#I wonder how that professor is doing. well I hope but not well I suspect

[futureghost97]

jumpscare: just unexpectedly remembered a dream I had last night while going about my morning

[scremogirl]

☾✧꥟ 𝐒𝐄𝐑𝐈𝐄𝐒 ✧✰☀︎︎

𝐍𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐡𝐚𝐬 𝐉𝐮𝐬𝐭 𝐁𝐞𝐠𝐮𝐧

Yandere! Serial Killer x Reader

Mentions of blood! Mentions of Death! Mentions of mutilation! Mentions of Murder, GN! Reader, NReader/Diolouge uses a lot of black colloquialisms/AAVE *slightlyyyy black coded but only for the speaking bits. NO APPERANCE MENTIONED!* READ THE NOTE AT THE END PLZ! (●’◡’●)ﾉ Part 2 here Part 3 here

Halloween.

The day where people grasp the fact that the summer's over and the seasons have finally changed. Corny decorations on front porches, masks in windows to scare unaware customers, and people dressed as slutty cartoon characters.

You loved the last one. You’ve always worked hard on your costumes; from a small cameo in the school yearbook to entering contests and pageants. You loved fashion, everything about it. The different fabrics, colors, patterns; you cherished it all. So, it’s no wonder that’s what you’ve chosen as your destined career path. You somehow managed to get into the third most prestigious fashion school. I say third because the first one you applied for, was full of egotistical French exchange students who do nothing but compare their lives at home to their lives in America. The second… well, you don’t want to talk about it. Regardless, you’re so grateful your talents have been recognized.

That leads us to now. At the biggest fright fest of the year. Your professor decided that if everyone got at least a 95% or above on the unit test, he’d take the whole class on a field trip to the annual Freak do Shek Carnival. A free trip and creating a new costume? You’ve never studied harder in your life. You spent days working on your costume; hoping to win the annual costume contest.

“Breaking news! The killer know as the “Mask Maker” is still on the loose and is currently suspected to be in the Witchwood area. It is recommended for all residents to stay indoors travel in groups-,”

Your heart sinks.

No, no, no! Why does it have to be now? Why here? The area you lived in was one of the safest in the city! Police patrolled regularly, security systems were available to all, and most people have been traveling in groups these days. So, why? You look at your friend, Malika, who no doubt received the same alert as you did, judging by her face.

“Well what the hell are we supposed to do now!?” She yells in frustration. You all have arrived at the festival and the bus has already taken its leave. Unless you call an Uber, there’s no way out; but then again, with a killer on the loose, no person would be dumb enough to let any stranger in their car. You tell your teacher your concerns, but does he listen? No.

“We’ll be fine,” , “just travel in groups,” , and “make sure you check in with everyone at least every 15 minutes,” is all he says to shake your worries. Great job by the way. With that, he goes ahead with another one of the chaperones, probably on their way to get drunk on cheap beer and look at young girls. Pig.

“I know I ain’t stayin for damn sure,” you chuckle at Malikas abrasiveness and nod your head in agreement.

“Who’s gonna pick us up though? We all came here on a bus and no Lift driver is stupid enough to let strangers in at this time,” you both sigh and end up agreeing that she’d call her boyfriend to come get you. The only downside is he lives in the next county. That means 3 whole hours plus some that you two have to try and rid your paranoia.

“How ‘bout we go check out the costume display for the upcoming show? Maybe scope out some the competition?”

“You know what Malika, that sounds like a great idea,” she holds out her arm and you take it , laughing your way down the hay covered dirt path wearily dodging scare actors. Unbeknownst to you the glowing eyes of one of the masks are filled with anything but fake intent.

“Hey, Mal? Is he on the way yet?” You two have already viewed the display, concrete knowing you’re gonna knock everyone at the park. So you decided that maybe a little sightseeing wouldn’t be that bad.

“Ugh! He said he’s on his way but knowing him, that means he just got in the shower,” with a deep sigh she puts her phone back in her pocket.

“Look,” she continues

“ How about we go get something to eat and enjoy what we can. I mean, we did wait all year for this,” you’re a little hesitant but you end up caving; fried oreos do sound good right now.

The walk to the concession stands is filled with jump scares from actors, Jack, o lanterns illuminating your path and the laughter of children and adults a like. The environment reminds you of why you came here in the first place, maybe there is nothing to be worried about.

Oof!

“Oh I’m sorry! I wasn’t paying attention to where I was going,” to wrapped up in the scenery and nostalgia, you failed to notice one of the actors scrambling by. You hear the muffled laughter of Malika and try your best not to strangle her to cover up your embarrassment. Fortunately , it was just the water that spilled on them; Unfortunately, your oreos lay spread eagle on the ground. However, even with a soaked costume and powdered sugar all over their boots, they remain in character. Only giving you a tilt of the head, a grunt, and tightening their grip on their axe. The eyes that lay behind the papier-mâché mask boar deep into your soul, the white contacts holding something deep and dark. The feeling of guilt is slowly washed away and replaced with anxiousness. Man, they're getting employee of the month. Still, you feel bad so you grab the napkins from your back pocket and gently wipe their mask, some of the fake blood coming off along with the water. Hmm, these effects are off the chain too.

As you clean them up you can’t help but to think that they’ll join the costume contest, definitely giving you a run for your money. You're snapped out of your thoughts when Malika pulls you along the road, whining about how upset she is because she didn’t get to snag one of your Oreos. Making your leave, you look over your shoulder one last time, only to find those same white eyes trailing your figure.

My god, you're even more beautiful up close.

“Personally, if that happened to me I’d kill myself,” once again, your friends laughter snapped you outta your own mind. You just giggle and brush it off.

“Shut up! It’s not like I did it on purpose! Besides he was kinda fine not gon’ hold you,”

“I know right! the way he titled his, had a tear running down my leg not gon’ lie,”

“Girl… don’t you gotta man? Like… on his way here?”

“Shhhh don’t ruin the fantasy,”

Two hours have officially passed, the same old texts between Malika and her boyfriend, this time however he was actually in the car. She had pressed him to turn on his location for safety, you could never be too sure now can you? He should’ve been here by now but with how crowded the festival is getting, you can’t blame him. Thankfully, the contest is just about to start! Going against your better judgment, you and Malika thought that being apart for about 15-20 mins wouldn’t hurt. She’ll be waiting in the audience while you go change anyways.

Rushing to the changing rooms you fail to notice another contestant coming towards you just as fast. For the second time this night you managed to bump into someone.

“I am so sorry! I didn’t mean I-,”

“Watch where you’re going bitch! Y’know how long it took me to make this thing?” You look to the left and then to the right trying to figure out who the fuck they think they’re talking too.

“Look I didn’t mean it, I’m sorr-,”

“Yea yea whatever, just stay outta my way next time. Besides, it’s not like you're gonna win this thing anyways,” just before you were about to give them a piece of your mind, the manager stepped in and separated you two. Jeez now this is gonna take even longer than you expected. You thought it was only fair to let Malika know shoot her a quick text. “No worries, babe! Gill's location says he’s here already so Imma grab us a quick bite to eat before I look for him and we head to you. See ya soonnn❤︎︎!!!”

Good; that buys you just enough time. After getting changed and checking your reflection for the hundredth time, you step out feeling as confident as ever. Just as you exit the stall, you hear the worst blood curdling scream of your entire life. You look over to your right and see that asshole from early and that guy with the really nice axe murder costume. Your eyes have to be deceiving you! One of their legs is completely severed, blood dripping from the stub left behind. Slash marks, deep and crooked, adorn their arms and remaining leg. They Look as if their limbs could snap off at the slightest breeze. They cry and groan as they reach out to you. Following their eyes the crazed murder shifts his eyes to you. Their weapon of choice freezing in their hands mid swing. Their victim continues to moan in pain and crawl away, begging and pleading for someone to save them. But…you just laugh.

“I see what you're trynna do here, and it ain’t workin’. Your costume is good but it isn’t better than mine. Assholes,” the last part is mumbled under your breath as you walk away. Even though you presented yourself in this prideful manner, you can’t help the feeling of disappointment that bubbles inside you. You tried really hard this year, let’s just hope that everyone else thinks you did too.

CHOP

Finally. Holding up the severed head he smiles, crooked and eerie. The bitch wouldn’t stop screaming, but at least he gets to see the look of fear in their face forever.

“Hey! What the hell’re you doing!?” hm? Turning around he sees the manager from earlier, standing before him with wide eyes filled with shock and anger. He can’t have his plans be ruined by a little slip up! He didn’t mean to act so impulsive but he couldn’t help. Nobody talks to you like that; not if he had something to do about it. Swinging his weapon of choice up on his shoulder, he’s about to take a step before he’s interrupted.

“Didn't I tell you guys to keep all spare props in bags because of the fake blood?! It gets everywhere and I’m the one who has to clean it up!” They shoved him to the side before grabbing a large trash bag from the cart they lugged behind them; simultaneously grabbing a mop and bucket. Continue to grumble about how “they don’t get paid enough for this” and “all the newbies are irresponsible”. But hey, free disposal.

“Sh, sh it’s okay; it was never your fault,” you tried comforting her but to no luck. All she can see is red as the burning hot tears streaming from her eyes ruin the makeup she spent so long on

“Okay?! It’s not okay (Y/N)! He said he was stuck in traffic all the while he was toungin’ down some bitch in a slutty cat costume. Very unoriginal btw!” You try to keep your giggle in for her sake. You kept trying to tell her this idiot wasn’t any good for years but nooo “the dick was too good to let go,” and apparently, someone else thought so too. Her weeping continues before she builds up the courage to speak again.

“All I wanna do is go home; fuck this competition,” you smile seeing her personality shine through her sadness just a little.

“Yea, fuck this competition,”sure you’re sad about to being able to participate this year, but with your best friend in distress and a serial killer on the loose, you can’t help but to think that maybe you could wait until next year. Ordering the Uber, you suggest that before it gets here, you should check in with your teacher first. Of course you don’t have his number and you're sure your other classmates are not worried about their phones unless they’re snapping pics and recording for their stories . You send them a quick text to your classes group chat and look for the exit.

“He really is a dick, you don’t need him,”

“Yea, I know. Besides, maybe that axe guy will take care of him for me,” she giggles but you don’t find it funny at all.

“What?”

“Yea, I saw him outta the corner of my eye when I walked in on he who shall not be named about to fuck that other girl,” she rolls her eyes and continues walking but you remain stationary.

“You gotta be joking,“ she turns around and gives you a quizzical look so you continue further.

“He and another dickhead I bumped into put on this whole show to get me to drop outta the contest. Lost limbs, fake blood and everything. I don’t know what his problem is, but he needs to leave me the fuck alone before I get the manager, on some Karen shit”

“Now that I think about it, he has been high-tailing us ever since we’ve got here,” she freezes before looking at you dead on. She wipes away the tear stains and brushes her nose against her sleeve before scanning the area.

“You don’t think it’s Kee-,”

“No! Don’t. It’s not him. It couldn’t be,” she holds up her hands in defense before pulling you along to get the hell up outta here. It goes dead silent, tension filling the air. It couldn't be him! It’s just some rando whos jealous of your skill! But…your mind was just playing tricks on you. That feeling of paranoia started to rise again and the flashbacks felt like they were hitting you in waves. She saw this and decided to speak up before it got worse.

“Hey, I’m sorry for bringing it up. I really didn’t mean to-,” this time it’s your turn to cut her off. You offer her a light smile and hold her hand in yours before squeezing.

“It’s alright. Besides, who needs men anyways. You’re all I need,” she gives you an even brighter one, her usual self returning, before squeezing just as hard, laying her head on your shoulder while you walk.

“Yea, fuck men,” you two laugh in sync before changing the conversation to what you’ll do when you get home; maybe a Horror movie marathon and some junk food will cheer you up. Who cares, the night has just begun for you and there’s no way anything was gonna ruin it.

Watching you walk away a gloved hand slams into a tree. Dammit! You won’t get away so easily. You’re his. Nobody else’s. He’ll make sure of it. Starting with her.

Hello everyone!!!! Hope you enjoyed the first part of my Halloween special. I’m breaking this down into 3 parts because I’m afraid people will think it’s too long if I put the whole thing on tumblr. I will be making an Ao3 and the whole fic will be posted without any split up. When it’s created and up I’ll let you know. Hope you enjoyed Loves!!! ( ˘ ³˘)♥︎.

-Love, Sosa❤️

[rendy-a]

Congrats on the followers 🥳

For the self aware au with Malleus's thing about not being invited to events what about reader making sure he gets an invite by inviting him to the dance with them

Writing this one sure was a roller coaster! I wrote half of it with some random plot that I had no plans for. I'm glad I got a sudden inspiration on how to tie it together! Thanks for joining my event. I hope you like it!

You’d never have suspected that you’d become a member of the fashion police in another world.  Not that you’d put in any effort into it.  People just seemed to ask your opinion on things.  Ever since the dance was announced, the number of random students who would stop you in the hall to pull out a handkerchief or pair of socks and eagerly request your opinion on the color or material was growing.  You weren’t sure you were even qualified to give expert opinions on otherworldly fashion, but it didn’t seem to matter.  Any item you deemed nice was shown off like a treasure.  If you should happen to pause or trail off instead, the article in question was quickly hidden from view and the unfortunate student requesting evaluation of such an inferior item scurried off equally as quick. 

It surprised you greatly when the requests began and even more when you started to notice some of the names requesting a moment of your time.  Azul asked you to weigh in on a tie.  Kalim came with an armful of bangles that only you could possibly select the best from.  Even Vil had one day haughtily remarked he was going to wear his hair up to the dance and subtly prodded you for an opinion on that.  You had no business giving Savanaclaw A advice on his fashion, let alone Vil, but each time you were requested an opinion, you answered honestly.  Overtime, you’d come to give just about every member of the main cast advice, including the teachers!

Professor Crewel smiled at you like you’d preformed a wonderful trick, “Well done, pup.”  You smiled back indulgently, used to the unique way he addressed his students.  “You may go, Prefect,” Crewel replied, still gazing at the boots you’d said suit him well.  You’d almost made it to the door when Crewel’s voice stopped you, “Matching colors.”  You paused and turned toward him, “What was that?”  Crewel turned his sharp gaze to you, “Everyone is waiting to see whom you attempt to coordinate with.  Such a show of favoritism means a great deal to a young man.  And if it’s with you…”  Oh, well.  That was a complication you didn’t need.

---

“Get this junk out of here!” Grim complained for the third time tonight.  You look up from the assortment of notes you have spread out over the floor and remind him, “I can’t do that Grim.  If I pick someone to favor, I’m only going to trigger…I don’t know what.  Mass overblot?  Chaos in the streets?  Who knows!”  Grim opens his mouth to disagree but then appears to think twice about it.  “So, what are you gonna do about it then?” he asks softly.  You gesture to the massive network of notes, “I just have to find it here; a color that no one is wearing and pick that one.  Then no one can get offended or misunderstand.” 

From all the fashion advice you’d been giving out, you had a vague idea of what each character of the main cast and good portion of the general student body would be wearing.  That information was spread out on notecards across the Ramshackle Dorm’s floor.  Only, finding the thing you needed was harder than you anticipated.  You’d tried organizing the students by color family, school years and dorms before looking for that elusive missing shade.  Maybe it was Grim walking over your notes or perhaps it was the Ramshackle ghosts playing tricks but every time you think you have it; a card will turn up with your chosen color, turning your unique shade into a matching pair.  

“Ugh,” you toss a handful of cards up, “This is hopeless.”  Grim looks at you from the table where he eats his tuna, avoiding your little project as much as he is able, “So don’t go then.”  You sit up and consider, is that an option?  You tried to picture it.  ‘What do you mean They aren’t coming!  Let’s start a riot!  Everyone to Ramshackle, let’s drag Them out!’  Ok, you were probably being dramatic but still, people in this world weren’t normal about you.  “So, I guess everyone has to go then,” you say as you throw an arm across your eyes and moan to Grim about your ordeal.  He endures your antics for a moment before he mutters, “Not everyone,” under his breath.

You drop your arm and look at him, “What do you mean, Grim?”  He gestures with his eating utensil to your pile of cards, “Tsunataro isn’t there.  Why do I hafta attend a dance if he doesn’t?” Grim scrunches his face and shouts, “I only wanna go to the banquet!  The party ends when the food is gone!”  You’d already tuned out Grim’s complaint on food, instead focusing on Malleus’s omission.  That can’t be right.  You’d have noticed if Malleus wasn’t in your notes, wouldn’t you?  You head over to the Diasomina stack and rifle through them, no Malleus.  Could it be mis-sorted?  You check the entire collection again but still no Malleus.    “How can this happen?  I get that he doesn’t get invited in the game but why didn’t I notice?” you gesture dramatically, “I mean I even sorted them by dorm, for crying out loud!”  Grim slowly chews a bite of tuna as he watches you, “You know, I don’t like to bring it up since you are who you are and all but…why do you think you are so special that you can go against the Will of the World?” 

You consider that point.  When you’d first met Grim, well, you’d sort of freaked out at him.  He’d listened to your ravings about games and characters before calming you down.  He was the only ‘person’ you actually spoke to about the game world and, somehow, he seemed to both believe you and guide you through your unusual situation.  So, when Grim suggests that you are also being restricted by the game plot, you have to give the idea merit and it made you profoundly sad.  You had a soft spot for Malleus, he was one of your favorite characters, and now you might end up forgetting about him like the rest of the cast? 

You put aside your quest for the perfect color, having grown frustrated with that anyway, and pulled out your phone.  Unsurprisingly, you didn’t have Malleus’s number.  Nor Lilia’s, which was odder considering what a social butterfly he was.  You scrolled through your contacts, searching for someone you thought might know his number and settled on Cater.  You seemed to recall a vignette where Cater forgot to invite Malleus to a party, which was not the best of signs, but at least it suggested he had a method of contacting him.

[Hey, Cater!  It’s just me.]

[YES]

[I mean hi there Great One]

[I mean buddy…great buddy]

[What can Cay-Cay do for you?]

[Do you have Malleus’s number by chance?]

[Oh noes!  I don’t!  So sorry!]

[But I do have Lills number!]

[Want Cay-Cay to hook you up?]

If you texted Lilia, then he’d have your number.  He can be…rather odd sometimes.  Perhaps it was best not to let more people have access to your number.

[Can you just pass a message along?  Ask him to make sure Malleus is invited to the dance?]

[Sure!  You can count on me!]

You couldn’t count on him.  It wasn’t until the very night of the dance that you pulled out your phone to plan where to meet up with your friends and saw the old text.  You felt a foreboding sense of dread for you had fully forgotten about the situation until that very moment.  The power of the plot was no joke.

[Hey Cater]

[Hiiii]

[Are you here?]

[Where are you?]

[Do you need me?  I’ll do anything you need]

Of course, he was freaking out.  You interrupted his text stream.

[Focus!]

[Did you get that message to Malleus about the dance?]

[Ah, Malleus.  Of course.  Let me check]

You didn’t consider texting to be particularly personal, but you can feel disappointment through the text.  You’d have to make it up to him.  While you were waiting, you took a selfie and sent it to Cater. #readytodance.  There, that should cheer him up a bit.

[Ah!  You look so cute in that!]

[I’m totes jealous of your style]

You can picture him making his signature v hand sign as he says that.  At least you could count on Cater to be easy to distract.

[Lils says Malleus was out when he got the text and he forgot]

[I’m SOOOO sorry!]

Dammit.  So, after all your bravado, you’d let him get left out of a social event again.  Some all-knowing Player you were. You sigh and look at the ceiling for a long moment until you hear your phone’s notification chime again.

[So…are you still coming?]

You look at the question puzzled.  What else would you be doing?  You’d spent all this time finding this horrid shade of pink to wear just to attend.  Why did he think your plans might change?  Then you had it.  A smile came over your lips as you knew exactly what you should be doing instead.

[Yeah, tell the guys I’m just going to be a little late.]

---

The towers of Diasomnia gave off an imposing aura, like that of their master.  The sudden and frequent lightning strikes did nothing to tone down the atmosphere.  He clearly realized he’d been forgotten again and was deep into a sulk.  You kept a wary eye on the sky as you crept closer to the castle gates and finally felt less dread once you were inside.  You didn’t exactly know where Malleus would be but sort of figured you’d try the top of the tallest tower and see how that went.  This was a storybook inspired world, after all.  True to tale, that was where you found him, gazing deep into the darkening night from his window with a sever frown set upon his face.

You knocked carefully on the doorframe.  “Hey,” you called out gently, gaining his attention.  “It’s you,” he says in surprise, “Why, whatever are you doing here alone?” You give him a mournful smile, “That’s what I was going to ask you.”  He clicks his teeth in annoyance, “Where else would I be?  I’m not wanted at their little celebration.  I’ve not such bad manners to attend a party I’m not invited to.  Even if everyone else has been.  The royalty, the nobility, the gentry…” You gesture to yourself and finish for him, “Even the rabble.”   At that, he looks upset, “Certainly not.  I’ll let no one refer to you so.”  You waive your hand, calming down the ire of your draconian friend.

“It was a joke!” you assure him, “I just…thought this color didn’t suit me is all.”  He considers your pink formal wear.  “Is it not to your liking?” he asks musingly.  “Hmm, I don’t know if I’d say that.  It’s more that I didn’t really pick it out totally myself,” you sigh, “There was a whole situation there.  I couldn’t let anyone think I was showing favor or inviting a date or…”  You trailed off, getting an idea.  “Actually, Malleus, what do you think if we…”

---

You stood at the door to the gardens where the ballroom venue had been set up.  You smiled at Malleus, who stands by your side, and give his hand a nervous squeeze.  “Are you ready for this?”  You were worried about the reaction this entrance is going to cause but apparently Malleus is unphased, “With you by my side, Prefect, I am prepared for anything.”  Perhaps this should have made you happy to hear but all it did was to remind you that even a great dragon mage like Malleus believed ordinary you were capable of amazing feats because you were the famed Player.  Well, if you manage to open this door without setting off a riot, maybe he was right.  You stepped in front of the door, grasped the handle, pulled it open and entered the ballroom.

Two things happened immediately.  Firstly, you looked in shock at the sea of pink filling the ballroom.  You’d spent weeks helping the students of NRC choose outfits and sneakily collecting notes on what they planned to wear only to have basically everyone change their formal wear last minute.  And to pink, surprisingly.  At the same time you were entering the ballroom and taking in the array of pink, the gathered students were noticing you.  And how you weren’t wearing pink.

“GREEN!” Epel shouts, “Why’m I wearin’ PINK if the Prefect is wearin’ GREEN!”  The aggravated boy isn’t alone.  A crowd of angry students gather around Cater.  Azul pushes his glasses up and peers at Cater from between his fingers as he speaks enquiringly, “Were you attempting to make fools of us, Cater?”  The nervous third year glances at the menacing Leech twins that accompany Azul, all three in matching pink suits and fedoras.  “Of course not!” Cater stammers with his hands up, “Why would I be dressed like this otherwise?”  The formidable crowd of pink adorned students considers Cater and his equally pink formal wear carefully.

“Hey guys,” you say as you carefully push your way through the crowd, Malleus following in your wake, “What…what’s going on here?”  Cater clutches onto your sleeve and exclaims, “PREFECT!  I’m SO GLAD to see you HERE.  In…in green.  Wha, what happened to the pink from that pic?  You…you looked so good in that.”  You give him a sheepish smile, “Ah yes, about that…”  You gesture to Malleus who smiles proudly at your side, “I thought it would be better to match with Malleus, since he is always getting left out of things like this.  So, I had him use some color-changing magic to change my clothes to Diasomnia green!” 

There is a moment of silence as everyone takes that in.  Then that silence is broken when Jamil smiles a most devious smile and remarks, “Color-changing magic?  Is that so?”  Then several other students look slyly at each other and draw their magic pens.  “Hey,” you say backing away slowly, “Let’s not go crazy here…”  It’s not surprising when Deuce, who rarely thinks things over, is first to shout his spell.  It is unfortunate though, that his magic is so unpracticed, resulting in your garment taking over a spattered pattern of blue; much like paint covering the cloth. 

“That won’t do,” you hear Riddle tut from the side of you, “I’ll fix that up for you.  My apologies, Prefect.”  With that, a much firmer wave of magic washes over you and you see that your formal wear is now a vibrant red.  “Red?” you say questioningly before looking up to see a sly smiling Riddle has also changed his own garment back to the original Queen’s Red.  “I see how you want to play this,” Vil remarks sharply, “Well, if you want a challenge, you’ve got one! Rook!” The deviously smiling huntsman barely joins the Dorm leader of Pomefiore before an utter cacophony of spells begins.  In just a few moments, you were hit with at least fifty spells, causing you no harm but nearly knocking you off your feet. 

Malleus catches you, lending you a supporting hand and you look up at him gratefully.  Then you sadly consider the state of your formal wear.  So many spells landing at once seems to have caused an unexpected reaction.  Now, instead of your garment being one color, it shifted from one to the next as each spell fought for dominance over your clothes.  You look beseechingly at Crowley, who is chaperoning the dance.  He sighs, “There isn’t anything to be done until it settles, I’m afraid.”  You look at Malleus for confirmation but he only frowns, not able to meet your disappointed gaze.  You feel a pat on your back and Lilia remarks, “You know, it has a certain charm this way.  Yes, I rather like it.” 

You give him an exasperated sigh, shaking the hem of your color shifting garment, “I can barely look at it.”  Lilia laughs and suggests, “Well then don’t look!  You’re not meant to look down when dancing anyway.”  Such practical advice from Lilia makes you snort at him, but his words have reached you.  Fine then, you can’t change the situation, but you could control how the rest of the night went.  The three fae waited patiently for you to respond.   You turn and calmly ask, “Malleus, may I invite you to dance?”  With a glad smile, he takes your hand and leads you to the floor.  You glide through the dance with your prince and color changing garment.  First pink, then green and now blue.  It’s a sight like something from a tale you’d heard long ago.  A tale you’d make end happily ever after.  It was up to you to decide; you were the Player, after all.

---

Malleus happily opens his shrine to the Player and adds a scrap of unusual color shifting fabric to the collection.  For now, his treasure would sparkle and change; offering him a reminder of the first dance he’d ever been invited to (and by the Player, no less!).  Someday, he knew the magic would fade and the small scrap of fabric would settle on one color.  No matter what color that was, Malleus knew that he’d change it to green.  Afterall, it didn’t matter how the story began, just that it ended with you and him paired in Diasomnia green.  He had to honor your decisions.  You’d chosen him and you were the Player, after all.

[running-with-kn1ves]

Helloo, I hope you're doing well, if you could I was wondering if you could please do a yandere L Lawliet x reader story, it can be any plot you'd like. THANK YOU AND HAVE A NICE DAY🦆

A/N: I have yet to write anything for death note 'til now so here's my poor attempt at trying to write L 😅

Synopsis: You are interrogated by a certain stalker-y detective through a twisted turn of events.

TW: Yandere themes, stalking, death (non-canonical character), abuse of power

Word Count: 1200

“After he clutched his chest he just…fell.” 

“....I see.” 

L sat with a notepad and pen in his hand, watching you intently from the other side of the coffee table. You picked up your drink with shaking hands, avoiding the detective’s prying eyes. His dark circles showed his lack of sleep, causing you to mistakenly believe his level of dedication to the case you were discussing. 

“During Mr. Fujioka’s incident, did your spouse happen to be… present with you?” L inquired. 

You sniffled into a crumpled tissue, breath hitching as you tried to answer another one of his prying questions. 

“Uh, no… I’m not dating anyone so.. I was alone.” Your professor’s lifeless body flashed again in your mind, the memory seeming almost hazy and faint now. It happened so fast; one moment you came into his office, asking for last week’s assignments, and the next he was giving his last breath on top his desk above your midterm papers. 

You had feared becoming a suspect, especially with all this “Kira” buzz going around-- but thankfully the man across from you didn’t seem suspicious of you. Inquisitive, but not suspicious. 

“What were your plans after visiting Mr. Fujioka?”

You cleared your throat, dabbing at your eyes once more before sitting up straighter.

“Well, I was just going to head home, maybe stop at the grocery store first… though I doubt I’ll have any time to do that.” you voiced. 

 Trying to wipe the redness from your eyes away, you clenched your shirt to stop from shaking. You assumed the detective must’ve dealt with emotional people all the time-- especially from the recent rise in deaths, but you still felt bad for crying so much. 

Though, you couldn’t be more wrong. L Lawliet did not often deal with witnesses up and close in such a casual manner, especially meaningless ones who were the sole observers to a random professor’s death. If it weren’t for the possible connection of your professor’s heart attack to Kira, L would’ve never gotten this golden opportunity. It seemed luck really had struck him, even though he wasn’t one to particularly believe in “fate.” 

With his knees pulled up to his chest and the empty notepad in his lap, L watched you stare at the coffee table lifelessly. You could hardly give any attention to the males’ strange sitting position or odd attire that did not reflect your average japanese detective, which normally would’ve struck you as strange. 

“Am I… in trouble?” You asked, pulling L out of his thoughts on how oddly fascinating you were when crying. “I mean, am I going to be put in jail until this is all figured out?” 

Your naivety almost made L give a pout of sympathy. How could someone be so wide-eyed and unaware? He kept a straight face despite the confiction your question caused. 

“No, don’t worry. We already have a line of suspects waiting to be interrogated, and you aren’t one of them.” He replied robotically. 

With his fingernail to his mouth, the detective tilted his head as you gave a smile of relief, pushing back more thoughts of your twitching professor and his red face. 

“But one more thing,” Getting up from the opposing couch, L moved to sit beside you. “This incident is very important; you may be a vital piece to our discovery of Kira, as a witness to one of his attacks.” 

L placed his hand near your limp one, pinky nearly touching yours. He looked to make eye contact with you, curious to see those glassy eyes that he had been staring at from behind a monitor for months. 

“I believe a followup might be necessary… There’s a few more questions I’d like to ask you regarding your relation to Mr. Fujioka.” 

You nodded your head, listening intently as the detective dared to push his hand closer to yours. He could feel the heat from your body next to him, your hand so close yet inches too far. He continued to speak though his mind wouldn’t move away from the fact that you were within touching reach, when days ago he could only caress you from behind a computer screen and paper pictures. 

“Perhaps tomorrow? Unfortunately my schedule is quite rigid, though I think I can fit you in during… lets say, eight? I’d be happy to make it worth your while.”

You moved your hand away to grab another tissue, balling it into your fist onto your lap. L bit his lip at seeing you move away, clenching his teeth though not moving. 

“A-alright.” You forced an answer, not daring to reject his proposal out of fear of being seen as noncompliant. You couldn’t afford to get mixed up with the police right now, and this was your best bet on getting this whole situation dealt with. Besides, its not like you could say no to a detective.

“I’ll have someone contact you tomorrow on where to meet. Please be sure to only bring yourself, and wear something… mildly formal.”

You batted your eyes a few times, surprised at the rules regarding another questioning. But you didn’t dare to bring up your confusion, only nodding and holding tightly to your tissues. 

L on the other hand, couldn’t believe your complete willingness. You didn’t raise any questions, going along with his proposition and even smiling at him. If he knew meeting you would be this easy, he would’ve acted far sooner! Though all areas of reasoning pointed to you behaving oppositely, he didn’t mind this twist of events. He already had thoughts on where he’d take you first tomorow. Of course, it’d all be under the guise of the investigation, but he knew if you stayed this trusting the entire time he’d have no problem taking you out to dinner and a nice romantic stroll. 

You allowed him to walk you out of the comfortable faux interrogation room-- which truthfully was one of the police buildings’ lounge rooms that were far more comforting than the cold steel of the REAL interrogation room. Once L caught wind that you were going to be questioned, he couldn’t sit still, taking over all decisions regarding your interrogation. 

Gripping tightly onto your used tissues, you listened to L speak eloquently on the case and your future questioning “date.” The words hardly entered your head though, your mind too focused on how you were going to enter class tomorrow. How you were going to finish your studies without a teacher. And how your professor’s family would react on the news you knew far beforehand.

L looked at you with sunken eyes, giving a twisted, creepy smile. He lifted the corners of his mouth like you did, his hunched over frame causing a shadow to cast over his face, bangs nearly covering his eyes as he grinned. 

The look was…. Odd, to say the least. And yet-- you smiled back, trying to cover up the fact that you had not heard a word he said within the past several minutes. Handing you your bag, the detective hesitantly put a hand to your back as you continued to walk out. You didn't flinch or move away like he had fretted. Instead, you almost leaned into the touch, feeling a small amount of comfort after such a stressful evening. 

If you stayed this trusting, keeping you to himself might be far easier than L thought.

[rose-of-the-grave]

The Great War: Chapter 2

Pairing: Mattheo Riddle x Reader

Here's chapter two, I solemnly swear that Y/N and Mattheo will actually interact soon. I hope you all enjoy! As always, I'm the author (please don't repost)

Masterlist. Series Masterlist. Chapter 1 Read on Ao3

Warnings: quidditch, Dumbledore, manipulation, Cormac McClaggen, crying in the bathroom, idk what else to add

Word Count: 3126

Description: Y/N receives her mission, runs into an unexpected help, and tries out for the quidditch team.

Taglist: @sylveryfire, @undercover-smutlover

Y/N raised her hand, knocking on the door to Dumbledore’s office.

“Come in.”

She opened the door, walking in. Y/N hadn't been in his office since the year before since everything with Umbridge and dUmbledore’s Army. It hadn’t changed one bit. Except for a shelf covered in vials. She wondered what that was about.

“Ah, Y/L/N. You got my message.”

“You wanted to see me, sir?” She asked, wondering why.

“Yes. I have a favor to ask of you. One last mission if you will.”

She approached his desk, “What do you need me to do?”

“I need more eyes on the students. One in particular in fact. Mr. Riddle.”

“Why not have Professor Snape look after him?” She asked, questioning Dumbledore’s thought process.

“I require his services elsewhere. You, however, I would like for you to watch over Mr. Riddle and report back to me about any suspicious activities.”

“Of course. Whatever is needed.”

“Good.” She started to walk away when he said one more parting word.

“And one last thing, Miss Y/L/N. If you could refrain from mentioning this task to anyone, that would be much appreciated.”

“Even Harry?”

“Especially Mr. Potter. I have a separate task for him that he needs to be focused on. It is imperative that no one suspects what you are doing.”

“Of course, Professor.”

She walked out of the room and down towards the Great Hall, hoping to get some food. Some students were roaming the halls but most of them were probably eating so there were few people around to see her duck into the abandoned girls' lavatory.

She looked around at the very place that she had spent months of time with Harry, Ron, and Hermione back in second year. Y/N hadn’t been back since then. For once Moaning Myrtle wasn’t to be seen. Odd. How on earth was she going to do this? Even if she managed to find a way to watch the Slytherin’s without making them suspicious, her friends would ask questions about her sudden interest in the enemy.

Hearing someone run into the bathroom, she hid in one of the stalls. It was someone crying, loudly. Slowly opening the stall door she came up behind the girl. A Slytherin by the looks of her green accented robes.

“Hey, are you okay?” Y/N asked softly, trying not to startle the girl.

She whirled around, it was Pansy Parkinson. Her tearstained face became apprehensive, suspicious almost immediately.

Wiping away at her tears, smudging her mascara, she asked, “What do you care?”

“I wanted to make sure you were okay. I don’t like seeing people cry. Even you.”

“How big of you.” She sneered.

Well, this wasn’t going well. If Y/N was going to spy on Riddle it would make more sense for her to befriend his social circle. She had to at least try to find an in and Pansy seemed like the best option. Draco would bite her head off, Theodore Nott didn’t talk to anybody outside his friends, and Blaise Zabini didn’t exactly have a favorable impression of her after she got him detention in fourth year. Suffice it to say, they all hated her.

“I’m being serious. What happened?”

“Nothing.”

Y/N gave her a look.

“I’m not telling you.”

“Look, I get it. You have no reason to trust me but if you ever need someone to talk to, I’m here.”

“What would your precious friends think about you associating with the enemy?” Pansy spat.

“Probably the same as Malfoy would if he knew you were talking with a Gryffindor.” Y/N shot back.

She huffed a watery laugh. “We’re not all that bad.”

“Oh, you are. And worse.”

They stood there in silence for a heartbeat before Pansy spoke, breaking the silence.

“I told someone I liked them and they told me that they didn’t like me back. I put my heart out there for the first time in my life and it got stomped on. “ She said, bitterly.

“I’m sorry. If it makes you feel any better, it was their loss.”

Pansy gave her a look of doubt.

“I mean it. You may be a Slytherin and you might not exactly be nice to everyone but you’re pretty and from what I can tell, you are also really smart even though you try to hide it. I saw how well you did on your OWLs, it wasn’t that different from what I got.”

“You mean that?”

“Yes.”

“Thanks. I needed to hear that.”

Y/N nudged Pansy’s shoulder, “You’re not as bad as I thought you were.”

“Neither are you.”

They shared a smile before leaving the lavatory. The two girls went their opposite ways and Y/N grinned. She had found a way in. Maybe this task of Dumbledore’s wouldn’t be as hard as she thought it was going to be.

On her walk back to the common room she did her best to avoid others, knowing that it was close to curfew. She passed near an area of the castle that was very familiar after all of the time she and the rest of them had spent there last year. After sneaking into the Room of Requirement almost daily, it was no surprise that she had managed to arrive back there, her feet carrying her there due to muscle memory.

She had almost passed by when she heard footsteps echoing through the halls. Nervous, she ducked behind a corner to keep out of view. Curious, Y/N peeked around the corner, wondering who could possibly be walking around at this hour towards the Room of Requirement. Then, moving into view, was Draco Malfoy. What was he doing here?

Suddenly the conversation on the train came to mind. Was he really a Death Eater? If so, what was he up to? She waited and watched as he disappeared into the room before continuing on her way.

The next morning she awoke with a smile on her face and butterflies in her stomach. Today was quidditch tryouts. She had spent all summer practicing in her backyard so hopefully she would make it. Y/N spent the entire day feeling like she was walking on clouds, a bounce in her step as she went from class to class.

Everyone had remarked on how energetic she seemed. Even her first Defense Against the Dark Arts class couldn’t undermine her good mood. It wasn’t until her last class of the day finished and she started walking over to the quidditch pitch when the jitters started to set in.

“Hey Y/N!” Ron greeted.

“Hey.”

“You ready?”

She shrugged, grimacing slightly. “As ready as I’ll ever be.”

“You’ll get on the team. I’ve seen the way you can fly.”

“Thanks.”

“Shut it!” Ginny yelled from her place next to Harry.

They all quieted, turning to look at her.

Harry then spoke up, “Thanks. All right. Now, if you had a spot last year that does not guarantee you a spot this year. Is that clear?”

There were a few scattered nods from the group.

“Good.”

Another Gryffindor who was also trying out approached them. Cormac McClaggen.

“No hard feelings, eh Weasley?”

Ron looked puzzled. “Hard feelings?”

“Yeah. I’ll be going after keeper myself. It's nothing personal really.”

“Really, a strapping guy like you? You’ve got more of a beater’s build don’t you? Keepers need to be quick, agile.”

A fly started to buzz around them, its humming loud in Y/N’s ear before it flew towards McClaggen who seemingly managed to crush it between his fingers without even looking.

Ron’s face turned worried.

“I like my chances.”

“Show off.” Y/N muttered, unimpressed.

Cormac glanced over at her as if it was the first time he’d noticed she was standing there in the whole time he had been talking.

“Say, think you could introduce me to your friend Granger? Wouldn’t mind getting a first name basis with her, know what I mean?” He nudged Ron, a suggestive look on his face. He clapped him on the shoulder and walked away.

Drifting closer to Ron, Y/N said, “What a douche.”

“Yeah.” Ron said, unenthused.

“Right. So I’m going to run you through a few drills to assess your strengths.” Harry called out now that everybody had settled down. He went on to detail the first drill but Y/N wasn’t paying attention.

Glancing up into the stands she saw Hermione with the other handful of spectators. Raising her hand, she waved. Hermione smiled and waved back. Good luck, she mouthed.

Y/N mouthed back, Thanks!

Out of their friend group, Hermione was probably the one she was closest with. She loved all three of her friends but Hermione was the first of them to reach out and befriend her. It was towards the start of their first year before she had become friends with Harry and Ron. Y/N hadn’t had the best time with making friends because all of the people she knew were pure-bloods. Her parents were only friends with others like them with few exceptions so all of the kids her age that she grew up with were sorted into Slytherin.

They had started to ignore her once she was put in Gryffindor, saying that she couldn’t hang out with them anymore. Hermione had heard her crying herself to bed one night and the very next day wouldn’t leave her side. Despite everything she had been taught about muggle-borns she couldn’t help but see that Hermione was the nicest person she knew. Their friendship was the final straw for her old friends though. From then on most of them would ignore her but some of them would insult her right alongside her new friends.

Hopefully this history wouldn’t present a problem for her mission. After all, it was six years ago. Then again, Slytherins never forget a slight. Being friends with the chosen one, a blood traitor, and a muggle-born was a pretty big offense.

Oh, well. She would worry about that later. For now her main focus was on the tryouts. Everybody was put into two teams. Y/N and Ron were on one team with Harry, Ginny, and a few others while Cormac and the rest were on the other team.

The quaffle was tossed and they were off, Y/N passed it to a teammate, a fourth year she didn't know that well, only for the other team to steal it. She was in the perfect position to steal it back, and she did. Flying straight into Katie, feinting to the side just in time so she could grab the ball without colliding into her.

She raced over to the other side, wind whipping in her face and people from the other team on her heels. As Y/N neared the goal, she pretended to go for one goal, only to go for the other one, barely managing to get it past Cormac.

A few onlookers cheered and Ginny yelled, “Nice one, Y/N!”

She felt a surge of happiness, a grin on her face. Maybe she had a shot.

The scrimmage continued on, the two teams practically tied. The other team was in the lead by a few points, thanks to one of their chasers being really good at getting by Ron. Y/N could tell he was getting disheartened, feeling like he was letting them down with every lost point. Then something odd happened.

Ginny had the quaffle and was being chased by the other team. She soared through the air and slammed it into the goal. McClaggen was right there, in the perfect position to stop it when he suddenly swerved out of the way. A teammate of his asked him what happened but he just looked confused. Weird.

On the next point, Ron surprised everyone by flipping upside down on his broom, using his head to block the ball. Onlookers started to applaud and everybody looked on incredulously, wondering how that actually worked. From that point on it seemed as if he had regained his confidence and all of a sudden they started to catch up to the other team, scoring goal after goal.

In the end they won.

“Okay everybody, the team lineup will be posted in the common room tomorrow morning. Good job, everyone!” Harry announced.

They all walked over to the locker rooms to change out of their quidditch robes.

“Nice playing Y/N! I had no idea you were that good!” Katie said.

“Thanks! I’ve been practicing.”

“Well, it paid off.”

Y/N smiled. Hearing that from Katie Bell, one of the seventh years on the team, who had been playing for Gryffindor for years meant a lot.

Ginny chimed in, “Yeah, you looked good out there.”

“Thanks, you too. You played really well!”

“You’re going to make the team for sure, then all three of us can play together!” Katie exclaimed.

“I hope so.”

The three of them got dressed and headed out, walking out together.

“Hey, Y/N, nice job!” Hermione said, standing up from where she had been sitting, waiting for them to come out.

“Thanks!”

The four girls walked back to the castle, the sky darkening overhead. Some rain started to sprinkle down on them, the breeze suddenly feeling a bit cold. Once they all made it back to the castle, they all hurried up to Gryffindor tower where Ron sat on a couch, Harry on the ground by the fire.

Katie and Ginny went to find their respective friends while Y/N plopped down on the chair next to the couch. Hermione took a seat between the chair and the couch.

“I thought I was for sure going to miss that last one.” Ron mused. “I hope Cormac isn’t taking it too hard.”

Hermione made a sound, drawing all of their eyes onto her.

She shook her head, “Nothing.”

The boys returned to staring at the fireplace, the light of the flames flickering brightly. Y/N however, kept her gaze on Hermione, thinking through everything that happened. Cormac’s sudden movement out of the way had seemed unnatural. Almost as if he had been influenced.

Her friend looked up at her, feeling her gaze. Hermione raised an eyebrow, silently questioning her.

Did you? Y/N mouthed.

Hermione’s cheeks flushed in embarrassment before she nodded.

Y/N chuckled quietly, amused. She knew her best friend could be a bit diabolical but she never expected her to break the rules like this.

“He’s got a bit of a thing for you ‘Mione. Cormac.” Ron said.

Hermione shook her head, picking up a newspaper. “He’s vile.”

They sat there in silence, Ron looking at the flames, Hermione reading the newspaper, Harry reading a book, and Y/N mulling over her plans.

Harry leaned over to show his book to Hermione. “Have you ever heard of this spell? Sectumsempra?”

She sighed, exasperated. “No, I haven’t. And if you had any common sense you would turn it into Professor McGonanagall.”

“Not bloody likely. Why would he?” Ron asked. “He’s top of the class. Slughorn thinks he’s a genius. He’s even better than you Hermione.”

“I wonder whose it is.” Y/N pondered.

“Yeah, is it signed? Can I look?” Hermione asked, grabbing at Harry’s potions book. He snatched it away, standing up.

“No, the binding is fragile.”

Hermione also got up, the newspaper forgotten. “The binding is fragile?” She asked in an incredulous tone.

“Yeah.” Harry kept on backing up, away from her. Y/N watched as Ginny, who had been listening in from where she stood talking with Dean, walked over and grabbed it out of Harry’s unsuspecting grasp. Staying just out of reach of him trying to get his book back, she opened the book.

“The Half-Blood Prince. Who’s the Half-Blood Prince?” She asked.

“Who?” Hermione questioned.

“That’s what it says. Property of the Half-Blood Prince.”

Harry seized the opportunity to get his book back. “No clue.”

They all exchanged puzzled glances while he walked away towards the staircase that led to the boys’ dorms, wondering who that could possibly be. Hermione was probably already planning to head to the library first thing in the morning to figure it out.

Y/N and Hermione said goodnight to Ron and Ginny before walking up the spiral staircase to their dorm. Once inside they walked over to their beds, both of which were on the far end next to each other. The rest of the girls in their year were already getting ready for bed. The two of them never really paid attention to them though. Parvati and Lavender mainly hung out with the Ravenclaws, ignoring the rest of them. Especially after fourth year when Parvati and her sister, Padma, had gone to the Yule Ball with Harry and Ron only to end up ignored.

The only other Gryffindor girl in their year was Lily Moon. Lily was nice, a red-head who was sometimes mistaken for being yet another addition to the Weasleys. She mainly hung out with Neville, the two of them sharing a love for Herbology. While they did sometimes hang out together during class, outside of that they didn’t have much in common with her.

There used to also be one other girl, Sally-Anne Perks, but she left after Cedric’s death in fourth year, never to be heard from again. Her bed remained empty, devoid of any personal touches, unlike the rest of them with their pictures of family, books, jewelry, etc.

Taking a seat on her bed, she looked over at Hermione. “Did you seriously use the Confundus Charm on Cormac so he’d miss that shot?”

“Yeah.” She admitted, sheepishly.

“Wicked!”

Lavender looked over at them, a bit judgemental. Y/N smirked. She still remembered how annoying she had become last year, gushing over Ron. Surprising really, considering how he had acted when he took Padma to the Yule Ball. All three girls had given him dirty looks, along with Y/N and Hermione by association.

After getting dressed for bed, she lay on her mattress waiting for everyone else to be ready so they could turn off the lights. Soon, the only light illuminating the room was from the moon shining through the window. She was feeling a bit anxious, wondering if this was the year that she would finally make it onto the team. After spending the last five years watching Harry play from the stands along with the rest of the team had been fun but she longed to be a part of it. She had always loved flying but, outside of learning how to in first year there hadn’t been many chances except for during the summer when she visited the Weasleys.

Chapter 3>>

[aclowntiny]

Down the Drain- Barista!San x Female!Reader (College AU)

San has literally said he likes the idea of being a barista so here you go Sannie boy 😘😂 first time getting one of the boys as a barista hehe. Also, we’ve all had that professor 💀

Word Count: 2571 | College AU | Warnings: very slight language, me throwing in a blackpink reference cuz we love the bangers 😌

All your money was going to go down the drain. You couldn’t believe your campus had found yet another way to scam you. Yet you couldn’t really find it in yourself to complain this time. You knew they had to know exactly what they were doing, though. Whether it worker or not, your eyes were on them.

That day, you’d decided to make a rare stop at the campus café for a cold drink; it was just one of those days, a long one that could use a little refreshing pick-me-up, and you really didn’t take advantage of there being student baristas right around the corner of a big study floor enough. As per usual, the line was sort of long, but not out to the door, and you had a few hours of classes, so in went the airpods as you stood, trying not to stare at the girl in front of you’s bright pink backpack with its dangly Kuromi keychain the whole time. You did wonder where she got it from, though.

Two songs later, you were next, pulling your airpods out and popping them into your case as you glanced up toward the barista counter. And that was where you saw your campus’s latest scam.

Cafés hiring hot people was the biggest money pit ever and they knew it. The guy working the left register had your heart pounding the moment you laid eyes on him. He was average height with short dark hair, sharp eyes and even sharper cheekbones. The way his arms flexed from their rolled-up sleeves made you suspect he was quite fit beneath the oversized black button-up beneath his apron. As he waved to Kuromi girl, he gave a dazzlingly bright smile. Oh, no, he had dimples. Come on.

“I can help you right here.”

Snapping out of your reverie, you stepped forward to his register. San, his name was, according to the handwritten chalk name tag pinned onto his green apron fabric. Suddenly, you could hardly remember how to speak. “Uh, hi.”

“Hi.” There went that smile again. Sir, your mother must be proud. “What can I get started for you?”

“Oh, well, I…” Internally you cursed yourself for stuttering so much, but finally you remembered the name of your favorite iced drink.

“That’s a good one! Have you ever tried it with flavoring in it?”

“No,” you shook your head, “I haven’t.” You were a creature of habit, pretty much reciting the same thing every time you approached the register.

“You should! It’s so good!”

You asked him which one he recommended, and after he told you you inquired how much extra it was.

“Since you’ve never tried it and it’s my fault you are,” he chuckled, “I’ll just throw it in for free!”

And he wasn’t even a dickish frat boy. Great. “Wow, thank you!”

“Hey, it’s my pleasure, er…what’s your name?”

“It’s (y/n).”

“(y/n),” he repeats as he scribbles it on your cup and sets it down, and you hate that he even makes that sound good, “well, I hope you like your drink like this, (y/n)!”

“I’m sure I will,” you reply with a smile as you return San’s wave, heart leaping as he follows the gesture with running a hand through his shiny black locks.

Curse that café for making you spend money.

~

Two days later, you had the same class schedule, that same long break, and what the heck, why not see if San was working? It was kind of stupid how much you looked forward to the possibility of seeing him, you mused as you passed beneath the green rows of trees planted along the walkway, but that didn’t really change the feeling, so along you went with your stupid hopes of coinciding schedules.

The line was, once again, not quite to the door. Pretty good. This time, the girl in front of you had a blink hammer keychain, so you chatted with her for a bit. Apparently her name was Rina and she was an engineering major. Good for her. San called you up by the time you guys finished exchanging socials, mouth falling into an o shape the moment you stepped up.

Your heartbeat went erratic again, momentary friendship and engineering talk distracting you from preparing intelligent conversation like you told yourself you were going to.

“(y/n), right?”

Your jaw dropped. “Oh, uh, yeah. I can’t believe you remembered with all the people you see in a day!”

“I try to remember people. Plus, you tried my concoction, so that was extra memorable!”

Well, whatever made you memorable. “I’m good with names, too. I remember yours.”

He clapped a hand over his name tag. “What is it?”

“San!” You giggled.

“Be honest, was it the free add-in?”

You shook your head, grip tightening on your backpack straps. “I would have remembered anyway.”

Luckily, he smiled at that. “I’m glad. Well, what am I getting started today?”

~

There you were again. All your income going down the drain.

“Hey, (y/n)!”

“Hey, San!” You waved; your heart still had a few things to say about that dimpled smile and- as you saw on the day he wore a t-shirt, your suspicions confirmed- those arms, but by now you’ve become enough of a regular at the campus café that talking to the incredibly cute barista was practically part of your weekly assignments.

“Is it hot outside?”

“Not too bad,” you replied, “I think the weather people over-exaggerated. It’s, like, short sleeves and jeans weather.”

“Not long sleeves and shorts weather?” San teased.

“Short sleeves and jeans weather and long sleeves and shorts weather are different and you know it!”

San’s dark, shiny eyes drifted upward in thought. “You know what? They really are. Jeans one is more on the warm side, sleeves is more on the chilly.”

“See? Thank you. You appreciate me.”

“I always do, (y/n),” San agreed with a nod, setting your cup on the counter, “my favorite regular!”

“Oh, you have to say that to everyone,” you waved him off with a blush.

“I don’t have to say anything except ‘What can I get started for you?’”

“Well, thanks,” you giggled, pulling off to sit on the café couch and fake-scroll instagram while you snuck surreptitious glances at San.

Soon the harsh fluorescent institutional lights of your college’s building complex didn’t seem so bright, your focus having been centralized for a little too long. You’d ordered a drink with whipped cream on top, and the way the baristas deftly handled the compressed canisters, loading them into an actual whipped cream gun, made you almost want to become one.

Maybe you’d apply once that huge project for history was done. The next day, you planned on shopping for materials in order to build it at a table in the library on the following Monday. It was an insanely elaborate diorama that probably would have been more fun if the entire unit wasn’t crammed into two weeks’ time. You didn’t generally have any problems with your professor, but couldn’t help wondering if he’d lost his mind with that one.

Oh, well. If he wanted all those countries to have a ‘history tower’ as he called them, then you’d give him a history tower. The toweriest darn history tower he could ask for…or whatever would earn you praise and an A.

“(y/n)?” San’s voice cut through your historic reverie.

Shaking your head, you grabbed your backpack and rose from the couch once more, crossing the forest green tile floor to the drink drop-off. “Sorry, I was just thinking about assignments and stuff.”

“Oh, yeah, I totally get it, my dance class is getting intense with the choreographies we have to make. I almost gave someone who ordered a hot cocoa someone else’s strawberry smoothie earlier I was so distracted.”

Dance class? Choreography? At this point, it was practically a drinking game for ever time your brain dropped a wow. “Oh, that’s really cool. Mine’s just a history diorama,” you chuckle.

“On what?”

“The Netherlands of all places.”

“That’s so cool! I don’t know much about them, so maybe you can teach me.”

“I’ll do my best. It’ll be a crash course for sure- not exactly my specialty.”

“Well, whatever it is, I’m sure you’ll do great,” he told you warmly before his coworker handed him another drink; he gave you an apologetic glance. “I have a large cafe latte for Omar!”

You waved.

“See you next week,” he loudly whispered with a wink.

~

Next week was a bit different than your usual café run. This time, you’d been long situated at a library table, an intensely focused mess of glue, toothpicks, printed photos, paragraphs, drawings, plastic, and far, far too much more. You were going to build that tower until it broke you, then get some sugar, caffeine, and whatever adrenaline boost the glow in your heart from San gave you, then build some more. So far, it was murder to get the thing to stand despite its plastic supports. It was far later in the afternoon than you usually even got a drink, but such was a three-dimensional cultural history of the Netherlands.

“Aw, come on,” you muttered as a paragraph about Dutch paintings- Vanitas still lives, ironically- slid off its toothpick, “you were just fine a minute ago.”

It was sliding off the plastic dowels you were using to hold up the miniature spire. Sighing, you affixed it to a papier-mâché flower instead. This was ridiculous; you were busting your ass over basically a high school assignment all because your teacher wanted to send you off on your own for two weeks. Maybe, you thought venomously, he should have gotten caught up on grading papers so he could treat us like adults in return. Yeah, the fun had definitely leaked out of the project along with the last milliliter of glue, probably because it was individual. If you had a partner, you reflected as you crumpled more paper and cut another dowel.

Little did you know the effect that dowel would have on your day. As soon as you lifted your tower to insert it, a flower drifted ominously down. Your gaze softened. You blinked as a paragraph fell.

“No,” you whispered, but it was too late. The entire top decoration slid out along with the main support dowel, flopping miserably onto the table. Face crumpling, you joined it.

Bringing yourself to lift your head up was going to be hard. This was a whole day’s work down the drain. You just needed a good grade, wanted to do well and have something cute and fun, but all your energy had gone to-

“(y/n)?”

You peeled your face from between your crossed, horizontally-lain arms, despondent eyes falling upon San. You perked up slightly, getting your hair in place even if you could only muster a small smile. It didn’t escape your notice that he had a drink in each hand, but wasn’t wearing his apron. Maybe he had a date or a study session or something. If you weren’t already sad, you might’ve been at that.

“I saw how hard you were working on that,” he pouted, “I made you a drink to celebrate and everything.”

“You- you made that for me?” You asked, nodding toward what appeared to be your usual in his left hand.

“Of course. You’ve earned it. Working hard and all that.”

“Yeah,” you waved an arm over the carnage on the table, “but look at where that got me. I can’t believe I thought I had it.”

“Well,” San pushed back the chair next to yours, “I always say these things are more fun with a partner.”

“Right?” You started up your mental rant on your professor, this time verbally. “Like, what is he going to do with all these? Has he got space for them? Make these a two-person thing at least.”

“Well, he doesn’t have to know that yours is,” San winks at you, picking up a bottle of glue.

“You’re going to build this with me?”

“Sure,” he shrugs happily, “it looks fun, I’m off, and I said I wanted to learn about the Netherlands, right?”

“The skull paintings are probably the coolest part.”

“Ooh,” San stares down at the images, “emo.”

“Yet also spiritual.”

“And here I thought it was all tulips and windmills over there.”

You giggled softly at that, giving a little sigh before you picked up the center dowel. “Would you mind handing me the base, then?”

“Sure. Here, I’ll hold it down, you really jam that in there and I’ll reinforce it with the glue.”

“Ugh, that’s such a good idea,” you smacked your forehead, “why did I think the foam was enough?”

“Hey,” San put his hand on your shoulder, peering into your eyes, “it’s ok. It’s just a silly craft project.”

“Y- you’re right,” you replied, forcing yourself to stare as deeply back, even if you did blush.

“Well, I mean, your work isn’t silly, just the concept of-”

“You’re good. I know what you mean.”

~

An hour later, it was finished. The tower sat on the end of your table, keeping watch over you and San, you had his hands folded on the table as you told him your favorite embarrassing story of your eccentric great-grandfather.

“The mustard got in her glasses and everything!”

San doubled over, one hand slapping the table and the other falling onto your shoulder. You smiled in satisfaction, pausing to take a proud sip of your drink.

“And she stayed for the game?”

“Are you kidding? The office was paying for the tickets!”

“Oh, that’s great!” He laughed.

“I know.”

“We should go to a game,” San said, his eyes suddenly falling to the table as he played with his hands, “you know, at the campus stadium. Our baseball team has a game on friday. U-unless you're not comfortable with that, then my friend Jongho can come with us and-"

Your, surely baggy by now, eyes widened slightly, a smile rising back to your lips through your intent listening. "Not comfortable? Like, go as in a date?"

"We don't have to, though, we can totally just get a group to-"

"Tell Jongho I said he can stay home," you cut him off with a grin, joking to play off the backflips your ribcage was doing, especially when San smiled at you like that, I mean come on it's like you told him you were handing him his dreams and sheesh those dimples, "I mean, I don't even know him."

"Are you sure? Because he's one of my roommates, and he was building a Japan tower on our kitchen counter this morning."

"Oh. Well in that case, just tell him you found a girl who likes cute baristas."

This time, it was San's turn to blush, though he covered it by reaching for your hands, seemingly not caring about the glue splotches sullying your skin. "I- I will."

~

If you weren't already sure you made the right choice by San helping you secure an A on your project or the way he looked at you, you knew you did when he insisted on buying you a school mascot plushie and including it in your fieldside selfie together and when he practically tackled you into his arms upon hearing you confess that you only went to the café to see him.

[avampyone]

Prompt #21: A long-awaited reunion

Characters: Hemlocke(Seraphine), Pierre Beaufort, mentions of Gloucent and Olivia.

Synopsis: Hemlocke has the opportunity to connect with his old tutor from when he lived in Ishgard.

Setting: During a mission in Sharlayan, The Last Stand.

Warning - none

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

It was well into the evening that Hemlocke was seen sitting across from an older elezen man with distinctly deep red hair and sideburns at one of the tables outside at the Last Stand. He was wearing the black robes of a Sharlayan professor, one of which that he himself could not help but to peer over to admire with a smile brightening his features, no matter how awkward he felt, “Teaching classes and married with two children, eh? It pleases me to see you so happy. And I happen to know personally that you are the best teacher one could ever wish for.”  He commented in all sincerity, taking another sip from his frozen coffee.

Pierre, always having been on the emotional side, brought up his handkerchief to press to his bright green gaze that was threatening to start tearing up again at any moment as he patted them delicately, “Yes, I have been incredibly happy! Although, I always hoped you would understand Gloucent gave me no choice but to leave…I knew it had been him all along. So, you say that he passed in the manor fire…good riddance.” He spoke in such a finality, like his spirits had been lifted from the knowledge he'd been right to suspect him, and that Olivia had been avenged.

“If only I had been able to take you two to Sharlayan  before it all happened…” Hemlocke reached to grab Pierre’s gloved hand in his own to hold in a gentle squeeze and shake his head, bloody depths glinting as if to plead him to think otherwise, “Please do not blame yourself. It was not your fault at all. Our lives were changed by your presence there, you know? Even after witnessing such unpleasantries, you still sought to stay with us…” He knew well now that Gloucent would have kept dragging them back no matter how far they tried to run.

“Our memories together are still those of which I think of fondly. And well...I also wanted to give you this. It was last thing I retrieved when I was running out of the manor. I know she would have liked you to have it...” Hemlocke had always been a clever kid, enough to know that Pierre had loved Olivia and the two had been a secret item for a time until the day of her passing.

Maybe it would have been wrong in the eyes of the church had anyone found out, but he hadn’t cared so long as to see the two happy. Taking a moment to reach down, he brought out a small white container from his satchel to open and present a wide tooth wooden comb decorated with an ornate gold filigree.

To see this, Pierre’s eyes widened when he carefully reached to pick up the comb to carefully brush the pad of his thumb over the surface – like he was reconnecting with those better times, “I still cannot help but hold love for her and for you, Seraphine. I’ve thought of you as my own son, and I still do...” He sniffled into the handkerchief with heavy tears threatening to roll down again.

Hemlocke was about to say something more, but suddenly felt those hands on his cheeks and groaned a little with a flush of embarrassment to feel Pierre’s fingers suddenly pinch them outward as far as they could go as if to inspect something himself, “And look at you now! Back then, I admit I was worried that you always only ever seemed a shade of a boy...but I think this travel has done you well! All grown up now too...”

A gasp of a little surprise escaped Hemlocke when he suddenly embraced him and brought him in close to sob suddenly against his shoulder. He was not sure how he would explain his wet shirt, but he chuckled out loud in amusement and patted gently at his back, “Oh come now...t-this is a little embarrassing you know? Eheh, still wonderful to know some things never change!”

[danceworshipper]

@hphm-ship-week Prompt 2: Quidditch

aka part one of my 'Rowan is gay no matter what gender they are' agenda

Ship: m!Rowan/Murphy 💙🦅

Date: June 3rd, 1989 (fifth year)

Rowan quickly decided that the view from the Commentary Box was the best. Well, of course it was, logistically speaking, it needed to be so that Murphy could accurately describe what was going on to the whole crowd, but he hadn't realized just how much better it was up here. The view was easily worth the amount of stairs he'd had to climb. He'd only thought about asking to be levitated like Murphy a few times.

It still felt like he was somewhere he wasn't supposed to be, despite none of the professors telling Rowan to rejoin his fellow Ravenclaws. Murphy had said that he was allowed to have a friend or two with him, but Rowan had never seen anyone else be invited up here until today. He hoped that meant he was special.

Murphy was as animated as ever, speaking fast enough to not miss a single detail of the match. Ravenclaw vs Gryffindor, playing for the Quidditch Cup - it was a big deal. It was big enough, in fact, that Murphy seemed to be having a spot of trouble remaining unbiased.

"An excellent block by the Ravenclaw keeper," he exclaimed. "Better luck next time, Gryffindor!"

After a while, Rowan found himself no longer paying attention to the match at all, instead watching Murphy. He really was in his element up here; it was no surprise that he'd been the commentator since he first arrived at Hogwarts. Murphy was clever, too, if his creative strategies were anything to go off of. He'd been sneakily helping Ravenclaw win from behind the scenes all year. Rowan wondered if Madam Hooch had actually not caught on, or if she simply didn't care enough to stop him.

"Gryffindor's seeker spots the snitch!" Murphy announced, and the Ravenclaw seeker's neck nearly snapped with how fast she turned it.

Rowan watched as she pushed her broom to the absolute limits, Murphy ignoring a goal from Gryffindor to cheer her on, much to Professor McGonagall's annoyance. Gryffindor's seeker dove hard to the right, causing Ravenclaw's to fly past him, but the maneuver backfired when the snitch darted to the left instead, directly into the Ravenclaw seeker's outstretched hand. She stared at it in shock before lifting it high above her head with a victory cry.

"Ravenclaw has caught the snitch!" Murphy shouted. "With 320 points, Ravenclaw wins the match!"

Professor Flitwick nearly fell off the bench behind Rowan as he scrambled to set off a Blue Sparks charm in his excitement. The crowd down in the stands went absolutely wild, screaming and throwing hats, scarves, whatever they could as they rushed out of the stands to congratulate the winning team. Rowan had little interest in being a part of that stampede, so he stayed right where he was.

It had nothing to do with wanting to talk to Murphy, who looked positively ecstatic that Ravenclaw had won.

"I knew they could do it!" he told Rowan. "That last bit of broomwork was some of the most impressive I've ever seen! Even if she hadn't gotten to the snitch first, I've never seen someone with an older model be able to catch up to someone like that - I suspect that Gryffindor will demand a detection spell on that broom to make sure it wasn't enchanted, which it wasn't obviously because she'd never do that - "

"Parkin would," Rowan interjected.

Murphy narrowed his eyes, considering. " ...fair. But did you see? That strategy I invented for the beaters saved our chasers from eighty-seven-point-three percent of the bludgers, a twenty-two-point-five percent increase from the last match - "

Rowan leaned against the ledge of the box, jaw in his hand as he listened. Admittedly, he hadn't been watching the beaters much, but he'd been Murphy's guinea pig for explaining the new strategy so he knew exactly what he was talking about. The whole thing had almost made Rowan wish that he'd tried out for the team when there was an opening, but he knew he was better off watching. He was a member of the much more relaxed Quidditch Club and it suited him just fine.

"Do you think they'll have to test if the snitch was charmed too?" Rowan asked, cutting Murphy off again.

Murphy hummed. "About a fifty-six-point-eight percent chance, if they have the broom checked."

"Where do you come up with these numbers?"

"Incredible mental math," Murphy said, and winked.

Rowan laughed, but that wink did things to him... it mostly just made him nervous.

They stayed in the Commentator Box until long after the professors had all cleared out - Professor McGonagall confidently telling Professor Flitwick that he wouldn't be so lucky next year - lost in their talk of strategy and how the team could improve even more next year. They only paused when Orion came up to find Murphy, saying that the team desired his presence at their victory party.

"The jubilance is high, but your energy is missing," Orian said. "Equilibrium will not be found until our guiding hand is present."

Whatever that meant.

"Can't let the team down," Murphy told him. "Any chance you can get me out of here?"

"Of course. Allow me to reach the ground first. Walk with me?" Orion asked, addressing Rowan.

"Oh," Rowan said, caught off guard. "Yeah, sure. See you in a minute, McNully."

Too many stairs, Rowan thought to himself, trying to breathe evenly so that Orion didn't notice his struggle. Orion had such a grace to him, both in flight and on the ground, which was something that Murphy brought up frequently when brainstorming strategies. Orion simply wasn't an aggressive enough player for a good portion of the well known strategies, which is why Murphy started inventing new ones in the first place. The way he talked about it, Orion was actually an advantage to Ravenclaw, because he made moves that none of his opponents ever saw coming. He was well deserving of being the captain of the team.

"The two of you seem well in harmony," Orion said, startling Rowan.

"Huh?"

Orion smiled knowingly. "I expect good news soon in regards to you both. Maybe even today?"

Rowan was certain that he was bright red. "I don't know what you're implying," he protested.

"You do."

Well then.

They stepped out into the sunlight, and Orion raised his wand to levitate Murphy out of the box. Rowan wondered why no one had thought to install an elevator, even if it had to be a manual one due to the high magic saturation in the air near the castle. Surely that would be easier than this? Maybe he should suggest the idea to Professor Flitwick the next time he met with him.

"Ah, solid ground," Murphy said, wheeling over to Rowan and Orion. "Party time!"

"Indeed," Orion agreed.

Murphy turned his head. "Hey, Khanna, you coming?"

Rowan scratched the back of his neck, suddenly very nervous. "I mean, it's in the common room, so I guess I have to, don't I?"

"Reluctance, that's the spirit!" Murphy joked.

Orion tilted his head, that knowing smile reappearing. "Perhaps, Murphy, you should accompany him, so he does not feel left out."

Too busy glaring at Orion, Rowan almost missed Murphy turning red.

"I think it's an excellent idea, don't you?" Orion pressed.

Murphy cleared his throat with a cough. "Yeah, yeah, I could do that. Easy. We can continue our conversation," he added, quickly regaining confidence. "I may take you on properly as a strategy apprentice, Khanna. You've got good insights."

Rowan's voice cracked when he laughed. If only a Cursed Vault would suddenly open, causing a terrible emergency. Alas, the earth never opens up and swallows you when you want it to.

[danpuff-ao3]

I was wondering if you had any recommendations for fics with jealous Snape? I love love love your work - Cruel Summer introduced me to your wonderful writing, which lead me down the Snarry rabbit hole 🥰🩷

Hello there! What excellent taste you have 😎 With the jealous Snape, I mean. I'm a sucker for jealousy in fics. All those ugly emotions other people don't like very much? Sign me up!

I'm also so glad you loved Cruel Summer and have read more of my work! That makes my heart so glad to know, thank you! 🥰

There's not half enough jealous!Snape fics for my liking, but I've gathered a few here and I hope you find some you like! I won't bother self reccing as you're already reading my works 🤭 Happy reading!

Foundations (or Where Do We Go From Here)

by avioleta. Rated: E. Words: 17,788. Hogwarts Eighth Year. First Time. Angst with a Happy Ending.

After the war, Severus retreats to the solitude of his dungeons. There are potions to brew, repair work to be done, and lessons to plan. But then Harry Potter begins turning up at all hours, wanting little more—it seems—than to irritate Severus. Severus doesn’t know what Potter wants. But he doesn’t know what he wants, either. From the original prompt: Severus knows it’s not love or even affection that brings Harry Potter to his rooms at night.

A Long Time Coming

by Conzieu. Rated: E. Words: 191,133. UST. Harry/other. Happy ending.

There are signs from the days after the battle of Hogwarts that there is much more to Severus and Harry’s relationship than the conflict and hatred that had define it until then. It will take ten years of changes, personal growth, and maturing, as well as one year when both of them change careers and return to Hogwarts, for their feelings to finally overcome their prejudices, assumptions and fears and for the love of these soulmates to triumph.

Blowing Smoke

by DawnofTomorrow. Rated: E. Words: 231,967. Slow burn. Getting together. Self-discovery. Bottom!Snape. Oblivious!Harry. Pining. Awkward flirting.

Harry doesn't care about Snape beyond having to sit detentions with the man despite being of age. He doesn't. He asks him out for a drink just to get out of detention. So what if it's... nice? So what if they become friends? So what if Snape *is* lonely? It's not Harry's problem - at least not until he realises he's accidentally befriended the man, and just how much he cares for Snape. Well, shit.

Tart

by gracerene. Rated: E. Words: 652.

Written for the prompts: Pairing: Severus Snape/Harry Potter Prompts: This desire is eating me up… Word Prompts: jam, jealous, jackhammer Kink: Partially clothed sex

The Potter Phenomenon

by ines_iz. Rated: E. Words: 31,548. Internalized homophobia. Angst. Eventual fluff. Postwar. Coming out. Professor Harry Potter. Pining. Jealousy.

When Harry Potter, queer star of the Wizarding World, returns to Hogwarts as the new Defence professor, Severus Snape is not happy. In fact, he is positively outraged. Not only does Severus have to endure the man's obnoxious behaviour (not to mention his ridiculous sense of fashion), but he also ends up being dragged into Potter's attention-seeking plans — and, ultimately, is forced to face a few demons of his own. Or: Harry Potter Goes Gay (and the entirety of Hogwarts Goes Gay with him)

Appearances

by Queen_of_the_Castle. Rated: G. Words: 186.

Harry and Draco spend a lot of time together. Severus suspects Harry of cheating.

Pandora Awakes

by whitecotton. Rated: E. Words: 1,390. Harry/other. Tragedy. Angst. Voyeurism.

Legend has it that hope is left inside Pandora’s box. However, it is the other things that were released when the box was opened that hold our attention.

[coffeeandmagicaltales]

The Auror & The Devil part 1

The defender of Hogwarts, a fifth-year student, Morana, doesn't feel the taste of victory, but the pain of responsabilities tied to the ancient magic. After Professor Fig's death, prof. Sharp was supposed to take on the role of her mentor. Not because he wanted to, but because others had refused... Why?

A story born in my head, about my OC character Morana and prof. Aesop Sharp. Sorry for my english, I'm from Poland.

(Student-teacher relationship platonic (for now), mentioned trauma, mentioned death, extensive use of the word f*ck, make some coffee/tea and enjoy)

*

Morana.

That name was the only thing her parents had left her. Just a few years ago, she'd tried to delve deep into her memories, to reach even the slightest trace of their presence in the far corners of her mind, to find a glimpse of what had long been gone. She'd found nothing: neither their faces nor their names. Back then, it had filled her with anger and a sense of injustice, but now? Now, everything was murky, and her mind was covered in an unsettling fog.

So much had happened recently. For a while now, she had lost control over the abilities she once used to scare the children she lived with in the orphanage. She could honestly say that back then, it used to be just an innocent mischief on her part, and no harm had been done to anyone - that's how it had been for years. Even when the Dimms took her into their home, and it seemed she had found a safe haven for herself... those "abilities" remained, surfacing when someone got under her skin by criticizing the scar on her face, pointing out that she was an orphan, or worse, calling her a "witch."

Now the memory of the strangely dressed, gray-haired old man who had appeared on her doorstep and announced that she had indeed been a witch, and that he'd teach her magic in a place for people like her, filled her with a pleasant sense of nostalgia. Professor Fig had been thrown out of the Dimms' house, as they initially thought he had been a madman and chased him away with pitchforks. Only the second time he'd managed to talk sense into them... Morana suspected he had added something to the whisky which he had brought with him as an apology for the previous misunderstanding.

She chuckled lightly, remembering how he'd insisted to make a toast for Morana's future, then just moistened his lips in the glass, impatiently watching her adoptive parents. When their cups had been empty, they had suddenly became huge enthusiasts of witchcraft, and the idea of enrolling a confused Morana at the School of Magic and Wizardry had seemed obvious to them. Now, she was almost certain that Professor Sharp had been behind it. Wonder what Fig had told him? He'd probably mentioned a problem with muggle guardians of a certain witch who had seemed to be extraordinary... Concidering her old age and the letter from Ministry indicating her placement on the fifth year, and oh, Merlin, he had to bring her to Hogwarts! Sharp probably had just nodded silently, heading toward the dungeons, secretly delighted by the fact that he could finally show off his skills and do something other than brew another Wiggenweld Potion for a student who'd fell off their broom. Fig had probably expected some fancy potion in a even fancier bottle, but the Master of Potions had handed him a bottle of regular liquor.

"Well... This isn't what I expected, but thank you," he had probably said without hiding his disappointment.

"Professor, this gift isn't for you; it's for a lovely couple," Sharp had said, with a hint of sarcasm in his voice. His face had been devoid of any emotion, but a cunning spark had danced in his dark eyes. "I suggest you have a toast at Sirona's place... after your return, and it better be a butter beer not this."

Fig probably had felt relieved then.

He'd always had such high hopes in his mysterious student...

Morana's smile faded, she felt a piercing cold and her back was completely numb from sitting in an uncomfortable position. She realised that she didn't know for how long she had been sitting on the potion's class floor, staring out the window. It could have been just a few moments. It could have been hours. She held several envelopes in her hands, signed with the name Prof. A. Sharp. She stared at the letters with a vacant gaze as she collected her thoughts.

Oh yes, she was supposed to deliver the documents to Sharp... He must had not been around; she had probably sat by the window to wait for him and her thoughts drifted away.

After Professor Fig's death, he was supposed to take on the role of her mentor. Not because he wanted to, but because others had refused... Why? She thought that everyone liked her, that other teachers had seen potential in her- the ambitious student, the pride of Slytherin, and everyone had dreamed of taking on the role of her guardian... She had been sure they wouldn't leave her alone, especially when she'd needed someone's words of encouragement the most, after everything that had happened just a week ago... She had hoped to be taken under the wing of Professor Garlick, Hecat, or Ronen, to quickly recover and forget about the battle with the Goblins and the powerful magic that now lied dormant within her... However, one evening, as she had wandered the school corridors alone, not wanting to meet her peers, she had accidentally overheard a conversation between the headmaster and Mrs. Weasley. It had seemed that the council had had other pressing matters at hand, some of them "not to be delayed." Weasley had lamented that the excuses she had heard from them had been laced with fear of Morana's "abilities."

"It seems to me they're not sure if they can handle such a task..." she whispered. "Morana is truly extraordinary, even among us, wizards... I've seen what she can do with my own eyes... Also, I've heard rumors that, aside from her classes, she has been committing acts... hmm..." She had hesitated, and Morana had been certain Weasley wanted to use a word somewhere between "dangerous," "reckless," and "brutal."

"Well, what kind of acts, Mrs. Weasley?" Black had grumbled and waved his hand carelessly. "She's just a fifth-year student who's alive not thanks to her so-called 'abilities,' as you put it, but to great luck. I informed the Ministry on time, and the Aurors arrived to control the situation. The rest of Ranrok's followers were arrested. Professor Fig, in my opinion, was not in his right mind to involve a child in adult matters, and if he had survived, there would have been a letter of dismissal waiting for him on my desk, that's my opinion!" he had grunted.

Professor Weasley had refrained from saying anything unpleasant, and Morana had felt an unpleasant twist in her stomach as she discreetly clenched her fists.

"All of a sudden, everyone thinks they can set their own rules in my school, what a joke!" Black had said, pacing back and forth in the corridor, browsing through the letters from the teachers, his face full of disgust. "Since the abilities of a fifth-year allegedly embarrass the distinguished group of teachers, as you put it, of course, let Aesop Sharp take care of her. I see that only he is competent enough to handle the extraordinary case, according to you, of course. And that's the end of our little chat! I have more important things to deal with than discussing such a trivial problem, which should have been resolved days ago! What a nonsense!" He'd pushed the letters into Professor Weasley's hands and walked away, leaving her alone. She'd stood in silence for a moment, analyzing the headmaster's words, staring at the pile of papers.

"Whatever you wish, Headmaster," she had said as quied as she could, seething with anger. "Aesop Sharp... so be it... He'll probably be pleased..." she'd muttered, rolling her eyes, and then disappeared from Morana's view.

Morana finally stood up from the potion's class floor, dusting off her clothes, and glanced at the window once more. The greenish light enveloped her tired, scarred, and bruised face. With a quick hand movement, she checked if the scar was hidden beneath a few strands of her jet-black hair, then she adjusted the bun that had started to lose its shape since she had styled it in the morning. She took a deep breath, rubbing her eyes... She was so terribly exhausted, the memories of fights with Goblins racing through her mind drained her of energy and deprived her of sleep, subjecting her to a hail of nightmares every night, in which she wasn't the victim of pain inflicted by Ranrok's magic... The others writhed in agony at the slightest movement of her wand, begging her for mercy.

"Are you alright, Miss Dimm?" - her body became numb when she heard Professor Sharp's deep voice behind her. She preferred not to turn towards him for a moment, hoping that her embarrassment would magically vanish from her face.

"I'm sorry, I got lost in thoughts.. I apologize for interrupting, here are the documents, I'll be going now..." she said, handing the envelopes to the teacher and not looking up, quickly heading towards the exit.

"Please wait... I'd like to talk..." his voice unexpectedly softened, enough to make her pause and turn in his direction. She had no desire to talk to anyone, especially with the most gruff person in the world, whose smile was rarer than a sight of a snidget, and whose lessons made her nauseous. Why, oh why did Black had to choose him of all people for Merlin's sake!?

Aesop Sharp indicated a chair set across from his own seat on the other side of the round desk. Morana quickly took her seat and fixed her gaze on the Sharp's gleaming badge, carefully arranged in a box near his workspace. Sharp adjusted himself in the chair for a moment, trying not to strain his leg too much, and pushed the envelopes aside without paying them any attention; he knew what they contained.

"I've been here for a while- I didn't want to disturb you. I was sure you'd fallen asleep..."

Damn... here it goes... she thought, preparing for a conversation about how "one can rely on friends," which she had been served by everyone she had met for the past week. Every pat on the back and word of sympathy, instead of helping her, made her stomach turn and left her even more confused. She took a deep breath focusing reh all attention on the badge.

Sharp observed her carefully, analyzing the emptiness in her sad, blue eyes, every nervous movement, and her hunched posture- she'd surerely prefered to leap up and hide somewhere far away. He was stern, yes, but even though students sometimes got on his nerves, he cared for everyone equally and wanted each of them to choose the best path for themselves... Except for Garreth, maybe... Aesop secretly wished that Mr. Weasley's path led him first to a puddle of honey and then to a nest of billywigs... As for Morana... Merlin, he had seen with his own eyes what this girl could do with Goblins, and previously, when he'd spied on poachers out of pure boredom, he had often heard about a black-haired woman with a scar on her face who had wreaked havoc in their camps... He was rather certain that Unforgivable Curses were not foreign to her as well, which increasingly worried him. He felt resentful towards Professor Fig for often being absent and more focused on the "cause" than on the young woman's safety. Sharp didn't want her knowledge and strength to blind her as they had once did him; no one deserved that. He pondered how to work with this extraordinary person without causing her further harm... Aspiring to be a "fatherly figure" to a student was the height of foolishness for him, and he certainly didn't want to be her mentor, especially since he couldn't see himself in the role that Fig had perhaps played in Morana's life... Damned Black, as always, had to make Sharp's already miserable life as a teacher even more unbearable. What was he supposed to do?

"Miss Dimm, I would'd love this Auror's badge to remind me of the old times for the rest of my days, and you're about to drill a hole in it with your gaze... My face isn't that precious to me, and I'd appreciate it if you looked in my direction," he said in his usual sarcastic tone, but his dark eyes were full of concern. Morana smiled slightly, surprised that these grumpy words actually amused her. Sharp had many flaws, and she didn't particularly enjoy his presence, but she had always been fascinated by the distance he kept from himself. He must have suffered both physically and mentally, but despite the hardships, he tried to walk as much as possible and he not even once hid the scar. He was always well-dressed and elegant... Everyone treated him with respect, and no one dared to mock how clumsily he moved. Some even claimed that Professor Garlik was the most beautiful teacher, and the title of the most handsome professor often went to Sharp... Morana didn't think they were aware of it.

Sharp unexpectedly pushed the box with the badge towards her, and the corner of his mouth twitched slightly, sending her a warm smile. He nodded, giving her permission to take a closer look at the memento. She hesitantly took the trinket in her hands.

"It wasn't always good..." he began with a velvety tone. "Actually, it was rarely good, but the memories, although painful, taught me a lot."

"Do you regret what you sometimes had to do?"

"Hmmm, what answer do you want to hear from me?" his intelligent eyes gleamed mysteriously.

"The real one," she whispered, and Sharp rumbled and nodded, pleased with what he heard from the girl's mouth.

"Aurors have long been shrouded in the myth of perfect wizards. The best of the best, the strongest, the smartest, the absolute top. All the nonsense that inflates the ego of young recruits. Yes, we do hire only those with the best academic records, but there's another side to the coin... Someone who believes they're the chosen one will take up the job faster... And the Ministry suffers from a perpetual shortage of personnel due to its high mortality rate, which, of course, is not openly discussed. Aurors are people, just like everyone else, and they make mistakes, often causing more chaos than good. Yes, just like anywhere else, those in a better position have it easier... And yes, many of us were once the very evil we were fighting against, but with a nice badge on their robes." Sharp fell silent for a moment, gazing at his own badge, before continuing. "Some of us descended into the decadence, and it wasn't clear whether they should be locked in Azkaban or the Dark Wizards w used to fight against. I've had that dilemma many times, I knew the names of a few Aurors... although it's not proper to speak ill of the dead, one of them was an uncle of the long-time colleague of yours, Mr. Solomon Sallow..." Morana nervously swallowed, recalling Sebastian teaching her how to cast Avada Kedavra curse just after he used it on his uncle... She felt her head spin, but she didn't want to show any signs of it, so she gripped the armrest of the chair and continued listening to the professor. "We never got along. When I offered him help in finding a cure for Ann, he kicked me out of his house... Well, that's something you shouldn't know," he added quickly, blushing slightly and weighing his words. "Things he did overwhelmed him, and he gave up his career... As for my observations of other wizards, I was told to follow orders and not be interested in what doesn't concern me, so I kept quiet and often gave them permission to do many atrocities, which still haunt me to this day..."

"I'm sorry to hear that." Morana confessed.

"Oh, fortunately, I'm just a regular potions professor now, and I'm not bound by any Auror orders... You could say I have a few open, private investigations... Nothing destresses me more after lessons with you all than tracking down murderers and making their lives miserable..."

Morana laughed genuinely. "Your lessons stress you out?"

"You have no idea... I'm responsible for all of you, first of all, and secondly, I get quite nervous when I have to explain fairly complex recipes and not make any mistakes, with at least a dozen pairs of eyes fixed on me. That's a crowd, as far as I'm concerned, and I'm not a born speaker like our beloved Professor Black..."

Sharp watched with satisfaction as a spark of life returned to Morana's eyes, and he himself felt better, being able to have a casual conversation with someone and seeing that they were laughing at his less-than-stellar joke.

"The only thing I'd like to ask of you, Miss Dimm... Hmm, let's skip the 'mentor' or 'guardian' titles, as I want to treat my students equally... If we are to work together, I want to be sure that you trust me as much as I can trust you."

Morana didn't know what had happened or why those words had made her burst into tears. All the walls surrounding her fears and anger fell like sandcastles. Sharp looked at her in surprise, not knowing what had just happened

"Trust!?" She suddenly growled, slowly losing control of herself. Damn this school, her future, and if necessary, she'd go to Black herself and repeat to him what she was about to tell Sharp. They might try to lock her up in Azkaban, ha! She'd get far away from here. No one would find her, no one would track her down.

Sharp knew that something was brewing. He observed her face intently as various emotions washed over it, and anger began to dominate. Instinctively, he knew he needed to be ready to draw his wand if necessary.

"Do you think this pathetic conversation will make me trust you? That you can trust me? I'm a monster! I've always been one! I went from an orphanage to orphanage. I don't know my surname, I don't know how old I am, I don't know how long I roamed the woods and survived on what I found, how long I slept hidden in the cellars of strangers. All I know is that everyone has feared the magic in me from the beginning. They called me a witch, they drove me away, and when I came to Hogwarts, it only seemed like home for a brief moment... And don't tell I'm like the other students... What's inside me can obliterate enemies and I feel satisfaction when ancient magic flows through me, fully unleashed..." She extended her wand, aiming it at Sharp, who stood completely unfazed, which added fuel to the fire raging within her. "Do you think I don't know Unforgivable Curses!? I've killed goblins, I've killed poachers! I'm no different from dark wizards; you can write to the Ministry and report me, but I won't give in without a fight! Ha!"

She waved her wand, turning part of the potion's class into dust.

Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck... Sharp yelled in his mind, but deep down, he knew he couldn't show his fear. He straightened up, furrowing his brows severely, and patiently waited for the situation to develop.

"It doesn't matter that I'm evil to the core, no one will take my freedom! I'll escape, just like I always have... I'm free, and no pathetic Auror!..."

This was the moment: for a split second, she lowered her wand, and Sharp quickly seized her wrist and disarmed her, then apparated them both.

Morana fell onto the cold grass, and the fine, sharp rain felt like thousands of needles piercing her body with each gust of the howling wind. Confused, she looked around; she was on a hill, surrounded by fog.

Sharp stood a few steps away, focusing on her, his wand pointed at her.

"Show me what you can do," his voice dark and hollow, his eyes gleaming ominously in the steely light. A shiver ran down Morana's spine and cold sweat covered her skin. For a moment, she hesitated, but the way the man stood, looking at her... with such pride and self-assuredness... it sent her blood boiling.

"Confringo!" she yelled, and a fiery bolt streaked through the air, crashing into Sharp's shield with a resounding blast. He merely raised an eyebrow, looking at her with an unruffled expression, which further infuriated her. She launched a barrage of spells at him, those that normally shattered poacher's camps into splinters - all of them were easily deflected. Sharp moved swiftly, despite the piercing pain in his leg, and his wand movements were fluid and elegant, unlike Morana's, who was growing increasingly desperate.

"Well, maybe the stories of the Goblin Slayer are about someone else..." he said nonchalantly, shrugging his shoulders, and deflected another massive boulder that normally knocked dark wizards off their feet. "Unless you've been facing goblins from the Ranrok's reserve..."

"No way! By what... right!..." she shouted, feeling an increasing urge to bring him down, to make him and example of her stenght. Ancient magic coursed through her veins. She made her decision and summoned the most powerful strike she had ever conjured, aimed directly at her teacher. The sky brightened, and the thunderous roar echoed throughout the valley.

She was breathing heavily, slowly regaining her senses. What had she done? Sharp must be injured for sure... Her heart pounded in her chest as she desperately scanned through the remaining smoke to find her teacher's fallen body. What had she done? What tempted her? How could she!?

She conjured a vial of Wiggenweld Potion, ready to rush to his aid immediately... but he stood in the same spot, completely unfazed.

"How?" she whined.

"Expelliarmus! Accio!" she heard Sharp's voice behind her, and her wand flew out of her hand, tumbling to the ground at her feet, summoned directly into Sharp's hand, who happened to stand right behind her.

Professor Sharp, who had been standing before her, blurred in the air and disappeared completely.

"I like this potion..." Sharp confessed calmly, tucking his wand into his sleeve. "Not to brag, but I'm its creator..."

The wind dispersed the misty clouds, revealing the gray veil covering the area. They were on a hill just outside Hogwarts. The wet castle walls glistened in the timid rays of the sun, finally breaking free from the thick clouds. It became peaceful; the rain stopped pelting and now only lightly drizzled, accompanied by the joyful rustling of grass. It was so quiet. So pleasant.

Morana sank to her knees and burst into tears.

"I'm so sorry," she sobbed, and Sharp sat down next to her, silently offering Morana her wand. He winced when his leg bent slightly more than he had planned, but the relief he felt for the outcome of such situation compensated for the discomfort. He wasn't entirely sure what to do, whether to pat Morana on the back or hug her... It wouldn't be appropriate, but then again, if any female teacher wanted to comfort her with a hug, no one would find it inappropriate...

"Oi!" he exclaimed as Morana threw herself into his arms, soaking his cloak with her tears. He stiffened slightly, raising his arms cautiously to avoid touching her too much. Nervously, he patted her shoulder with just the tips of his fingers.

"Would you like some warm tea?" he asked gently, and his words poured a warm balm over her heart. She nodded, still swallowing tears.

Sharp released himself from the awkward embrace and helped her to her feet, leading her a few steps to the edge of the hill. Morana wiped her tears, noticing that nearby on the ground sat two stuffed animals along with tea cups. There was a niffler and... something that looked like a very poor attempt at recreating a mandrake.

"I like to come here," Sharp confessed, conjuring a teapot with deliciously scented warm tea and poured it into the cups. With a quick wave of his wand, he dried their clothes and Morana felt the pleasant warmth on her skin. "This plush mandrake has been sitting here for as long as I can remember," he laughed, tilting his chin towards the toy. "I wouldn't be surprised if it were some sort of a dark-magic- relic, or it turned out to be haunted... So I preferred not to touch it. But... it used to sit here all those years, so sad and lonely... And a few years ago, I decided that no matter how evil and haunted it might be, it needed a friend..." he gently patted the niffler, who sat beside the mandrake. "Every year, the teaching staff has a little holiday tradition where we draw lots to determine who we'll buy a christmas gift for... On my first year here as a teacher, I was drawn by prof. Howin... well I didn't know that every year, whoever she draws someone's name she gives them a plush niffler... Some of us have eight or ten of them by now..."

Morana smiled through her tears, sipping the sweet tea that tasted like a dream and calmed her emotions so well, that she wondered if it wasn't also one of Sharp's creations. She contemplated for a moment, looking towards the mandrake.

"I don't sense any traces of magic in it... Neither dark nor ancient..." She said very quietly. "It seems to me it just... got lost."

"Well... being lost happens sometimes and it's hard," Sharp smiled at her warmly. "It's good that now she's not alone."

End of part 1. Thanks for reading!

[leviathans-watching]

mfil - 11

-` ♡ ´- m.list | no taglist | next

-` ♡ ´- a/n: sry this is late <33 hope you enjoy!!

*NOT CLICKBAIT!!!* when asmo learns that you, the newest exchange student has a youtube account and following somewhat comparable to his own, he decided right then and there not to like you. however, after an unfortunate (and misleading) exchange goes viral, he has no choice but to fake date you in order to save face. will asmo crush you and put you into place like you deserve? or are those funny feelings in his stomach not hate, like he had thought? like, subscribe, and maybe fall in love (with this smau) to find out!!

“we changed seats?” you murmur as you look up at the board and see a new seating chart posted. all of the tables have been moved from their groups of four to by themselves, separating each desk of two from one another. you see your old seatmate at a table near the back, already chatting with their new table partner and mourn for a moment, remembering how easy it had been to get along with her even though you didn’t really know her.

it only takes a moment for you to find your name, and with a jolt you realize you recognize your seat partner. it’s asmodeus, the avatar of lust you’d met before. hopefully he remembers you!

dropping your bag on the ground by your chair, you sit in your seat. it’s only a few minutes before asmodeus sits down next to you, and you turn to him with a smile. “oh, hey! it looks like we’re seat partners. how cool is that?”

“so cool.” his eye twitches and you hope he’s alright.

“i wonder if this means we’ll be paired up for the project,” you continue. “i mean, why else would she have changed our seats to an arrangement like this?”

“we’ll see,” is all he replies with. maybe he’s had a bad day? whenever you see him in the halls he’s always really chatty. or maybe he’s sad because he was separated from his old table? they always look like they have a lot of fun in class.

the professor begins the class, and as you’d suspected, asmodeus is your new partner for the several-week-long project. you’re excited- your old school never did projects on this level and you hope it’ll be a fun new experience. and the topic seems interesting. each pair has to choose one spell and research it’s history, aspects, basically everything about it, then prepare a ten-minute presentation on all of it to give to the rest of the class.

at least my partner will be good at presenting, you think, remembering how charismatic asmodeus is. you don’t really have problems standing up in front of a crowd, and it’s always better when your group can, as a whole, be confident and together. it always makes your research look more solid and better and keeps the class engaged well. and you know he’s got a good eye for design, as shows by his aesthetic posts, meaning that between the two of you, you should be able to come up with a gorgeous presentation.

the whole class period is spent detailing the project, and your professor leaves you with the instructions of choosing a spell and making a research plan. you tuck the rubric you’d been given into your folder, making a mental note to look at it more closely later. no two groups can have the same one so it’s important the spell’s chosen really quickly.

you still don’t know many spells, at least, definitely not as many as asmodeus, so you figure you’ll kind of let him take the lead on choosing. but when you go to tell him that at the end of class, he’s already out of his seat and out the door. dang, you’ll have to catch him later.

maybe he really had to pee?

leviathans-watching's work - please do not copy, repost, or claim as your own

[luci-in-the-stars]

Magical Accommodations

TIMING: Late August LOCATION: A classroom at UMWR PARTIES: @luci-in-the-stars & @lithium-argon-wo-l-f SUMMARY: After class Luci approaches Professor Córdova about some concerns she has about lab work. The two come up with some accommodations. CONTENT WARNING: Slight Sibling death tw (mentioned)

Luci was trying her best to at least not annoy every professor she had. Now that was hopeless when it came to her English class -she simply didn’t care to understand the symbolism of whatever the yellow wallpaper was supposed to be. She simply couldn’t care if that professor liked her - and seeing the sigh she got last class she suspected that she wasn’t her favorite student.

She did want Professor Córdova to like her though, especially if she was ever going to have access to the chemistry lab. He seemed nice and approachable as well, and while she couldn’t say that about herself she did admire the trait in others. So Luci, despite her wanting to ask so many questions and sit in the front, tried to refrain. Still, today she couldn’t help herself as she took up her notebook thinking that she should introduce herself and see if she could get on his good side. 

“Hello, Professor Córdova. My name is Luci - I sit in the fifth row to the side? I was wondering when your office hours are or if you have some time now. I’d like to ask some questions, but I don’t want to take too much of your time,” She said trying to appear confident. While she was curious about some of the lectures, Luci also well needed to talk to the other about some accommodations and worries she had. Since the professor had been so nice, she hoped it would work - after all she wanted to stay on this track. She needed to stay on this track and she needed to do it safely.

—

He couldn’t shake the feelings of restlessness that tugged on his mind the past couple of days. It wasn’t an overwhelming sensation, thank goodness but it was still unusual. Gael had since grown accustomed to his shift in behavior, thoughts and emotions to the best of his abilities the few days before the full moon - evidently something that he was tethered to whether he wanted to be or not - but this wasn’t a few days before the full moon. In fact, whenever he checked his calendar, it wasn’t for at least another week. So why did he have this energy? Was it even energy? Or was it something else? Suffice to say, that day was a little distracting in class for him and he didn’t want to admit to some less savory things he did or thought… Why was Samuel wearing so much cologne? Was he trying to impress someone again? And Gael reminded himself to somehow bring up when someone’s music was too loud… though he wasn’t looking forward to how he was going to do that. It was after class now and he was absently sitting at his desk, dark eyes staring down into his dark coffee as though it held the secrets of the universe in it (when in reality it was because he was trying to get Samuel’s stench out of his nose) when a voice interrupted his thoughts. Gael’s gaze snapped up to the diminutive figure of a student, and one he recognized. “Ah, Luci!” He greeted warmly, his eyes instinctively glancing up at where he remembered her sitting as she described it to him. She was new but very enthusiastic, ambitious and every time he looked at her she was paying close attention, something he found admirable. “No office hours, and you aren’t taking my time; if you’ve got questions or inquiries, I have answers… most of the time.” He admitted. “How may I help you today, niña?”

—

Luci was a bit worried she had interrupted something, the normally fairly lively professor looking like he wasn’t there. It wasn’t something that was uncommon to Luci - she was pretty sure Milo looked like that more often then she’d want him to but usually it wasn’t something she butted into. Still, she was already here, and he didn’t seem to be annoyed with her, instead looking up to look at her. If he was startled, she couldn’t really tell. 

She nodded slightly at him saying her name, happy that she had been worried for no reason. “Oh okay! Like I said I don’t want to take much of your time, but I had a few questions,” Luci said, pulling her notebook open to her list, noting that there were too many for her to ask at once. Some of them probably shouldn't ask, like why he seemed tired or if she could skip the introductory lessons. He might find those rude. 

She was pretty sure as amicable as he seemed to be that he would grow pretty tired of answering things, even the normal questions. So she tried to find a few, becoming a little overwhelmed as she realized she should have been more careful. She was already messing it up. “Oh -uh  - sorry. I don’t need to ask that one - you explained it later in class.  Yes here. I was wondering if I could do Labs alone instead with the rest of my classmates.” Her eyes looking back up at Gael for a moment, wondering if she should have asked something about the lesson before.  Luci had planned too, but got a little bit more nervous then she normally was. It was something that seemed to happen more in the town.

 “I-I’m a bit shy about it - but obviously I want the credit for it. I probably should have asked the administration right? ” Luci said, hoping that it wouldn’t sound too odd. She knew that her magic would seep out and it would end up weird anyway. She couldn’t seem to even do normal experimentation without her powers acting up anymore - usually ending up in her getting burns. She could handle that though, she couldn’t handle the idea that she got someone hurt. “I’d also like some more time in there if that’s possible, but I understand if it isn’t.”

—

A student coming in and nervously asking questions wasn’t a new concept to Gael and he’d long since grown accustomed to them, opting to do what he could to help them calm down if only a little. Despite the pulses of energy that pumped themselves through him on occasion, briefly coating whatever thoughts he had with different ones, ones that he didn’t like nor did they seem all that familiar to him, it was easier for him to be calm and collected when he was focusing on someone else. In this case, Luci. Gael tilted his head slightly as she referred to her notebook, practically feeling her energy radiating off of her. She seemed studious, curious and not opposed to asking questions so he found it interesting that now she was looking at what he assumed to be a lengthy list but she was skipping around it .Was she afraid of asking too many at once? Was she self-conscious about upsetting him? After browsing, she seemed to find one of the more important ones she was looking for and they exchanged dark-eyed glances as she asked if she could do her labs separately. The surprise of the question didn’t stay on his face long as she further explained her situation, not that he found the request entirely unreasonable. Fortunately, Gael didn’t have too many students, especially ones that seemed legitimately interested in chemistry itself. He also recalled his sister, who he remembered could’ve benefited from one-on-one lessons regarding certain classes and extra time on tests - she was always abysmal with timed tests. “Neither of those is a problem.” Gael assured, keeping eye contact with her earnestly to let her know that it wasn’t something he was just saying to placate her. “Would Thursday afternoons be okay? I have fewer classes those days.”

—

Luci wasn’t sure how Professor Córdova would take her request, and she wasn’t exactly sure how she was going to explain that it was dangerous for students to be around her. After all, most of the danger with chemistry was ,you know, with the chemicals. Although it wasn’t like her magic was always causing mishaps, she couldn’t be certain when it would anymore. It also didn’t help that part of it was natural for her - just like balancing equations she didn’t always realize what was magic and what was science. The blurring of the two seemed to cause her the most problems, and maybe with practice - it wouldn't anymore. 

Searching his face, she was surprised to find that it wasn’t annoyed with her or asking her a million questions on why she had asked. Luci had thought that it had been strange enough that she would at least have to explain more, but instead she got reassurance. Her shoulders dropped a little, relaxing a bit as she thought she might have mis-judged the weirdness of her statements. “Okay, that would be great. Oh - Sure I don’t have class on Thursday afternoons. Thank you. I really appreciate your help with that. I know it’ll take up more of your time.” 

Then she realized that, well, he wanted to be there to see her do her experiments. It shouldn’t have been shocking, but part of her relief was tempered now as she was torn even with the excitement she now felt. He seemed like a nice person, and someone who didn’t deserve to end up scarred by her. She should warn him and tell him that she might end up causing burns or worse if he got too close - but she didn’t know how to say that without sounding odd or like she shouldn’t be around the labs at all. 

Gripping her pen for a second Luci sighed realizing she had to do the right thing and said, “I also wanted to ask how close you have to me when I do an experiment? I know we’re doing rather simple things and I want to make sure I’m doing them properly and you know what’s happening, but - I think it wouldn’t be right not to let you know there’s - I could cause some - issues in the lab. I just don’t want you to get hurt, Sir.” 

__

He gave a small shake of his head. “It’s really no trouble - between you and me, sometimes I go in there just to soak up the vibes.” There were times where Gael really was just… comfortable in a lab, a shard from his previous life reflecting and casting dancing images of light on his current one, where he had to miss school periodically and sometimes felt too tired to do much of anything conducive. He hated feeling like that, welcoming the familiar sense of calm and control he felt in the lab. So he wondered if she felt similarly or if it really was just a strange anxiety. Unless it was something else which, like it or not, Gael thought about first when she followed her inquiry up with asking how close he needed to be to her. He wanted to keep from thinking about whether or not she’d do something nefarious - they hardly knew each other but she didn’t seem like the type to be a class clown, especially if she was doing her experiments and tests by herself and the thought itself was there and gone. “I appreciate you not wanting me to get hurt but… is there something you’d like to tell me that would indicate why that might happen?” He asked earnestly, looking at her astutely. He knew several werewolves, a banshee and a spellcaster, to name a few. And for one of the first instances since he’d moved to Wicked’s Rest, he wondered how he could’ve gone about asking for that sort of information from or about the girl. It wasn’t as though it was widely spread or acknowledged. Gael also didn’t want to scare her off if the subject somehow came up.

—

Luci nodded, understanding why the professor would feel at home at the lab. She usually was too. She had loved the highschool lab, and found comfort with all of the carefully considered items in it. It was her dream - slightly distorted and very vague - to work in a lab one day to keep that sense of normalcy. Now though, the idea of being in a lab filled her with a bit of dread of anticipation. “The labs here do look really nice - I got to see them touring earlier.” 

She didn’t like talking about it, the fact that her magic seemed to be melding into her regular studies as well, but it seemed inevitable that something had to give. She couldn’t get her degree like this, and she didn’t have the heart to change it to something else. She wanted desperately to go into biochemistry like Gen had -. She shook her head slightly to clear her thoughts and said, “I - have a condition, um. It’s hard to explain. It might cause the experiment to go badly if I’m not paying attention.” 

She looked at Gael for a second sighing and said, “If I let it out accidently when I’m doing an experiment and it touches it, there’s a 50/50 chance it’ll end up causing something bad to happen and I don’t want anyone to get hurt.” It wasn’t natural for her, after all, to not use her magic. She’d never had a reason not to, and while she prided herself on understanding Chemical reactions, alchemical reactions weren’t too awfully different. At least not when she was doing simple things. She’d never had it change unintentionally before though. 

“I - can you trust me for a moment? I can show you what I mean I think,” Luci said looking a bit hopeful.

—

As she explained what the perceived issue was in a roundabout way - ‘not paying attention’ by itself only made Gael think that he should’ve been closely monitoring her, if it was only that - the gears in his mind started to turn towards other options. Was her aforementioned condition neurological in nature, causing her hands to be unsteady? Did she have a disability or a disorder that affected proximity somehow? Or was it something else? He kept her eyes on her resolutely, his expression free from scrutiny or judgment and it seemed to soften after a moment when she… didn’t really give him any answers. It seemed to be lingering in the forefront of her mind, however; Gael could tell that she wanted to let him know what it was, but like so many that came before her, it seemed difficult to explain. When she asked if he’d trust her, the professor nodded his head slowly - there it was, the magic words. Or at least, magical enough to appeal to Gael’s desire to help others, no matter how insurmountable or awkward the task might’ve been. He’d had this same exchange with Alex before, when she asked him to close his eyes and hear her heartbeat. His answer was the same here as it was then. “I do. I trust you.” His expression changed again, lightening up slightly as it swelled with a semblance of curiosity. 

—

Luci knew she shouldn’t trust a human with what she could do, but - well she was trying to trust people. Maybe the man wouldn’t understand, but he hadn’t kicked her out yet. Surely that had to have been a good sign that he was supernatural too? Milo had said a lot of people around here were - and well leaps of faith weren’t comfortable, but well she couldn’t continue her degree knowing she could get someone accidentally hurt and not take a precaution. After all, her magic was too intertwined with chemistry for that not to be a possibility. It seemed so easily triggered to go off even when she wasn’t trying to perform an alchemical reaction. 

So when he said he trusted Luci, she nodded and sighed pulling a page out of her journal going to a table that was free, looking to make sure she wasn’t right under a fire extinguisher. She carefully and precisely drew a circle, carefully adding elemental symbols and very notably a fairly simple chemical equation. Pulling her water bottle, a small plastic one she’d gotten at something in during orientation, she took off the cap and drank some showing it was water before placing it in the middle of the circle. “So I'm worried about this. I think - somethings wrong with me. I’m going to make hydrogen peroxide, and if I’m right and it’s messing up again it’s going to do something else.”

Touching the paper the lines started to glow for a second, and for a moment it looked like it worked and she had done what she intended to do - making hydrogen peroxide, the bubbles starting in the bottle and for a moment a zing of happiness went through her - before the circle started glowing purple. Moving her hand the second it did, the process halted - thankfully although she could see the bottle starting to melt. “It shouldn’t have done that, you know? It’s starting to melt but it should stop now that I’m not touching it. Now- sometimes when I do chemistry experiments it - does this too. It didn’t used to. Really it shouldn’t happen at all, the two aren’t exactly the same, but when I touch the beakers I guess sometimes whatever’s happening goes through. If I’m in a class with people - they might see what’s happening. It doesn’t always do it, because I’m not trying to do anything but - you know.” Luci trailed off feeling a little defeated about the idea. “I just want to be able to do my degree, Sir. I just don’t want to cause an accident.” 

—

Fortunately, she opted to believe him when he said he trusted her and he observed her keenly as she got out a piece of paper and started to write something down on it. At first, Gael thought it was going to be just a chemical equation - and indeed, he easily recognized it - but when she added elemental symbols, he felt his brow furrow. This wasn’t chemistry, he realized by the time she pulled out a water bottle and set it into the middle of the circle. This seemed decidedly more like alchemy to him. He kept the thought to himself, not wanting to out himself as someone who until literally at that moment didn’t know that alchemy even existed and he especially didn’t want to give her the impression that she couldn’t approach him with questions, curiosities or concerns about anything, supernatural or not. Gael was a problem-solver at his core so instead, he simply watched her as she worked. It was something that he wanted to admire, really, and he started to as the water in the bottle seemed to turn into hydrogen peroxide - the equation she wrote on the paper, but as the mystical yellow glow on the paper, unexplainable as it was to him, turned purple and she reacted to it, he realized that that wasn’t supposed to happen and he leaned back instinctively just in case he was about to get an unstable reaction to the face. She stopped anything from happening though, and explained…. Ssssome thought process behind it. There were still some terms that Gael wanted to think of that weren’t coming through her explanation but he thought he’d try anyway. “So you’re… an alchemist.” He started. “And your alchemy is unstable but it’s reached the point that now even normal chemistry is starting to be affected by it, right?” It was a condensed version of what he thought she was trying to explain to him and he assumed she would’ve corrected anything he got wrong. “Well… Yeah, I can see how that’d be cause for concern.” He licked his lower lip before tapping his chin in thought; he had no idea how he would’ve been able to help, as he knew nothing about magic or spellcasting. “But I think… I understand. And I’d like to help and if that means you get extra time and space on your chemistry, then that’s attainable and a good starting point.”

—

Luci wasn’t good at words, not when they really mattered. It was why she always wrote everything down, practiced hard things to say. Showing someone though, that was always a lot easier for her so when the professor seemed to not only understand what she was trying to explain but why she was doing she relaxed and nodded her anxiety dissipating. She had been hopeful the other would understand, even if she really shouldn’t have had that faith. After all, Milo had said there were monsters everywhere. 

Professor Córdova hadn’t seemed like someone who would want to hurt her though, and well now she was glad she had trusted it. 

Still she couldn’t help the bit of excitement of being known, and well - she hadn’t gotten to show anyone her alchemy for a long time. It was nice, even if it wasn’t particularly comfortable. “Yes it is. I think it’s because I stopped practicing alchemy a lot, and chemistry is similar enough that it’s just - getting through somehow. I really like chemistry though, and I don’t want to give up my path in life just because everything is wonky right now, but I also didn’t want to cause any danger.” 

Luci nodded along and said, “I think that’s the best course of action for right now. Thank you, Professor Córdova. I really appreciate you not freaking out.” She gave the other a sheepish smile, partially embarrassed that she had been so bad at words or lying to make this at least a bit easier to take. “I tried to tell my highschool chemistry teacher, and he just - well it didn’t go well. I had to fail my last lab assignment because of it.”  

—

The professor picked up on her energy, seeming to feel her calm down, hearing her heartbeat settle as her anxiety hopefully went down slightly when he assured her that he was someone who could be trusted with that information. Gael took pride in being able to be honest about that - people who shared their secrets with him, people who felt comfortable or safe enough to let him peek into who they really were, he hung onto these moments not to wait for opportunities to use these things against them, but to help safeguard them, keep them close. He wondered how many people Luci told about her alchemy. He also supposed that it didn’t matter; he knew now and they could figure out a game plan. “Sure thing, niña.” He gave a light shrug accompanied with a soft smile. “When you’ve been a chemist as long as I have, you learn real quick not to freak out. I appreciate you telling me.” The professor leaned on his desk, placing a hand on his back for a moment - he needed to get better shoes. But Converse were so comfortable and stylish most of the time. “Maybe… if you think part of the problem was not doing alchemy for such a long time, you can pick it back up.” Gael suggested slowly after a small pause, giving her a half-shrug. “Just an idea.” He raised his eyebrows at her. “And obviously I won’t tell anyone but… I don’t know anything about it but I can see ambition and I’m not about to restrict someone’s passion.” A pause. “Also I just really wanna see more alchemy.” He added with a playful tone, his smile widening slightly and lending itself to some mischief as he looked at her. —

Luci was happy in a lot of ways that she wasn’t in trouble, but she didn’t quite think that the professor understood how dangerous she was at the moment. Luci hadn’t really let anyone know besides Tia who had warned her to be careful with a look that had chilled her. She hadn’t told Milo yet, worried that he would see her as she was - a failure. She just had to muscle through it like she had with almost everything else. 

“I’m going to figure it out,” Luci promised with a nod as she started to clean up her only slightly melted water bottle relieved that there wasn’t any burn mark on the desk. It didn’t sound confident, but she meant it anyway. She was going to figure out what was going on with her magic. She had to, or everything she had wanted to do would burn up too. Luci had to do it for Gen - who had wanted her to be good at this too.

She didn’t want to fail anyone anymore. So if this was the way to do so she would fight to get it done. 

At his suggestion she thought for a moment and shrugged slightly, “ I mean - I would but I don’t think my roommate would appreciate it if her stuff got destroyed. Maybe I’ll find somewhere where it won’t matter if something goes awry.” She thought about the woods and how peaceful it seemed there - maybe it would be a place she could practice quietly? At his confession though Luci chuckled, the first time she felt like doing so in the room. “Sure. - Actually you would probably find it interesting and maybe I can do some in the lab when people aren’t around. It’s not exactly chemistry but it’s not far off really.”  She could feel herself bubbling up in excitement and tried to hold her tongue. “But, sure once I’m not exploding things I’d be happy to show you something, Sir.”

— Her initial lack of confidence was telling - Gael thought for a moment if it was him in that position instead of her. What would he tell someone? Would he have told them anything? He thought about his own ‘condition’. Illness. Disorder. Illness. He wasn’t going through this again, not right now, not as another pulse spasmed his muscles. He wouldn’t have told anyone. He didn’t tell anyone. He didn’t blame her for not having told anyone, either.

She seemed to bounce back, however, and admittance that it didn’t seem too far from chemistry itself was what Gael thought he sort of wanted to hear. He still didn’t know anything about any of it, as he said before, and he wanted to make sure that she would exercise as much caution as she possibly could - they’d probably have to discuss boundaries and lay out some ground rules before she was just allowed access to anything she wanted in the lab (he was still a professor, after all) - but that would come with time. “Sounds good!”

Ultimately, it did sound good, didn’t it? She needed to learn anyway and Gael didn’t know magic but he did know chemistry, not to mention he was a big fan of young adults learning more about their true potential regardless of what they were. “I appreciate you coming to me with questions and concerns. I also appreciate you being honest with me.” He gave a small nod. “Like I said, I won’t tell anyone and I’ll make sure to have a discussion with the school about allotting special lab time with you.” And, most importantly. “It’s a pleasure to have you in my class, Luci.”

[rosalinewintrell]

A Hogsmeade Adventure

Hello All!

Here is Part Six of my Garreth Weasley x MC Hogwarts Legacy AU. I hope you all enjoy! Please keep liking and comment of you feel like it!

“I’ll admit,” Garreth said as he and Rosaline left the Three Broomsticks, “I might have asked you here for another reason.”

“Oh really?” Rosaline said, “You apologized so beautifully, don’t ruin it now,” she teased with a smile. Her hands were now clasped behind her back as she walked with Garreth. Neither had been able make physical contact since he had warmed her hands in the restaurant.

“Haha, very funny,” he responded with a cheeky smile of his own. “I was actually hoping for you to inspect something for me, or a place rather.”

“A place? Slow down Mr. Weasley I am not moving in with you.” Now Rosaline's cheek earned her a playful glare.

“I apologized before but now I think you can be rather impossible sometimes.”

“I’ve been told.”

“Well, I am glad you’re aware.” Garreth responded with a fair bit are sarcasm lacing his voice before sobering himself. “Honestly, I was hoping you might inspect the local potions store. I know that a few students, along with myself, suspect him of gauging his prices, since his is the only potions shop in town. None of us has much of a choice but to shop there and even though we have reported it to the professors, they either don’t trust or believe us.”

“Really? I am surprised they wouldn’t take it a bit more seriously. The only place to procure potions ingredients gauging their prices? I would think at least Professor Sharp would have investigated it.” In fact, Rosaline was sure he would have. He might be a bit particular and grumpy, but he seemed to care about his students’ success and a reliable source of ingredients would include that.

Garreth sighed again, raking a hand through his hair. They were always in motion, either twiddling at his sides or combing through his hair. “I suppose that’s my fault.” He admitted, “Mr. Pippin is a stable in the community. His family has been running that shop for years! I on the other hand have a less that stellar reputation with most of the Hogwarts staff.”

“I wonder why,” Rosaline mused and Garreth threw his hands up in mock exasperation.

“Impossible! I swear!” Rosaline laughed openly then, the loud heart sound almost trumpeting from her chest.

“Okay okay, seriously,” she said after calming down a bit, completely missing how Garreth’s face had once again flushed a brilliant scarlet. “Why do you think I could help?”

“Well, Sharp likes you and I know he respects your grandfather, just based on what I heard of him. I’d imagine that if you showed concern over it, it might make him realize I wasn’t just digging for cheap ingredients.” Garreth’s reasons were empirical, and his concern valid.

“I suppose it can’t hurt,” Rosaline agreed and followed Garreth as they meandered through the streets, ducking into an alley lined with cozy stacked homes of white plaster and wood. Many of them had chimneys which puffed grey wood smoke into the air. Garreth ushered her past another alley, ot was dark and a few food carts were set up near the end, framing a moderately sized pub. No one lingered here, and with a glance back, Rosaline gladly followed the Gryffindor boy up a set of shallow stairs.

At the top, a vibrant purple wood and stone shop came into view. The door, surrounded by cauldrons of all sizes, sported a beautiful yellow and blue stained-glass window that glowed with warm afternoon light. Rosaline stopped to admire a string of palm sized cauldrons that hung from an enchanted strong near the door.

“Aren’t these sweet?” Rosaline whispered she ran a finger over the copper-colored sides of the lowest cauldron with its three legs made from intricately swirled metal. She noticed that Garreth was waiting patiently by the door, a small smile adorned his face and his green eyes sparkled. She whispered an apology as he opened the door for her, but he waved it off.

The interior of the shop was impressive upon first glance. Large and spacious, cauldrons full if self-serve potions like Wiggenweld and Edurus lined the walls just under open shelves of common potion ingredients: Jumping Mushroom Caps, vials of Lacewing Flies, droppers of Horklump Juice. Another wall was lined with hanging mongrels’ furs which kept the shop near stifling in heat. The back of the shop was home to a large potions station that sported a few bubbling cauldrons busy brewing the newest batch of stock. It was flanked by two glass encased shelves. One was lined with rows and rows and rows of pre-made and ready-to-use potions. The other, featuring a large lock, was full of dangerous or rarer ingredients the proprietor did not want easily accessed—or stolen.

“Welcome to J Pippin’s Potions!” a voice called out before they could even step fully into the store. Rosaline was focused on inspecting the store, and she left Garreth to entertain the man who was extremely excited to see the pair of students.

“Hello Mr. Pippin,” Garreth greeted, allowing Rosaline to pass under his arm into the stpre proper.

“A pleasure to see you Mr. Weasley. And who is this lovely young lady?”

“Ah, Rosaline, sir. Rosaline Wintrell.” She shook the shop owner’s hand firmly.

“Parry Pippin, at your service.” The man introduced himself, a gleam igniting in his eye. “You wouldn’t, perhaps, be of relation to Reginald Wintrell, Ministry of Magic’s Potions Master and consultant, would you?”

“Indeed, I am, sir,” Rosaline answered, “Though he is retired now.”

“Yes, yes. A true shame.” Mr. Pippin shook his head and then clapped his hands together. “Now, what can I do for you?” Now Mr. Pippin held a bright smile on his face, his eyes almost disappearing with his apparent glee.

“Actually,” Rosaline said before Garreth could begin, “Mr. Weasley had some business with you. I simply wanted to see Hogsmeade’s only potions shop.”

“Yes, Yes of course. Please look around to your heart’s content. I will help Mr. Weasley here.”

Rosaline smiled and the thanked the man graciously before excusing herself to look at the shop’s products more closely; leaving Garreth to stutter out an awful excuse about a fake potions assignment that Pippin somehow found genuine.

There really wasn’t much out of the ordinary as far as the inventory went. The Jumping Mushroom Caps were bright red and hopping away, and while the Lacewing Fly jars were a bit empty, the insects looked fine enough, and buzzing away. It wasn’t until she started inspecting the higher-grade ingredients that she found some inconsistencies. The Mongrel furs were extremely inconsistent, some furs sporting sparse and bald spots, though they were still marked at full price, and they were all quite large. Rosaline figured she could make quite a few batches of potions with only one. While not necessarily a bad thing, these sizes would be too large for any student’s project and a general waste of money to most.

Some of the jarred Horklump Juice was suspicious in color, just a shade too dark, something not everyone would recognize. However, Rosaline was unable to determine if the juice had indeed gone bad, however, without the ability to smell it, but she was near positive a few students had exploded potions just for purchasing the wrong jar.

The worst issue she saw, however, was in his potions themselves. While none of them were so botched as to be dangerous, she could see color variation inconsistencies, texture problems, even an unde4rlying sour scent in some as she inspected the many cauldrons. Many of these potions would barely function and were certainly not worth the price asked for. However, Rosaline did not think Parry Pippin was intentionally gauging his prices. The ingredients and potions were all priced within industry standard, from what she could tell based on a cursory inspection. If they had been made to industry standard, Rosaline was unsure she would have had any issue with the shop at all. She was positive a lack of skill and business savvy is what kept the shop from living to its potential.

She stopped beside Garreth elbow as he pretended to listen to Parry discuss the growing environments for many plant-based potions ingredients, though he began to clear his throat once Rosaline stepped to his side. “Yes, yes,” He said, “That will certainly be helpful for our, uh, project.” Garreth placed his hand on the small of Rosaline’s back and began to steer her towards the door with desperate steps and more than one desperate look towards her.

Rosaline knew she had spent a fair amount of time inspecting the shop, and that distracting Mr. Pippin was not something Garreth had planned for. It was obvious he was a but flustered and overwhelmed and Rosaline went with his willingly, allowing his hand to guide her out the door. Mr. Pippin bid them return soon just as the door was closing and the pair were jogging down the steps.

“Okay, I get why you did it,” Garreth began as he caught his breath, “But way to leave me to the wolves back there!”

“I needed to take a good look around,” Rosaline shrugged, “Couldn’t do that with the proprietor breathing down my neck the whole time.”

“Well, maybe a bit more warning next time?” Garreth laughed, “Then maybe I can come up with a better excuse than a presentation on ingredients next time.”

“Alright, more warning next time. I promise.”

Garreth now held out his hand, a single pinky sticking out towards her. “Pinky swear?” Garreth asked, a wide, genuine smile spreading over his face. The warm afternoon light reflected in his eyes sent spots of gold dancing over green irises and highlighted the bridge of freckles that bent over bis nose.

“Pinky swear,” Rosalyn agreed, tangling her pinky with Garreth’s, a matching smile on her face.

[lawyerkin]

hey OP i hope you dont mind me adding to this and going deeper into aspects of the game + things i personally believe in about DGS as a story because i have been talking about this ever since i met barok van zieks . under tbe cut because its long !

idk how to put my thoughts into words but. here goes a try: i genuinely feel like the game was almost setting this up. this outcome. i think this is what the narrative leads us to. we should be able to pick up the fact that the judicial system in london is extremely biased, unreliable, corrupt and racist. the main games don't shy away from pointing out how horribly corrupt the current court system is, with miles edgeworth and mvk and damon gant as great examples in the first game, and imo that's why it works as well as it does. you find out that the justice system is unfair and biased and there's a payoff. in DGS we get a similar kind of setup, right. first, there's jezaille brett, introduced to us an englishwoman who is unabashedly racist. that tells us this way of thinking is common, cultural, expected in great britain. when we get there, we, as ryunosuke, experience this firsthand. its like everywhere we go, we're foreign. uninvited. intruders. its like we're not supposed to be there. you get the sense you, as the characters, have to behave a certain way in order to not get yelled at and insulted. at least that's how i felt like

then there's....... barok van zieks. and he's all OP already said. his main character trait is that he's racist. and his racism is said to originate from his traumatic past. and i think anyone with some common sense will eventually wonder if that's really what the story is saying.

when i first watched a DGS playthrough (i never played the games myself because i can only play on my phone and it won't run 3D games, especially something as long as dgs) and bvz hinted at the "reason" he's so openly hostile to japanese people i thought "ok. obviously everyone knows he's using this as an excuse. obviously trauma doesn't make you racist" because to me, i saw it as him saying "i have been around people who think like this my whole life, it was always preached to me that you can only trust your peers and foreigners aren't our peers, this is how we do here in london. then i met this japanese man who proved them wrong and i was able to trust him and become his friend. i thought that meant i no longer thought like the others and i was able to be friends with foreign people, unlike them, who are close minded and prejudiced. and then, when the possibility that my friend had betrayed us crossed my mind, i fell back into my racist biases and stopped trusting him completely. in that moment i realized i was the one who's wrong, and everyone else that warned me about the japanese not being trustworthy were right, so i will never make the mistake of trusting another japanese person again" which ofc means he never actually let go of his racist ideals, he just had a fondness for one specific person. the moment he thought this person might've been guilty, its like the values he grew up believing in were confirmed. he didn't think twice, he assumed the only person who could do something so awful was the foreigner he was told not to trust. he would never suspect his brother, a trusted englishman, could do such a thing. no one did. it's KLINT VAN ZIEKS's innocence against that of a foreigner. of course they'll trust klint. of course they'll fool themselves into believing klint could've never done anything bad. of course the japanese man was the one to kill our trusted and loyal friend klint. finding out genshin killed klint was like having all their biases confirmed to them, it meant that they were right all along, that the japanese can't be trusted so of course he had to have been the professor. only a foreigner like genshin would be capable of that, not our klint. not our people. and while its only natural that people who knew klint personally, such as barok himself, would be in denial and would refuse to believe such a beloved person could be the one committing horrible crimes, the problem is that they're the justice system. the justice system loves klint and hates foreigners. the justice system is based on prejudiced values and biases. the people of london think like this. they are raised to believe that we are good, moral, straight. they are odd, untrustworthy. only they are capable of such horrible things, not us.

another notable moment in the games that really sets this whole thing up for me is when we first meet soseki natsume. i don't remember what he says exactly, but he's so relieved when he meets ryunosuke and susato and finds out they're also foreigners because he knows exactly how the londoners see him. he knows how hostile and biased they are, and he knows english lawyers would never want to defend him. not just because they're going against the alleged reaper of the bailey, but because soseki is japanese, and everyone in london automatically distrusts him. he's so happy to see ryunosuke and susato because he can trust them, and he knows they'll trust him. the whole reason why soseki was arrested at all was because he was "acting suspicious", as in, the police/witnesses/people around the crime scene see him as guilty by default because of their own racist biases. they think only a japanese man, especially an odd one like soseki, would do something so cold hearted like that for no apparent reason. there was no evidence against him, no motive, all they had is the fact that he was around when the crime happened. because he... lives right there. and he's not a londoner, so we trust him less.

and this is not even subtext, this is part of the game, the narrative. we see and experience this happening everywhere, london has a racism problem. it just does, it's an undeniable fact. THE JUSTICE SYSTEM, THE COURT, THE HIGHEST RANKING PEOPLE OF POWER IN THIS CITY have racist biases. no one is free from biased thinking. not even us as the player, but that's another thing entirely.

what im getting at is that i wish I WISH SO HARD this setup actually lead somewhere. i wish that in the end we'd be able to see even more clearly that the police, barok van zieks, mael stronghart and everyone else in the justice system willingly ignored the fact that genshin could not have been the professor because of their biases. i wish they actually fully believed klint was innocent because it's their klint. their friend. he can't be guilty. i wish the game showed us that bvz and stronghart and inspector gregson not only blindly trusted klint to pretend they didn't see that all the evidence pointed towards him, but that they also had this natural distrust for genshin because he's not really "one of them". i wish we could see them denying their racist biases while being very clearly racist still, and that it was clear to us as the audience that the reason genshin was said to be the professor was not because he killed klint, but because everyone knowingly cherrypicked evidence and stretched the truth to fit what they already believed in. like they did with soseki. i wish it was made more clear that barok didnt become racist because his brother was killed by someone he trusted, but because he had always been racist and that fact confirmed his deep seated beliefs, and that racism and prejudice are present in the judicial system because it is composed of people who have these ideals, we have a system built on human biases and corruption and a group of powerful people's desire to believe one of their own couldn't be capable of horrible crimes is the reason why genshin asogi was believed to be the professor when he was actually the one to stop said criminal. just my opinion ! ok

Despite being my favorite prosecutor of the series in my favorite games of the series, I do have a huge problem with Barok van Zieks' writing, and it's his racism. Not that I mind that character flaw, but rather how it's handled.

In the game, Barok is racist towards Japanese people. Mind you, most of the English characters are too, but Barok is not only openly hostile and contemptuous of Japanese culture, but he's also the only character for whom this is a focus point. Later in the game, he overcomes that racism through his legal battles and budding friendship with Ryunosuke, our Japanese protagonist.

That's not what I have a problem with. That would lie in the origin of this racist behavior.

See, unlike the rest of the racist characters in Great Ace Attorney, Barok is prejudiced against Japanese people because of his tragic backstory (big red flag).

When he was younger, Barok actually liked Japanese people, and was even good friends with one, Genshin Asogi, until Genshin was revealed to be the Professor, a serial killer who murdered several members of the judiciary, including Klint van Zieks, Barok's older brother who he idolized. From that point on, Barok had a deep mistrust and hatred of all Japanese people.

That part sucks ass, because the key to Barok stopping being racist is proving that while Genshin did kill Klint, he did so in an honorable duel which Klint accepted, because he was the real Professor and Genshin knew it was the only way to bring him to justice.

This implies at best that Barok would have never been able to overcome his bigotry without the proof of Genshin's innocence, and at worst that his bigotry would've been justified if Genshin really was the Professor.

But the worst (or best, depending on your relationship with headcanons/mods) is that this is so easily fixed, and in fact, the game almost gives us the answer wholesale:

The reason the Professor's true identity was not found is partly due to the efforts of the villains of the game, but also because the rest of the characters involved in his case, including Barok, put Klint on such a pedestal that they unconsciously rejected any evidence of his guilt.

If we want to highlight that moral (?) by contrasting it with our fix to Barok's racism problem, we can simply answer a question that naturally comes to mind with this set up: Why was the British judiciary, including Barok, so quick to write off Genshin as the Professor? Sure, he killed Klint, but he killed him with a katana, while the rest of the Professor's victims died of bite wounds. The game answers with the same Klint pedestal logic as before, but I think it should be because Barok and the judiciary are racist.

It's such a simple change, and yet it makes Barok's story so much better from a narrative and sociopolitical standpoint. Barok prides himself on seeking the truth, a deeply heroic quality in Ace Attorney. So the fact that his own prejudice, something he didn't even care to question for his great friend Genshin Asogi ("one of the good ones" in this scenario), caused the obfuscation of the truth would be devastating, and that devastation being the end of his bigotry would stay in line with the heavily character-focused writing of Ace Attorney and yield a much better message in addition of "racism is bad": societal biases left unexamined can blind us to reality, leading us to make awful mistakes that go against our core principles.

It also has a bunch of additional perks: Seishiro's anger would become additionally relatable for many POC, it would be a great and honestly ballsy commentary on law enforcement to make for the most popular VN series, it would create a nice parallel with Soseki Natsume's arrest, and it would add an interesting touch to Stronghart's characterization, what with him being racist (and a well-written racist at that) in the games already, but also becoming aware of said racism in others and using that to his benefit in our version.

Anyway, don't let the multiple paragraphs of criticism fool you, I'm making this post because I love these games to death

[luminous-jones]

Vampire College: Big Wolf College Year 1 ~ Chapter 1 ~ BWOC Con. Fanfiction

By Luna Jones (Luminous-Jones)

Tommy Dawkins looked towards his best friend Merton Dingle. He was still surprised that he was now attending the same college as him. He had been ecstatic when he heard his voice in the hallway and walked into the dorm room that day.

Although he had been expecting a roommate, the thought of it being his friend had never crossed his mind. When he entered the room, the two had been so glad to see each other they ran toward each other and hugged. Being the happier of the two, Tommy picked him up and then plopped him back down. When he had asked why he was at State U, Merton explained how Dr, Flugalhoff at Heidelberg had prevented him from taking all the best classes, so he was left with only classes he didn't want to take, which wasn't such a surprise given the unpleasant history they had with the man. That and he thought this room was haunted. So, in the end, Merton decided to transfer to the same college as his friend, where he would be able to take whatever classes he wanted.

Tommy proceeded to put on his shoes, while Merton did the same. They were getting ready for their first classes of the day.

"I'm telling you, Merton there are no vampires," Tommy insisted. He was getting slightly annoyed, now.

Merton hadn't shut up about it, since he arrived, at the college over a week ago. He kept insisting that there were vampires at the college, but there was no proof. He had suspected the dorm advisor but when they had investigated with the help of Lori, their friend who was off attending a different college, not too far away, they came back with no concrete evidence.

"If not, there is still something very suspicious happening here, " Merton explained.

"And what proof do you have? " Tommy wondered.

"Tommy, when am I ever wrong about things like this?" Merton asked.

"Erm, let me think," he replied. His friend has been wrong on several occasions but most of the time he had been correct. He sort of has a sixth sense for that kind of stuff. Although that was the case, he didn't feel like they should just go jumping to conclusions.

"Never mind. I know I am right about this," Merton asserted.

"Well, when you have proof, let me know," Tommy said, standing up from his bed. He needed to get to his sports class. "Anyways, I've gotta go. Catch you later, " he added as he headed out and the door swung closed behind him.

"You want proof, I'll get you your proof," Merton whispered to himself as he too stood up. On his way out, he grabbed his coffin-shaped bag, that had his notebooks in it.

When he arrived outside the lecture hall he stopped and glanced inside before proceeding. The hall was near empty as there were only the professor and a few students. Not that he had ever witnessed a full room since the first time he started attending. Literature and creative writing weren't such popular subjects at this university. Anyway, right now there were only three students, who sat in the front row.

Merton pushed open the door and walked into the room and began walking towards a seat. He sat down behind the other students, two rows back from them. Once he was sat down in his seat he took out a black notepad and a pen from his bag, before placing them on the floor, in front of his feet. The bag was kind of wearing away because he had it for quite a while now, but it still had lots of use left and it was his favorite bag so he wasn't just going to throw it away if it was still in reasonable condition.

The sound of a door opening filled the room, causing him to look up and toward the sound. As he glanced towards the door a dark brown-haired, a girl with pale skin entered and then stopped to look around before starting to talk to the professor. Merton found his eyes fixed on her, in bewilderment. He hoped that she wouldn't realize him staring, but he couldn't help it she was stunning, like something out of a gothic movie or novel. She was dressed head to toe in black. She wore jet-black jeans, a T-shirt that was equally dark with lace defining the top and parts of the sleeves, black boots, and across her shoulder, she wore a black and red bag with gothic details and images. To accompany her look she had simple eye makeup; massacre, and eyeliner.

After she had finished talking she carried on walking towards the seats. Merton quickly turned away, but still watched her out of the corner of his eye as she walked up the stairs past the other students. He wondered if she was going to sit by him, but quickly dismissed it, the was no way she would sit by him. By somebody, she didn't know when there were so many empty seats, no matter how much he wished it.

But he was proven wrong, she came up to where he sat and stopped. "Is it alright if I sit here?" She asked, with a smile.

Taken aback by the fact she decided to sit next to him, he turned to face her slowly, as he replied. "Of course, " he told her.

"Thanks, " she said, pulling her bag from her shoulder as she sat down next to him, placing her bag on her lap, to get out her notebook and pen. Once she had taken it out she then dropped it down on the floor and then looked up and toward Merton.

"I love your bag, " she stated. "It's very gothic."

"Thank you," he said with a smile. "I like yours too."

"Thanks, " she said.

Then everyone else began to flood in and the professor started the lecture, so they both turned their attention towards the front.

The professor started talking about classic tales and was on the subject of vampires."The first short vampire story, written in English, was written in 1820." He was wrong. Merton was about to point it out, but the girl in the seat next to him beat him to it. She raised her hand in the air.

"Yes, what is it?" He asked her.

"I believe the first vampire story was written in 1819 which was called 'Vampyre' and was written by John Polidori," she replied.

This girl is incredible, Merton thought. Where has she been all my life?

"I am sorry you are correct. Sorry for my mistake," he said and carried on talking.

"Gothic fantasy is my favorite," she mumbled, under her breath.

"Mine too, " Merton agreed, snapping her attention away from the front to face him, with a grin on her face.

"I figured that, " she said.

"Yeah, well I guess that was obvious. Anyway, can you believe he didn't know that? He's supposed to be teaching us not the other way around, " Merton said.

"I don't know, maybe he just forgot, " she replied.

"Maybe, " he acknowledged.

"Excuse me, do you two want to be here or am I distracting you?" The professor asked them.

"I think we are disturbing the lecture," she pointed out.

"Yes, I'm talking to the brown-haired girl and the spiky-haired lad. Am I keeping you from your conversation?" He questioned them, with lowered eyebrows and his voice taut.

"No, sorry. Carry on," Merton answered and both he and the girl turned to face the front.

When the lecture was over and they were dismissed, the girl stood up, picking up her bag while Merton was still putting away his notebook. Instead of leaving as Merton half expected her to she hung back and said, "I'm sorry, I haven't even asked your name yet."

"Merton. I'm Merton J Dingle, " he told her as he got up from the seat.

"Well, it's nice to meet you, Merton. I'm Colette Stanford."

"It's a pleasure to meet you too, " he said.

There was a moment's pause before she spoke again. "Erm... Would you like to hang out sometime, maybe get a drink or talk some more about gothic fantasy? I don't know many people here yet, and well you seem cool," she asked.

"You want to hang out with me?" He wondered pointing to himself. He wasn't used to girls saying that or anyone for that matter. The only friends he ever had were Tommy and Lori. Tommy was his first-ever proper friend, so for someone to say they wanted to hang out with him and that he seemed cool, shocked him but in a good way.

"Yes, with you. Who else?" She questioned, as she lifted her bag onto her shoulder.

"I'd like that, " he answered.

"Great, " she beamed and then added, " well, see you later, Merton." Then she walked away leaving him standing there.

Did that just happen? He thought as he remained where he stood. It had and he was still trying to comprehend it. Some beautiful girl who could have easily been from his dreams wanted to hang with him. Although he hoped that she wasn't just from his dreams, that she was real because, given all the things Tommy, Lori and he saw, someone could pop out of a dream.

He smiled to himself as he spun around and hurried out, unable to wait to tell his best friend all about her.

You can read other chapters on Wattpad or wait for me to post them here, f you want me to.

[jjungkookislife]

Mean!

pairing: nerd!jk x f. reader

genre: college au, smut [18+]

summary: Failing psychology was all part of your plan to get Jeon Jungkook to tutor you. 

wc: 1.2k

request: could you write mean nerd tutor jungkook? 

warnings: mean!jk, fingering, oral, uh mention of coming (fast in theory) like a virgin (this isn’t to be offensive, jk is just mean)

date: March 16, 2022

Failing psychology wasn’t in your plans at all. In fact, you’re surprised to be called into your professor’s office after class. Even more surprised when you’d seen a nerdy-looking guy already sitting in front of the professor’s desk. Hesitating, you met your professor’s gaze, who motioned for you to sit. 

This wasn’t going to go well.

“I’ll cut to the chase. You need to bring up your grade and Jungkook has offered to tutor you.” Your professor had you exchange phone numbers and set up your first meeting before dismissing you. 

Now you were waiting for Jungkook in the library. You were hidden at a table behind a few bookshelves with your book open to the chapter you had gone over in class. You pouted as you tried to take notes but the chill of the room had you shivering. You regretted wearing a skirt and a shirt with no undergarments. You should have brought a hoodie.

“Hey,” Jungkook greets, wearing a sweater vest and tight slacks. You nod, “Hi.”

“I don’t like wasting my time, so you better pay attention. I didn’t do this out of the goodness of my own heart, if that’s what you were thinking. I have better things to do than to tutor a failure.”

“Harsh,” you scoffed but Jungkook shrugged, not giving a damn.

“What are you struggling with?” He asks as he opens his own book, getting down to business.

You immediately fall into conversation about your studies. You pay attention to what he has to say, taking notes the way he suggests, even sharing some of his own and it’s not till thirty minutes later when he notes the way you’re shivering.

“You should have worn pants,” he comments when you shiver yet again. You nod, apologizing. He pushes his round glasses over his nose and sighs, handing you his hoodie. You thank him quietly and he shrugs, focused on studying. You lean close to him, trying to read over his shoulder.

You lean too far, your hand on his thigh and your chin resting on his shoulder. Jungkook can smell the subtle scent of your perfume and he wonders if it’ll cling to his hoodie once you give it back, if you give it back. He quite likes the warmth you radiate from being so close, but it’s this closeness that has his thoughts reeling, and he knows eventually he’ll grow hard and he can’t have that. 

Minutes later, Jungkook becomes stoic, cursing himself when his cock twitches in response. You were too close.

“Can you back up?” he asks in a tight tone that you mistake as anger.

“Sorry,” you apologize, crossing one leg over the other, your skirt riding up. His hoodie is big on you, your sweater paws getting his attention and he licks his lips. What he wouldn’t give to see you in his clothing. Cute and cuddly as you draped yourself over him. His cock twitches again and he curses. 

You stare at him, moving in closer to take his glasses off his face. He’s really cute. You note the way his eyes keep roaming to your thighs and your raise your skirt higher just to see him blush. You wonder if he’s noticed the way you’ve stared at him in class? If he has an inkling of your crush on him? Of how you end up daydream about kissing him, unhooking his overalls and wrapping your hand around him until he’s whimpering and coming in your hand? You wonder if he’s caught a peek of your notebook? His name written on the corner of every page with a heart beside it, your daydreams filling your mind with your professor droning on and on in the background. Does he suspect you wear all those short skirts for him, hoping to tempt him into taking a peek? Does he know you make it  a habit to skip past him, in hopes he’ll get a good look at your thighs? Does he know you do it all for him?

“Wanna touch?” you ask as you spread your legs, and surprisingly, he nods. You guide his hand between your thighs. “You’re cute, ya know?”

He breathes, wondering if he brought his inhaler.

“You think so?” he asks, batting his fluffy lashes in disbelief.

“Of course. You think I’m failing on purpose, Jeon Jungkook?” you giggle as you push his hand further up, and he gasps when he feels your wet folds.

“Fuck,” he groans, licking his lips. 

“Come to my place,” you plead, eyes soft.

Jungkook shakes his head. “We need to finish.” 

His fingers spread your folds and you moan softly, your face buried in his neck. “Kookie.”

“Come on, baby. Don’t tell me you can come so easily.” He tuts, shaking his head in disappointment. “What are you going to do when I’m licking your slit, huh? Cum on my face like a virgin?”

“N-no!” you protest, but Jungkook looks unconvinced. He looks around before dropping under the table, taking your thighs in his hands, tongue running up and down your folds, lips wrapping around your clit as you bite on your lip to keep from screaming his name.

This wasn’t how Jungkook imagined this study session going, but when you tug on his hair and moan his name again, he knows better than to screw this up. After all, he’d been daydreaming of you in class, blushing when you’d skip by his desk in your short skirts and cheeky panties. He finally lost his mind when you skipped up the steps and he noticed you weren’t even bothering to wear panties anymore.

Jungkook looks up, his hands holding your skirt out of the way and his heart thuds in his chest, a fluttering of excitement and nerves deep in his belly. You’re adorable. So pretty when you’re trying to keep from moaning too loudly, the sleeve of his hoodie covering your mouth in a poor effort to silence yourself.

Jungkook smirks, his fingers lightly rubbing your clit in circles as he watches you squirm.

“Isn’t this what you wanted?” he hums with a devious look in his eyes. “Isn’t this why you brought that beautiful A to an F?”

“Y-yes,” you stutter as he pinches your clit, nearly salivating when he sees you jump in your seat, no doubt soaking it.

Jungkook tuts. “Such a shame you had to go through all that trouble just to get me like this. All you had to do was ask.”

“I was shy,” you admit, moaning into his sweater as your eyes pool with unshed tears from his teasing touch. 

“Shy?” Jungkook cackles, his head thrown back and his inky locks moving out of his face. He’s so pretty, you just want to kiss every little mole on his face. 

“Shy!” he repeats. “So shy girls flash their pretty panties and pretty cunts to everyone in class? Is that what shy girls do?”

“For you,” you respond. Jungkook grins, his fingers slipping into you and he sinks back onto his knee, spreading you open farther. You look around to make sure there’s nobody else around as you feel his tongue flick your clit.

“How about next time I give you a quiz and reward you with an orgasm for every question you get correctly?” Jungkook asks as he grips your thighs, kneading the flesh.

“Yes, please!” you lick your lips. You grab a handful of Jungkook’s hair, guiding him back to your parted thighs with no protest.

Maybe your little plan had worked out better than you thought.