get to be friends that long. Since he was made so late and you met 10 years before the war started. It felt like you woke up immediately you fell down. Where am I? you think, but soon enough you hear a voice you recongize. Megatron. "The legend is real! Y/N! I have summoned you to help us decepticons to bring Cybertron back to life and rise as the Queen/King of the battlefields like you used to be!" used to? Used to?! "Since when I wasn't the Queen/King of the battlefields? And what do you mean summoned?" I put my upper hands on my waist and lower ones crossed. "You have been offline for quite a while, Y/N. Join us since I don't want to destroy such a fighter." What is he talking about? Before you could answer a spacebridge appeared. Well it's a groundbridge but you don't need to know that yet. Through the groundbridge walks Optimus Prime himself! "Orion?!" "OPTIMUS!" Both you and Megatron yelled. "Y/N DESTROY HIM!" Did he just order me around, used-to-be-low-level mech just ordered me around?! "Are you! GIVING ME! THE QUEEN/KING OF THE BATTLEFIELDS, ORDERS?" I jumped to attack Megatron, he dodged. Another swing and a hit aswell. Punching again, Megatron catched my servo, but is definitely struggling against all my strength. I almost forgot! I have four hands! You thought as you go and punch Megatron into his 'stomach'. You pick him up and throw him to the nearest cliff you see. "Y/n? It can't be." That low voice..turning around you look at the red n' blue mech. "Optimus?"

Optimus Prime

He missed you so much! So so so so much! No matter how emotionless he can be he definitely hugged you either at the spot where you two reunited or back at the base.

Before you were summoned and revived he used to look through your files. He always stared at the picture, trying to remember how you looked when he would do something smart or help them with something.

He would try (keyword! try) to spar with you as training, but he lost usually. (Much to his shock, he did think he was good at fighting.)

Would let you go alone to a mission (HOW) and lets you have fun with the kids every now and then.

He need help? You're there. He's losing to Megs? You're there to beat some decepticon aft.

He loves your four hands, anytime he would be hurt or just needs support all your hands would around him hugging him gently.

Ratchet

But in the battlefield? Oh oh I'm glad you asked. He doesn't know if he should be scared or proud to see you back in action. He is glad about that you would save him no matter what comes against.

He had heard about you when Cybertron still had life on it's surface.

He never believed you're real, until the moment he sees you.

Four arms!? He had to check them out (for science research of course) and see how they work, because he's a medic!

Anytime you would get wounded he's rushing over to you.

He would be against it that you would go on the battlefield. You ALWAYS have to confront him that you hold the title queen/king of the battlefield.

He does like how nice and helpful you are. Since you're the queen/king of the battlefield he didn't think you would be nice and help him around the lab.

If he needs an substitute for work when he needs rest you would take his place immediately for his sake.

Bumblebee

He would be a little scared of you since you beat Megatron so easily.

The moment you prove you wouldn't hurt any of the team he would be your son from now on.

You two always had each others backs.

He would love clinging on to one of your four arms.

He has any form of a problem? Don't worry you already know about it and you'll solve it.

If he would ever get hurt you would show the enemy why you hold the title as the queen/king of the battlefield

Before you arrived he used to read some datapads about you which he got from Optimus.

He would ask you to teach him how to fight.

Arcee

She would be amazed by the amount of arms you have, but won't show it until she trusts you.

Would trust you the moment you beat Megatrons aft in front of her optics, because none of the cons would dare to even poke him.

She would be grateful that you saved her and others in the Battlefield.

Would be surprised to find some old files of you and would be more shocked to read them.

You both are badass in Jack's opinion.

Since you know how awful it's to lose a partner in the team you won't question her or how untrusting she is.

If she would get hurt in the middle of a fight you would carry her with one of your hands and fight others.

Bulkhead

He would admire you and your strength. You just beat Megatron with ease!

He had heard rumours about someone like you when he was a wrecker back in Cybertron, but never believed them until now.

He always wants to go in battles with you to see how ruthless is the queen/king of the battlefields.

He was in trouble and cornered by vehicons in a energon mine? Those vehicons looked like they belonged in a scrapyard after you attacked them.

He would be a fanboy with wheeljack and praise the ground you walk on.

Training? Hell yea he would be in. Until he loses every single time.

Wheeljack

Oh oh don't even get me started!

Would hate you, but love your fighting style at the same time.

"pshh, show off." Could be heard anytime you and him were in the battlefield the same time.

You did start to grow on him. Suddenly you weren't so bad in fighting, suddenly you weren't such a show off, suddenly he seemed to like your presence.

Now? You two are the destructive duo.

Ratchet would be worried about you more than wheeljack.

"ouch, that just broke my spark docbot." He was definitely kicked in his aft after that.

He would go on drives with you so he could get to know you better. (Surprisingly since he's such a loner)

Smokescreen

He would run over to you the moment you walk into the base.

"YOU'RE REAL?!" apparently he has read about you before.

You wouldn't have any privacy for a week since he's like a golden retriever who clings to you 24/7

He would be flabbergasped how somebots in the team didn't trust you yet. "They're the strongest Autobot in history! Let's keep them, pleeeease!"

Like I said already. He's such a golden retriever. He needs your attention, he needs you to teach him fighting etc.

Now you're his new mom too! You got two new sons! Yippee i guess?

When he sees you in action, he has star eyes. You know when he talks about it when optimus first uses the star saber? He talks like that but even more excited!

Ultra Magnus

Has high respect for you, but would hate how reckless you can be with wheeljack.

He would give you a lecture, but it falls through deaf audio receptors.

The moment he sees you in action he would doubt you less.

He knew that you used to exist, well now that you're actually alive he can't help but feel a little bit relieved that the autobots have the upperhand.

If you would call him Sir he would let you off easier.

Was surprised when he lost his hand that you supported him best you can. He didn't think that the queen/king of the battlefields could be so soft.

Denied it when you suggested that he's your adopted grumpy son, since he's always so worried about you. (He is your son now, but doesn't let the team know)

-------------------------------------------

AN: I HOPE YOU LIKED IT AND I APOLOGIZE THAT IT TOOK SO LONG. I HAD A CAMP AND NOW SCHOOL IS STARTING SO I WAS BUSY😭😭🫶

[vespertiliosworld]

Shivani

Damian Wayne x Reader

Next chapter

English is not my first language, sorry if there is any mistake.

Tw: blood, fight, death

You are not Wonder Woman's daughter, you are not even related to her, yet when your parents died and a powerful mythological item was inherited from your mother, you gained powers similar to hers. As a person who has always loved mythology, this was a great legacy for you. It stirred his heart to know that your mother had worked with Wonder Womann all those years ago. You can do this too!

However, these things are not as easy as you think, not at all. Everything seemed like a dream, with everyone around you turning into a bloodbath, people screaming for help and questioning themselves. It seemed like your mom and dad would wake you up soon and you were going to have another classic sunday breakfast, but that didn't happend.

The blood of the little girl you just tried to save was on your hands, the blood of other civilians was everywhere, stuck to your face. Your eyes felt like they were in a pitch black pit as you felt dizzy and nauseous. A ruthless killer called himself Void. You didn't know where he came from, all you knew was that he was very cruel and wanted to kill you.

You clenched your bloody palms and closed your eyes. You took a deep breath, you had to pull yourself together and protect the remaining civilians. Void's black shadow soldiers were everywhere.

You got up from your knees and gripped the sword in your hand tightly. You gathered all your strength for the mothers around screaming for their children and for the men holding the corpses of their wives.

You swung your sword and cut the neck of a shadow soldier. When it dispersed like smoke, you rushed forward and cut another one in half. You looked up at Void, who was breathing heavily in the air, watching you with his deadly black eyes. "I think our little girl is determined to keep playing." His voice was sarcastic and curious. The fire he saw in your eyes excited him. He was wondering what a fourteen year old girl like you could do.

"I am not playing." you said in a tone burning with anger. You raised your sword and got into attack position. "I'm fighting!" When you ducked and jumped, it was obvious that Void wasn't expecting this. He tried to retreat quickly, but he was too late and your sword cut across his right eye. Void clenched his teeth as you landed back on the ground and positioned yourself to attack.

He was astonished when the black blood flowing from his eye smeared on his hand. This made him angry, just like you wanted. You looked at him with a cocky smile on your face. "What's wrong, Void? Are you scared of a little girl?" While your shout caused the people around you to shed tears of happiness, you did not notice the huge man standing behind you.

"I'm sure you did." You were quick to turn around at the sound of a familiar voice. Superman stood behind you with his powerful stance. The proud and kind smile on his face made you smile too. "I congratulate you for what you have done." You noticed a katana boy walking past you with his calm voice. Robin, that was Robin.

You smiled happily as your tense body relaxed. When you breathed a sigh of relief, you saw Batman jumping over you. He was here too, just like Wonder Woman was. Void's soldiers were strong and numerous, this was the challenging part for you, but now you were not alone. "Justice league! Go!"

With the hope filling you, you didn't stop and attacked another shadow soldier. Once he got rid of you he quickly moved somewhere else and you followed him. You were so focused on killing him that you didn't notice that you were smashing the columns of the building.

When a smile appeared on his disgusting face, you attacked again and shattered the last column, the building began to fall on the civilians as the shadow soldier dispersed like dust. You threw away the sword in your hand and ran towards the civilians to protect them, trying to hold the building. You looked at the civilians as you felt pain as if every muscle fiber in your body was tearing apart and your feet sunk into the ground, tearing apart the ground. "Run away now!" It was getting harder for you to hold the building, but you managed to hold it with great difficulty until the civilians came out.

You realized who it was when a figure with a curvy body came running and held the building with you. She was Wonder Woman. She was also having a hard time holding the building, but not as much as you. She looked at you with a bright smile. "Good job, kiddo."

Her words were worth all the difficulties, if you weren't in an emergency you would have burst into tears.

[euphoniumpets]

From another world | Sebastian Sallow x Reader x Ominis Gaunt [ 01/?]

Pairing: Sebastian Sallow x reader x Ominis Gaunt

Summary: You woke up feeling disoriented, wondered where, how and why you came across in a city. That's when you sawthat the city and Professor Fig was real and in front of you and that's how you knew that you were in the Harry Potter world. You didn't know why, but you knew that you had one goal in your mind and that was to stop Sebastian Sallow from murdering his uncle and give him a second chance in life. And perhaps it was the reason why you ended up there to stop more than one life.

A/N: hi! yes, so, i was in a hiatus for a while before and now i am brain rotting over sebastian sallow and ominis gaunt from hogwarts legacy. these boys deserve more love and i'm ready to give it to them. this story is an AU where the reader is from our world but get transported into the game. I placed the reader in Hufflepuff but you can imagine your own house as well! Taglist is open if anyone want to be tagged in further chapters! just comment down below or send in my inbox!

Warnings: smut can come across further in the series, some sexual references, violence, blood and gore.

CHAPTERS: one - two

All you knew that you woke up and felt disoriented. You heard your mother's voice coming downstairs and calling your name to wake up. You thought it was your real mother before you had woken up, got changed, and then walked downstairs. Your first reaction was that you were shocked.

But not because you didn't recognise your real mother, but the way she used her wand in her hand and used magic. You almost passed out and thought it wasn't real until when she said that you were almost too late for the carrige that would take you to Hogwarts.

You didn't question it, since your mother would think that you had loosen your mind and before you knew it, you were waiting outside for the carriage and Professor Fig would accompany you to Hogwarts.

It felt real. Almost too real and it made you shudder with fear, knowing how things and event would turn out if you didn't act quickly.

You waited with your bags in front of your apartment and saw a carriage approaching you. Your eyes widened in surprise when you realized who it was. You recognized professor Fig and you knew he was not from your world.

''This is impossible....'' You whispered to yourself. ''I must be dreaming,'' You muttered as he approached you. ''Ah! it appears we are almost ready to depart,'' You heard him speak to you and you almost wanted to approach your soon to be mentor a hug. He was one of your favorites person in the game and you knew that he was soon going do die.

You took in your surroundings and you knew that scenario. It was the beginning of the game you knew very well and you knew that your journey to Hogwarts was not going to be a pleasant one. ''It's a pity we didn't have a bit more time to spend on spell-casting,'' He spoke.

''I persume you've been practising the spells we worked on?'' He asked you. You nodded. ''I have, professor,'' You lied. You actually didn't know if you had practised with the spells since everything felt unknown at the moment.

''Well, I'm quite sure I've never seen anyone take so quickly to a second-hand wand,'' He complimented. You glanced at your wand in your hand and remembered that scene very well. ''You'll be a force to be reckoned with when you get your own,''

''Thank you, Professor Fig, I appreciate your working with me before the term begin-'' You were about to say before you noticed a familiar figure that had apparated in front of the two of you.

You felt your stomach turn into a twist.

''Oh! Eleazar!'' Mr. Osric exclaimed when he saw Professor Fig. ''George, glad my rather cryptic description of our location did not thwart your finding us,'' Professor Fig told him. ''I've apparated to more vaguely defined destinations than this,'' Mr. Osric informed and chuckled.

''Though, I confess I may have miscalculated slightly on my first try, gave quite the fright to some theatre-goers in the West end,''

''It's been much too long, when I recieved your owl, I must say I-''

''Best not to speak here, Elzear,hm?'' He stopped him before he could finish his sentence. ''Of course, why don't we speak en route to Hogwarts? We have a start-of-term and a Sorting Hat to get to,'' Professor Fig replied and looked between you and Mr. Osric.

''Wonderful idea, as long as your young charge here doesn't mind me tagging along,'' Mr. Osric asked you. ''Not at all, sir,'' You told him.

''After you,'' Professor spoke and gestured towards you. You entered into the carriage as the two of them followed after. You knew that Mr. Osric would die on your way towards Hogwarts and the dragon and about the portkey would be on your hands. You decided not to stop it since all you knew that it felt like a dream, that you were still dreaming, but you still felt like his blood was on your hands.

Mr. Osric and Professor Fig began to catch up and you looked out from the window to spot the dragon. It was all too foggy and you couldn't see anything so it was pointless to keep an eye. Your eyes drifted back when you noticed that Mr. Osric had asked about you.

''A new student,'' Professor told him. ''Y/N L/N, pleasure to meet you, sir,'' You introduced yourself with a smile. ''New?'' Mr. Osric asked with a surprised expression. ''Yes, sir, I'm starting school as a fifth-year,'' You explained.

''How extraordinary,'' He spoke. ''It is indeed, none of the faculty has ever heard of anyone being admitted to Hogwarts so late,'' Professor Fig informed.

''Nor have I,''

''Of course, as the other fifth-years will have been honing their magical skills for four years now, the Headmaster asked if I could get our new student up to speed a bit before the terms begins,'' Professor Fig told Mr. Osric.

''Well, you couldn't have asked for a better mentor, Professor Fig is not only an exceptional teacher, he is also a remarkably intuitive - and gifted - wizard,'' Mr. Osric spoke with a glint in his eyes. You smiled softly when you heard Professor Fig's friend complimented him.

He was indeed, you thought.

''Mr. Osric is prone to flattery, I daresay it's one of the reasons he's risen so far at the Ministry,'' Professor Fig spoke.

''Have you seen this?'' Mr. Odric asked and pulled out a newspaper in front of you. You noticed the person and knew who it was. The goblin rebellion and Ranrok. You felt a slight anger when you saw his face appear in front of you, knowing why he must be stopped.

''I have, opinions differ as to how great a threat Ranrok really is,'' Professor Fig spoke. ''Although, I've yet to convince my colleagues at the Ministry, I believe he is a significant threat,''

''And it was your wife, Eleazar, who alerted me to his activities months ago'' Mr. Osric informed. ''Miriam, how?''

''She wrote to me about Ranrok before she died, wondering what the Ministry knew about his activities,'' Mr. Osric explained with a sympathetic expression. ''Before I could respond, I recieved this, it was the last thing she sent me, Eleazar,'' He replied and pulled something out of his pocket.

It caught your attention since you recognised the portkey in his hands and the symbol but also the strange glow. The glow was exactly like from the games would show up. ''It came via her owl, but with no correspondence, I can only assume-''

''That she had to get rid of it quickly to keep it safe,'' Professor Fig spoke as Mr. Osric handed the objec in his hands. ''Persumably from Ranrok,'' Mr. Osric said.

''I cannot open it, whatever magic protects this is powerful indeed,'' He spoke. ''It looks liek goblin metal,'' Professor Fig spoke as he examined the Portkey.

''That symbol-''

''What's that glow?'' You spoke. ''I don't see a glow,''

''Neither does I,'' You looked between the two men as Professor Fig handed you over the Portkey. The lid suddenly opened up and revealed a key. ''Merlin's beard, how did you-?''

You were about to grab the key before Professor Fig stopped you.

''Wait! We don't know what-'' Professor Fig spoke and grabbed the Portkey. The dragon suddenly attacked the carrige and split it in half and Mr. Osric was long gone before that. It felt too real, but how brains play a trick on us. You knew that would happen and you tried not to panic.

''Hang on!'' Professor Fig yelled. You suddenly flew out of the carriage and you saw the key flying beneath. You tried to get to the key before it could fall. ''Grab my hand!'' Professor Fig shouted as you grabbed his hand tightly and before you knew it, you apparated.

The next thing you knew, you felt like you were going to throw up.

You realized you were in the cave of the beginning in the game and I knew how this was going to be further.

-

After finding Professor Fig and defeating the Pensives, you found yourself back at Hogwarts. ''Are you alright?'' He asked you with concern. ''I've never seen so powerful a goblin, he seemed totally unaffected by my magic,''

''It seems like we're back where we're supposed to be,'' You spoke and looked at your surroundings. You spotted the familiar castle up ahead and that brought you a smile on your face.

''You're right,'' Professor Fig chuckled. ''It seems those who set up the pensive, the locket, and the path to both wanted someone with your ability, to end up here,''

''Come, we have a sorting ceremony to get to,'' He spoke. You followed after him and towards to Hogwarts.

As you walked inside of the familiar corridors that you had seen in the movies and in the game, you couldn't help but gasp in surprise when you saw the hallways.

''Remarkable, isn't it?'' You heard Professor Fig question next to you as you took in the castle. It was every harry potter fan that had wished for ever since to see the real castle in front of their eyes.

You watched as you stood at the entrance to the great hall as you saw Professor Fig facing you. ''Oh good, we haven't missed the Sorting ceremony,'' He spoke with a relieved voice after he peeked through the doors. ''I'm no expert, but-'' Professor Fig stated before he used his wand to change your clothes into the same first year clothing that they had in the movies before they got sorted into their houses.

''That seems more appropiate, now, I need to study this locket as soon as I can, but first I must contact the Ministry, they need to know what happened to George and be warned of Ranrok, for the moment, I ask that you keep all that's happened this evening between you and me,''

''Of course,'' You told him.

''Thank you,''

''Ready for the Sorting Ceremony?'' He asked and looked at you with excitement, ''Yes,'' You spoke. Professor Fig opened the door to the great hall and you saw the other students gathered around as well by their houses at the dinner table.

You spotted your headmaster, Black and Professor Weasley with the Sorting Hat in her hand. Headmaster Black noticed Professor Fig at the door.

You heard Professor Fig mutter something about Black before he approached the two of you. ''Fig,'' He spoke and you rose your eyebrow towards the man.

You understood why the other Professor didn't like their headmaster that much.

''Nice of you to join us, the Sorting Sediment is over,'' He replied.

''There were complications,'' Fig replied. ''Complications?'' Black repeated and looked at him. ''It seems the goblin is-''

''Goblins! No time for rumors, Fig, and I'm rapidly losing whatever patience I had left,'' Black spoke before his eyes drifted towards to you.

''If you're lucky, we might still be able to get you sorted this evening,'' He spoke and walked back to the great hall. ''I'll be in touch,'' Professor Fig spoke as you nodded before walking inside. You couldn't help but look marvelled at the sight.

It was just like the movies when Harry, Hermione, and Ron had walked for the first time and the ceiling was written in the stars. You looked at your surroundings, spotting a familiar Slytherin brunette boy who talked with a blonde one. You thought it must've been Ominis and Sebastian.

As you walked down, Sebastian could feel someone was watching him and noticed your eyes on him. While you locked your eyes with him, you sent a small smile before turning back to the Sorting Hat.

''Professor Weasley!'' Headmaster Black called after her. ''We've one more to be sorted,''

''Welcome, you're just in time, have a seat,'' She spoke as you sat on the chair in the middle. You took a deep breath when you felt the hat on top of your head.

You were nervous and always wondered in what house you belonged to. Sure, you've taking dozens of quizzes and even in your game got you placed in Hufflepuff. ''Ah yes,'' You heard a voice inside of your head.

''A bit older than the others aren't you? You come here with preferences and preconceptions, certian expectations,'' The sorting hat told you.

''I know where to put you, better be Hufflepuff!'' You smiled as you felt the hat was removed from your head. You wondered how this was going to be and you knew that this was just all a dream before you were going back to the real world.

At least that what you hoped.

[teez-the-time]

Strawberry and Wine: PREVIEW

Pairing: Consort! Seonghwa x Emperor! Fem! Reader

Genre: fantasy, romance, smut

Synopsis: as an Emperor, you liked to indulge in the pleasantries of life. The shiniest jewels, the best wines, the tastiest delicacies. But in the years of your reign, you had never found something as exquisite as the lips of Park Seonghwa.

Warnings: masturbation (f and m receiving), oral sex (f), breast play, piv sex, riding, dry humping, grinding, a lil food play, alcohol consumption (no drunk characters), pretty vanilla actually, body wordship, my characters are whipped as usual, pls tell me if I miss something

Wc: 7k-8k

Taglist:

Release date: April 21, 2024

A/N. Let's pretend like I didn't disappear for three entire months after promising to have some stories coming soon. College kicked my ass, but at least I have two free weeks before going back to that hellhole. Either way, if you want to be added to the taglist, comment here or DM me!!

The wing reserved for the royal consorts was exquisite and lavish. Several rooms expanded around, forming a circle with a marble fountain in the middle depicting two lovers embracing each other with the utmost intensity. A dome was constructed on top of it, so the lovers were perpetually bathed in sunshine or moonlight. The floors were carpeted with the finest rugs imported from exotic lands in faraway continents. No speck of dust could be found on any corner, and all vases were always kept full with your favourite flowers. All the artwork was seasonally changed and handpicked by the emperors themselves according to their consorts' tastes. After all, it was the emperors' duty to pamper them and keep them content.

Having prided enough in your work at the consort wing, you began walking through the left part of the circle. Despite being able to hold many guests, most of the chambers were empty. In your short reign as emperor, you had only taken four consorts, without planning to add more in the foreseeable future. As a female emperor, it wasn’t a good look for your legacy to be remembered for promiscuity rather than your political achievements. Also, you were quite content with whom you had chosen to be your lovers.

Normally, the consort wing was brewing with life, always full of servants and guards waiting on your partners. While it could be refreshing to breathe that atmosphere, it was undeniable that the emperor’s visit was a cause of drama in the palace. Everyone was always eager to learn who were you coming to see, what you talked about and what to expect, and no doubt the speculation resulted in scheming that you weren’t ready to discover just yet. That’s why you tried to keep your appearances late and spaced in between, just to keep gossip at bay.

And, maybe, add some excitement too.

Seonghwa’s room was the farthest away, much to your dislike. Nevertheless, the wait made your little escapade even more thrilling. You reached the door, softly knocking on the sturdy wood. A few seconds passed and no one answered it. You knocked again, and still no answer. By now, one of Seonghwa’s servants would have opened it to let you go in, but tonight didn’t seem to be the case. Starting to get worried, you grabbed the knob and tried to push it open by yourself. Surprisingly, it offered no resistance and you found yourself inside Seonghwa’s chambers. You were preparing to scold him for his imprudence of leaving a door unlocked at night when the most pleasant of smells inundated your nostrils.

At first, it was just the sweet aroma of vanilla and jasmine, but the more you breathed in, the richer the smell got. Soon enough, your mind was floating along with the scent, making you relax into the atmosphere. It reminded you of something hidden in the depths of the soul. Desire. It wasn’t strong nor overpowering, but it lingered there, just barely out of reach .

When you shook out the initial stupor of the aroma, you scanned the room looking for your companion for the night. Normally, he would be waiting for you in one of the exquisite sofas and chairs of the sitting area before the door, but tonight he wasn’t there either. 

Apparently, the young lord had made sure that your night was full of oddities.

[darkcircles4lyfe]

Life after NDE

Before reading, please see this post. It’s where I first explored the possibility that what we think we know about One for All is unreliable. It also ends with my own guesses about how Katsuki plays into it all. Now, with chapter 404, I can continue where it left off.

There are a lot of different tangents floating around here that I need to bring together for you, so let’s start with what came to light in this newest chapter. There’s a clear emphasis on Toshinori’s vestige form:

but did you catch the slight of hand?

How about now?

As soon as I saw the panels where Shigaraki talks about how the vestige is taking full form, I was practically shouting “OBJECTION” Ace Attorney-style, because they were a complete contradiction to how we were made to understand vestiges in chapter 304 (oh hey look, exactly 100 chapters ago!). Back then, it was suggested to us that Toshinori was special because of his quirklessness, that it allowed him to imprint upon OFA in a way that none of the other previous users could. In contrast, Shigaraki makes it seem like Toshi is no different from the rest. Like oh yeah, this is just how it works, they aren’t fully formed until they die, right? Hello?? No? I thought we were assuming the vestiges didn't have to do with actual souls, apart from Toshi? Given Shigaraki’s own brand of unreliability in his immature frame of mind, I found myself wondering: is he making an assumption, or is he letting slip a secret bit of information about OFA? Idk man, OFA wasn’t even doing this whole vestige thing until like a few months ago, so.

Either way, we can observe the change. As Toshinori’s lifeforce fades, he appears in OFA. I’m left with the simple observation that if he were truly different from the other vestiges because of his quirklessness, it would not have happened this way, since OFA doesn’t have Toshi’s own unique quirk factor to work with, but rather the other way around. You would have expected his vestige to stay the same, or possibly disappear altogether, since it was ostensibly exclusively based on the influence of a living consciousness.

That exception to the rule described in 304 never sat right with me anyway, and I’m not convinced that OFA contains mere memories of its previous users via their quirks just like AFO does. Sure, it’s nice and edgy to imagine that OFA/AFO are more similar than they are different, deep down. But poetic opposites are more interesting to me: AFO isolates by taking, while OFA connects by giving. Previous OFA users give themselves to their successors. One for All was “truly born” not when All for One tossed Yoichi a stolen consolation, but when 2nd extended his hand. There is something distinctly emotional and personal about that. Nana was right—it is kinda romantic.

Because Toshinori kept living, because Izuku has meaningful relationships, that chain of giving linked down through OFA was finally brought to light, like a circuit that’s being closed. At least, that’s how I see it. That’s pretty much what I talked about in my previous post.

Back then I also suggested that this theory of personal connection in some way explains Katsuki apparently having a vestige. Since chapter 403, where Toshinori describes his legacy as being embodied in both Izuku AND Katsuki, I was reminded of how Toshinori was gradually shown this over the course of the manga, as he came to understand Katsuki and his relationship to Izuku, how they are inseparable.

When Toshinori was inspired to pass OFA on to Izuku as he witnessed him trying to save Katsuki, he had no idea the two boys even knew each other. What he saw as a random act of selflessness was in reality a desperate manifestation of a connection that extended beyond memory, of osananajimi. With the eyes of traditional heroism, one could choose to see this as Toshinori’s fatal mistake, that he accidentally chose a successor with a “weakness” of personal attachment, but we all know that heroic isolation isn’t all it’s cracked up to be. No, I think Toshinori made precisely the right choice.

This is going to seem like it’s coming out of nowhere, but bear with me: you know how we still haven’t been told how the first OFA transfer happened? I feel almost silly admitting this, but I think it absolutely had to have been done instinctually, because it’s just too damn specific. As in, they didn’t know what they were doing or what it would accomplish, but they did it anyway. As in. They moved. Without thinking.

Toshinori didn’t fully consciously understand what he was seeing when Izuku ran to Katsuki, but deep within OFA, perhaps he recognized something familiar.

What if, somehow, without knowing it, Toshinori gave One for All to two people? His conviction and intent to give it was inspired by Izuku’s connection to Katuski. Yes, the transfer is inherently physical, but it also relies on mental assertion. Plus, how we think the transfer works may also be an assumption (again, the first time it happened was probably on instinct). Let me break it down even more: Toshi probably thought, as he passed OFA on, “I’m giving it to a successor who has my same balance of heroism—save to win, win to save.” But, in reality, Izuku relies on Katsuki for that balance, as his image of victory. Therefore I think I can argue that their relationship is irrevocably bound within the pact of the OFA transfer. Maybe because Katsuki’s part of OFA is based on emotional connection, once that connection is reciprocated…

…the full extent of that dual transfer is awakened.

I understand I’m making a lot of logical leaps here, but there has to be some sort of explanation for the Katsuki we see at the point of his death, talking to Toshinori’s vestige. I used to think it meant Katsuki had a vestige too. But then why are Katsuki and Toshinori alone, and without Izuku knowing? Moreover, why didn’t Katsuki materialize from the metaphysical mist around Izuku when he died, just as Toshinori did here?

Here comes the other thing I realized in 404. The simplest explanation may be that Katsuki isn’t a vestige at all, but rather he was visiting the OFA interior just as Izuku has done in his sleep or in a coma. Because he’s not a previous user, he’s a current user. The sequence of Toshinori’s NDE (near death experience) in 404, the way it manifested externally around Izuku as something Izuku was aware of, rather than internally within OFA from Toshinori’s point of view, shows me that what happened to Katsuki was different.

A lot of us have been speculating that Katsuki “has access to” OFA in some form or another for quite some time now, but I think the way the idea is suggested in 403/404 is an important distinction because it specifies the mode of connection. To me, it matters that they have two halves of a whole given to each of them, as opposed to, “the chosen one + his sidekick with a little extra OFA boost.” This puts them on equal ground, and it implies that the closer they become, the stronger One for All will be against All for One. It promises that these two idiots who have been toeing around each other and leaving things unspoken for so long will have to really face the facts of their relationship.

One last thing: you might be wondering why the other vestiges apparently haven’t picked up on what’s going on and told Izuku. Well, Yoichi may have felt it? (Where has he been?) But also, Toshinori is the only one directly involved, the only one who realizes his legacy is carried by two. Up until this point his connection to his vestige self has been limited, sort of one-way. For example, he could tell the other vestiges about his research into OFA, but in return he could only faintly pick up on things, and only while Izuku was unconscious.

The time Toshinori spent as a full vestige was brief, but I’m sure it was enough to learn some things about where the shade of himself has been. Even if I’m wrong about everything else, I bet he can give us the answers now.

[vashtijoy]

something suggestive about balls: pool table proxy wars in akechi's confidant, rank 7

There's only one thing you really need to know about rank 7 of Akechi's confidant, and it is this: it happens on the day of the incriminating murder phone call.

We know this for several reasons:

It can't be locked for the name change ("family-name-kun" to "given name")—Akechi never calls Joker by name in conf 7. In fact, unless I miss my guess, he never calls Joker by name during the confidant at all, other than when you say hello in Kichijoji—probably because his term of address changes on 10/31;

Futaba will later tell us the call was recorded "a few days" after she bugged Akechi's phone on 10/29. From 10/29 to 11/2 is four days;

Given the importance of confidant 7, especially the rivalry discussion at the end, it's inconceivable that it happens before Joker hears the phone call. He goes there in full knowledge of what Akechi is, and what he intends.

Lastly, 11/2 can be summed up as "absolute chaos":

First, Akechi meets you on the train platform before school. He tells you he "won't be seeing you privately like this any more", once your deal is concluded—well, of course not, you'll be dead.

But this chat is so important that it appears to have two forms, unlike all the rest of Akechi's train platform appearances. One, the one I got in my playthrough, is quite gentle in tone. The other is much less so, much more dismissive, almost third semester in its bluntness. Assuming they're both in game, I'd guess the first is if you have the confidant levelled, and the second is if you don't. It's not legacy dialogue from vanilla P5; this scene looks to have been added for Royal. IDK, I don't know what triggers the two different chats, or if the other is even in game—but I'd like to.

If you haven't yet been to the hideout since 10/29, Morgana will force you to go after school. That's to say: you must have done Akechi's first hideout meeting, the first hideout of the Sae's Palace mission, by this date;

Last of all, Akechi texts you in the evening, for confidant 7 and its violent change in tone. "After all, losing doesn't sit well with either of us. Am I right?"

If 11/2 isn't the day of the phone call, I'll eat a nest of wasps.

boys and their toys

So. Joker walks into Penguin Sniper for confidant 7, in the a. full and b. very recently acquired knowledge that Akechi is a two-faced killer who's gleefully planning his murder. And what does he do?

Akechi has a lot of revealing things to say about balls in this scene, but we're not really here for him. Because look at how Joker is standing.

[screenshots below the cut, yo]

That's his usual "I have a pool cue" stance, with the cue held in front of him. Here he is doing it with the squad (plus one traitor):

See the difference? When he's with the others, Joker's facing the table—like you would at a billiard table, like Akechi is doing in the picture at the top. But in the confidant, when he's just learned exactly how malicious Akechi's intent is, Joker's not facing the table at all. Joker is facing Akechi. And that means he's keeping that cue firmly between them—whether as a shield or an impromptu weapon.

Now, like we said before, that's a standard pose—if Joker is holding a pool cue, he will hold it in that way. But it's the strange angle he's standing at, facing Akechi and not the pool table, that turns it into a message of sorts.

What happens next? Akechi leans down to take his shot, laying out his extended listen-I'm-going-to-murder-you-soon-and-I-haven't-fully-rationalised-it-yet metaphor all the while. Joker's eyes follow his to the table to watch. But he never turns to the table. He stays facing Akechi, and he still keeps the cue between the two of them:

The next thing is that you answer his question—"Hm, that sure sounds like a psychotic breakdown to me"—and Joker uses his hand to gesture....

... but then he gets the cue back between the two of them again, lickety-split:

The next thing that happens is that Akechi—probably deliberately, as part of his extended metaphor—misses his shot. The two of them pause to stare at the cue ball—in the Japanese text, Akechi has explicitly mentioned it as the ball you strike that starts everything unpredictably rolling. But Joker still keeps the cue between them, and still hasn't turned to the table:

(BTW, here's our old friend the sad sprite—there are some really interesting uses of it in this scene, that are worth watching out for.) But now we get to the point. "But even knowing all of that, you're still not going to quit, are you?"

Their eyes meet; the cue is still between them....

You can say "I've made up my mind" or "I won't miss my shot"; both mean, essentially, "fuck you"; both get the same result.

But now. Only now, as Joker goes to take that shot, does he finally turn to the table, exposing himself to Akechi. (coughs)

He nails it. And then they head out into the street to talk about rivalry. But take a look at their positions now:

Note that Akechi has not moved; only Joker has moved. But now the picture looks different. Now, it looks like Akechi is the one defending himself.

Joker has moved in and taken his shot, dropping his defence and opening himself up to attack in the process. Akechi hasn't moved or altered anything he was doing, yet now he's on the defensive.

And Joker's shot was successful, of course. Just like it will be on 11/20.

this is reaching, you should be ashamed

I see your point! Let's go back in time and have a look at confidant 2, for comparison. Here are the boys in happier times:

See? Joker is facing the table. Even though he's talking to Akechi, and looking at Akechi, he's turned to the table.

Here's another. This one's more dubious because of the angle, which means he does have the cue in front of him—but again, you can see Joker is pointed at the table, not at Akechi:

Funny you should say that, kid. Rank 7 Joker is on to you.

[thebadboyfanclub]

The Sunflower Of Highgarden Pt.1 (Daemon x Reader)

Again I love your guys ideas but when a request is just too long you must understand that I need to make it a part two thing cause I do not like writing just a full novel at one go. Enjoy!

The wedding is in a fortnight grandmother you can’t say no to everything”

“Nonsense, my dear Margaery your wedding is the most important wedlock ever since queen (y/n)”

“Queen (y/n) eloped”

“Not exactly, she was married to a Hightower before Daemon Targaryen intervened, besides their story before their wedding has always been the most interesting part”

-

(Y/n) was a beautiful young maiden when she first met the rambunctious prince Daemon, she was a beautiful woman yet Daemon found her hallow on the inside.

“I will not marry a fragile little daughter of a garden lord”

Her servants had heard the prince confide to his father, she was deeply wounded by the comment, he had insulted her family, her legacy, he was a dragon but that does not imply he can frown upon all the other great houses, she found him repulsive after that incident and besides, he was soon wed to Rhea Royce, who Daemon deemed worthy enough and her strong character was something he found promising.

(Y/n) kept her spirits high as years passed by, time had smiled at her and graced her with a beauty of a true Tyrell woman, her smile and delicate way of life was a delight to be around.

She was dressed in the finest of dresses for the tournament, a woman of her status left without a betroth was starting to nip at her heels and the tournament was filled with young men from great houses. Daemon could barely recognise her, he had left her a feather in the wind and now it was almost like she had a sun above her head, the light followed her around and gave her the appearance of perfection.

“I humbly ask for the favour of lady (y/n) Tyrell, the sunflower of Highgarden”

Gwayne Hightower called for her, a smirk appeared on her lips before she reached for flower crown and approached the stand, slowly she leaned to let the crown slip down the man’s spear.

Her nickname was always amusing to her, especially now that the prince that had rejected her had come back with rumours of his terrible match and brooding face, like a dog with its tail between his legs.

“I wish you the best of fortune Lord Gwayne”

Her eyes sparkled like finest of gems, Daemon had to regain composure after he caught himself wondering how soft her touch would feel on his skin, if he did not like the Hightowers prior, now he despised them and he had to show it to the whole world.

When Gwayne was so harshly met with the ground (y/n) rose up from her seat with a gasp, everyone swooned at the ladies concern for the lord of the reach, thankfully the man was alright besides suffering a few wounds, the incident however was quickly forgotten when Daemon crowned the Tyrell flower as the queen of love and beauty, which had left a particular Targaryen princess fuming.

“Lady Tyrell, it’s been far too long”

“Not long enough for me to forget a certain cold hearted prince that casted me aside”

“A terrible mistake indeed but we no one is perfect lady (y/n)”

“Mayhaps, we are also not cruel or dismissive”

“I see the sunflower has a thorn in her heart”

“Sunflowers are known for being the home of bees my prince, so allow this to be a warning of a mighty sting coming your way”

“I would never dare to harm you lady (y/n), I was just wondering if you would like to walk with me to the gardens, as a friendly companion”

He reassured her of his intentions being pure. (Y/n) raised her eyebrow as she silently considered the pros and cons, he was a man that had spoke in such a demeaning manner for her heritage, yet he was still a prince and to be seen with a man of such high status would definitely make a few lords act faster with asking for her hand.

The next few days had been quite the eventful ones, Daemon would spend every morning with lady Tyrell in the gardens as they spoke about countless of things, he found out a lot about her, for example of how he had underestimated her tremendously, (y/n) had a sharp edge to her and was extremely quick witted, a master at diplomatic affairs and a wonderful advisor for some of his concerns he had expressed during her tea time.

“I will be praying to the Gods for you safe return my prince”

“Let’s hope that having your good graces will do me more than what it did for the Hightower”

“My intentions had nothing to do with you being a sore loser, you did not oppose him with an honour that is bestowed to a dragon”

“I opposed him with the fury that a dragon holds, we did not become kings by being kind now did we?”

“Let us discuss this when you come back, I believe war awaits you”

That’s when he offered her a gift, a necklace he had ordered to be made for her, (y/n) gasped at the sight of the golden piece, she adored necklaces, she gently took it from his hands before she looked up to smile at him in complete joy.

“I shall cherish it”

“Until we meet again, sunflower”

-

As much as she would wish to have the luxury of sitting in a tower and wait for her knight in shinning armour to come back, times were different than what fairytales are keen on painting as a picture.

The daughter of such high status, she should have already bared sons for her lord husband, now there she was sitting at court without a husband.

Gwayne Hightower was a young man, the son of the hand of the king, brother of queen Alicent, he came from a family that was one of the richest houses in all of Westeros and the most handsome young lord at court, he had already shown interest when he asked for her favour so when Daemon was out of the picture he took it upon himself to court her and then ask for her hand.

He was a kind man, someone that she enjoyed having in her presence, that should be enough for her to be content with her betrothal and she was for a while, that all went away when Daemon bursted in the throne room wearing a crown, her heart skipped a bit at the sight of him, luckily for her she masked it well and when Daemons eyes shifted on her she only leaned closer to Gwayne and she even gave the young lord a smile that he reciprocated.

“You shouldn’t marry him”

“Alright I won’t, then what? I become your paramour and get ridiculed by the 7 kingdoms? I give birth to your bastards while you dwell in your horrible marriage and seek for my company? We could have already been married, this entire situation was caused by your stubbornness”

She had fired back when he once cornered her in the castle, she had instructed her servants and guards to not allow Daemon to be around her, she could not afford to be distracted by the rogue prince any longer as much as it ached her she had to do what was best for her and lord Gwayne was exactly that.

The feast before her wedding had been one for the books, Gwayne and (y/n) were the talk of kings landing, (y/n) looked like a dream in her gown while Gwayne twirled her around in the dance floor, all the ladies swooned over the happy couple, gushing about the perfect match.

So why was the only thing on her mind the scandal around Daemon and Rhaenyra? Every time she would glance at the Hightower lord her brain would fabricate images of the couple in the brothel.

“Prince Daemon of House Targaryen”

The knight announced as the doors flew open to reveal the prince, everyone except the couple rose on their feet, Gwayne did it so how his utter displeasure for the prince showing up uninvited and (y/n) because she was battling herself to not scream at him.

“Congratulations Lord Gwayne Hightower, Lady (y/n) is more than you would ever hope for. Will the lady do me the honour of accompany me for this dance?”

Silence fell over the room, (y/n) wanted to kill him, how dare he stroll at her most important day and demand anything? Alas, considering his status she had no choice but to squeeze Gwaynes hand and place a peck on his cheek and walk over to the prince, his extended hand waited patiently for hers, once her skin touched his a smile appeared on his lips, that shuttle physical contact was as addicting as the best Dornish wine.

“You look stunning”

“You honour me prince Daemon”

Her phrase stung him like a mighty bee. (Y/n) would always call him “my prince” or “Daemon” when they were alone, now it was “prince Daemon” a shuttle change yet so profound to him, as they danced other couples decided to join and rather quickly Daemon and (y/n) were lost within the twirling crowd.

“Are you happy?”

“Gwayne will make a wonderful husband”

“That’s not what I asked”

“Gwayne will never dishonour me by belittling my “garden” house nor will he ever be seen with his niece at a brothel, so yes I am content with my match”

(Y/n)s defensive stance brought Daemon to withdraw from provoking her, at least for the rest of the dance. The only thing that somewhat comforted him was that even the night before her wedding her neck was decorated by the necklace he gifted her, he briefly reminisced of that blissful day.

Daemon was never good at talking, that was his brother, so he now had no other choice but to reside in what he did best, cause chaos.

Luckily for him it was not that hard, as whispers were something that could be spread relatively easy, it started with whispers that Gwayne had intended to marry another, so he got the ladies talking, now as everyone knows you can start with one rumour and the public will do the rest for you.

(Y/n) had been dancing with lord Tully when another lord grabbed (y/n)s hand to yank her away, one thing led to another and anyone was fighting everyone, you could hear the ladies scream as the guards instructed directions to one another so they can get the important people out of the room safely.

Daemon who’s familiar scenario looked something like this weaselled his way in the crowd, the last thing poor (y/n) remembered was seeing Daemon run towards her, she threw herself to his arms when her ears started to ring.

“Get me out of here”

She whispered. At once Daemon sweeps her off her feet, he was well aware that (y/n) did not mean to take her from kings landing, yet how could he resists? She had passed out in his arms with her head on his shoulder and no one was really paying attention, at least as of yet.

Up in Caraxes they went and their next stop would be Dragonstone, she would be safe there.

“Where am I?”

“On Caraxes”

(Y/n) only half opened her eyes when the only thing she could see was Daemon and clouds, instinctively she clings on to the Prince for safety and from the sudden shock she passed out again, (y/n) remained unconscious for the rest of the ride.

Daemon found her breath taking, he admired how peaceful she was in his arms, how could he be so stupid to let her get so close to marrying another? He could have been her lord husband all this time if he had not been so young and dim witted, his sunflower slept so easy in their new chamber, her hair pooling around the pillow as she stayed on her right side, carefully he took off her shoes and tucked her in, waiting patiently for her to wake up and probably attack him once she finds out where she is.

(Y/n) did not rest for long, well not as long as daemon wished to be exact, she batted her eyelashes a few times before she had finally regained her strength to be fully conscious.

“Welcome back, how are you feeling?”

“I will live, what happened?”

“You fainted, probably from being overwhelmed”

Images of the unfortunate incident flooded her brain like a storm, what a mess and on her wedding feast! Her lord husband must be fuming and awfully concerned.

“Where’s Gwayne? I must speak to him”

“That won’t be necessary or even possible”

“I don’t understand”

“We are not in kings landing (y/n), you are on Dragonstone”

He watched as (y/n)s expression switched ever so subtlety at first to her jaw tightening and her lips pursing while her eyes brows furrowed, she made the mistake of moving in a fast pace for her feet to touch the floor, as soon as Daemon saw her wobble he was by her side, his arms wrapping around her until she shoved him away and sat back down on the bed.

“Do not touch me”

“(Y/n) you need to listen to me”

“You destroyed my most important day, you kid napped me”

“I did what was necessary, I could not leave you to marry that imbecile of a man”

“He was smart enough to recognise how good of a match I was”

Silence fell over them for a moment, her eyes threw daggers at him once again as she brought her knees up to her chin, curling up to a ball as a sign to show how unsafe she felt around him, still as she pouted at him she was irresistible to him.

“I understand how my younger self’s behaviour was uncalled for but allow me to make it right”

“And how exactly are you planning to do that?”

“Marry me, I will marry you under the tradition of old Valyria”

“I am not from old Valyria in case you haven’t noticed and you are married”

“My own marriage was recently… dissolved and we can marry under the seven gods as well, if that is what will make you happy”

“Is that what you want?”

“For you to marry me?”

“For me to be happy? You keep asking about it”

“Yes, is that so bad?”

“No, it is not, though it took you long enough”

She hinted as they both giggled, the tension between them dissolving after years of being apart, the trouble their marriage and elope had caused was tremendous.

Howbeit their wedding under the seven gods took place in highgarden, they wed at the garden that (y/n) used to ran around as a child, they even went for a horse ride with her favourite horse, eclipse was a brown stallion that was gifted to her by her beloved father, she looked exquisite riding her horse, trotting around and laughing as she showed off her skills.

(Y/n) and Daemon resided in Dragonstone per Daemons wish, he did not want his family around the bitter Hightowers that had definitely held a grudge against them.

(Y/n) spend her days painting and playing the harp if she was not on dragon back with her lord husband or on horse back, Daemon would spend hours observing her, her delicate fingers gracing over the strings that created such delightful sounds or seeing her frown while painting and creating a masterpiece.

Naturally the love they had for each other took form in their first born daughter, beautiful Yavanna was a spitting image of her father, except the eyes, those sparkling (y/c) eyes would make Daemon weak in the knees as he melted in his daughters hands.

Then came their majestic son, Aragorn, he had somewhat of long hair with one single strand of his mothers hair colour, Daemon would joke often about it.

“Your mother would always complain over our children being Targaryen featured, of course she manifested you getting just the right amount of features to be both”

Third came another daughter, Aesira, she was the second version of her mother except her violet hues, from hair colour to attitude she was a true Tyrell, (y/n) would say the gods were punishing her since she had been a rather spoiled and stubborn as a child and certainly a smart ass.

Their trips to kings landing had been extremely rare, (y/n) would not have it otherwise, she had tried to connect with Daemons family, she was the one that advised him to take the family back to driftmark for Laenas funeral, a day she whole heartedly wanted to forget.

Requests are open!

[vampiremillk]

Sis! I just came across your blog today and I'm in love. It's super fun and gorgeous and I'm so glad to see yet another black woman in the slasher community 😩🔪

I saw that you're taking requests so I was wondering if you happen to have any Thomas Hewitt headcanons of him breeding his female partner who's chubby?

T.H. — SOUTHERN STYLE CREAMPIE !! 🍰

╰┈➤ 𝗣𝗔𝗜𝗥𝗜𝗡𝗚 : thomas hewitt &&. chubby female reader

𝗪𝗔𝗥𝗡𝗜𝗡𝗚(𝘀) : MINORS AND BLANK BLOGS DO NOT INTERACT , breeding kink , mentions of pregnancy , rough sex , grabbin' some ass , tommy is a dommy soon-to-be dilf

𝗔𝗨𝗧𝗛𝗢𝗥'𝗦 𝗡𝗢𝗧𝗘 : aw thanks a bunchhh ! <3  i've been contemplating making a slasher blog for so long and finally came through ! and AAAA this request is fucking juicyyy !! thomas is my most favorite big boy EVER out of all the tall , dark and handsomes , so thank you for making him my very first request on here ! 🥰

• thomas is a total ass man. most southern, country men just have a natural taste for big hips and an even bigger butt to charm it, overall preferring their women to appear as if she never missed a plate of homemade cornbread and biscuits during an early morning's glitters. large hips are also a sign that a woman has reproductive potential and capable of a smoother childbirth. there's no doubt thomas would absolutely worship every crumb of your delicious shape, and he's a big guy himself, so he's got to have someone who can withstand him between the sheets without the possibility of breaking them as effortlessly as a toothpick whenever he desired to get as rough as he pleased. and best believe, he gets rough. ( more cushion for the pushin'! )

• thomas would definitely have a thing for breeding you senseless. given his family's current antiquity, they weren't going to be around forever, and he wanted the hewitt legacy to continue to live on as he was raised to be quite family oriented. luda mae would always gift a slight smile and tease you about the desire for grandkids whenever thomas was in earshot, earning a roll from his eyes and the timid turn of his head. thomas always was shy, but when it came to the bedroom—boy, that was a different tale, much to your surprise. he had grown to be far more comfortable around you when alone.

• he will most likely favor to be in missionary/mating press if he plans to breed, although open to exploring various positions. it allows him to go as deep as he wishes, in addition to the breathtaking pleasure when his balls press up against the puffy lips of your pussy, causing each to lift from one another in a tightening bliss as they begin to empty inside of you. he also gets to look into your eyes, and his favorite : place his hands underneath your round asscheeks and grope a nice palm full. ( you can reach over and grab his ass as well. he's a total sucker for it, and it makes him fuck you even harder. )

• it was no surprise considering his size and stamina that you could feel him filling you up with a massive quantity, and you clench even tighter around him at the mere sensation of each thick string loading upon your cervix. you become overwhelmed with a luscious sensitivity for he doesn’t stop his hips from fucking relentlessly into your own until he’s certain that your belly will soon bear his child, until your creamy tits are swollen and ripe of milk.

• as soon as he begins to empty himself inside of you, he will roughly grope at and hold places on your body. his hands will find their way to your breasts and squeeze, the sides of your fupa, or your hips to sink his fingers into the plump flesh as he plunges deep into you one final time, his ass violently shuddering and his lips discovering yours. make sure to give him praise. let him know that you can feel it filling you up, that it feels so, so good, as your fingers softly comb his hair.

• god, he loves when you have no other option but to be filled. he’s aware that you have a specific adoration for his size and strength being able to dominate yours so easily. he’ll press you hard into the mattress, face down and ass up, when he’s about to burst, making sure you know you can’t escape.

• he’s a silent person for the most part, but when it comes to having sex with you, no ma’am. he’s heavily verbal, his growls and grunts the only sounds within the room besides your own and the clapping of skin against skin. he has a habit of growling directly next to your ear whenever he releases, especially during the descend of his high, and it absolutely drives you crazy.

• he’ll slightly lean his body atop yours as you catch your breath, feeling that his thick cock continued to spurt smaller amounts of what is left even when what has felt like half a minute has passed. his balls become slightly covered with his own essence as they kiss your overflowing womb, giving a quick jerk of his hips as an emphasis that it was still stuffing you to the brim. he could hardly wait to witness how full your stomach would be in the future, knowing that he was the one to make that happen. your precious cunt was made for him—made to be filled with his seed.

• don’t be surprised when you aren’t able to walk adequately the next day, and don’t be surprised when you find him eyeing you, brow raised and a rather amused, smug smirk a secret beneath his mask. though he is concerned about your soreness and will treat you, it also laid as an ego booster about what he's capable of doing to you.

[aesopsharpmybeloved]

Some Like It Sharp

You and professor Sharp became very close after the events of your fifth year at Hogwarts. Just how close is unspoken for a long time. Until it isn't.

I know I should be writing father Paul, but I started playing Hogwarts Legacy and became a little addicted. And then I went to potions class. I saw professor Sharp, in all his limping scarred glory and immediately thought 'Oh. Oh no...' And that was that.

EDIT: I MANAGED TO ADD SOME VOICELINES ON AO3

tw: age difference (reader is 17-18, which is of age in the wizarding world), student-teacher relationship, mentions of trauma (emotional and physical)

Some Like It Sharp 

(8.6k words)

You sighed deeply as your brow furrowed in concentration. Six finely crushed snake fangs soon disappeared in your cauldron. Momentarily, you lifted your eyes and gazed longingly at the person across the room from you. Professor Aesop Sharp was sitting at his round desk, a quill in his hand and a stack of third years’ essays in front of him. Every now and then, you could hear him utter a soft ‘tsk’, his dark hair bouncing as he shook his head. Even in his annoyance he was beautiful, you thought. Despite being a Slytherin, he reminded you of a lion, so strong and proud, not even his obvious limp was able to tarnish the image.

“Miss (L/N).” sounded right next to your ear, making you jump and turn your head towards the voice. Your wide startled eyes connected with professor Sharp’s own intense dark orbs. ‘When did he move?’ you thought, your heart in your throat.

“Miss, (L/N), I believe I asked you to brew a cure for boils. However, whatever concoction is currently in your cauldron looks more like it would cause them. Care to explain yourself?”

You hurriedly looked down at your cauldron and discovered the potion master was right. Instead of the orange hue the potion should have at this stage, it was a rather distasteful shade of swamp green. ‘How could this have happened?’

“Sir,” you began meekly, “I’m sorry, I don't know-... I think I got-”

“Distracted?” asked professor Sharp matter of factly, his voice lacking any sort of the annoyance it’d usually have. “Do tell, Miss (L/N),” he started circling around you like a predator, his lame leg not making the motion any less intimidating, “do you feel like my classes are so boring, or so easy, perhaps, that you can afford to daydream while ruining a first year potion?” 

Your eyes hadn't left him for a second. You shivered involuntarily. You were the only person in the classroom. ‘When did everyone leave?’ “No, sir, I- O-of course not, I-?”

A single long digit pressed against your slightly open mouth, effectively cutting your eloquent speech short. Sharp stood in front of you now, and you felt your cheeks turning red. You exhaled shakily. “Daydreaming in my class… I don’t think detention is enough of a punishment. Do you?” Sharp practically purred into your ear, his acute words said in an almost teasing manner. He was so close now, so close you felt his hot breath on your neck as he spoke, his forefinger replaced by his thumb on your mouth, and he pulled the lower lip down, opening your mouth further.

You couldn't speak, only able to stare at his mouth as he pulled back slightly to look at you. A small smile appeared on his face and he finally moved forward, sealing his mouth over your own and immediately pushing his tongue inside. You gasped, but almost right away threw your hands around his neck and succumbed to his bruising kiss.

“(F/N),” he sighed once you had to part for breath. You smiled at him and wanted to connect your lips once more. Only then -

“(F/N)! Come on, wake up, we’re going to be late for Transfiguration!” you heard someone call out.

“What?” you asked and looked around. You weren’t in the potions classroom, nor were you standing in professor Sharp’s embrace. You weren’t standing at all, actually. Your dormitory’s light blue walls appeared before your eyes, as well as an annoyed face of Samantha Dale.

—

"You are so lucky I forgot my homework upstairs!" panted Samantha, "Otherwise I would have gone straight to class after breakfast. And you'd still be asleep." You were pretty much running, not wanting to be late for professor's Weasley's class, yet you casted a grateful smile in Samantha's direction: "You are a lifesaver, Sam."

Samantha kept rambling on, as she usually did, but your mind was still focused on your dream.

You and professor Sharp had gotten particularly close during the past year and a half. Ever since your last battle with Ranrok, the potions master treated you a little differently. Most of the professors did, of course, but you found a sense of peace with Sharp especially. 

You missed professor Fig every day. He was something of a father figure for you nearly from day one, and you felt all sorts of broken watching him die in your arms. 

The first time professor Sharp invited you into his office outside of class, you felt strangely numb still, your exhaustion and grief leaving you with what felt like a hole in your heart. Some of the other professors sat you down before them previously, and you forced yourself to fake a little smile and persuade them that you were alright.

It didn’t work on Sharp. He didn’t pry, didn’t force you to relive the painful memories as you thought he would. Instead his chatter was nearly light, talking about your school work, hobbies, the various activities outside of the castle, even talking about himself every once in a while. Soon you realised you found solace in your conversations.

Only when you were given time to heal did you dare to actually talk about what happened that day… That year, really. Professor Sharp listened quietly, never pressing for details you weren’t ready to give, only asking for further explanation sometimes.

—

The first time you broke down in tears before him, he stood to limp over to you. With a steady warm hand on your shoulder, he conjured up a handkerchief and pressed it into your palm. You thanked him and tried to get yourself under control once more. He didn’t say anything, only drew small circles into your shoulder with his thumb.

After you left his office that evening, you realised just how hungry you were. It hit you by surprise, really, you hadn’t felt this hungry since that fateful day. You’d eat when it was meal time, but all food tasted the same to you. This evening, however, when you put some chicken with rice on your plate, you tasted every single spice used, the meat falling apart on your tongue. You groaned audibly and let your eyes close.

“Heh, good to see you getting your appetite back!” said Amit across from you, a sweet smile on his face. Your cheeks a little red in embarrassment, you smiled back at him before diving into your meal once more.

It struck you later that night as you were lying in your bed, staring into the darkness. Sharp knew exactly how to help you, because he knew what you were likely going through. All of the professors had their stories, some of them experienced loss as well, but only Sharp had ever gone through something as traumatic as yourself. Maybe he behaved towards you the way he would’ve wished someone behaved towards him before, back when his partner died on the job and he barely escaped with his life.

—

The next evening, you were back in his office. He accepted you wordlessly, curiously peeking at a small bag you brought with you. Inside of it were various rare ingredients you collected on your adventures or harvested in the Room of Requirement. The potions master took them with a quiet ‘thank you’ and that was that. He didn’t ask where you got them and how, knowing that as your teacher, he might not like your answer. But he was grateful, you knew. It didn’t need to be spoken in order to be understood.

Back when you first met him, you understood why some may find him intimidating, why he rubs them the wrong way. Sharp was strict, with a no-nonsense kind of attitude. He was hard on his students, and when he saw potential in them, he was even harder, striving for perfection. But the more time you spent with him, the more you saw the undeniable kindness within him. As cutting as his critique could be, his praises filled you with a great sense of pride and accomplishment. They pushed you to try even harder, to make him proud. 

Little by little, it began to make no sense to you why some students found him evil, or even outright foul. Professor Sharp was anything but evil and foul.

In a way, you expected him to become a parental figure to you as well, like professor Fig was. Only, he didn’t. It frightened you the first time you looked at him and caught yourself thinking that you’d like to press your palm against his cheek, feel his prickly looking stubble, trace the scar on his face. “Something the matter, miss (L/N)?” he asked with a lifted brow. Your cheeks flushed in embarrassment as you hurriedly looked away, an apology leaving your mouth.

—

It got worse after that. You enjoyed spending time with him too much. You found he had a dark, dry sense of humour, that his wit was quicker than lightning and sharper than a knife, but also that he possessed a certain gentleness. You noticed his eyes would linger on your fondly when he thought you weren’t looking. It always made butterflies flutter in your stomach.

You knew that he liked to draw, having been in his private chambers when you were searching for those blasted demiguise statues (not that you’d ever tell him), but having him actually showing them to you felt strangely intimate. The passage through his fireplace you had to crawl through turned into a large doorway after he tapped it with the tip of his wand. He said he can’t always make it upstairs if the pain in his leg is too much, but he nevertheless enjoyed spending time there. You were fairly certain you were the first person he showed his work to. 

You saw a few drawings you didn’t recognise, as you hadn’t been to his chambers since - it was mostly parts of Hogwarts, a few scribbles of Hogsmeade as well. However, there was also a number of various paintings of beasts, hippogriffs, graphorns and such.  You smiled when he showed you, already knowing you wouldn’t be meeting in his chambers the next time.

—

His curiosity was obviously peaked, as he accepted your request to wait for you in the seventh floor corridor, by the troll tapestry. You winced slightly when you saw him leaning against the wall, the stairs obviously not doing anything for his leg. Yet, when he acknowledged your presence, you offered him a reassuring smile, hoping what you were about to show him would make it up to him.

He watched you pace three times in front of the tapestry, his brow raised in question. You grinned when his dark eyes widened at the sight of a door materialising seemingly out of nowhere. You opened it and entered. “Come in, sir,” you said, turning to face him. He hobbled over, his right hand twitching as if he wanted to reach for his wand. Always vigilant.

With no small amount of satisfaction, you watched as his mouth opened in surprise of your Room of Requirement, eyes trying to take in as much as they could, utterly disbelieving. His gaze was caught by a large potion station on one side of the room, directly next to a herbology table, where your various magical plants were currently being watered.

“Ah, you’re back,” came a high pitched voice from somewhere, “Deek thinks it’s almost time to harvest the mandrakes- oh, professor Sharp!” Without looking at the house elf, still busy taking in the room, the potions master offered a small ‘Hello, Deek.’

“I will see to it. Deek, can I ask you a favour?” you smiled at him reassuringly. He replied with a smile of his own: “Of course. What can Deek do for you?” “Could you perhaps bring us some tea later? First there is something I want to show to the professor.” With a nod and a snap on his fingers, Deek was gone. 

“What is this place?” asked professor Sharp, finally looking at you. “The Room of Requirement,” you replied simply, “professor Weasley showed it to me last year and urged me to use it how I see fit, mostly to aid me in my studies. Come sir, please, I do want to show you something.” 

You lead the teacher up one of the staircases towards the swamp vivarium. You entered, with Sharp following close behind, slightly apprehensive at the feeling of wetness underneath his boots. This time you couldn’t conceal your chuckle as his jaw once again dropped. Your thestral friends noticed your arrival and immediately set on to welcome you. You laughed gently as the baby thestral nudged at your hand with its little skeletal beak, craving your loving touch.

With a few flicks of your wand, you brushed the animals and replenished their automatic feeder, all the while still stroking the little thestral’s head. Sepulchria, its mother, meanwhile took interest in professor Sharp, sniffing at him warily before deciding he posed no danger to her offspring. 

Almost like on its own accord, Sharp’s hand travelled up to touch the mare, his calloused fingers coming to rest on her neck. “This is incredible,” he breathed out, as he caressed the creature’s glossy skin. 

“When I was first able to see them, I found them a little frightening,” you admitted, conjuring a bench for the two of you to sit down on, the little one’s head immediately coming to rest on your lap, “it was right after the dragon attack, when I saw Mr Osric…” You got quiet. Professor Sharp sat next to you. Sepulchria and her mate, a male thestral you named Phobos, settled into the moist grass nearby, seeming perfectly happy to hang around while you and your teacher talked. Their offspring, Juno flapped its wings contentedly, leaning into your hand.

“Of course, I quickly learned of their good qualities,” you continued, forcing your tone to be light. “It was only after… After professor Fig died… that I found real comfort in them. They are amazing creatures, so gentle. In a way, I feel like they are exactly what a person needs to see, when they… when they watch somebody die.”

As per usual, Sharp let you speak, giving you time to gather your wits about you, think over the words you were going to say. He had no patience for fools who would bring chaos into his class, or his life, but he had all the patience with you. “They are scary at first and they have a sad aura around them… But they are here and they mean no harm. They’re a part of this world as death is a part of life. Death is not intentionally cruel, even if it sometimes forces us to go through life without some person we love.” 

You heard a soft exhale next to you, then felt warmth on your free hand, as the professor’s fingers closed around it. You didn’t know how long you sat there in silence, hand in hand, just watching the skeletal equines and wandering through your own minds. “There is no without,” the potion master said suddenly, making you startle a bit. “They may not be around to talk to us, but as long as we remember them fondly, as long as we still let them guide us, they will never be really gone.” 

You squeezed his hand. It was calloused and warm, and fit in yours perfectly. “I think there’s tea ready for us, sir.”

—

“Do you mind telling me where exactly are we going in the dead of night?” asked professor Sharp morosely as the two of you descended another flight of stairs in the Central hall. You didn’t know when it happened, but some time back the teacher let you support him when on stairs. As long as it was just the two of you, of course. He held onto your arm and leaned a portion of his weight on you, mindful not to step on his bad leg too much. 

You wouldn’t tell him, but you loved when he did that. Having him so close, you were hyper-aware of his unique scent, which was so enchanting to you. It was like a mix between sandalwood, parchment paper and a hint of firewhiskey, and you had to restrain yourself from inhaling it deeply, so that it wouldn’t be obvious you were getting high on it. If you were to smell amortentia, you were certain this was what it’d smell like to you.

“Need I remind you that you are outside your dorm room after curfew? That’s a sure way to get you in trouble.” he quipped, no bite behind his words. “I’m with a teacher, surely an exception can be made?” you replied back, your tone light and amicable. Back when you first met him, you wouldn’t have imagined you’d share such banter with the potions master, he seemed far too serious for that. You still showed him nothing but respect in class, but outside of it, when the two of you were alone, you allowed yourself to tease him sometimes. You were always met with mild amusement and slight exasperation in reply.

Sharp sighed next to you: “I really shouldn’t encourage you in this… Should give you detention for a week, helping me grade exams.” He blinked in surprise at the happy smile you gave him: “I wouldn’t mind that.” The professor stopped walking in order to stare at you in disbelief. You felt your cheeks going red under his intense gaze. Oh no, you thought, have I said too much? Can he see right through me?

Finally, the potion master chuckled and shook his head: “You are a strange young woman, miss (L/N).”

You found yourselves on the school grounds, the cool night air making you hum contentedly. Despite no longer walking down the stairs, professor Sharp held onto your arm for support. You brought your free hand to your mouth and whistled on your fingers. A flurry of movement followed almost immediately. A gust of wind ruffled your hair as a white hippogriff landed in front of you. You let go of your teacher slowly, making sure he was prepared to stand on his own again, and approached the beast.

“Hello, Highwing,” you cooed and stroked her beak lovingly. Professor Sharp stood motionlessly, observing the majestic creature with no small amount of awe. “Poppy Sweeting introduced me to her after my first Beast class,” you explained, carding your fingers through Highwing’s soft feathers, “sometime later me and Natty rescued her and one more hippogriff from poachers led by Harlow and Rookwood. And the hippogriffs ended up saving our lives the very same night.”

Sharp listened quietly, his brows furrowed. “I think I’ll rather not ask any questions, (F/N), else I actually might give you that detention,” he said then. He didn’t call you by your first name often, but when he did, it always madea wave of fondness run through you. You wondered if you’d ever be allowed to call him Aesop. You tried rolling the name off your tongue many times when you were alone, deciding it was a beautiful name and that it fit him perfectly.

Carefully balancing himself on his good leg, he gave a deep bow to the beast, knowing how proud they were. A few seconds passed before Highwing deemed his action courteous enough to reply in kind.

The potions master hobbled towards her slowly, extending a hand to pat her feathered neck. He did startle however, when you nimbly climbed atop the creature, settling comfortably between its grand wings. “What are you doing, miss (L/N)?” he asked, narrowing his eyes when you offered your hand to him. “Please sir,” you spoke quietly, your smile seemingly glowing even in the darkness around you two, “trust me.”

He debated with himself whether he finally went mad. It was nearly midnight, and while summer was quickly approaching, the nights were still rather cold. He was standing on school grounds and a student was proposing to him with, what, a hippogriff ride? He was way too old for this. Yet, as he looked at your extended hand and the positively beaming look on your face, he sighed. He probably was mad.

The potions master took your hand and marvelled at your strength as you seemed to have absolutely no problem pulling him up and behind you. Only now it hit him that he didn’t take into consideration where he’d put his hands. Very awkwardly, he placed them on each side of your waist.

Feeling the steady warmth of his body against your back made a rush of blood course through you, and you were suddenly glad to not be able to look at him. Your cheeks were so hot and red, he’d be able to figure you out immediately. You craved to enjoy the feeling of his hands on you, and even thought about buying a pensieve, just so you could watch the memory of this again and again. 

You shook your head. There would be time for that later. Right now, you dragged him all the way out here and onto a hippogriff, might as well give him a brilliant memory too.

“Highwing, go!” you called out, grabbing onto the beast’s neck more tightly. The hippogriff cried and stood on its hind legs before breaking into a gallop. Professor Sharp cursed next to your ear and finally wrapped his arms around your waist fully. Propriety be damned, the teacher doubted falling off a racing hippogriff would do any good to his leg. Or any other part of him, really. Highwing spread her wings, their span positively huge, and Sharp felt they were no longer on the cobblestone path. 

The flapping of wings forced the professor to close his eyes as they soared higher and higher. Then it stopped and Aesop finally looked. His breath caught in his throat. He remembered flying around on his broom when he was a student himself, but it suddenly struck him that he never did so at night. 

It was ethereally beautiful. The moon shone on the great castle, white glow reflecting on the roofs. There were lights on in various parts of the castle. It stood under them in all its glory, sure and steady, yet ever changing. The castle was like a living organism, stony body, a kind soul and a heart constantly drumming with magic, holding so many secrets within the historical walls, Aesop was sure that even if he lived to be two hundred years old, he’d never be able to discover all of them.

 It was so serene, yet so humbling, the professor momentarily felt weightless, not feeling his blasted leg at all, for once free of all of his guilt, of all the pain he ever experienced.

He didn’t realise he was squeezing you closer, that his chin was leaning on your shoulder. Something you were very much aware of, trying your best not to tremble under his touch. It was both salvation and damnation and you found yourself thinking how easy it would be to just turn your head to the side and capture his lips. You held yourself back, gently bumping his head with your own instead. 

Highwing slowly descended above the murky waters of the Black lake. Sharp saw the giant squid thrust one tentacle above the surface, as if greeting the three of you. Feeling impossibly young, he laughed, and he laughed until his lungs hurt. You laughed with him, releasing a giddy whoop, when the hippogriff decided it was time to take to the skies again.

You eventually landed on a coast south of Hogwarts. Professor Sharp felt his spirits dampen somewhat at the sight of you flawlessly leaping from the beast’s back and onto the ground, your movements noble and elegant, and so youthful. Yet, once you looked at him, all smiles and messed up hair, a grin broke on his face as well. He let you help him down, his good leg taking most of the blow of impact with the ground.

Nevertheless, he winced. Oh, he was going to need at least two phials of Wiggenweld potion once he was back in his chambers. Trying to push his pain away, he spoke in a light tone: “So, that’s what you’ve been doing when you were supposed to be in the castle? In bed?” You gave him a little guilty smile: “Sometimes. You’ve got to admit, though, this is rather exhilarating.”

The professors sighed and leaned against a nearby boulder: “As your teacher, I should really be condemning this sort of behaviour instead of encouraging it… However, you’re right. It was exhilarating. And very beautiful. I am thankful for the experience.” 

He scanned his surroundings, moonlight illuminating the area enough for Aesop to be sure you wouldn’t get ambushed by some poacher, or a pack of mongrels.

When he was sure the two of you were alone, he sat on a nearby boulder, content to rest for a bit. 

The professor watched as you picked up a pebble using your wand, and made it skip over the dark water. You truly were something else. He was aware that the amount of time he spent with you was frankly inappropriate, seeing as you were his student, but he just couldn’t help it. The potion master did try to put some distance between you in the past, but it was no use. You’d always come find him and he couldn’t turn you away. 

He didn’t know when he stopped trying to set this distance. Maybe when the last couple of times it was him who caved in. Him, who invited you over for a cup of tea, unsure whether he’d be more glad if you accepted, or if you refused. Never once did you refuse. He realised that such distance was actually the last thing he wanted, that you actually became… friends. Close friends.

He angrily shushed the little voice in his head that tried to ask ‘Just friends?’. 

Oh yes. That was the reason he wanted to set the distance, how could he have forgotten?

You turned seventeen some time ago, officially of age, but that didn’t make Aesop feel any better. You were very mature for your age, and probably have been for a long time. He had no problem seeing you as his equal, despite you being so much younger than him. But as he watched you skipping stone after stone, he could feel his guilt suffocating him, seeing tiny traces of the child you stopped being when you watched your mentor die before your eyes.

He should probably mount the hippogriff, fly really high up and throw himself off the beast. But oh, how much he longed to join you at the bank and wrap a protective arm around you. 

“Sir? Are you alright?” you noticed him staring at you, and saw him cough awkwardly. “We should probably head back,” the potions master decided then, slowly hobbling over to Highwing, who seemed to be happily hunting for squirrels since your arrival. 

He enjoyed holding you to him while he could. He didn’t actually want to plummet to his death after all, so it was perfectly acceptable to grip you tight.

“Are you sure you’re alright, professor? You don’t want me to walk you to your chambers?” you asked with worry in your voice. Highwing’s form was rapidly disappearing in the dark sky. “I am quite well. You should go to your dormitory. Probably best to use the disillusionment charm as well.” 

He didn’t know if the smile you gave him then made him want to laugh or cry, your eyes were filled with such fondness and wonder, Aesop honestly felt like the very air around him got warmer. He wasn't ready when you grasped his hand: “Thank you, sir. I’m glad you joined me tonight.” Oh. And the professor definitely wasn’t ready for you to get up on your tiptoes to press your lips against his left cheek, right where his scar ended. 

Not a second later you were nearly translucent and slowly getting away from him. “Miss (L/N)! Detention.” he called after you. You had the audacity to giggle, before the door to the Entrance hall opened and you slipped in.

—-

Aesop Sharp knew he was playing with fire when he responded to your letters that summer. It was the summer before your seventh year. He very nearly had a heart attack when a greater sooty owl appeared on his windowsill one morning, bearing a letter with your handwriting. There was no address, just his name. Seeing as he lived quite close to Hogwarts, it really wasn’t that much of a surprise the owl was able to find him.

He gave it some food and water, a single digit coming to scratch under its head. It leaned into his touch. A beautiful bird, indeed. Aesop briefly wondered whether you managed to find it from some exotic breeder in England, or if it truly was an Aussie owl. It was also a clever one, wouldn’t leave without a reply and would get increasingly more anxious for him to at least open the letter. 

He tried to put it off, afraid of what he was to find there. The letter sat on a table in his dining room and he’d regularly come to stare at it morosely, as if willing it to open without having to touch it. The breaking point came late in the evening. The bird would leap onto his left shoulder and peck at his scar rather painfully, before jumping onto the table and standing in front of the letter, giving him a pointed look.

The bloody beast had an attitude!

“Yes, yes, you’ve made your point clear!” he growled in its general direction and shooed her off with his hand. He sat down and summoned his pen knife. He knew he was stalling, cutting the pristine white envelope open much slower than he usually would. Sharp was immediately hit with the sweet smell of your perfume. 

Finally, he pulled the letter out and unfolded it.

Why in Salazar’s name had he been so terrified?

You mostly described how you summer was thus far, confirming his suspicion that you indeed bought your owl in Australia. Her name was Diana apparently. You also promised to bring him some potion ingredients which were exclusive to the country, some of them so obscure Aesop had to look them up in his copy of Moste Potente Potions. Oh, how he looked forward to experimenting with them. Maybe some of them would be the key in discovering the cure for his leg!

You finished your letter with a wish that his summer was lovely as well, and that you were looking forward to seeing him again. 

When he finished reading, Aesop put his head into his hands and smiled at the same time. He was in a bit of a pickle, wasn’t he?

You wrote letters to each other for the remainder of the summer. Aesop soon learned Diana only cared that he read your letters quickly, but was alright with him taking his time to actually answer them. Most of the letters were quite professional, discussing potions, your upcoming seventh year (actually your third year at Hogwarts), the NEWT subjects you’d take exams from, and possible future careers. Professor Sharp didn’t worry about the letters - there wasn’t a school rule prohibiting a teacher to be friends with a student, as long as it didn’t collide with their education or professional relationship.

The fact that there also wasn’t a rule prohibiting a teacher to engage with an adult student romantically was left unsaid somewhere deep in his mind. 

—

Aesop Sharp and most of the teachers and staff arrived at Hogwarts two weeks before the start of term. Matilda would soon be sending out shopping lists and acceptance letters. He was rather glad he wasn’t the one hand delivering these letters to Muggleborns - not that he ever believed in the ‘pure blood’ nonsense, he just wasn’t feeling up to running around Britain and Ireland to explain magic to Muggles. Matilda was kind enough to leave him out of that. Though, he had a reason to believe she did so not because of his leg, but because of the possibility he might actually scare the children into not attending.

Thankfully for everyone, this year’s Muggleborns would be taken care of by Mirabel and Abraham, who were way more enthusiastic about this task than Aesop would ever be.

—

Professor Sharp felt rather foolish, actually.

He stood in Potage's Cauldron Shop, instructing the clerk to send his newly purchased silver and brass cauldrons to Hogwarts, all the while looking through the window hoping to catch a glimpse of you. You didn’t tell him when you’d be visiting Diagon Alley to pick up the textbooks you needed this year, but Aesop kind of hoped to run into you anyway. 

He sighed deeply once he left the rather stuffy shop. He could’ve easily ordered all of today's purchases from the comfort of his own office, but no, he’s going to act like a lovestruck teenager instead. The professor frowned. At least he took his cane today, he thought grimly as he hobbled over to the Leaky Cauldron, more than ready to eat something, and possibly even improve his mood with a drop of firewhisky.

He did feel better with a stomach full of hare stew and nursing his third glass, when a voice he missed all summer sounded right behind him.

“Hello, professor Sharp. Fancy seeing you here,” Aesop’s head snapped to the left. There you were. And you were breathtaking. Clad in a lovely dark green dress which fell to your ankles, with pristine white collar and sleeves. Upon your head sat a stylish wizard hat decorated with late summer flowers. The potions master was used to seeing you in your uniform, and occasionally in an ensemble of blouses and trousers that allowed you to move freely. 

Now you were garbed in the pinnacle of late 19th century fashion, looking like an elegant lady of high society. And what an absolutely beautiful lady at that. “Miss (L/N),” he replied, a little out of breath. You gave him a kittenish grin, betraying your otherwise mature appearance a little: “Mind if I join you?” Aesop stood with some difficulty and motioned to an empty chair opposite of him: “by all means, miss, sit.” 

You sat down together and soon shared a little toast - the professor with another glass (last one, drinking more would be terribly unwise) and his young friend with a goblet of rosé. For a while, neither of you said anything.

“You look… well,” said Aesop then, cursing himself for not being able to come up with anything better, “your dress is lovely.” You gave him another smile: “Thank you. My mother insisted that I should wear it. ‘A proper lady’, she said. Between you and me, I cannot wait to get out of this thing. The lace is itchy and I’m rather surprised I haven’t passed out from oxygen deficiency yet, seeing as how tight my corset is tied.” 

Professor Sharp shook his head - he never understood why Muggle women willingly used these torture devices on themselves. “Got everything you need for the start of term?” he asked instead. “I do,” you replied, “it was a lot. I’m happy to be able to do magic outside of school now, and make it all fit in here.” You patted your handbag fondly.

Aesop didn’t know how much time passed. You told him about your summer in detail (as you usually kept your letters short and to the point), talking about your visit to Australia for quite a while. He was happy to listen, your voice music to his ears. The way you spoke, carried yourself, your gesticulations - you were a grown woman. The little slips into child-like manners (a grin here, a wild hand motion there) were not those of an actual child - it was simply your personality. Mature, yet youthful, wise, yet passionate. 

And the way you sometimes looked at him, when you thought he couldn’t see. It gave him hope. It terrified him. It made him want to lay his hand atop yours on the table. Made him want to reach over, grab your face and press his mouth on your own. He did nothing. He only smiled at you.

It was dark outside once you parted ways. You held his hand and said how much you’re looking forward to his classes and his company again. You promised to hand deliver him the ingredients you got him. He nearly forgot his cane in the pub. 

With a final smile and a loud crack, you disapparated. 

Aesop stood before Hogwarts gate, not five minutes later. He missed supper, but didn’t find it in himself to care. He made his way to his chambers, all the alcohol he drank long gone from his system. He actually looked forward to the beginning of term when it meant having you around.

What in Salazar’s name was he going to do next year?

—

In Aesop’s eyes, you were exceptionally beautiful. Unfortunately for him, however, some of your peers seemed to share this opinion. The astronomy obsessed boy from your house gazed at you like you were a holy picture. Sebastian Sallow seemed intent on having all of your attention for himself, constantly finding new ways to keep you entertained and get into trouble. Even the Gaunt boy, while lacking eyesight, seemed to somehow sense your desirability. Aesop just prayed it wouldn’t be Garreth Weasley who caught your fancy.

Each time he overheard someone (usually boys, occasionally a girl) asking you out, his heart closed in on itself and only started beating properly again after your (very gentle) refusal of their proposition. And then it would dance with bliss when you’d turn up on his doorstep instead. 

Ever since that afternoon in Diagon Alley, those unspoken words between the two of you gained in intensity. More familiar touches occurred. Sometimes you’d hold his hand when you spoke of your extracurricular adventures. Aesop would run his thumb over its back, listening intently. It always took him by surprise how much trust you had in him, seeing as both of you were aware some of your escapades would result in loss of points and plenty of detentions. Never from him, though.  

—

One time you held him to you, his head cradled into your neck. You came to his quarters at a bad time. His leg was acting up and his potions weren’t helping. His pain induced desperation was made worse by his guilt. What was he thinking? He was a cripple, entirely too old for you. You deserved better. Even that blasted Weasley boy would have been better for you than him. He should never have looked at you like he did. It was quite normal for a student to develop a crush on their teacher (the stories Mirabel could tell), but the teacher shouldn’t indulge the student. Aesop was nothing but indulgent with you.

He tried to send you away when he heard your knocking that evening. His pain and despair must have found way into his voice, because you didn’t leave. You came right in and locked the door behind you. He snapped at you, told you to get out of his chambers. You disobeyed and came even closer. 

You kneeled before him, your eyes kind and full of compassion. His own were filled with tears that would never be shed. Aesop didn’t cry anymore. He was close to it today though. You massaged the muscles in his leg after you've applied a heating charm to the fabric of his trousers. His head hung low in guilt and shame, and Sharp hoped you would just leave. He was pitiful and you deserved better, why wouldn’t you leave him to his misery?

You didn’t leave. Of course you didn’t. He shouldn’t have thought for a single second that a witch who defeated a troll during her first week in school, after living as a muggle for nearly 16 years, would just leave. She held him, pulled him to her entirely. He could smell her perfume, felt her nimble fingers in his hair. Heard her soft voice shushing him, trying to bring him comfort. He allowed himself to wrap his arms around her. Aesop cried.

—

“Have you given any more thought to your future after you finish school?” he asked one day. Snow was falling outside, staff and students were preparing for the Christmas holidays. Behind him, sitting in one of his armchairs, you sighed. “It’s complicated,” you admitted then, “I’d rather be a curse breaker for Gringotts than an Auror, that’s for sure. No offence.” He grinned. “None taken. I’d like to be able to say that I’m glad you’d choose something safer than the Auror office. However, curse breaking is not exactly much safer, is it?” Finally he turned to look at you: “You didn’t take into consideration… shopkeeping, perhaps?” 

The look you gave him was almost enough to make him laugh. He settled for turning the corners of his mouth slightly upwards. “With all due respect, sir, can you imagine me behind the counter the entire day, promoting fantastic new sales and gossipping with witches on maternity leaves?” Sharp couldn’t hold it in anymore and chuckled openly. “Point taken,” he agreed.

“You know you can change careers later in life, right? Don’t have to be stuck doing one thing forever…” you gave him a questioning look, waiting for him to elaborate. “Listen, professor Hecat is… still battling time itself. And she isn’t winning. There will come a time when a new professor for Defence Against the Dark Arts is needed. And if you excel in your NEWTs the way you did in your OWLs…” Your mouth opened in disbelief: “Are you saying I could someday teach in Hogwarts?” 

He sat down into an armchair opposite of you, propping his bad leg on a footstool. “You possess the skill and the knowledge. I dare say you love this castle, this school. And you’d be able to venture out into the Forbidden forest as you do, without me having to turn a blind eye to it anymore.” You grinned into the flames in his hearth. Getting slightly more comfortable by crossing your legs you let the warmth seep into your skin.

“I still don’t feel like shopkeeping, though.”

—

You and Samantha made it inside the Transfiguration classroom just as professor Weasley went to close the door. You were out of breath and red like salamanders, both from the running and the cold outside. 

“Girls, girls,” chided professor Weasley, “I would expect punctuality in your seventh year.” “It’s my fault, professor,” you panted out, “I overslept. Samantha would’ve been here long ago if it wasn’t for me.” Professor Weasley shook her head and motioned the two of you to sit.

—

“I cannot wait to visit Matabeleland again,” said Natty with a smile. You knew she had her reasons to not want to go where her father died defending her before, but now that she made peace with her past and was officially an adult, she wanted to revisit her happier childhood memories. “Me and gran are going to Arizona. We’re hoping to encounter Thunderbirds there,” spoke Poppy then, “What about you, what will you be doing?”

You looked up at the sky and smiled. “Actually, I think I’ll stay at Hogwarts. I really took on a lot of work this year, and I’d like to focus on it in peace.” It was only partly true. The main reason was that you wanted to spend as much time as possible with your favourite professor. Unbeknownst to your friends, the bag you carried on your shoulder contained a neatly wrapped Christmas present (a beautiful set of drawing kohls), a bottle of firewhiskey said to be absolutely brilliant (courtesy of Sirona) and a very special letter you were hoping to present to your teacher on Christmas Eve.

You came to see Hogwarts as your home. You were able to wander through the highlands for hours at a time, exploring every nook and cranny. If someone were to use Prior Incantato on your wand at any given time, the last spell would most likely be Revelio. Now that your time as a student was slowly coming to an end, you realised just how much you’d miss being here. In a way, you were envious of those who got to attend the full seven years. Your solace was knowing that you wouldn’t ever be too far from your home.

There was no without.

—

“Good evening, professor,” you beamed at the scarred man. He smiled back and stepped aside from the door, a wordless invitation. You took him in appreciatively. It wasn’t often you’d see the potions master so dressed down, cladded only in his white shirt, vest and trousers. His tie was loosened, jacket and coat hanging by the door in the other room. 

You fished the present out of your bag. “This is for you to unwrap tomorrow,” you said, settling it aside on a nearby table, “but I see no reason we shouldn’t try this out right now.” He grinned at the sight of the bottle of obviously very expensive liquor. “Hope nobody saw you smuggle this in. It’s alright to have a glass in Diagon Alley, outside of term. Here however, I believe this would get you into all sorts of trouble with the deputy headmistress,” his voice was teasing and he was already fetching two glasses. “It’s Christmas holidays, we are out of term. We just so happen to be in the castle,” you quipped back. 

You held the glasses while he poured. “Well, miss (L/N)... (F/N). All the best for the rest of your time in Hogwarts, and even better for your next adventure. Wherever it may take you. I am glad to have met you, and proud to be your teacher. And your friend.” You didn’t call him out on the ‘friend’ part just yet, choosing to take a sip of your drink instead.

You immediately made a face and began coughing.

Aesop stood before you, chuckling. “Wow,” you said once you caught your breath, “that’s horrible.” The potions master’s chuckles turned into laughter. “Luckily for you,” he said after you made a show of pushing your glass towards him along with the rest of the bottle, “I think of everything.” A bottle of some floral wine entered your vision, uncorked itself and poured a sensible amount into a conjured up goblet. You drank, rolling the light liquid over your tongue.

“Fixed your taste?” asked Sharp, still smirking. You nodded: “I no longer feel like I’m about to die, so that’s good. Anyway, there’s one more thing I wanted to show you.” You walked over to the armchairs in front of the hearth. Professor Sharp followed and sat across from you. You held a scroll in your right hand and offered it to him. 

Aesop put his glass down and reached for the scroll curiously. Unrolling it, he read out loud:

Brood and Peck

Hogsmeade

Dear Miss (F/N) (L/N),

We are pleased to inform you that you were admitted to apprenticeship at Brood and Peck, Hogsmeade, beginning on 3rd July 1893 at 8 o’clock in the morning.

All equipment necessary for your apprenticeship will be provided for you on the spot.

We are looking forward to our cooperation.

Yours sincerely,

Ellie Peck

Aesop Sharp was looking at you wide-eyed. “I thought about what you said, about the DADA position,” you said, your cheeks turning red under his intense gaze. “I thought… I thought you said you didn’t see yourself in a shop,” he said, still in a daze. “That’s the best thing,’ you smiled at him, “I won’t be in a shop. I’ll be rescuing beasts and taking care of them, collecting byproducts and bringing them to Ellie. I also made a deal with Pippin to bring him any useful potion ingredients I find. 

“I’ll have a bit of money and I’ll be close by. And I’ll be running around the highlands most of the time, which is pretty much exactly what I do now, except without the schoolwork,” you chuckled. Aesop’s expression was unreadable. “What made you decide to stay?” he asked finally, his voice so quiet you barely heard it over the crackling fire. There was the moment, the moment of truth you’ve been waiting for. You gathered your courage.

“There were a lot of reasons. But the biggest one is… you. The more I thought of it, the more the mere idea I’d be somewhere far away from you, unable to see you maybe months at a time, terrifies me. Saddens me.” You sighed then. “What I’m trying to say… I am in love with you, and have been for some time, and I’d like to be close to you. If you’ll have me.”

Professor Sharp’s eyes were glistening. He said nothing for the longest time and you were getting worried.

“Please, professor, think of my words before you refuse me. I know that I am young, but I am of age and I know what I want in life. It’s not just some silly crush, I genuinely believe we could… that we could spend our lives together. You are possibly my best friend, the person I trust and admire most, and I adore you. I think of you all the time, and there’s nothing I want more than to be able to hold you, and kiss you. And be the woman you love. I love you, sir.”

He stood up with such swiftness you startled. Almost as if his leg did not trouble him in the slightest. The potions master extended his hands to you and you took them, standing up as well. He still stood taller than you and you had to look up to see into his eyes. One hand came to rest on your cheek and you unconsciously leaned into it, closing your eyes in bliss as his scent filled your nostrils.

“Aesop,” he said suddenly. “I’m sorry?” you replied, slightly dazed to have him touching you so tenderly. “I should have asked you to call me Aesop ages ago,” he explained, his other hand coming to hold your other cheek, “my dearest girl.”

He felt free, free of guilt and shame, the constant pain of his wounds falling somewhere into the background. He wouldn’t allow it to interfere with this moment. Those three words he craved to hear from you fell freely from your lips. Your eyes were blown wide and he found he could no longer resist them.

A sound made him look up. Above your bodies joined in an embrace a twig of mistletoe appeared. Hogwarts and its secrets…. “There is nothing I’d want more than to have you by my side,” he spoke quietly, the words foreign to his lips before now, but filled with utmost honesty nevertheless. 

You weren’t able to wait any longer. Mirroring the teacher, you grabbed his face gently and guided him down until your lips connected. It felt like the most ancient, the purest form of magic, coursing through you as you tasted Aesop’s mouth. The alcohol was foul when drunk from glass, but on the potions master’s tongue it tasted like ambrosia, getting you more drunk than you’ve ever been, and you moaned into the kiss. 

The world turned into sensations. Your fingers in his hair, his teeth squeezing your lower lip, before soothing the sting with his tongue. The solid, warm front of his body pressing into yours, his heart beating wildly against your breasts. The arms you’ve dreamed about enveloped you crushingly and you realised that you never wanted to leave them. Why would you? You were home.

You were home.

Hello, I hope you enjoyed reading. You can find this work and all of my other works on AO3. I always adore feedback!

[cranetreegang]

He's a Gaunt - Ominis x FemReader

Summary: With a courtship with Ominis, she isn't spared from the more viscous rumors surrounding him.

Word Count: ~4,400 words

Warnings: Mild Violence/Leander Slander

Hogwarts Legacy Masterlist

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They’re crossing the courtyard at a slow, leisurely pace. He’s close to her ear while he speaks in a soft, low whisper for only her to hear as he escorts her to class - stifling their laughter as he informs her of the latest gossip he’s overheard. With a warm smile, she looks up at the boy she’s tangled arms with. His head is angled towards her and he has a similar, tender, smile playing on his lips. She subconsciously squeezes his arm and he laughs.

“Have you not grown tired of my face yet?” He teases with a smirk.

She huffs, a blush staining her cheeks, “What makes you say that?” 

He laughs again, “I can feel when you’re staring at me, darling. And you’ve not stopped since we’ve crossed Central Hall. Have I grown a second nose without realizing? Or have I finally bored you with my ramblings?”

Her eyes don’t leave his warming face and she leans her head on his shoulder for a moment, before standing back up right. 

“You could never bore me, my dear Ominis. And I would apologize for my staring, but I’m not actually sorry,” she giggles as he grins widely at her. “I can’t help myself. You’re captivating. Two noses and all.” 

His cheeks flush into a beautiful shade of pink and red. His eyes, gray and shining, see past her as he whispers,

“You flatter me. But, it’s me who’s the lucky one to have you on my arm.” 

She smiles and squeezes his arm once more, wrapping herself more around him. While they aren’t entirely open with their relationship out in public, it’s these little gestures that send her over the moon. In fact, as far as anyone is concerned, it appears as if she’s the one guiding him around. Something Ominis uses to his advantage to be as close to her as possible - while maintaining an air of decency and propriety. Ever the gentleman, she muses to herself.

He leads them around a corner and his wand points right to where her classroom is just down the hallway. A hint of a frown plays on his lips and hardens his eyes. She smiles at how disgruntled he gets when they have to part - however brief it may be. 

“Thank you for walking me to class,” she whispers.

“Of course.”

She takes in his handsome features one last time then says, “I’ll meet you at the Great Hall after?” 

He turns to her and untangles himself from her grasp. His hand finds hers and he takes it up to his lips to press a soft kiss.

“I look forward to it,” he replies with a smile.

Her heart skips a beat and she keeps a tight hold of his hand to keep him from drifting too far. Sparing a quick glance around to ensure they were alone, she leans closer to him and his breath hitches at how near she is. 

She places a kiss on his cheek then whispers, “Until then.”

His eyes are wide, and his cheeks are engulfed in a bright red that spreads all the way to his ears. He swears his mind blanks from the simple show of affection. 

She giggles at how easily flustered he gets. Before she can slip away from his grasp, he pulls her back around the corner in a swift movement. He pockets his wand and cups her cheek to hold her in place then he crashes his lips to hers in an all too warm kiss. Hearing her soft hum, makes him smirk and he parts with a slight grin still on his face. He presses his forehead to hers with a sigh. 

“Cheeky minx,” he teases with a smirk. “You make it impossible to want to leave you.”

She giggles, “That’s the point.” 

He smiles, his eyes aflame with a kind of joy and adoration she’s never seen in anyone else before. Shutting his eyes, he releases his hold on her - allowing her to step away from him.

“I’ll see you soon,” she smiles at him as she finally heads towards her class. 

“Have a good lesson.”

She spares a final glance back towards him, and he’s angled towards her with a soft smile. She practically skips into the classroom, her fingers playing on her smiling lips the rest of the lecture.

The class is wholly uneventful and she’s more than ready to head to the Great Hall by the time it ends. She makes it a few steps outside the classroom when someone rushes up to be next to her.

“Hello,” Leander greets with a tense smile. 

Her brows raise with surprise, “Hello, Leander.” 

“Nice day, eh?” 

“I… suppose it was, yes,” she cranes her head slightly while he lets out an awkward chuckle. A silence falls between them as they continue walking. He’s fidgeting with his hands and she can’t stand it anymore.

“What’s wrong? You seem nervous,” she questions.

Leander sighs and stops walking, causing her to do the same. He glances around before saying,

“You and Gaunt seem pretty close.” 

Her lips part in surprise, but she gives a slow nod, “Yes. I’d say so.” 

Leander groans, running his hand through his slicked back hair, “Look, I don’t know how to say this, but, I saw you two,” he looks around and leans in close to whisper, “kissing before class.”

“Oh,” she whispers and her whole body flushes. She waits as a pair of classmates walk by before asking, “Did anyone else see?” 

He shakes his head, “No, it was just me.”

“Oh, good,” she chuckles. “Would you mind keeping it to yourself? We would rather keep our relationship a bit more on the private side, if you wouldn’t mind.” 

He nods, “Y-Yeah… um,” he rubs the back of his neck, “so you are-, you two are… together then?”

A faint blush warms her cheeks as she smiles, “Yes. I suppose he is courting me.” 

She swears Leander turns a shade paler at the statement and her eyes widen at the sudden distress.

“Is everything alright?” She wonders.

Leander shifts between his feet, looking nervously around as if someone were to appear at any moment.

“I know you’re still unfamiliar with many of the Families,” he begins with a tight frown, “which is why you probably don’t know.” 

“Don’t know what?” She questions, her features contorting into worry.

“You’re in danger,” he hisses under his breath, his eyes darting all around. 

“Danger?” she whispers back. “From what? Who?”

Leander huffs and says between clenched teeth, “For being with a Gaunt.”

She recoils a bit with wide eyes, “What? How?”

He sighs, “The Gaunt family comes from a long, long line of Pure-bloods. Direct heirs to Salazar Slytherin - they are. And they have always been heavily involved in the Dark Arts. Everyone knows that.” 

“What does that have to do with Ominis?” 

He lets out a snort, “Well, isn’t it obvious?” 

She crosses her arms with pinched brows, “No. It’s not. Speak plainly, Leander. What’re you trying to get at?” 

“Gaunt-,”

“Ominis,” she cuts him off with a glare. “His name is Ominis.”

Leander huffs, “Ominis, is still a Gaunt. I mean, do you truly believe he’s never partaken in the Dark Arts before? It’s practically ingrained in his very bones. He was born into it. It’s a part of him. It’s who he is. 

She’s shaking her head, so Leander continues, “Do you truly think him being born blind is a coincidence? He was cursed, for Merlin’s sake. Why else would he still be blind? And if you stay with him, you’ll end up cursed as well. It’s only a matter of time.” 

“Enough!” She hisses. “You don’t know anything, Leander. You have no idea what he’s like. And he most certainly isn’t just a ‘Gaunt’.” 

She continues walking to the Great Hall in hopes to end the conversation, but Leander easily catches up with her in a few long strides.

“Well, I do know you aren’t Pure-blooded. Do you have any idea what the Gaunt’s do to those not of Pure-blooded status? Even if you are interested in their unwanted son, his family will never allow your courtship - let alone marriage. They’ll only view you as someone dating above their station. You have no real future with him.” 

Her breath hitches at the thought and her nostrils flare - her skin beginning to burn hotter with his every word. 

“Then that’s our problem, Leander. It doesn’t concern you,” she snaps with a sharp glare towards him. 

They walk down the stairs of Central Hall where several eyes follow them as they pass. She grimaces at her outburst - noting how her nails are digging into the flesh of her palms. 

Leander huffs, “Why are you so insistent on being with him?”

She rolls her eyes with a scoff. 

“Why are you so insistent on me not being with him? Why do you care?” 

“Because I am trying to get you to understand that you shouldn’t be associating yourself with someone like him. You are far too kind, and smart, an-and pretty to let it all go to waste.”

She freezes in place and stares at him with wide eyes.

“Leander… are you… what are you doing?” 

Leander runs his hand through his red hair and takes a deep breath, “I am trying to say that you should be with someone better. Someone who can treat you right. And who won’t potentially corrupt you with Dark Magic, if he hasn’t already.”

“‘If he hasn’t already’?” She clenches her fists at her sides. She sucks in a sharp breath and looks away from him, “I am sorry you have such a poor conception of Ominis, but he is not who you believe him to be. He is kind and I am quite happy to be with him. You would know all of this if you’d taken the time to actually get to know him - instead of assuming all these horrible things about him.” 

Her voice wavers and she curses herself for getting so emotional over this. These rumors aren’t unfamiliar as Ominis would bring them up himself on occasion - telling her how outlandish some are, and how humorous he finds them. But, to hear these vile things first-hand is something she’s wholly underprepared for. Especially since she knows how beautiful of a person he is. 

“While I appreciate your concern, it is totally misplaced,” she turns on her heel away from him. “Now, if you would excuse me, I would like to end this discussion.” 

She’s about to storm away when he calls after her.

“He’s probably already used some of his dark magic on you, and you’ve not realized.”

Despite knowing better, she freezes in place. 

He continues, “That’s probably why you’re so insistent on being with him. He’s used the Dark Arts to seduce you, and you don’t even know it. Why else would you be with someone like Gaunt-,”

She whirls around, and her fist connects with Leander’s jaw with a satisfying smack before her mind can tell her to stop. Leander stumbles back in surprise until he falls on his rear, clutching onto his face. Classmates all around them exclaim and jeer at the spectacle while Leander looks up at her with teary eyes. Her knuckles ache and radiate pain all the way up her arm, but she refuses to let Leander see that.

“Keep his name, and your disgusting disingenuous accusations about him, out of your mouth, Prewett,” she seethes.

“Young lady!” Madame Scribner rushes up with a scowl. “You cannot just assault your classmate like some sort of barbarian!” 

Her eyes widen and look between the furious librarian and the nearly sobbing Leander, “I-, But-,”

“No ‘buts’,” she snaps. “Detention. Now. You’re coming with me.” 

Madame Scribner yanks her by the arm and drags her away towards the library. Laughter and more jeers follow after her while she groans to herself. Ominis is going to kill her.

Ominis keeps angling his head towards the entrance of the Great Hall while he pushes his food around. 

She’s late. 

He shakes his head and takes a few bites. She’s probably caught up with class, or one of her many friends stopped her on the way here. Now he wishes he had been there to walk with her to the Great Hall. His brows pinch while he shoves more of his food around his plate. Excited chatter is shared throughout the hall and he’s all but tuned it out until her name reaches his ears.

“What?” Ominis perks up. “What did you say?”

A girl across from him giggles, “Oh, didn’t you hear? She punched Leander right in the face! Shame you can’t see him right now, Gaunt. She gave him a good wallop and he’s pouting with his fellow cubs about it.” 

“She… punched Leander?” Ominis’ brows dip in confusion. 

“I know. Such a Muggle thing of her to do. Personally, I would’ve used a hex of some sort,” the girl states. “Anyways, it’s too bad Madame Scribner caught her in the act. I'd have given her a chocolate frog for taking down one of those Gryffindor prats a peg or two.” 

The girls go back to gossiping amongst themselves and Ominis grimaces. Sebastian takes his place next to him and says,

“Take it you heard about her getting detention.” 

Ominis nods, “Just now. Do you know why she lashed out at him?” 

Sebastian laughs, “I’m sure he said something stupid, and she merely retaliated.” 

“She doesn’t just ‘retaliate’ unless there’s good reason,” Ominis states as his mind begins to whirl. “Did Leander start a fight with her? Did he hurt her? Are you sure all she’s getting is just an evening of detention? They aren’t wanting to expel her or anything, are they?”

“I don’t know, Ominis,” Sebastian replies with a curt tone. “All I know is that she punched him - and now she’s in detention for it. Although,” Sebastian chuckles and whispers into Ominis’ ear, “with how nervous Leander looks every time he glances your way - I’d wager he might’ve said something about you to her.”

Ominis scowls, “What in Merlin’s name could he have possibly said to warrant her to do something so reckless?”

Another student sits down, gossiping about the incident as well. Ominis cranes his head towards the eager student.

“I saw the whole thing! Leander was talking to her - kept hearing Gaunt’s name being thrown about. The Dark Arts, too. Well,  she didn’t like it one bit. She decked him right in the jaw and he started crying! Then she said, ‘Keep his name out of your mouth, Prewett’. Oh, it was class!” 

Ominis’ shoulders stiffen and Sebastian places a reassuring hand on his forearm.

“It’ll be fine, Ominis. You’ll see her after detention then you can find out what actually happened - instead of all this hearsay rubbish,” Sebastian reassures, then he starts to chuckle. “I do wish you could see Leander though. His face is as swollen as his eyes. I’d wager it’ll take all year for him to recover his pride.” 

Ominis is silent the rest of dinner. Once he’s in the Common Room, he paces back and forth while his mind jumps from one worrying question to the next.  

Had he put her in a position to act like that? What did Prewett say to her?  How were the Dark Arts involved? She’s not unfamiliar with the unsavory rumors about him, so why react so violently? 

He has half a mind to go find Prewett himself, but the notion does nothing other than sate his restlessness. He lets out a heavy breath and resigns himself to wait for her by the lake-side window. Listening to the water flowing past the glass is enough to distract his thoughts. Soon, the Common Room is devoid of his fellows - leaving him alone to wait for her.

It’s late by the time she arrives. Her hand is sore from having to write out 1,000 lines of ‘I will not resort to violence against my fellow classmates’ and she has book organization in the morning to top it all off. She’s shuffling towards her dorm when her eyes land on him by the center bay window - his attention towards the lake. She almost prays he doesn’t notice her. 

“I missed you at dinner.”

His soft but stern voice echoes in the quiet Common Room. He faces her with a neutral expression, but makes no move to stand.

She grimaces, trudging over to him with a tight frown, then takes a seat across from him on the ground. His whole body is rigid - his lips pursed and his brows pinched. She bites her lip and stares at the stone floor between them.

“I’m sorry. I… got detention,” she admits in a quiet voice.

Ominis nods, “I heard. What made you think punching Leander, of all people, to be a good idea?”

She shifts her gaze out into the dark abyss of the lake. 

“I… didn’t think about it.” 

“Then, why?” He seethes in a sharp tone. “Why would you do something so extraordinarily foolish and reckless? Even for you. You could’ve gotten in serious trouble. You could have been expelled. And for what? Mhm? Tell me. Tell me what was worth your possible expulsion?” 

She looks back at him, taking in the underlying worry pinching at his handsome features despite his harsh words saying otherwise. She moves to be next to him and his hand is quick to be on her thigh. She cups his cheek to smooth out the wrinkles until he softens his hard gaze. He lowers his head until he’s able to rest it against her own. 

“I’m sorry,” she whispers. “I didn’t mean to make you worry.” 

His hand covers hers, lowering it from his face then he holds it gently in both of his. His fingers graze over her knuckles and he can feel patches of hot skin against his cool touch. He grimaces. 

“Did you do it because of me?” 

She frowns, “I did it because Leander was saying cruel things. He had no idea what he was talking about.” 

“I’d like to know what happened,” he says quietly. 

She’s tempted to keep the vile things Leander said to herself. But, with how Ominis gazes at her with concern and how he holds her, she finds it impossible to keep anything from him. 

“Leander saw us kissing before class today,” she admits in a hushed tone.

His brows raise, “Oh…,”

 “He thought it imperative to tell me about how dangerous you are. How you’ll ‘corrupt’ me with the Dark Arts at any moment, if you haven’t already. Then he brought up how you are Pure-blooded and I am… not,” she catches a flicker of a wince rippling across his features and she grimaces. “Which, I know you don’t care about, but your family does.” 

He shifts into a stoic expression with his lips in a tight line. At her silence, he whispers, “What else? I know he had to have said more. Tell me. I need to hear all of it.”

She squeezes his hand with a heavy breath, “He said you were cursed. It’s why you’re… blind.  And that it would be only a matter of time before I’m cursed as well. Then he said that you must be using the Dark Arts on me otherwise I wouldn’t want to be with you. And that’s when I punched him.” 

She keeps her gaze away from his and instead stares at his hand stroking hers. He lingers on her knuckles with every pass, causing his brows to furrow each time.

He’s silent for several breaths before he finally whispers, “I see.” 

She looks up at him and takes in his troubled expression. Shifting closer to him, she holds his hand tighter.

“I don’t believe a word of it, Ominis. I know you. And if Leander had taken the time to know you too, then he wouldn’t have said those things.” 

Ominis shakes his head, “But, not all those things he said were untrue. My family does care about blood status. A great deal, in fact. And there was a time when my parents suspected I had been cursed. I am also not… unfamiliar with the Dark Arts.” 

She squeezes his hand with a soft sigh, “I’m sorry.” 

“Don’t be. It’s not your fault,” Ominis gives her a small smile. “I’ve accepted who I am. Ailments and all.” 

She leans down and kisses the top of his hand still covering hers, “And I love you all the same.” 

His eyes warm into a gentle adoration and his smile fully forms.

“And I love you,” he whispers. “I… wish he didn’t tell you those things. I…,” he sighs and feels over her bruised knuckles with a grimace. “I don’t want you to feel like you have to defend me. The words he said - I’ve heard them all before - you already know this,” his blueish-gray eyes try to find hers. 

Under the rippling water, Ominis’ features become a living canvas of dark aquamarine - emitting a soft radiance which outlines his every contour with a liquid glow. Kneeling next to him, she feels akin to being at the altar of some god. With a shaky hand, she guides him to face towards her - earning a soft smile from him. Her lip trembles as Leander’s words - and all the other horrible rumors - claw at her thoughts. 

“I hate that you’ve ever had to hear such things, Ominis. Truly. Listening to Leander speak so heinously about you, it-,it broke my heart,” her voice wavers and she sucks in a sharp breath to keep herself from crying. 

He cups her cheek and urges her to him, pressing each other together with their noses brushing. 

“None of it matters to me. I only care about what the people closest to my heart think of me,” he professes. 

She gives a small nod, “I know. Doesn’t make it right though.” 

He kisses her forehead, tenderly tucking her hair behind her ear. 

“Come here, my sweet,” he tugs her to his chest and she nestles herself against him. “I promise - their words don’t hurt me. I’m more upset they’ve caused you such distress.”

She hides into the crook of his neck, “I’m sorry. You’re very important to me, Ominis.”

His arms tighten around her, “And you are to me as well,” he sighs while resting his head onto hers. “Promise me you won’t lash out like that again. It’s not worth you getting into trouble.”

She lifts herself up enough to look at him, and she says in a rather stern voice, “I can’t promise you that.”

He’s about to protest when she continues,

“I will try to keep my… temper in check. But, I won’t promise that I’ll stand idly by as him - or anyone else for that matter - speak about you in such a vile manner. I won’t. I would suffer any punishment for it as well. Detention, expulsion - none of it means anything to me if I chose to stand by and let the ones I love be talked down upon.” 

“I… didn’t know you felt so strongly about this,” he whispers. His eyes shut and he lets out a soft chuckle, “You’re so very ornery,” he has a gentle look as he nods. “Fine. It seems you’ve made up your mind - and who am I to try to change that,” he sighs while stroking her cheek. “Just try not to go around beating up the whole school - would you?”

She kisses his cheek then places herself back against his chest, “Fine. I’ll try.”

He sighs at how warm she is against him and he places another kiss on top of her forehead. He’s silent, enjoying the calmness of her breaths and the gentleness of her heart against him. He plays with her hair in deep thought, nearly lulling to sleep when her soft voice breaks the silence.

“I do hope some of the things he said aren’t true,” she murmurs. Before he can ask, she continues with a heavy voice,

“He said our courtship would never last. That I have no future with you because your family would never allow us…,” she trails off and he feels over her face to find a frown tugging on her lips.

“Allow us to what?” His question is just above a whisper. 

 “To marry.”

His eyes widen then his features fall into a tight grimace. 

“It’s true. They would never give their blessing to us,” he murmurs then a warm smile starts to form. He plays with her hair as he shyly asks, “You would consider marriage… with me?” 

She snorts with a soft chuckle, “You’ll have to propose to know that answer, Ominis.” 

His whole face breaks into a bright smile while his cheeks ignite in an even brighter blush. It spreads all the way to his ears and she giggles while stroking his cheek. 

“Well, no matter the answer, you’ve made me very happy to hear that you’re serious about a possible future together,” he admits in a quiet voice. “I’ve thought about it as well. While my family will never approve of us, I don’t rightly care. I want to be together. I want to be with you for as long as you’ll have me.” 

She smiles, “Good. Because I want the same. We’ll figure it out. Nothing will keep us apart.”

With a tender kiss, they seal their promise to one another. He holds her close, unable to stop smiling.

“I have to know,” he says in a teasing tone, “did Prewett actually cry?” 

She giggles and buries herself into his neck, “Like a baby.”

He laughs, holding her tighter, “Oh, what I would’ve given to have heard that.” 

They giggle together, basking in each other’s embrace under the lake’s tranquil waters.

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Read More of My Ominis Fics Here

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AN: after hearing the voice lines of what some students say about Ominis, I couldn't help myself. my poor baby boy.

[thehomeofplatonicfics]

Hi there. I really like your fics, (specially the hogwarts legacy and the Encanto ones) so can I ask you for an Encanto fic in which M!reader (or GN!reader if you want more people to feel included) struggles to control their gift which is manipulating any forms of fire. Abuela gets mad for the chaos they have caused and the people are scared of them.

The reader is feeling really bad because they feel that their gift can only cause destruction but then Bruno appears and comforts them and tell them that all of the people are afraid of him too and that the gift they have is truly wonderfull.

If this doesn't bother you can you make this before the events of the movie? Maybe the reader can be still a child who got their gift not so long ago. And also that their mother is Pepa.

Thank you so much and sorry if my explanation was so long and impossible to understand. English isn't my first language. Have a nice day/ night!!

A/N: Thank you so much anon! So sorry for the delay, I ended up with chickenpox for the past few weeks and it is has taken me a while to recover. Hope you enjoy!

Destruction

child!Madrigal reader x Bruno Madrigal (platonic!)

The whole village was a flurry with anticipation. There was to be a celebration in the village square and the entire Madrigal family was helping with the decorations and preparations. Your cousin Isabela had created the most beautiful flower decorations, and you took one of the flowers in your hand to smell the sweetness of it. A little bit of pollen got into your nose and… “Achoo!” You sneezed, triggering your gift to set the poor, unsuspecting flower aflame.

“Ah! No, no, no!” You muttered, as you tried to stamp the flames out. In your panic, you only made the fire worse as you slowly set alight to ALL the decorations. Soon, half the village square was up in flames. Villagers started running around screaming, pushing and shoving as they tried to get away. Some of the village children ran up towards you before they spotted the flames coming from your hands. “Ah! Monster!” They screamed, running in the opposite direction to you.

Your mother, Pepa, saw the chaos happening. Her eyes narrowed as she saw that you were in the centre of it all. The sky darkened and rain began to pour from the sky, as lightning flashed dangerously and the loud rumble of thunder signified how terribly angry she was with you. “Oh no…” You whispered to yourself, as she came over to you, agonisingly slowly. Luckily, the intense rain was able to douse your flames, including the ones still hovering above your hands.

“Y/N!” A shriek of anger comes from the edge of the village square. You turn to see your Abuela coming towards you, her face in a vicious snarl. “How could you? You’ve destroyed everything your family has worked so hard on today!”

You sniff, tears threatening to fall. “I’m sorry… I didn’t mean to, I couldn’t… control it.” Your chin wobbles, as Abuela yanks your arm to drag you back to Casita. Your family follows behind you, glaring daggers into your back. “I don’t want to hear it, Y/N.” Abuela shakes her head. “You have created absolute chaos, frightened the villages and disappointed your family. You must control your gift, or you cannot go out of Casita into Encanto.”

You gasp in shock, blinking rapidly as the tears mix in with the rain coming from Pepa’s storm. “You’ll lock me away in Casita?” You begin to sob, hugging myself as we trudge up the steps to Casita. As soon as you all get inside, you run up the stairs and run into your room, slamming the door. You flop onto your bed, staring up at the ceiling. It feels like your heart will break.

The door slowly creaked open, and your eyes land on your Uncle Bruno as he slinks into the room. “Y/N, let’s… have a talk.” You sit up, wiping your tears, as you sit cross-legged on your bed. Bruno sits beside you, a hand resting on your shoulder. “I know what it is like. To have a gift that causes fear in other people.” He says, as you look up at him, listening intently.

“People have a tendency to be… afraid of what they don’t understand. Now, you and I… we both have powerful gifts. Capable of great things… but also capable of causing a lot of damage.” You look down, sniffling, as you hug your pillow. “They see that power, and they are afraid. They don’t take the time to understand it.” Bruno adds, sighing as he looks down at you. “I know it seems tough right now, that no one will be able to see who you are, past the big scary fire…”

“They are so frightened of me… but it isn’t my fault, I can’t control it!”

“You will, with time. And when you can, they will love you for your gift. I think it is pretty neat, honestly.” Your face lights up. “Really?”

“Well, for a start, you can create a bonfire any time you want, and then we can toast marshmallows. Or when it is super dark, and you can just flick your hand and light us a torch? Yeah… your gift is awesome.” His words make you smile for the first time, the candles in your room start to burn a bit brighter.

“You keep your chin up, kiddo. Don’t listen to the others… listen to your Uncle Bruno.” You smile, feeling the room become warmer from the heat of your flames again.

“Thanks, Tío.”

[astercontrol]

So…

I just watched Legacy again.

And… I keep coming back to the Ram-Castor theory.

Which first sparked from a paragraph on the Tron wiki, attributed in the footnote to Tron: Evolution…

Disparate accounts of Castor's origin exist. He was reputedly designed and created by Kevin Flynn in TC30 as an interpreter but quickly and naturally exceeded his original directives. Unconfirmed conflicting reports describe his origin as a "low-priority actuarial algorithm illegally co-opted identity of the obsolete protocol. More investigation required for verification."

This blew my mind, because... cryptic as it is, I found it easiest to interpret as:

The program that became Castor/Zuse was originally an interpreter program created by Kevin Flynn.

At some point, another program-- this "low-priority actuarial algorithm" -- took over his identity and took his place.

and… you know where my mind goes when I think of actuarial programs.

As far as I know, only one character ever canonically was described as such.

One who I cannot help but think of in the same category as Zuse (i.e., queer-coded, fun-loving, my favorite character in the damn movie, and died too damn soon.)

But... what would it take, for Ram to become Castor??

My initial impression was:

Ram gets rerezzed on the Grid, before the coup.

Perhaps Flynn sneaks in one of Roy's backups.

(Maybe this backup, unknown to Flynn, has been updated with some hacker code, for purposes of Zack-Attack shenanigans.)

And this Ram 2.0 is the "actuarial algorithm" who eventually assumes the identity of Castor/Zuse.

This was all months and months ago…

But now, having rewatched Legacy just now, the ideas have…

…. expanded.

Into the realm of the… something.

Here goes.

As to how Ram started out on the Grid:

I imagine that Flynn tried to give him something approaching his original purpose. Actuarial math is concerned with calculating probabilities, and this is useful for plenty of things besides setting insurance premiums.

(Ram probably would prefer many of those alternatives over setting insurance premiums, once he learns just how little insurance companies actually help people.)

His actuarial nature might even have him calculating probabilities about Clu, long before Flynn and Tron do… and seeing danger coming miles away.

And you know Flynn wouldn't have listened to his warnings.

Maybe this causes Ram to go into hiding early, before things with Clu go... clearly bad.

Now. Once in hiding, when the Purge starts, of course Ram decides to help the ISOs. He's a helper by nature. And he's lived under oppression and genocide.

Already he'll need to do this in some secrecy.

And this may very well be when he "reinvents" himself for the first time.

So. He hacks his way into the place of this …translation program that wasn't yet doing much of anything.

He takes on the new appearance, and the name Zuse.

Uses his hacking skills further, to control Solar Sailers and the permissions on other programs' discs, all in the name of getting ISOs to safety.

(This is all mentioned in the wiki, as well, attributed again to Evolution.)

(There also seem to be… hints? that Zuse himself is an ISO? but this is not clear on either the wiki, or in Legacy. There may be more data in Evolution? In any case, I'm proceeding on the assumption that he is not an ISO, just a regular program who may have been co-opted or hacked by another one.)

At the point in Legacy where Sam meets Zuse, some pieces fell together rather clearly for me.

When he says:

"Zuse has been around since the earliest days of the gaming grid. By necessity, he has to mind all the percentages, all the angles."

it feels to me that he was clearly talking about his past as Ram, the actuary. Perhaps calculating percentages of probability for gaming purposes-- betting odds and such-- back when the games were just for fun?

But, as he said, it was self-preservation that made him change his identity. With the Purge over, and Clu attaining greater and greater power… he had to reinvent himself again, to stay safe from Clu's wrath against anyone who supported either ISOs or Users. So he gave himself the name Castor, instead, and kept the Zuse identity under wraps.

"Castor" is actually a fairly clever choice of name. If he was going to go the Greek-gods route, "Ares" would have been the obvious code for Ram (the ram being the symbol for Ares/Aries).

(…AND I continue to pray, probably without hope, that Jared Leto keeps his mitts off of Ram completely. But, that's another topic.)

Ares was a son of Zeus.

Unclear whether this was why Ram chose the Zuse name… or whether the program had that name already before Ram took over him. (The wiki suggests that, like many names in Tron lore, it was an allusion to a famous name in computing history. In-universe, Flynn could certainly have named a program with such inspiration.)

In mythology, Castor was… one of the twins born to Leda after Zeus impregnated her. But the pregnancy had two different fathers, and Castor was not the twin fathered by Zeus.

From the perspective of a Ram in hiding, "Castor" could be taken to mean "false disguise for a true son of Zeus."

Not saying that was the sort of thing Ram himself would have come up with.

It's what I would have come up with, in his position.

But I am not an actuarial program. I am a goddamn pattern recognition program. This is obvious.

So, the above is likely all irrelevant.

Moving on!

By this point, Ram/Castor/Zuse might be pretty disillusioned with the Users, honestly.

Flynn's in hiding, doing nothing! He let Tron get corrupted, Yori either disappeared or never got rezzed in, and a tyrant with Flynn's face is in charge of everything!

I would NOT blame him for being unconvinced that changes at the top actually make a difference; that one leader's better than another.

I would not blame him for being earnest in saying, "I believed in Users once before."

And then, of course, the betrayal!

Clu's guards barge in.

Zuse…. stands back and lets everything happen. Gives them free rein to attack Sam. Stands back and watches in glee, as the whole thing goes down.

Watches Sam fighting back. Watches Kevin Flynn and Quorra bursting in to help. Watches the whole fight. Just watches, dancing and firing energy bolts randomly into the whole mess like a madman, as if he has no stake in it one way or another!

It would be easy to interpret this a number of ways.

He has gotten truly vengeful toward the Flynns, to the point of losing his grip on reality.

He has gotten truly vengeful toward EVERYONE, to the point of losing his grip on reality.

Perhaps his personality has even split somewhat-- the Castor and Zuse personas becoming somewhat separate entities?

This would fit with the idea that he started this whole business by co-opting the identity of another program!

Maybe that program's mind was always trapped somewhere within… fighting him.

Maybe it came to the surface more and more often as time went on.. becoming a possessing demon with very different views about everything Ram used to care for.

BUT.

There is one other possibility.

Let's take a look at just what he promised, and to whom, and just how the promises were followed through on.

First, to Sam. He offered Sam "a change of attire," "a forged disc," and "transport to cross the Sea of Simulation."

And then he stood back, and made no attempt to stop either Sam or his helpers or his attackers…

and the fight played out as fate would have it, letting Sam and Kevin and Quorra escape to safety…

as they, most surely, would…

as they could have been predicted to…

from the viewpoint of one whose probability-calculations have always been informed by faith.

One who, deep down, does still believe in the Users.

He might… just possibly… still care.

Also, consider.

Zuse does not allow Clu's guard to take the disc he stole from Kevin. He appropriates it for himself, as a bargaining chip to use with Clu.

For what? "Control of the city. A sizeable request, I know."

Here might be where Zuse finally miscalculates. He was expecting, or at least hoping, that there was a chance Clu would honor his end of the bargain.

If Clu had, indeed, allowed him control of the city, it would have given him an advantage from a large number of "angles"-- no matter how the political side of things played out.

It could have given him leverage to help the Flynns later on, and undo the damage caused by the theft of the disc.

He might, quite possibly, have predicted that Sam and Kevin would both be able to recover from the immediate problem of the disc being lost.

For all we know, that brilliant probability-calculating mind might have already had a plan for that, and for how to help them later.

And even if that plan failed…it could certainly have permitted Zuse to be involved on a much larger scale in the resistance.

(Kevin, deep in his "zen thing," had even said that programs forming a resistance from within could have a better chance of taking Clu down than he himself ever could.)

(Zuse might, at some point, have agreed with him on that, and prepared himself to play a part in it.)

But.

All this seems lost.

Because, instead of honoring the deal, Clu just takes the disc and then blows up the End of Line Club with Zuse and Gem inside it.

However.

We can easily imagine that someone with the previously displayed skills in

hacking

hiding

taking on new identities

calculating probabilities

and playing all angles / planning for all possible outcomes

…might have kept a backup of himself somewhere safer?

In any case.

Whatever was going on in Zuse's mind, in regard to helping or not helping the Users, and preparing or not preparing for Clu's betrayal…

you can't deny two things.

He doesn't give Clu any leads to find the Flynns. He tries to convince him they're already dead.

and, once they do escape…

there just happens to be a Solar Sailer right in reach, waiting for them to sneak on.

A "transport to cross the Sea of Simulation." Just as promised.

Just my thoughts.