#sincerely aesop

[zevexsii]

I crawled from the depths of hell to request first time with Aesop headcanons 💃

anon im so sorry this has rotted in my inbox for way too long

aesop x g/n s/o nsfw hcs (first time)

massive virgin. i am so sorry but there is no way in any hell that aesop carl has had a sexual experience before this.

it takes an incredibly long time for aesop to even approach the idea of sex with a ten foot pole. sure, fantasies and dreams are nice, but the idea of flesh-to-flesh is very overwhelming (no offense).

aesop has a stash of very cheesy and very explicit romance novels hidden far out of your scope. they hope that one day he'll be able to use a select few tactics on you<3!

the most opportune time to engage in fuckery with aesop is while they're busy... taking care of themselves. he'll try and cover up his obviously leaking cock and flushed cheeks, but reassure him that these feelings are normal, and you're only here to help.

eye contact is not something aesop can maintain when you spit in your hand and wrap your fingers around their dick and begin to rub him. gentleness is key <3

rushing into things too quickly will make aesop feel trapped and out of control/unable to express their discomfort. these feelings are hard to communicate and will most often result in a shut down/nonverbal period.

you have to encourage the soft sounds that leak from his mouth and praise the bucking of their hips whenever the pad of your thumb grazes the prominent vein on his cock.

praise is the surest way to aesop's heart, and his orgasm.

aesop doesn't have the most stamina, so 2 rounds is about his max. after you've jerked him to completion and aesop is back down to earth, they can finally meet your gaze.

"...thank you."

it's phrased almost like a question, but his voice is low and steady. regardless of your response, aesop makes it known that it's your turn.

if you're afab, aesop definitely knows where the clit is.

my man literally takes care of bodies for a living, it would be a tragedy if they didn't know basic anatomy. he fumbles a little bit finding yours just because every body is different, but they make up for it.

if you're amab, aesop wastes no time in finding the most sensitive parts of you. there's an almost scientific way about how he examines you, but it's not meant to be demeaning. everything about you is fascinating, and aesop intends to find just the way to make you squirm.

aesop is very methodical when it comes to sex. their focus is on you and finding exactly the right combination of buttons to push. in the least demeaning way possible, you're like an experiment that gets their dick hard.

incredibly experimental, ghosting their fingers around the edges of your hole or letting their grasp slide down just close enough to your balls to tell you they thought about fondling them.

very much counting on vocal/facial cues. you've gotta tell aesop if they're doing something right or make a pretty face when his fingers make you feel lovely. autism moment.

when you inevitably cum, aesop sticks his fingers in his mouth out of curiosity. this begins an unstoppable fixation.

no way in hell is aesop indulging in kinks the first time, sorry lads (gender neutral) :{.

probably has paper notes about how to make you cum fast vs. how to tease and overstimulate you.

[rileyslibrary]

Meal, Under-the-Stars

Summary: Simon’s inability to show affection irritates you. Until Valentine’s Day arrives.

Relationship: Simon “Ghost” Riley x F!Reader

Word Count: 1,360

Notes:

angst/fluff

*sighs* it’s almost Valentine’s so *gestures aggressively at the fic*

i made sure it’s the least amount of cringe, pinky promise

Want more?

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You collapse in your bus seat, travelling home after another long day at the office. The chair feels too stiff, and the ride is too bumpy. That’s what you get for missing your bus and taking a different route. Damn it. Your neck is tense from the hours of hunching over the computer, and a pulsing pain has settled behind your eyes, threatening to rip your skull apart. As if your physical agony wasn’t enough, the bus’s noises aren’t helping. Without your headphones, you’re left to suffer in silence and listen to the people around you.

The two women in front of you talk nonstop about their upcoming Valentine’s Day plans. The first, with a smug look, reveals how her boyfriend has planned a romantic getaway to Europe. You can almost hear the silent “aren’t I lucky?” that hovers at the end of her sentence. Her friend humbly brags back about her partner taking her to a jewellery store where she can pick out whatever she wants. You suppress a groan and roll your eyes instead.

You turn to your left. Your attention is drawn to a man whose face is concealed by a towering bouquet of flowers. The sight of him and the enormous gift next to him makes you wonder. Could it be chocolates? The package seems too bulky for that. Lingerie maybe? It looks too heavy for delicate lace. Perhaps it contains the embodiment of his love for his significant other, ripped from his soul and transformed into a tangible form, you ponder sarcastically.

The image of Capitalism, dressed in a three-piece tailored suit and hat, sitting on a throne made of kitschy teddy bears, comes to mind. He sips a glass of wine made from rose petals and sneers at the spectacle before him: people spending their hard-earned money on unnecessary gifts and experiences, all in the name of love. When did a simple and sincere “I love you” become insufficient? When did it become necessary to spend a fortune on extravagant trips, sparkling diamonds, and wrapped boxes filled with empty promises? Did your grandparents go to such lengths to express their affection, or is this just the plague of your generation?

And why does this all bother you so much? Could it be that Simon’s inability to express his affection for you is causing your bitterness? You recall Aesop’s fable about the fox and the grapes. Like the fox, you cannot grasp what you want, so you try to convince yourself that what others have is, like the grapes, sour. Admit it: you’re envious of those who are happily celebrating Valentine’s Day, surrounded by love and affection, while you’re on your way home to a strained relationship, where love is shown through practical acts like fixing the thermostat or reminding you to take an umbrella on a potentially rainy day.

You knew he was reserved and guarded the moment you met him. “A mystery wrapped in a balaclava”, you used to jokingly call him. It took months of building rapport and earning his trust before he finally revealed his face to you. But, despite this, you find yourself wanting more. Wasn’t this enough? Get a grip, sweetheart; Valentine’s Day is for the rest of the world, not you two.

As the bus pulls to a stop, you rise from your seat and step off, feeling heavy and reluctant as you make your way home. The weight of your expectations slows your pace as if you are afraid to face reality—that the love you seek may not be the love he is capable of giving...

You reach the front steps, the cool metal of the key turning in your hand as you unlock the door. You push it open, the emptiness inside greeting you like an old friend. Something on the floor catches your attention; military bags and tactical gear are neatly arranged near the entrance. You look across the kitchen table to see a map with checkmarks on it. Has he been summoned for a mission and forgotten to tell you? No, it cannot be; this is far worse than you expected.

As you make your way down the hall, the noise coming from the bedroom fills the silence. The door is slightly ajar, and you push it open to find him standing before you, freshly showered and wrapped in a crisp white towel from the waist down. Droplets of water cling to his damp hair, with strands hanging over his forehead. His towering stature is imposing, his muscles resembling those of a Greek statue carved by a master artist. Like faded memories of battles fought, scars are dotted across his body, each telling a tale of modern warfare.

He smirks as you enter the room, but you can’t help the flare of anger that rises within you.

“You’re late,” he says, continuing to dry himself.

How dare he.

“Traffic,” you respond, trying to steady your voice. “Where are you going?”

“We are going,” he corrects you nonchalantly.

Huh?!

“W-we?” you stammer. “Simon, where are we going?”

“Out,” he says with a smirk.

You frown at him. You’re exhausted—tired of work, tired of the long trip back home, tired of his mysterious demeanour. You need answers—complete, coherent, straightforward answers—and you need them fast. Now.

“Care to explain further, Simon?” you ask, trying to compose yourself.

“We're going camping,” he says as he starts putting on his gear.

Your heartbeat quickens. Suddenly the grapes are not sour anymore. They seem sweet again.

“So, camping, huh?” you ask with a cheeky grin. “Why?”

“Don’t make me say it,” he says sternly. “I’ve seen enough atrocities to know what today is.”

“You never struck me as the romantic sort, Mr Riley,” you reply.

“Oh, but I am romantic, my love,” he corrects you. “Just not the cliché type.”

But, of course! That’s why you fell for him in the first place. He’s not your typical guy. He may not serenade you, but he’ll fix things with his own hands. And he won’t kneel on one leg to recite poetry, but he’ll ensure you’re warm, safe, and fed.

Fed. Food. Did he think about food?

“I’ll prepare something quick to take with us,” you tell him.

“No need to,” he replies. “I’ve prepared an outstanding variety of MREs for us.”

What a guy.

“What about me?” you ask pointing at his gear. “I don’t have the appropriate clothing for this.”

He looks amused. “That’s weird,” he comments. “I’m sure I saw something at the entrance earlier today.”

You stare at him, confused, dash to the front door, and inspect the gear you saw earlier. To your surprise, it’s all your size.

You slip into the gear, feeling its weight and texture against your skin. The material is rugged yet flexible, allowing you to move easily. You run your hand over the pockets, checking to ensure everything is in place, before returning to the bedroom.

As you enter, Simon looks up from his bag, and his gaze travels down your form. You stand tall and proud; sure, you’re still tired and in pain, but at least you’re happy. You twirl for him to get a better look.

He nods his approval with a smile. “You look like a proper camper,” he says jokingly. “I had no idea you had it in you.”

“Come on, Simon!” You shout, fists clenching at your sides as you stand in the doorway. “It’s Valentine’s Day,” you implore, your voice growing softer. “At least say something nice.”

He regards you, his lips curling upward in amusement. “Alright, alright,” he says, holding up his hands in surrender. “You want something nice?” He asks, and you nod, smiling.

“You got it.” He steps closer, towering over you, and gazes down with warm and tender eyes. “You look beautiful,” he says. “Absolutely stunning.”

———————————————————————

[avinwrites]

Mending Hearts♡ ♡ ♡

Synopsis: How you comfort them through both physical and emotional turmoil.

Aesop Carl

It isn’t that you don’t get along with Aesop; all things considered, you have the best relationship with him out of anyone. Sometimes, however, he is simply indecipherable. Most days, you can tell how he feels from his expressive body language, despite his inscrutable face, and communicate with him clearly, but on the days where something is off, it is quite difficult to get through to him. You know that the key to any good relationship is communication, but it’s hard and it takes a lot of courage on your part just to talk about the things that bother you. He never seems to understand that.

At the current moment, he hasn’t talked to you in two days, and your last interaction consisted of you attempting to console him after some particularly unkind words were said to him regarding his performance during a recent match.

“You sound just like them.” His voice has a cold and distant sound to it, reaching your ears with a harsh bite.

“What?” You can’t help but gasp in shock, his words hitting hard, having just been in a tender moment. 

“Your words have no meaning behind them, it's all noise.” 

"I know that my words may not seem like much right now, but I want you to know that I care about you." You listen to your voice, trying to place yourself in his shoes, but you just can’t. You’ve been there for him practically since you met him, and you know he’s having a hard time, but how can he say that? You can hear the sincerity in your tone, you know how it's supposed to sound. But he doesn’t get it. 

“Leave me alone.” 

“Aesop-” You try once more to negotiate a balance or some way that you don’t have to end the conversation with both sides unhappy. He wouldn’t allow it.

“I need space right now.” He forces out, gruff, though his voice still soft and low. 

“That's… fine, just let me know when you’re ready to talk.” Resigned, you walk away, giving him the space he desires, but nothing more than that.

That “space” has persisted for days, and this time, you weren’t going to be the one to apologize, or even speak first. You always do and it’s hard. If he isn’t willing to give a little effort, then… you hate thinking about it, that if he won’t speak to you then anything you could’ve had would be over. All the good moments, being happy with him, hearing his infrequent, yet impactful laughs, it will have meant nothing. The fact that he was giving you the silent treatment, even though you weren’t sure if he was even aware of it, made you want to cave. But this time, you held your ground. After a while, you began to feel childish. You wanted to move past this and to forget the conversation ever happened, but what would you even say to him? He asked for space and you provided, and now you were just going to ignore that for the sake of not wanting to be uncomfortable. What kind of a person would that make you? Now it’s immature both to not say anything, and to talk to him. The situation confuses and frustrates you, and all you really want is a little bit of comfort, just a single word of encouragement from him would solve your inner turmoil, but you’re in the midst of a silent treatment, so you can’t even get that. 

You decide it's best to move on and think about something else. This shouldn’t affect you this much, and yet, the situation stays in the forefront of your mind. The days drifted by, blurring together in indistinct monotony, and still, the silence lingered between you and Aesop. It was a heavy weight on your heart, a constant reminder of the distance growing between you. You found yourself going through the motions of daily life, but your mind was consumed by thoughts of him. It was hard to focus on anything else when the person you cared about most was shutting you out. You forced your mind to think about anything else, in fact, having thrown your entire person into distracting yourself, you seemed to improve in your game performance, and yet, you could not help but wander back through your thoughts to Aesop, and a pang of sadness would wash over you. 

It hurt. Claws as sharp as the last words he spoke to you dug deep into your chest, gripping your bleeding heart. You miss his presence, his infrequent bouts of laughter that never failed to make your heart skip a beat, his unique way of seeing the world. You missed the connection you had, the feeling of being understood and accepted, and most of all, you missed the way he made you feel loved, cherished, and appreciated, like you could be yourself, no matter what.

And when you finally see him again, after shielding his face from you for days, he looks as bad as you feel. Sunken in eyes with the beginnings of dark wrinkles under them. His posture is worse than before, and he seems just out of touch enough with reality to not even notice that you sidled up to him.

“You look rough.” You comment, giving him a weak smile and holding out your hand as somewhat of a peace treaty, letting him know that you aren’t mad at him, and you would like to comfort him again, if he were to accept it. 

“I’m so sorry.” He whispers, so quiet you can barely hear it. No one else is around; you still hold yourself back from pulling him into a tight, longing hug. 

“You don’t have to apologize, I understand.” It isn’t long before your unsaid desires are fulfilled as he deliberately closes the gap between you and places his tired head on your shoulder, pulling you into a tender embrace. “Are you alright?” You can’t help but question. These acts of affection aren’t unheard of from him, but certainly aren’t common. 

“I wish to be by your side, I’m sorry for pushing you away. Everything feels… better when you’re with me.”

You only hum in agreement in response, keeping him close to you until he decides he’s ready to break contact, but from the way it feels, that won’t be for a long time.

Luca Balsa

The great inventor Luca Balsa had admitted something to you not too long ago. He told you that he enjoys your presence and that being around you comforts him. He gave you his heartfelt confession, and you reciprocated. To you, this was the obvious outcome to your rapidly developing bond. Since the beginning, the two of you got along like a forest fire, mirroring each other��s exuberance and empathizing with each other at each nadir. Despite all you had already been through together, those experiences only reached the surface of what was to come.

Luca warned you a few times of his unpredictable changes in behavior due to his injury. You really didn’t understand what he meant, as you witnessed his mood swings before, and he had never been violent or even the slightest bit rude to you, but you nodded along each time, promising not to abandon him and to stay by his side through thick and thin. 

This morning, after noticing that Luca was not eating breakfast with the rest as usual, you made your way to his room to check on him. Once, he had asked you not to step foot in his room, and since then you had adhered to this request, and you’ve never seen the inside. Diligently, you knock on his door, announcing that you were here to ensure his well-being. All you got was a groan in response. 

“Luca, are you alright? Can I come in?” You pry, pushing yourself against the door to hear the other side.

“No, no I’ll be there in a second.” You heard his weary voice call. A soft thump then a louder one rumbles the door, before Luca, disoriented, stumbles out. He did not look good. His usually ruffled brown hair was a mess, as if he had been gripping his hair, it stuck out in certain places. His eyes were puffy, and his scared one almost completely shut. 

“Luca, you look horrible, please go lay down. I’ll bring you-” 

“No, I’m fine!” His frantic voice and waving hands cut you off. You waited. He took a step, then lowered his head into his hands, grasping at his temples and groaning softly.

“You are not fine.” You respond simply, taking his hands in yours. You gently push open his door to lead him to bed and you're struck with speechlessness at the sight of his room. Papers, tools and trinkets littered everywhere. Some torn paper stuck up with illegible writings scrawled half on the paper and half on the wall. His bed was unmade and there were a few dents and scratches all over his walls. When you come face to face with the words “Do not forget” written over and over, you realize why he never let you in his room.  

You could have forgotten he was next to you, too distracted by the state of his room, but his shudders and reactions to pain called your attention back to him, who now clings to your legs as he stabilizes himself to sit on the floor. 

“Come here, Luca.” You whisper, kneeling to his level and taking his head in your hands, brushing his hair back with your fingers, and putting a light, circular pressure on his temples. He leans into you, unable to hold back his rolling tears from his physical and mental distress. Unable to form any response for his harsh, quick breaths, he welcomes your comfort with a strong grip, beginning to sob into your shoulder. You do your best to help him, whispering sweet words to him and hoping your feather-light touch alleviates some of his pain. 

After a long moment, his breathing evens and grip loosens. You remove his face from its place, nestled in your shoulder, and wipe his remaining tears with the tip of your thumb. Neither of you move. You only hold his face, searching his eyes for further signs of discomfort, as he looks straight into your eyes, seemingly more relaxed with each passing second. Only soft breaths and subtle shifts can be heard between you, taking time to just be comforted by each other’s presence. 

Luca then presented you with the unexpected. A smile. Though weak and lopsided, his toothy grin shone through the darkness clouding his head.

“Thank you.” He whispers, pulling you into a tight embrace. Wordlessly, you hug him back. No words were needed to convey your inner feelings. You’d be here for him, always. And you knew that the same was true for him. Like you were made to support each other, the two of you sat in silence, knowing each other’s heart and accepting each other, flaws and all.

Sometimes I just want a hug

Anyways, I had the idea for 2 more characters, where this time they're the ones comforting the reader, but I couldn't make anything stick! I'll keep working on it though <3

[aesopsharpmybeloved]

A Lesson In Sensuality

After receiving a very sensual letter from you, Aesop Sharp indulges in some solitary fun.

I would be lost without my brilliant consultant @tea-withjamandbread ❤️

This work has it's own illustration made by yours truly. Link for the full uncensored piece will be at the bottom of the post.

18+ GO AWAY CHILDREN!

A Lesson In Sensuality (3k words)

tw: explicit, female masturbation (mentioned), male masturbation, vaginal sex (mentioned), teacher-student relationship (reader is an adult)

When he saw that kittenish little grin on her face as he accepted her essay, Aesop Sharp knew she wasn’t only handing him her 16 inches of mandrakes' uses in potions, but that there was also something else included in the neatly folded parchment. Their hands touched momentarily as he took a hold of the parchment, and a tiny spark flickered in their intense gazes. Aesop had a hard time stopping a smile from breaking out on his scarred face.

It felt like forever since they last managed to exchange more than a few quick heated kisses and hushed soft words, and therefore this tiny moment was enough to make Aesop’s heart pound in his chest. Her cheeks reddened as she gave him one last little smile and a nod before leaving his classroom in a flurry of robes.

After the last of his seventh year students left, he decided to use the little bit of free time he had to improve his mood slightly by reading the clandestine note undoubtedly hidden within the otherwise normal looking essay. It wasn’t the first time she wrote him a little love letter, and Aesop himself made sure to always repay her in kind. 

Now, however, as he unfolded the parchment, he immediately saw that hidden among the no doubt Outstanding essay was no little letter. It was possibly even longer than the essay itself! Curiously, Aesop noticed that the text seemed to alter throughout - the letter began with his sweetheart’s neat script, but was at a certain point replaced by what he recognised as the basic Self-writing Quill font. And then, almost at the very end, her own handwriting appeared once more.

He brought the letter up to his nose, happy to find it lightly smelling of her perfume, and he saw its back was signed by the outline of her plush lips in a lovely shade of light lip rouge. His fingers slid across the smooth material of the letter. Aesop began reading.

My dearest Aesop,

Sweet Merlin, it feels so horribly long ago, an eternity almost, since I last had the utmost luck and pleasure to spend an evening in your company... In your wonderful arms, so strong and steady, shielding me from all the bad in the world, warming me up when all around me has turned to ice, and holding me upright, when I feel like I cannot stand on my own. 

The potions master smiled, his cheeks slightly warmer than they were before as he rested his chin on his hand. Cheeky little thing, she was beginning on a very poetic note indeed, and it made him strangely giddy to be the reason she chose to use such language.

How I long to be with you right now, to look into your ethereal eyes, dark and intense, like the mouth of a volcano, but so kind and sincere, like those of a majestic stag.

Your mouth... Heavens, your mouth. Each and every kiss you gift me with feels like a healing touch to my very soul. Your taste, so deep and rich and complex, so absolutely addictive. I could go days without eating or drinking, and I would not feel any hunger or thirst, your lips on mine enough.

Oh, by Salazar…He chuckled. She was being a bit dramatic, wasn’t she? However, Aesop couldn’t deny the way his heart was beating with all the intensity of a war drum as he drank in her beautiful words, the way she described him. The professor might’ve considered himself fairly handsome once, long before he became a professor, but not after what happened on that godforsaken boat. However, he never would've thought to be described like this… He was a little uncertain whether he was deserving of praise this high.

Aesop felt something inside him fluttering as he read her letter to him, the way she explained what she found beautiful about him was slightly on the dramatic side maybe, but goodness if it didn't feel good.

Your hands, your blessed hands, they dance when you brew, when you write. You are a virtuoso, my love. So strong and yet so soft, I go weak in the knees every time you take a hold of my face, every time you guide it to your own, everytime your wonderful fingers glide about the skin of my cheeks... 

Every time you caress my body with them. When you worship me with them, I feel myself slowly losing my mind. When you touch my breasts, I gasp and sigh for you, my love, because nobody else's touch could ever feel so good. I try to imagine my own hands are yours as I circle my nipples with my fingers, pinch them like you do, as I massage my bosom the same way... It doesn't feel the same, as much as I try to imagine it is you, it just isn't enough... It isn't you. It is you I need, Aesop, you I need to touch me like this, need you to caress me until I am begging for you, until my sighs turn to moans.

Oh… oh, goodnes… It was this kind of letter. Aesop skimmed the following text with his eyes, already feeling his pants get slightly tighter. Just then, however, the door to his classroom opened, and a bored looking fourth year made her way inside, soon followed by her Hufflepuff and Gryffindor classmates.

Aesop never hid a letter inside of his coat faster in his life.

He tried his hardest to stop being just that, willing his body into obedience, even as her words still swam in front of his eyes. Bloody hell… A single slightly more… explicit paragraph, and he was half hard in his underwear, his length obviously more than a little interested in the contents of the letter. 

After a few more minutes spent at his desk while his students readied themselves at their stations, and him mentally cataloguing his private stocks, he felt… relaxed enough to begin the lesson, standing up to write today’s instructions on the blackboard.

The letter seemed to burn inside of his overcoat’s breast pocket, goodness, how he wanted to read what else she wrote, his stomach twisting with excitement. Later, he reminded himself, later when he was alone in the comfort of his chambers, when nobody would come and disturb him. 

Although, there was one person he wished had the time to actually come and disturb him, possibly read her letter to him out loud.

Later, Aesop, concentrate!

—

As soon as his last class that day left, Aesop Sharp hurried to his chambers, his fingers covertly moving to the letter where it was concealed under his overcoat, as if it could have evaporated into thin air during the last few hours. There was some time before supper and he knew he wouldn’t be bothered by anyone. 

In any case, once the door to his rooms closed shut, he cast a locking charm on it, beginning to shed his layers not a second later. He carefully extracted the letter from the confines of his pocket before throwing his overcoat on his bed. His jacket and waistcoat soon followed, his tie was tossed away as if it had been choking him. It had, if Aesop was being honest. Not long after, the potions master was as naked as the day he was born, his manhood already partly filled with his excitement at finally discovering what other lovely things she wrote in the letter.

He sank into the armchair by his bed heavily, his stomach tugging with anticipation as he unfolded the letter again searching where he left off. Oh, yes.

Every time you caress my body with them. When you worship me with them, I feel myself slowly losing my mind. When you touch my breasts, I gasp and sigh for you, my love, because nobody else's touch could ever feel so good. I try to imagine my own hands are yours as I circle my nipples with my fingers, pinch them like you do, as I massage my bosom the same way... It doesn't feel the same, as much as I try to imagine it is you, it just isn't enough... It isn't you. It is you I need, my Aesop, you I need to touch me like this, need you to caress me until I am begging for you, until my sighs turn to moans.

You would then slide your hand lower, as I do right now... Thank goodness for these self writing quills... I know you would be so lovely as you'd stroke at my inner thighs, spreading me gently, your fingers teasing the very place where I want you the most and where you want me. You'd spread my velvety curtains, damp with my exhilaration and drag your long finger along my seam, those beautiful eyes of yours igniting me, setting me on fire from the inside out.

Oh Merlin! So that’s why there is that change of font, she was dictating the letter while she… Goodness. Aesop closed his hand around his now fully erect penis, only squeezing lightly for now as he continued reading, seeing her pushing her own fingers into her tight little cunt in his mind’s eye clear as day, the very imagine making hotness run through him. He pulled his foreskin lower with his fingers, his thumb gliding along the sticky sensitive tip of his prick, spreading the moisture that began to gather there.

And then... And then you'd push your finger inside, finding me so wet and ready for you... Ready as I am right now, but empty, and craving to be filled, twitching, almost sucking your finger in, like it belongs there. You'd masterfully search my hidden crevices, soon finding that place that makes my thighs shake, and my back arch upon the bed. My body in bliss, I loosen up, inviting your other fingers to join in on the fun...

My fingers are so small compared to yours, they don't quite manage to do the job, yet I imagine they're yours anyway, pumping into me, while your thumb rubs along my lovebud, slowly making me mad with need.

And afterwards, once you opened me up enough, more than likely bringing me to my peak in the process, you'd finally, finally enter me, stretching me so much, I feel like I'm going to split in two. The burn is delicious by now, I crave it with every single inch of my feverish body, I crave the way you sigh into my ear once you settle within me fully, your breath hot and damp against my already heated skin. I love the way you press kisses along my neck then, as you wait for me to get used to accommodating your length inside me, your teeth grazing my skin. 

Aesop was slowly moving his hand up and down his shaft, occasionally coming up to squeeze at the bared glans, staring at the words on the parchment, also imagining the little picture his sweetheart painted within her sentences. His rhythm was slow and deep at first, just like the way he’d take her was she here right now. 

Oh, how he wished she was here right now. His hand was damp with the precum leaving his tip in little crystal clear drops. The engorged member throbbed in his hand, appreciative of the attention he was bestowing upon it, but the potions master would have been much happier if it wasn’t his hand bringing him this pleasure, but rather the young woman’s heavenly body.

And then, when you'd begin moving, your hips rutting into my own, our bodies colliding in a union as ancient as time itself, I wish I could stop the world around us, to have us forevermore stuck in this blissful moment. I want to run my fingers through your silky hair, grasp strands of it between them, press my nails against your scalp, until you groan into my skin, sending vibrations through my body, travelling to my very core. And when your need takes hold, and you start taking me, fully taking me, I feel my release approach swiftly, its sweet promise of absolute ecstasy licking up my form like waves of sea, wild and unhinged, and so utterly beautiful.

The way you'd look into my eyes as you'd fill me over and over again, makes me tremble with bliss. You'd be taking me, and you'd be doing so rightfully, taking what's yours, yours, yours, yours only. I would shatter around you, my entire world collapsing and crashing down as I cry your name to the heavens, my nails digging into the wide expanse of your strong back. The sounds of our bodies connecting drive me wild with want.

Aesop’s hand sped up, the words he read having a profound effect on him. He imagined her hands in his hair, on his shoulders and back, imagined the sweet sting of her nails cutting into his flesh. The slapping sound of his own hand tugging at his weeping prick filled his ears, and he was unable to stop the occasional groan and grunt from leaving his lips. Hngh, that little minx, he was going to fuck her until she could barely speak, much less use such enticing language, the next time he got the chance.

The potions master spread his legs wider, pumping himself faster. He was almost tempted to release the parchment from his hand and use both of his hands, one to pull at the now almost painfully hard cock more, the other to play with his testicles, to brush and poke at that one spot behind them, but… but he so desperately wanted to read on, he wanted to read more of those delightfully sinful sentences, the sentences combined with the picture burned into his mind that made the burning coil in his stomach materialise out of nothing, and then begin to burn brighter, grow tighter. 

He groaned again, feeling droplets of sweat form at his hairline, some rolling down his burning cheeks.

He was close, dancing along the edge of bliss. Still, he made his fluttering eyes find another paragraph and read on.

And then... You probably have no idea how beautiful you are, and you probably have no idea just how absolutely breathtaking you get when you're about to plummet down the edge yourself. You are magnificent, like a mighty animal, bared of all inhibitions, thrusting into me with wild abandon, chasing your pleasure in my body. And the moment you peak, the way your eyes flutter and close, that wonderful sound that leaves your lips, 

Oh…

the way your hands grab me in their iron grip, showing the true strength of them,

Oh, hngh!

the way your own back arches as I feel your hotness enter me. You claim me as your own, filling me with your lust, your love, the very essence of you, in a moment of the most primal carnality.

Ah! Mhhhm!

With a deep groan, rope after rope of thick cum shot out of Aesop’s throbbing cock, landing against his chest and clinging to the thick hair there. His hand closed around the letter as he threw his head back, stroking himself through the orgasm hard and fast, until the very last drops wept out of the overstimulated glans, rolling down his foreskin and shaft, some dripping down onto his thigh.

He sat there heavily for several minutes, his hand loosening around his softening prick, still twitching lightly, spent and sensitive, his other hand still gripped at the parchment bearing her words and the ghost of her lips. He enjoyed the deep gratification that was seeping into his now so heavy bones, his head feeling near empty, only his heart searching for the other, the one it beat for. After the potions master regained some control of his higher functions again, he lifted the letter to read the last few paragraphs.

I dread the moment you leave my exhausted, but sated body, but you soothe this dread of mine with your delightful kisses, allowing me to drink from your lips as the world around me rebuilds, as the sounds around us once more come into reality. The proof of what we've done, our still trembling limbs, the sweat upon our cooling bodies, your essence flowing out of me, our breathless words and hot kisses. It's another moment I'd like to freeze, that wonderful afterglow with you and only you.

And even as I lie here now, spent and breathless, I cannot deny the pang of regret that you weren't the one to do this to me.

I miss you so terribly, my beloved, and I pray that we can steal away a moment for just the two of us soon, as otherwise I might start going completely mad.

Aesop.

My love. My sweetheart. My entire world.

I love you most ardently, with every inch of me, with my entire heart. It only beats for you. 

You hold it in your amazing hands, and I couldn't ever imagine a better person to be allowed to do so.

Let our next amazing stolen moment together come very soon.

Forever yours.

Oh, fucking hell…

How he wanted her here. No, he needed her here! Aesop needed her to be right here with him, doing the wonderful things she wrote in her letter. He had half a mind to only just make himself presentable, send a house elf to locate her, and steal her away to his chambers, and not let her go. However, his release left him entirely unwilling to do any such thing as moving right now.

The letter… Merlin, where did she learn to write like that? He was gone the moment she mentioned she was thinking of him and pleasuring herself while dictating the Self-writing Quill what to write… 

Maybe…

Maybe he could return the favour. 

Aesop didn't know whether what he'd write would have the same effect on her as her letter had on him, but he could at the very least try. He chuckled breathlessly.

Let's see which one of us cracks first.

Thank you for reading, I hope you enjoyed this little PWP. As always, you can find this story and all of my other stories over at AO3. I greatly appreciate all feedback! ❤️

UNCENSORED ART

[strawberrypinky]

all your loving (all or nothing) pt. 2 - a. sharp x reader

for the longest time, aesop sharp was absolutely certain that he must have eradicated an entire civilisation in his past life, as there was no other possible explanation for the sheer torture in found himself in. but as the months went on and the weather became warmer, and the flowers were blooming again, he found himself believing that reprieve was possible – even for someone like him.

or: aesop sharp is an idiot in love with a breeding kink and this escalated in ways i can never speak of – part two baby!

A/N: Part Two of what was supposed to be a single, short and smutty one shot of my recent fictional obsession: Professor Sharp. Part two is where the breeding kink 'finally' hits – apologies in advance. I haven't written smut in quite a while and I shockingly have never published any before. The depravity was strong with this one and I sincerely hope my mother never finds this. I may be in my twenties but she'd still ship me off to a convent if she did.

Please remember that this takes place during Victorian Times – Women were not nearly as educated as we are today on Sex and Pleasure. MC is a virgin – so she might come off as slightly naive/dumb at times. It's all consensual tho, don't worry.

Thank you again to @legacygirlingreen for enabling me & being my number one supporter on the road to hell. I couldn't have done this without you (seriously, you were a saint) 🤪💚 This one is for you 💚

To everyone reading this; I have never written 'x Reader' before, so please give me some grace for trying 🙏🏻 This was a first. Part Two is the 'final' (as if this wasn't supposed to be a one shot either way lol) - however if someone enables me enough, part three is always a possibility. That said; please don't enable me 💀

Onwards now; I have promised @fizzlewick a Regency/Pride and Prejudice AU! with our favourite Potions Professor as Mr. Darcy.

FYI: (Y/N) - Your Name (Y/L/N) - Your Last Name (Y/E/C) - Your Eye Colour (Y/H/C) - Your Hair Colour

CW (here we go): Fluff, Romance, Idiots in Love, Miscommunication, Pining, Age Difference (Aged up Main Character), Canon Divergence (bc I can't stand to kill Fig off), Spoiler Alert for Hogwarts Legacy, Implied Hufflepuff MC (not specified), Porn with Plot, Victorian attitudes towards Sex, Smut (18+, MDNI - lord, forgive me): Loss of Virginity, Breeding Kink, Impregnation, Overstimulation, Praise Kink, Size Kink, Oral Sex (fem receiving), Cockwarming, Accidental Virginity Kink

Word Count (Part 2): 15.5k (again - this escalated)

AO3 Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/48482581/chapters/123361243

Part One: Click here

For the longest time, Aesop Sharp was absolutely certain that he must have eradicated an entire civilisation in his past life, as there was no other possible explanation for the sheer torture in found himself in. But as the months went on and the weather became warmer, and the flowers were blooming again, he found himself believing that reprieve was possible even for someone like him.

She loved him. 

She. Loved. HIM. 

It was a mantra that he found himself repeating over and over again, never quite believing that this wasn't some sick and twisted dream he would wake up from. But it wasn't a dream, and the extraordinary woman he had fallen in love with, had fallen for him too. He fell asleep with her in his arms every night since that night, his room practically vacant, only for him to return to in the early morning to get dressed and prepare himself for the day ahead, and each morning he fell in love all over again – her face aglow in the morning light. It was bliss. Pure and delicious bliss. 

They had kept their newfound romance largely private, restricted to lingering touches when nobody could see and the small reprieve her hut could offer, though Aesop suspected that their colleagues knew. At the very least, they presumed their dynamic had shifted, even if they did not know to which extent. His love hadn't even told Eleazar, which surprised Aesop, given that the man truly was like a father to her (and a much better one at that, too), but it made their love all the more sacred. If ever Aesop paid Dinah any attention over dinner, he could spot her knowing smirk, carefully hidden behind her goblet, but it was there even if she never outright said anything. 

His mood had much improved, no longer weighed down by the constant nagging feeling of unrequited love and the lingering 'What if?' – her smile and scent no longer torturous but a source of comfort and longing. He still wondered what she saw in him, but the devotion she looked at him with let him believe that this could be forever. Selfishly he let himself dream of days in the English countryside, hidden away in cottages from the prying eyes of the rest of the world, but if selfishness was what this yearning was, Aesop would let himself be a greedy glutton, for he never wished to miss her presence in his life again.

"You think too much," she mumbled, curled into his chest as the sun was slowly starting to rise on the horizon, filling her hut with a glowing orange light.  

"I think too much?" he smiled down at her, her eyes still closed in bliss, his masculine scent of firewhiskey and sandalwood enveloping her senses. He had heard that one before. 

"Mhm," she hummed, opening her tired eyes to look up at his, his hair still dishevelled and unkempt. "I can almost hear your brooding." 

"Apologies, my lady," he jested. "I will be careful to not disturb your beauty sleep any further."

"I will hold you to it", she sighed, falling into his warm embrace, wholly content. "A gentleman should stay true to his word."

"I'm hardly a gentleman," Aesop chuckled lowly. "For if I was, I would not be in your bed without a ring on your finger and a shared last name."

He could see a blush spreading on her cheeks, a timid look of amusement gracing her gentle features. "Perhaps not," she expressed, "but I recall you calling yourself my husband a while ago." 

"To defend your honour," the potions master retorted lowly, still enraged whenever someone brought up her unfortunate family. Her father was as equally exasperating as Phineas Black – a herculean task in Aesop's mind, and he had only met the guy for but a single moment.

"How gallant of you," (Y/N) snickered, peering up at him through her eyelashes. "I have been irredeemable in his eyes the very second I boarded the carriage to Hogwarts."  

"Hm..." Aesop mumbled, pushing a stray hair behind her ear, feeling the soft lock between his calloused fingers. "Forgive my sharp tongue, but I do not believe I give a single fuck as to what that poor excuse of a man thinks. And neither should you, my love." 

"Aesop Cyril Sharp!" his beloved gasped, accompanied by a light slap on his chest. "What a poor choice of words in front of a lady."

Aesop's chest rumbled with laughter, his arms tightening around (Y/N) as she grinned up at him, his heart jumping with glee. They held each other, content as the world around them slowly awoke from its slumber – a new day signalling its commencement. It was a moment of serenity, a place nobody but them existed before they would soon go about their days again, following their routines as they needed to, sharing the glances of secret lovers before their rather clandestine encounters at night would reunite them once more – and Aesop was already counting down the hours, waiting until his love was in his arms again. 

"You'll have to sneak back to the castle soon," the young woman in his arms sighed, a dejected pout on her lips. 

"I feel like a whippersnapper," Aesop groaned. "Surreptitiously wandering about the grounds." 

She giggled gleefully again, pressing herself into his chest. "You are my whippersnapper then." 

Aesop's heart jumped again, overfilling with love and boastful pride at the determinative she had used— My whippersnapper.

"Indeed I am," he sighed contently, pressing a kiss atop her head, inhaling her saccharine scent as her hair tickled his nose. 

Wistfully Aesop rose from his comforting and warm position on the bed, hissing as his leg protested the movement. Some days it hurt worse than others – today looked to be a rather grim day, even if the days had become warmer again. She was at his side in a second, her arms wrapped around his middle in comfort. 

"Do you need me to get you your potion? Or anything else?"

"No," Aesop pressed out, clenching his teeth for a second before he released a shuddering breath, massaging his leg with disdain. He felt as if a perfectly fine morning had been ruined – another reminder that he was wholly inadequate when the woman behind him was not. She only hummed, letting her nimble small hands trace his arms in a soothing motion before pressing a kiss at the nape of his neck. He stood up with careful steps after a while, avoiding too much pressure on his blasted leg. 

As he swiftly exchanged his nightshirt for the suit he had worn yesterday, he could hear (Y/N) bustling in the main room of her hut, likely preparing a cup of tea for him as she usually did before he left. The fragrant aroma of Earl Grey fills his nose; the cup appearing in front of him with a tiredly smiling (Y/N) as he gratefully took the cup from her, perfectly warm and not too hot. She traced patterns on his arm as he greedily drank from the cup, the warmth filling his body and providing a strange relief to his leg, reducing the pain to a bearable thrumming.

"Did you put something in here?" Aesop asked, his eyebrow raised. 

"Perhaps," she tilted her head with a sly grin. "Did it help?"

"It...did," He avowed, placing the cup on the nightstand before pulling her into his arms. 

"Whenever I had a second to spare, I tried to brew on my own," her fingertips still danced over his arms. "You do not have to do this alone anymore, Aesop."

"I do not need your pity," he frowned, though he kept his arms around her waist in a protective embrace. Humiliation coursed through him at her admittance – he was incomplete, crippled. Whatever did she want with him? Surely someone more capable would be able to give her much more, even if the mere thought of her in the arms of someone else asphyxiated him like –

"I know you do not," she smiled, interrupting his train of thought. "Would you let me suffer if I were in pain from a curse?"

"Of course not," Aesop brisked, incensed at the mere thought. "I would not want you suffering needlessly." 

"Then do not expect me to sit by idly for you," she whispered, pulling him down by the lapel of his coat. "My foolish whippersnapper." 

His lips met hers with a pleased hum, his beard scratching her soft skin, undoubtedly leaving a slight burn.

Perhaps Aesop could truly be selfish – because if the gods above blessed him with the celestial woman in his arms, nothing but believing that reprieve was possible for someone like him was imaginable. 

When the weather got even warmer, and June approached them, final exams were soon to be held – as they were every year. Aesop and (Y/N) found themselves busier than ever; their time spent together dwindled to a minimum, which left Aesop rather frustrated most days. More often than not, Aesop had to spend his nights preparing odd brews his students would need to identify, never mind the endless amounts of Invigoration and Calming Draughts Madam Blainey requested at an alarming rate. In any case, Aesop felt like he was drowning in work – a common occurrence towards the end of the school – so it was a welcome distraction when he was forced to leave the dungeons for just a day, even if the trip he needed to take was all but a requirement for him to continue his brewing in the first place.

Aesop's potion supplies were dwindling at a quick pace, and neither his love nor Mirabel were able to keep up with the demand; thus, he found himself forced to take a trip to Feldcroft. Bernard Ndiaye was able to provide Aesop with a few of the missing ingredients, so on a sunny Saturday afternoon, his love and he took the short trip to Feldcroft, a village she had unfortunately only gotten to know under less than cheerful circumstances. Ever since she had successfully fought Ranrok and his rebellion, the hamlet, which had nearly been in ruins once, had been rebuilt and was now a flourishing and quaint place filled with life and many small families. 

"I used to think this place was right out of a storybook," she chirped next to him, their arms intertwined as they walked through the Scottish Highlands, approaching Feldcroft with idle steps. The warm weather and the potion (Y/N) had brewed provided enough alleviation for Aesop to promenade for a short while – it was not a cure, nor a long-term solution to his predicament, but like their newfound romance, it was a new dawn.

"Is that so?" Aesop asked, looking down at her. "Well, they certainly owe you for their...liberation." 

"I can hardly take all the credit," she waved him off, rosy blush on her cheeks. "They have done exceptionally well ever since Ranrok's loyalists have all but fled." 

"Yes, well, and who is to credit for that? Remind me?" 

"I do not know what you are talking about?" she grinned at him now, aware of how much her stories from her fifth year rattled him. Or, in Aesop's words, how much they would 'turn him grey before his time'. 

"I believe the Order of Merlin that has been bestowed upon your name would beg to differ," he grunted. 

"And it is rotting away in Eleazar's home – I have washed my hands of it a long time ago."

"Proudly displayed, no doubt." 

"On the mantle of the fireplace," she affirmed with a desolate groan. "I have tried to convince him to burn it – his efforts have been largely in vain." 

"He is exceptionally proud of you," Aesop explained with newfound kindness. "After Miriam died, he was... in a rather dark place. The rest of us staff were worried, which is why Matilda persuaded Black to send Eleazar your way when the Book spat out your name."

"Oh," she mumbled. "I never knew." 

"You do know they never had children. To him, you are like his own." 

"As he is like my father," she nodded absentmindedly. "I owe everything to him." 

"A notion I'm confident he shares. So let him display that blasted Order – you are his greatest joy." 

She did not argue with him; a slight nod was her only agreement. Aesop once again noticed how much smaller than him she was; the top of her head did not even reach his shoulders. In his mind, she fit into his side like a perfect puzzle piece.

Ndiaye now had a small shop instead the cart (Y/N) remembered from years ago, the place flourishing with the various plants and beast products that littered the business. Ndiaye, much like everyone else, recognised (Y/N) immediately, and Aesop was yet another step closer to grey hair upon hearing the story of how she recklessly risked her life – all for two crates of Chomping Cabbages. Mirabel would have been proud; Aesop was convinced of it.

When they exited his shop, by-products in hand and arms intertwined again, they were intercepted by none other than Sebastian Sallow himself. 

"(Y/N)? Professor Sharp?!" the former Slytherin resident troublemaker exclaimed, bewildered, jogging up to the trio with large steps. His eyes did not leave their joined arms – looking at the couple like they had grown an extra head. He had grown up, no longer a chubby-faced teenager but a man with a sharp jawline, a full beard and broad shoulders; the only boyish thing remaining his flocculant and unkempt hair. Aesop still towered over him, unsurprisingly. He was exceptionally tall, after all.

"Sebastian!" his love exclaimed, freeing herself from Aesop's side to happily hug her closest friend – even if she seemed slightly surprised to see him. "What are you doing here? I thought you had moved to the Cotswolds?"

"I could ask you the same thing," Sebastian teased with a sly grin, his eyes going back and forth between Aesop and her. "But truthfully, we're here because Anne wanted to meet Estelle." 

'We're'? 'Estelle'? Aesop thought, befuddled – a sentiment his paramour did not share. 

"Oh, I am so sorry I haven't come to visit!" she apologised profusely. "But Exams have been utterly crazy – we've hardly had any time to do much aside from grading and preparing."

Sebastian only waved her off with a content smile. "Don't fret – we used the time to acclimate to our lives now."

"I can only imagine," she chuckled. "Who would have thought? You, Mr Capital R Rake, Sebastian Sallow, would be the first of our group of misfits to marry and father a child?"

Ah, so this was what their conversation had been about. Of course – Aesop remembered now. (Y/N) had been quite affronted, if not downright disappointed, when Sebastian had kept his marriage and impending fatherhood a secret for months. When he timely announced the birth of his daughter, a child they had named Estelle, his love was over the moon for him and his wife and wouldn't stop talking about visiting the two. 

Sebastian chuckled, his smile proud as he puffed out his chest. "Not me, that I'm sure of. Would you like to meet her? I'm confident Megan wouldn't mind." 

"I would love to," she agreed, turning around to face Aesop. "Would you mind?" 

"No, of course not," Aesop shook his head. "Shall I head back to the castle then?"

"Such a silly man," she giggled, grabbing his hand and masterfully ignoring the comically wide-eyed stare of Sebastian. "You must beat Ominis at his game of being the favourite uncle." 

"When did this happen?!" he finally asked, looking as if he were ready to burst. 

"February," (Y/N) admitted bashfully, wrapping her arm around Aesop's with a rosy smile. "We've been keeping it under our hats mostly."

"And you were mad I kept my marriage a secret?!" Sebastian sounded affronted, evidently not believing what he was witnessing.

"That's different. We're courting. Unlike someone here, I would not keep my marriage or motherhood a secret." 

"That's not – Merlin, he's our old potions professor." 

"I may be handicapped, Mr Sallow, but I can assure you, I can hear quite well," Aesop interjected, though he could not deny the happiness that surged in his heart upon his sweetheart admitting that they were courting to one of her dearest friends. She wasn't ashamed of him.

"We are colleagues, Sebastian. Equals," (Y/N) added, her tone leaving no room for any argument to be made. "In any case, you should be showing me, my niece, right now."

"This isn't over," Sebastian mumbled as he led them towards his aged childhood home, which his twin had settled in with her own partner, a travelling merchant from a nearby hamlet. 

Aesop hadn't seen Anne Sallow for years, not since she had been cursed. He remembered her to be the ringleader of trouble before she left Hogwarts due to her unfortunate ailment, and while she had never found a cure for it, (Y/N) ending the reign of terror and life of Victor Rookwood – the man who had cursed her – enabled her to live a without day to day debilitating pain.

She was just as stunned as Sebastian had been upon hearing of their relationship, but she still chatted with her former professor, even if the conversation was entirely awkward. Aesop endured for her sake mostly, and it was worth it – nothing would ever make him forget the sheer and utter joy on his love's face when she held her tiny 'niece' in her arms.

Aesop was astonished at how such a wee little thing was able to tear such a starstruck and enchanted smile from a person – he was sure (Y/N) had never smiled as big. He watched as she cooed over little Estelle, her smile blinding as she cradled the tiny thing in her arms, carefully supporting her back and neck. She looked like she had done this a million times, positively natural, and Aesop didn't know whether it was her or him, but his mind was suddenly filled with pictures of her doing precisely this with their kids. When he was younger, he hadn't ever thought of kids, perhaps only as a natural consequence of marriage and marital relations and after his accident, he had written the prospect off entirely. No woman wanted a cripple, much less one as a father to possible children. Now, though, he had a woman who wanted him just as much as he wanted her, and she was young and had even admitted to wanting children. Perhaps they were a possibility after all?

"Aesop?" his beloved turned her attention towards him. "Isn't she just precious?" 

"Certainly," Aesop agreed though he did not mean the baby – which was bound to be precious nonetheless. He could not help the smirk that graced his face upon catching Sebastian Sallow's indignant expression. 

"You should hold her too," Megan, Sebastian's wife, suddenly suggested, a curious glance on her face. 

"I really think I shouldn't," he chuckled upon seeing Sebastian Sallow's face contort strangely. Poor lad would likely never get used to it. 

"No, please do," Megan, the wife of Sallow, smiled at him. "Ignore my husband - he's a little thickheaded." 

"A little?!" Anne and (Y/N) giggled in unison, promptly ignoring the sound of indignance Sebastian let out. 

"Excuse me for being confused over this...," he waved around wildly with his hands, "situation." 

"Oh, please. Get over it," Megan rolled her eyes, a teasing grin on her face. "Besides, if our daughter is anything like us, having teachers in her corner will be a godsend when she inevitably gets into trouble at Hogwarts."

"Oh, so this is where it's coming from," Aesop shook his head. "I'm afraid I don't play favourites." 

"You will," Megan winked conspiratorially, beckoning him to introduce little Estelle. With her delicate arms and gentle touch, (Y/N) placed the little girl in his arms, smiling at him as he held her; though he was not quite as natural as she was, the tiny thing held awkwardly in his arms. The baby was asleep, so he couldn't view her eyes, but if he had to, Aesop reckoned Estelle resembled her father far more than she did her mother. It made him stop and think about what his children would look like, and instantly, he wished, prayed, they would look like her.  

"Not so bad after all, am I right, Bash?" Megan playfully jested, watching the disdain on her husband's face. "Even if our daughter looks positively tiny in those arms."

"She is tiny," Sebastian remarked. "And in any case, this is weird. (Y/N) you do know I thought him to be a git?"

"Sebastian!" Megan and (Y/N) gasped simultaneously, though Aesop could only snort in amusement. 

"I wholeheartedly believed you to be one of my more promising students, Mister Sallow," Aesop admitted, his eyebrow raised as Sebastian looked at him with surprise. "If you had applied yourself a little more instead of recklessly breaking the rules and surging into things without even considering any consequence, I might have been less...stern with you." 

"I do not surge into things without considering the consequences," Sebastian retorted with affronted indignance – the woman in the room now chortling with mirth. 

"Oh no," Megan giggled. "That is precisely why you were cursed in that blasted tomb of the two lovers and thus experienced...ehem... heightened...carnal pleasure."

If Aesop had been a man to blush, he likely would have. Sebastian Sallow undoubtedly was. His love was, too, averting her gaze from anyone and anything – a ferocious blush on her cheeks. 

"That was one time," he yapped, his arms crossed in front of him.

"Of course," Megan rolled her eyes, turning her attention to the woman beside her. "He was ready to deflower me in that very same tomb. We undoubtedly have to devise a sweeter story about our first meeting if Estelle ever asks." 

"Agreed," Sebastian cleared his throat.

"That's really Sebastian, though," his love chuckled, blush still on her cheeks as she focused on the little babe in Aesop's arms, gently stroking her head in a motherly fashion. "I, for one, can recall a very similar event involving a goblin mine."

Aesop was certain his old heart would give out soon, for this was bound to be yet another tale of her recklessly, foolishly risking her life. She had an affinity for it, no doubt. The words 'goblin mine' were enough to fill him with terror and astonishment – He did not understand how she had survived this long. 

"Do I want to know?" Aesop asked with a groan, eliciting a giggle from her. 

"No," she shook her head with a wink. "No, you really don't."

"I, for one, agree," Sebastian shuddered. "I am not keen on getting slaughtered by an ex-auror today." 

"Oh, Aesop is not that sinister," his love giggled.

"Oh no, I am," Aesop interjected with a threatening smile. "I may have been out of the field for over a decade, but best believe I can still make it look like an accident. I promised your...father," the word spat from his tongue, "as much."

"Your father?" Sebastian asked, his tone worried and, dare Aesop say, alarmed? "What..."

"I don't wish to talk about it," (Y/N) waved him off hurriedly. "Aesop dealt with him more than I did."

"Did he now?" Sebastian mused, a thoughtful look on his face. Suddenly he regarded Aesop with a little less disdain and horror.

Aesop did not count the minutes or hours they stayed at the former Sallow residence. It had been a pleasant change from the frenzied and fully engulfing pre-examination environment at the castle, the atmosphere joyful with little Estelle, even when she had briefly awoken and promptly shown off her impressively large lung. When he and his love were finally leaving, the sun was setting on the horizon, casting a beautifully orange glow over the Scottish Highlands, a warm summer breeze carrying the slightly salty air from the sea.

"Sharp?" Sebastian Sallow lowly called out to him as Megan and (Y/N) said their goodbyes, the latter cooing at the tiny baby in Megan's arms, seemingly not wishing to part from her at all. 

"Yes?" Aesop sighed, his leg starting to ache and his mood souring as he remembered how much he would have to brew throughout the night.

"Did you truly meet her father?"

Aesop was surprised, though he tried not to let it show. Sebastian had been her friend for many years; perhaps he knew more than Aesop did, the issue of her father still one she avoided most days – not even considering the simple fact that she saw Eleazar as hers in any case. 

"We did," he affirmed with a curt nod. "Dratted meater if you'd ask me."

"I can't say I ever had the displeasure of meeting the man," Sebastian scoffed. "But if you truly took care of him in her place, then...I suppose I should thank you.

Aesop only raised his eyebrow.

"She is akin to family for me and wholly responsible for me standing here at all. For being able to have a family – my daughter. What I am trying to convey, I suppose, is please take care of her." 

"You have my word." 

A week passed and then another, both in a similar manner as the others before had; their time largely spent apart during the days as they prepared their students for their final exams and OWLs and NEWTS. Yet when the sun had gone down, and the stars were glittering like a million diamonds over the castle, Aesop found himself precisely where he longed to be: in her home, her in his arms or next to him on the comfortable armchairs, the world around them away far enough for just a while. When in her hut, surrounded by warmth and the feeling of 'home', his thoughts cleared miraculously, no longer filled with exams and potions and students that likely would never achieve anything beyond a 'poor'. 

Megan Sallow had, as Aesop continued to realise, been right: Little Estelle Sallow would enable him to play favourites – if he was still a Professor by then, of course. More notably, though, seeing his love hold the small child and holding her himself filled him with more and more dreams and desires for his own children, the dreams of days hidden in the English countryside now vividly brighter as tiny feet ran around his mind endlessly echoing as if he were stuck in an everlasting pensive memory. It was ludicrous, foolish even – just a mere year ago, Aesop had believed himself to be resigned to forever Bachelorhood, his fate of living alone and forlorn for the rest of his days not likely to ever change. But it had – for fate had steered a most exquisite and extraordinary woman on his path, and perhaps, just perhaps, she would be inclined to share more than just a life with him. 

The very picture of her holding little Estelle was etched into his mind, creating a desire he hadn't thought possible. Aesop did not understand how something so small could hold such power over him. But it did. He wondered if – 

"Sickle for your thoughts?" his lover's sweet voice pulled him from his thoughts as she placed her lesson plans for the following week on the small coffee table before she stood up and walked to her small stove.

"I was just reminiscing," he answered truthfully.

"Oh?" She looked at him with her soft gaze, her head titled in genuine interest. "What of?" 

"Estelle," Aesop sighed. "I fear her mother may be right, and I will be playing favourites in a few years. Do not let Sallow know I said that, though." 

"We both will," she chuckled, preparing another kettle to make more tea, the warm light of the fireplace painting her in an ethereal glow. Though the summer was comfortably mild, the evenings and nights still got cold; thus, Aesop was thankful she continued to light the fireplace. "She was just a darling little thing."

"Not as adorable as ours would be," Aesop let slip out, his tone even as he was only half joking as the thought continued manifesting in his mind. Their children would be more adorable - Aesop was sure of it. Especially because they would be hers – tiny, perfect replicas of her, with her wonderfully bright and loving eyes, her warm persona and exceptional talent. 

"I am not certain where this is coming from all of a sudden, but," she shook her head. "You are not half as shocking as you think you are," giggling quietly as she helped herself to another cup of tea, the fragrant, flowery aroma of rooibos filling the space.

"Oh?" Aesop couldn't help but raise his eyebrow as he watched her. Her beautiful hair was shimmering in the low light of her cabin, her (Y/H/C) waves cascading down her shoulders just like Aesop adored, a shift from the elaborate updos and styles she commonly wore – her hair soft and full, likely smelling of citrus and hyacinth, her skin tingling with spring. In short: She was utterly irresistible.

He could almost feel his manhood straining against his breeches, observing her hum lowly as her hips swayed in an unfamiliar rhythm, her face content, complete with a dainty smile. The atmosphere felt domestic, and Aesop found himself pulled into visions of the English countryside again, the images becoming more vivid with each second that time passed them by. He wanted, needed, more.

"Your bark is far worse than your bite," she continued, her tone teasing as she shot him a grin before returning her attention to the stove.

Is that what she truly believed? That his bark was worse than his bite? Had she forgotten that he had been an Auror? That, realistically, he could crush her tiny body between two fingers?

Before Aesop could stop himself, he had risen from his position in front of the fireplace, stalking toward her like a predator seeking its prey – a fitting description in Aesop's mind. She did not notice him, and it was far too easy for him to slowly wrap his arms around her tiny waist and pull himself against her. He could feel her warm body tense below his fingers, her breath hitching as he towered over her. His hair fanned out against her cheeks when he leaned forward, his mouth brushing against her ear. Goosebumps were rising on her body, and he could make out the slightest shiver the closer he leaned into her.

He revelled in the way her body responded to his. So pliant. So... submissive. 

"I can assure you, my love," he breathed out against her ear, "that my bite is just as bad." 

An audible gasp escaped her as she fidgetted in his arms and turned around, though he kept his arms tightly locked around her waist – trapping her between the stove and himself. She stared up at him, her (Y/E/C) eyes wide as they met his blown-out pupils that bore into hers.

"A-Aesop," she stuttered out. He watched as her cheeks turned rosy, her mouth slightly open. Though their touches had lingered over the past weeks, and their nights had been spent in the embrace of one another, Aesop hadn't been particularly bold or forthcoming beyond precisely that – their romance sweet and innocent and virtuous. He knew of her inexperience, but ever so carefully, he moved his hand upwards, his touch a mere ghost against her body before reaching her face and cupping her chin below his finger. His thumb moved against her lips. They were plump and soft - as was the rest of her. 

His self-control was slipping, his manhood straining, and he felt like a juvenile delinquent. Aesop didn't want or ask for many things in life, but at this moment, he desired her.

"Tell me, Y/N," he breathed out, "Do you truly believe that yourself?" 

"I-"

His hands moved back to her hips, his hold somewhere between a tight grip and a gentle caress. He wanted to caress her, hold her, love her. And he was unable to suppress his desires any longer. He pressed his front against hers, letting her feel what she did to him, her audible gasp and rosy cheeks sending another jolt down his spine. Her cheeks were burning deliciously, and she simply stared at him. 

"Aesop," she whimpered helplessly. He was all-consuming. His deliciously musky scent of sandalwood and firewhiskey enveloped her until all her senses were inhabited by him and only him. His body surrounded her, and the warmth he emitted was nearly suffocating, but it was Aesop, after all. 

Aesop.

The same man she had grown to love as much as she had. A man she would entrust her entire life with, knowing that he would do the same. A man who loved her wholeheartedly by his own admittance, who had defended her honour against a man he had never known when she had not even been his. His beard was rough against her cheeks, his head slowly moving down as he pressed feather-light kisses on her jaw and neck. He deeply inhaled her scent, never getting enough, relishing in the slight tremors that shook his love and the whimpers that fell from her lips. 

"My love," he mumbled as he continued to kiss her neck, bent down awkwardly to her much smaller height and frame, caressing her sides as he held her close. "You would be the most stunning mother." His hands found her hips, one of them reaching to carefully touch her lower stomach, the very place that would swell with their children, where she would safely carry them until they were ready to come earthside. His voice was gentle, scarcely above a whisper, yet its rough rumbling sound resonated within the air. 

"Is that something you could wish for?" he mumbled, looking at her before he placed his lips upon hers, savouring her saccharine taste as they moved in sync; him much more dominating. "For me to make you a mother?" 

Her eyes bulged, looking at him, shell-shocked with her mouth still open. "Ae-Aesop," she stuttered lowly, "where is this coming from?" 

He smirked at her, his caramel eyes meeting hers with a piercing gaze – a heated shiver tumbling down her spine. "I have not stopped thinking about it ever since you have held Estelle. You were captivating." 

His lips met hers again, a blazing fire of desire and want behind the kiss that swallowed her whole. 

"Aesop we," she gasped. "We can't. We're not even wedded." 

He couldn't help the laugh that escaped his mouth. If this was her only problem, it could easily be rectified. More so, Aesop wanted to rectify it. "You think I would want to fuck my children into some random woman?" His voice was several tones deeper, still pressed into her as she took in his unusually forthright and vulgar words with wide eyes. "If it were up to me, my love, we could be married on the morrow and expedite our wedding night." 

"Y-you – you want to marry me?"

"Let me reiterate," Aesop whispered against her lips. "I will not fuck my children into anyone but my wife. Anything you yearn for, it's yours." 

He observed her face carefully – meticulously. His love wore her heart on her sleeve, conflicting emotions clouding her features. This was her decision and hers alone; she would carry and birth their children, after all. Just before he could pull away and express to her that she had all the time in the world that she needed, her quiet, breathless voice reached his.

"Will it...hurt?" she asked with uncertainty, biting her lip as she stared up into Aesop's eyes. She knew very little of marital relations, her mother telling her just enough to understand what needed to happen for her to conceive. Beasts were luckily quite the same, but in any case, the act did not sound or seem pleasant – but for Aesop and a chance at a family with him, she could endure.

"For a second," he spoke truthfully. "Just a second." 

"Okay," she whispered, wrapping her arms around his broad shoulders, letting him place his lips against hers. His mouth felt dominating, his beard coarse against her soft skin, lightly distracting her from his manhood pressing into her lower stomach. Arousal, excitement, anxiousness... they coursed through her as she let herself be enveloped and cared for by him. 

Aesop slowly guided her towards the bedroom, his lips never leaving hers, leaving him in a rather awkward position bent down to her height with his leg thrumming away lowly, but the sheer yearning was enough to make him forget the lingering pain, his sense zeroing in on her and the way her body felt beneath his fingertips. His arms wrapped around her waist, pulling her body flush against his as he kept pressing himself into her, his manhood finding purchase and a torturous relief; before, reluctantly, he moved his lips from hers, both of them breathing deeply.

Ever so carefully, with Aesop's eyes never leaving hers, his fingers moved to her front, carefully unbuttoning her bodice, her chest rapidly moving up and down.  

"You do not have to lay with me if you don't wish to," Aesop mumbled, his hands ceasing their careful administrations though he held them at her chest.

"I want to," she breathed out, her voice barely above a whisper. "I trust you."

Aesop nodded with a smile, leaning in to kiss her again as his hands removed her bodice, his hands moving around her waist again to carefully unwrap her overskirt; before long, the delicate fabric joined her bodice on the floor, leaving her in her corset and bloomers. Their lips moved in unison, passionately filling his and her soul before they became one, and Aesop could feel her delicate, diminutive hands working to liberate him of his vest. He smiled contently into the kiss, a low chuckle rumbling in his chest at her rather ungainly movements of opening the buttons but allowing her to feel him just as he felt her. Aesop's hand trailed a line against the bone of her hip, his other hand holding her waist steady as the warmth of her body slowly seeped through the thick material of the corset. Pulling away, Aesop could see the peak of her breasts pressing against the corset, barely spilling over – teasing him deliciously. 

Her delicate hands tugged at his vest before Aesop let it fall to the ground alongside her garb, leaving him in his breeches and a cotton blouse, some chest hair peeking through at the top. She smiled at him – shyly, nervously, but Aesop could not glimpse a flicker of uncertainty. Carefully, he reached around her, ably loosening the laces of her corset, before the torturous thing joined the rest of her garments and his vest on the floor. She gasped, a sudden sensation of vulnerability as Aesop saw her chest in all its glory, her peaks hardening against the sudden air that kissed them in a welcoming embrace. Before she could cover herself, Aesop tenderly grabbed her wrists, holding them in his much larger hands, his eyes never leaving hers – warm and comforting. 

"You are exquisite," he whispered, pulling her close. His larger body enveloped hers, her peaks chafing against the cotton with delicious friction before he kissed her fervently again, his hands roaming across her body as hers found his waist. 

Though his body had significantly changed ever since he had left the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, Aesop remained lean and well-muscled, his shoulders still broad and strong – the assertive air around him never leaving. She could feel it between her fingertips, his shirt leaving little to the imagination as it clung to his body like a second skin. 

She gasped into him when his hands suddenly touched her breasts, his hands fondling, fondling them gently, effortlessly cupping them in his large hands. Two fingers slowly swirled around her hardened peaks, teasing her with a gentle, loving caress, swallowing her soft moans as he put forth all his longing and desire into the kiss. Against his mouth, Aesop could feel her soft whining; his manhood twitching as desire unlike he's ever felt before rushing through him.

"Get on the bed," Aesop growled lowly, eyes half-lidded in eros. She pulled away shakily, her eyes trained on him as he guided her towards the bed, letting herself lower down on the mattress when the back of her knees met the edge. Aesop stepped closer, looking down at her with an untamed gaze that sent shivers of craving and a newfound feeling she couldn't describe through her body. His fingers trailed below her chin, tilting it up slightly as he took her in. He felt like a young gentleman again, brimming with ferocious, carnal appetite when he had scarcely even touched her yet. Merlin knew he needed to be gentle – her inexperience and what Aesop suspected was a grand dearth of knowledge were bound to make this…interesting enough.

"And you are entirely certain you want this?" his voice unrecognisable.

"Yes," she whimpered, her nerves alight. For so long, it had been ingrained into her that she was not to lay with a man unless he was her husband, her very existence at Hogwarts having brought shame upon her family. And yet, as Aesop's presence enveloped her, she could not deny herself the sheer wanting and craving with the lasciviousness the moment brought. 

He moved to his knees, his leg thrumming as he unhurriedly removed her bloomers, the tips of his fingers grazing her sides before she was as naked as the day she was born. The blaze of arousal that ran through him was as intense as the sun, and he has to remind himself like a chant that this is a first for her. He has to be gentle. 

"Lay back," Aesop rasped out, rising to his feet again to remove his boots before he joined her on the bed, leaning over her with one arm supporting his upper body. 

His eyes bore into hers as he slowly let his hand trail a sweet caress down her body. His touch was feather-light, the tips of his fingers scantily making contact with her heated skin, but it was enough to perceive the goosebumps that littered it. Her mouth was slightly open, though her eyes were wide - filled with anticipation, wonder and the lingering fear of the unknown. 

His hand travelled lower, perhaps slightly clumsily, until it finally reached her hip and then the apex of her thighs. Her breath sped up slightly, but her eyes held onto his and Aesop revelled in the trust she was giving him. She had offered herself on a silver plate, and he would not stop until he had devoured her whole.

Ever so slowly, he manoeuvred her legs open, settling himself between them before his hand travelled lower and finally reached the place he wanted to absolutely wreck.

Aesop felt the small wet tuft, his touch teasing as he carefully slid his finger up and down her slit.

"Oh," she gasped, surprised, her breath speeding up as her thighs clenched around him. 

"So responsive," Aesop chuckled lowly, "and I have barely even touched you." 

She only whined when his touch became bolder, his middle finger pressing down on her womanhood as his thumb searched for her clit. If he wanted to fuck her - if she wanted him to take her, he would need to prepare her in every way conceivable. 

"Is this good?" he breathed out, his eyes still not leaving hers as he leant down, peppering her face in soft and gentle kisses. His fingers, at last, found her little nub – small and hard, peeking out like a treasured secret, his thumb simply pressing down on, whilst his middle finger caressed up and down, and she gasped out, her back rising from the bed. 

"Yes," she finally found her words and nodded meekly. "I - Ah!" 

Aesop chuckled as he pressed down harder, slowly drawing precise circles on her clit as her womanhood gradually became more and more damp beneath his ministrations. He littered small kisses along her cheeks and jaw – barely tangible – as she whined and squirmed underneath him, her breath reduced to erratic pants that only fuelled his own arousal. His breeches were confining, but witnessing her descent into bliss was nothing if not a blessing. This was his personal Eden - Aesop was sure of it. 

He could feel her hole, tight and searing and oh so enticing, as his index finger joined his middle finger and touched her with newfound vigour. His thumb increased the pressure on her clit, and she keened.

"Aesop!"

"Yes?" he mumbled, his mouth on her throat, suckling tiny precious bruises all over. He could feel her heartbeat when his lips trailed her jugular vein, and it beat in the rhythm of his own. Her whining and squirming made him growl, but he would have been lying if it didn't excite him all the same. 

"I- Ah!" 

"Use your words, my sweet girl," Aesop drew back, his eyes finding her face again – her eyes shut in unadulterated bliss. 

"Look at me," he bade her, "I want you to look at me when I make you come. When you unravel on my fingers." 

Obediently she obliged, her frantic eyes finding his as she let out desperate pants and arched up into him.  

"Please," she begged him.

"Please, what?" He teased her with a wolfish grin.

"More."

She felt so utterly overwhelmed and treasured as he made her feel things she had never felt before. Aesop was all-consuming, and she lost herself in the pleasure he gave her. Pleasure she had never thought would even exist.

Between her legs, Aesop let his middle finger wander closer to her heat, pressing deeper as he went, feeling her wetness seeping out of her. Ever so carefully, almost curiously, he inserted his finger, coaxing a kittenish trill from her. 

"Oh, oh," she squirmed under him, the sensation foreign and not entirely pleasant. His finger was easily the size of two of hers, a burning feeling accompanying its breaching entrance. 

"Shh," he shushed her, littering kisses over her face once more. "I have to, my love. I have to. Just... let me feel you." 

A soothing exhale let her refocus on the circles he drew on her clit and the pleasure shooting through her. His movements were meticulous, calculated and more pleasing than anything she had ever tried on herself. 

Against his own thighs, Aesop could feel hers tensing and flexing, and he gave her a moment's reprieve before he could sense her settling, and he steadily began moving his finger in and out. She was tight, expectedly so, which only meant he would have to put in a substantial amount of work if she were to take him. To divert her attention further, he descended his head until his mouth found her erect nipples, enveloping one as she flexed into him.

"Aesop," she moaned lowly. He hummed in response – the vibrations a delightful sensation.

Though her hut had been comfortably warm before, it felt like it was positively ablaze now, the heat flickering away at her exposed skin, arousal running through her like a Graphorn untamed. The hand that had previously held him up now moved downwards, cupping her other breast, caressing it with teasing strokes that drove her mad.

"So tight," Aesop mumbled against her breast, his finger still dragging through her heat gently and slowly. "My perfect girl. So tight and warm..."

Her breathing quickened – chest rising against Aesop's face, his beard prickly against her delicate skin. Moans escaped her mouth; his thumb steadily increased its pressure on her as he worked her open. Delicately, he slipped in a second finger, pausing as she tensed up and before her tight and warm body opened up to him, welcoming his fingers as she groaned in rhapsody. 

"Aesop..." 

She trembled, overwhelmed by the very emotion and intimacy of the moment, a warm heat gathering in her lower abdomen as his motions slowly sped up, the delicious pressure of his fingers on her nub bringing her closer to the edge of delirium. 

"That's it," Aesop mumbled against her, slowly rising up to look at her face. "That's it, my love." 

Fervently, Aesop placed his lips upon hers again, consuming her cries of bliss as her body arched into his, her nipples brushing against the cotton of his blouse. One of her hands travelled from her sides to his waist whilst the other found his hair tangling itself in it as his movements quickened. Expertly, Aesop curled his two fingers inside her, uncovering the bundle of pleasure that made her keen under him. She broke the kiss, turning her head to the side as she moaned vociferously – panting as she got closer and closer to ecstasy. 

"Aesop, I –" she gasped, looking right into her lover's eyes, her pupils blown and cheeks rosy the closer he brought her to completion. 

"I've got you," he promised lowly, speeding up his movements as he felt her womanhood tighten up around his fingers. "Let go, my love. I've got you." 

She felt like she was burning. From the way his fingers felt on her – in her – making her sweat and drip on the sheets as she writhed beneath him, the heat burning from between her legs before it spread in every little part of her body – an all-consuming inferno.

"I – Ah!" 

"That's it, my love," Aesop cooed, curling his fingers against her spot, watching as she unravelled beneath him. Her eyes clenched, her hips wriggled underneath him, canting upwards – as she chased the foreign sensation that built up inside of her. Aesop fondled her clit a little faster, flicking it with animalistic precision as his fingers mercilessly assailed that tenderly sweet spot inside of her; before long, her womanhood clenched violently, and her first orgasm swept over her. Aesop watched, enthralled and utterly bewitched, as she cried out in pleasure, her thighs clenching around his hips and her tiny hands tightening, finding his shoulders and digging into them. 

"Oh! Aesop!" 

He could only groan, his manhood twitching at the thought of finally settling himself inside her tight, dripping warmth. Aesop continued to move his fingers – in, out – the movement lazy, helping her ride out the crashing waves of her orgasm before her tremble ceased and her moans shifted into paltry whines. He retracted his fingers, bringing them to his mouth as he sucked on them like a man starved, tasting her ambrosial wetness. She tasted like she smelled – saccharinely sweet like honey, entirely addicting. When he opened his eyes once more, he found his love staring at him with wide eyes, her cheeks flushed, and her hair spread around her head like a glowing halo. She was sweaty, her chest still heaving against the swelting heat of the hut – Aesop could feel his eyes darken in desire. 

His lips met hers with another bruising kiss, his prickly beard scratching against her delicate skin. She could taste the remnants of herself on him – an odd taste if one were to ask her – but she was left utterly breathless from the sheer overwhelming intensity of emotions surging through her, her very soul intertwining with his. To love someone as deeply as she loved Aesop had been one thing, but to feel the love reciprocated and returned tenfold was another dizzying reality entirely. 

"I love you," Aesop breathed out. "Fuck – I love you." 

"Aesop," her eyes widened, though her heart overfilled with love at his proclamation, and her eyes filled with tears. "I love you too." 

He smiled at her – how could he not? Whenever did he get this lucky?! Perhaps he had saved a nation once – there was no perspicuous reason for this love otherwise.

His hands found her sides again, feeling her curves with a reverent worshipping touch, relishing the soft skin of her much smaller body beneath the callouses of his fingers. She shivered lightly, keeping her eyes trained on his. No matter the trepidation coursing through her veins, she was safe and cared for in Aesop's arms and beneath his much larger body – enveloping her as the world around blurred outside her focus. With quivering hands, she reached out to his waist, pulling at his shirt with a subtle whine.

Aesop chuckled lowly, pulling his shirt from his breeches before he allowed her to help him pull his blouse over his head as it promptly joined the rest of their garments on the floor. His love glanced at him, a demure gaze as she followed the lines of his scars littering his torso, though most of them were hidden by the ample amount of hair that covered it. 

"And you say I'm exquisite," she whispered bashfully. 

Carefully, she reached out to the largest one by his ribs, following the line with the ghost of a touch into the thick fur in the middle of his chest. Her fingertips danced over his pectorals, causing Aesop to release a shuddering breath before he leaned down again to find her lips. Her hands pawed at him hungrily, almost boldly, as he devoured her lips in a searingly hot kiss.

"May I try something?" he asked breathlessly.

"I trust you."

A wolfish grin spread across his face, sending a jolt of desire down her spine, unsure of what to expect. For one last second, he drank in her gaze upon his body, watching as she took in his broad shoulders and tapered waist before he bent down again, pressing kisses along her neck and collarbones, his hot breath fanning against her bosom. 

"It'll be good, I promise," he mumbled, grin still on his face as he attended to her erect nipples with two kittenish licks before he went lower. His beard scratched against her belly, the delicious friction sure to leave a slight burn on her the following day, but her eyes widened again when he went even lower. 

"Stop thinking," Aesop muttered, feeling her tensing lightly beneath him as he kissed down her torso. "Just let yourself feel."

He ceased again for just a second when his lips reached her lower stomach – a moment to relish her sweet scent with blissfully closed eyes. Lovingly, tenderly, he pressed a kiss down right where her womb would be – a silent prayer, a wish, sent up to whichever God had sent her his way to ensure this would be fruitful. He knew his love was utterly magical, but this secret place of hers was capable of creating wonders he yearned for – possessively, wholly and greedy in ways he hadn't known.

"A-Aesop, what are you –?" she asked with a stutter when he went even lower, spreading her legs further, placing himself between them as he held them in his arms. 

"Push me away if you wish for me to stop, my love," a grin still on his face as he lowered his body to level with her womanhood. He gazed at her – right at the place he was hoping to ravage – whimpering with desire. He wasn't sure if he had ever expected anything, but if he did, it exceeded his expectations, for she looked oh so beautiful and alluring. Unable to stop himself, he bent down, brushing his nose up and down her mound, his beard leaving a deliciously sweet burn against the skin of her thighs as she started to shake and gasp in his hold. She smelled even better than he had dreamed, and without forewarning, his lips closed around her nub and sucked. 

Aesop was silently thankful her hut was nearly off grounds; the absolute wail of pleasure she let out would've been heard by the entire castle otherwise. Her hips canted upwards, her legs sealing around him, and her arms flailing around until they found Aesop's hair. She didn't push him away, but her grasp was tight, holding onto him like he was her lifeline. 

"Aesop!" 

He hummed lowly in response, his eyes closed at the delectable taste, pulling and suckling at her most sensitive part.

"Aesop it – Ah! 's too much I – " 

Her hips moved desperately beneath him – up, down; left, right – wriggling; trying to elude his succour and moving closer simultaneously. Determined to make her stay, Aesop wrapped one of his arms around her hip, pressing her down into the mattress as the other held open her legs. There was not a single thing on earth that could have impeded Aesop's ministrations, her yelps and incoherent pleas falling on deaf ears as his tongue swirled around her clit, pressing circles into her. He desperately osculated her ambrosial wetness – wanting, craving, needing her to come undone once more, his grip on her tightening.

"'sop – Please, I – Ah!" 

His name fell from her lips like a reverent prayer, her upper body thrashing around and her breath uneven as she gulped in the air between her cries of pleasure. Her quim was positively dripping – her fluids spreading against her thighs and onto the sheets of her bed. Aesop's own groans of desire sunk into her, breathing in heavy pants as he devoured her whole. His fingers found her hole again, this time easily inserting two as her womanhood clenched periodically around them. The bed jerked with her movements, the wooden frame clattering against the stone walls as the room continued to heat up. 

"I – Oh, Merlin – I... Ahhh!" 

Aesop chuckled, his fingers curling and hitting the same precious spot over and over again. She tasted so sweet; her womanhood frail and warm against his tongue as he lapped at her rapaciously.

"Good girl," he rasped out somewhere in between. "Doing so well for me."

Her spluttering cries filled him with wicked pride as her head thrashed against the pillows – him holding down the rest of her, leaving her entirely at his mercy – unable to do anything but take what he gave her. It was riveting to know he would be the first man to bed her, that he was the first to introduce her to the endless fields of pleasure, as much as it thrilled Aesop to know he would also be her last. His fingers dallied their movements, his tongue ceasing its assault in place of kittenish licks, wishing to draw out her ecstasy before he decided to enter a third finger. Her eyes scrunched up with the discomfort she was suddenly feeling, his tongue scarcely enough to make it decently pleasing. 

"Aesop," she groaned lowly, pushing her hip into her mattress in a futile attempt to escape him – his iron grip did not relent. "It's too much." 

"Shh..." he soothed her, his fingers moving in and out, curling inside her, opening her and making her all the more pliant for him. "Shh... there you go, my love. You can take it." 

His arm held her hips pertinaciously as his fingers worked deeper inside with each thrust – a little further each time they moved. She yelped, pleasure and pain intermingling when his tongue curled around her bundle of nerves, holding the highly sensitised part of her on the unforgiving, warm cushion of his own flesh before he sucked, the violent waves of ecstasy creeping up on her once more. Her wetness seeped out of her, dripping down the knuckles of his fingers, dirtying her thighs and the sheets below. The sounds he drew from her were utterly obscene, filling the air, which likely reeked of their activities, and he wasn't even close to being done with her. Her thighs trembled under his hold, her upper body thrashing around. 

She wished for it to stop, yet she prayed this would never end. 

"Aesop...Aesop... Merlin, I – Oh, OH."

"It's alright," Aesop mumbled. "You're doing so good for me. My perfect girl." 

Her second orgasm collided with her very soul – violently, fiercely, drowning her in the waves of ecstasy as the world around her shifted into a blinding white, turning her blissfully boneless. Her cries echoed in her hut, bouncing off the walls like sweet singing. Aesop groaned, his being awash with desire as his stiff manhood strained against his breeches – so much that it almost hurt. His fingers moved lazily, a few languid strokes helping her through the aftershocks of her peak, heat consuming her as she lay sapless beneath him. Aesop hastily unbuckled his breeches, pushing them down along with his underpants, letting his sizable erection spring free though his gaze did not wander from her.

His love looked downright sinful. 

She swallowed in greedy, deep breaths, her chest heaving as the electrifying feeling of her ecstasy continued to tingle through her, the world still spinning – she hardly even realised that Aesop was now naked too. Some hair clung to the nape of her neck, the rest fanned out around her as beads of sweat covered her lithe little body. It was as if she glowed from within – Aesop was sure he had never seen anything so beautiful. 

He slowly made his way back up to her, his arms on either side of her body, holding him up and relieving most of the pressure from his leg, though it barely hurt as it stood. His eyes didn't leave hers, though they were still hazy in the afterglow. Aesop's hand lovingly caressed her face, pushing back a stray hair or two, waiting until her eyes found his again. His shaft twitched anxiously, resting between her body and his – warm and soft and waiting. 

When she glimpsed at him – her eyes truly finding his – her eyes widened at the sight of him. Aesop hair was dishevelled, the hairline littered with beads of sweat as his dark eyes feasted upon her state. He was the very picture of depravity – his face drenched in her release from his nose to his lips, clinging to his stubble. She blushed fiercely at the view above her, almost averting her gaze had his fingers not caressed her cheeks. For the first time, she could feel the weight of his manhood against her stomach, the naked skin of his large body enveloping hers, but she didn't dare look down. It felt massive, though a large man like Aesop would likely be rather well...endowed. Dread filled her at the thought of him actually entering her, her breath picking up again – unable to hide the nature of her feelings.

Aesop's sweet and gentle caress steered her focus back to him, his smile just as soft. 

"I will be as gentle as I can," he promised, his voice low and placating. "It will hurt for a second, and if you need me to stop, you can tell me." 

He was so honest, so loving – so gentle and kind; her Aesop – that she could only nod, allowing his lips to fall upon hers as he shifted between her legs. She tried to remember what her mother had told her about the marital act – that she would simply need to endure – but it did little to subdue the tension she felt when she could feel him pressing against her folds. A pitiful whine escaped her lips, and she desperately tried to focus on anything else. 

"I've got you," Aesop gentled her, his eyes now looking down between their bodies. He was unable to see much, but his heart thumped erratically at the sight of his manhood, hard and pulsating with need, right at her entrance. It had been a while for him, too; most carnal encounters after Scarborough were merely transactional (if at all), and Aesop wasn't sure if he had ever felt desire and need as intensely as he had at this moment. 

"I've got you," he reiterated quietly, frowning a little as he eased the tip of him inside. She gasped for a second before holding her breath altogether, clenching her eyes shut upon feeling pure pressure. 

"There you go, my love," he whispered against her ear, curling his large body over hers, trying to hold himself back as he felt the tip of his manhood enveloped by the tight heat of her – entering her with a torturously slow pace. 

"I love you. You're doing so well, my love… So well. My good girl." 

Light kisses and a gentle caress kept her with her, her contorted face strained as Aesop gently and slowly worked himself into her – he hated that this even needed to be unpleasant in the first place. Another gasp escaped her abruptly, deep and greedy breaths filling her lungs with the parching air surrounding them. Her sweaty chest stuck to his, her erect buds teased by the hair on his chest. The symphony of sensations was wholly overwhelming as she struggled to contain both him and herself.

Pressure. Agony. Desire. Want. Aesop – inside her. 

Aesop let himself rest, her womanhood pulsating around him as it struggled to contain what little of his length he had inserted. Her small, near inaudible whimpers tore at his heartstrings – enough to distract his mind off the perfectly mindblowing sensation of feeling enveloped by her, his entire being aching with need as she leaked around him and he around her – easing the tight passage with their bodies aflame and hearts beating as one. 

"Breathe, my love," Aesop cooed, his hand caressing the sides of her body in gentle strokes as he tried to ease more of himself inside of her, unable to stop a slight moan from escaping his lips. 

"Aaaahh – " she grit out between her teeth, feeling overwhelmingly full. It was too big – feeling like it was tearing her apart at the seams, and she felt utterly pathetic beneath him. However, was she meant to fit that? 

"Aesop!" 

"Look at me," Aesop whispered, his breath mere inches away from her face. "Come, my love. Look at me. I've got you, okay?" 

Whimpering, she opened her eyes, the caramel warmth of Aesop's finding hers as he was brimming with overwhelming love and adoration – enough to bring down an entire army. He gently placed a kiss upon her forehead as his hand moved lower again, resolved to make this pleasurable for her. If it had simply been about his own pleasure, he would have come undone within but a second.

"Try to relax, my love," he gentled, his hand finding her hardened nub again, smirking when she moaned in bliss as he gently put pressure on it, drawing light circles and cajoling more wetness from the depths of her core. She was feverishly warm, enveloping him with a vice grip – soft, warm, dripping the further he went. The arm holding him above her was tense, straining with the effort to keep him upright when she felt so good around him as he moaned himself with the warmth surrounding him. Slowly, gently, he eased more of himself inside, pressing his hips forward as his manhood fought against the tight clenches of her channel. Her eyes were filled with unshed tears – but they did not leave his.

"Ahh – Aesop!"

"That's it, my love. My beautiful girl...I love you," he gentled. "You are doing so well. So very well for me." 

"I…I…"

"What is it, my love?" he asked, his hip pressing forward another excruciating inch, their bodies aching for the other as he leaked around her the way she did around him – easing the passage and helping her stretch against him. Her breathing was erratic, her cheeks glaringly red as pleasure and pain intermingled once more. "What do you feel?"

"It..mhm..." A tender moan spilt from her, her womanhood slowly loosening around him. "–sop."

"Yes, my love?" He whispered, kissing the corner of her mouth as he felt her shivering beneath him. He rubbed her clitoris with messy and soft strokes, relishing her low moans as her eyes fluttered shut – this time in pleasure. Aesop could not help the small smile that placed itself upon his lips, for she was breathtaking. Another inch pressed into her, the discomfort returning and a choked little sob spilling from her plush lips – a stray tear spilling from her eye. 

"Do you wish for me to stop?" Aesop asked her gently, halting all his movements as he awaited her answer. She did not answer him, though she shook her head furiously from side to side.

"Look at me," he bade her again, his hand cupping her face as he gentled her with a soothing touch. "You do not have to endure if you cannot."

Her teary eyes met his as she gulped before another sharp intake of breath filled her lungs. "I don't want you to stop," she whimpered miserably. "Please just..." she bit her lip, her gaze averting in shame.

"Please, what, my love?" he asked. "You can tell me anything. You need to tell me if you want this."

"What you've been doing with your fingers..." she gulped. "I want…I need…"

"Do you need me to…" he slowly pressed his fingers on her clitoris again – a little more pressure than before – his voice fading as she gasped and arched into him. 

"Yes…" she sighed contently, the furrow of her brow decreasing, and her eyes closed again. "A–Ae–Aesop," she shakily moaned, her hips canting upwards to meet his. 

His self-control was admirable, the strain on his own body and mind evident by the strain in his arm and his own panting breaths. Her womanhood parted for him, the tight muscle easing as she relaxed into his touch – clenching hard then parting like a greedy mouth. His shaft was leaking a trail inside her with each small push forward – she did not believe he could go any further, for it already felt like he was beyond anywhere he should be. Before long, Aesop pushed forward one more time – burying himself with one long and stubborn thrust, reaching all the way inside her. 

She wailed and burst into tears at the sensation, Aesop's own head dropping between the valley of her breasts as he groaned deeply at the sheer feeling.

"Aesop!"

"Fuck," he groaned lowly, the hand next to her head gripping the sheets – his hand surely turning white with force. He had stilled inside her, allowing both him and her to adjust to the foreign feeling. Her chest was rising violently, pushing against his as he fully enveloped her beneath him.

"A-Aesop," she whimpered, a twinging pain still lingering in her lower body, her legs sapless on either side of him. "It - ah…hurts." 

"I know, my love," Aesop breathed out, his eyes clenched in focus. "You're so – ah...tight." 

His hands found her sides again, tracing delicate patterns across her heated skin – all whilst he lingered inside her; unmoving. Slowly, but surely, he felt her settle, her breath evening out and her core loosening. The pain that had pierced her and lingered in her womanhood slowly dwindled away, leaving nothing but a sensation of overwhelming fullness in its wake. His weight upon hers felt strangely comforting, a familiar feeling among the symphony of vast and earth-shattering novelties. Aesop was scalding against her, his broad and heavy and burly body encasing her protectively – shielding her from the world around her, though if she had to describe her world now, there would only be Aesop anyway. She said nothing – much like he did – allowing his panting breath to fan over her bosom as her tears dried. Her fingers, as she now began to realise, had pressed into his sides, leaving red marks on his tough skin. 

"Oh," she whispered as she loosened her tight grip.

"Hm?" Aesop mumbled, the vibrations hitting her bosom. "What is it, my love?"

Her voice was trembling and quiet when she answered him – plagued by the shame of what she had done. "I fear I might have hurt you..."

She could feel Aesop's chest rumbling with a low chuckle, the action sparking…something unknown between the folds of her quim before he rose to meet her eyes again, a lopsided smirk on his flushed face. 

"My love," he mumbled, a stray hair pushed from her tear-streaked face. "My beautiful, beautiful love...You have cried, certainly not from ecstasy this time, and you worry about me?" Another low chuckle vibrated through them. "Fear not – you haven't hurt me. I have endured far worse."

He watched as she bit her lip, evading his piercing gaze in shame, more tears gathering in her eyes. 

"None of that," Aesop chided lovingly, pushing her face to meet his, placing a chaste kiss on her lips. "You're doing so well for me," he whispered, eyes closed in bliss as he felt her walls pulsate around him. He embraced her lips in a loving kiss once more, their tongues mingling as he continued to lead her. "How do you feel?"

"Full," she whimpered lowly. "So… ah – full, Aesop."

A deep groan left his lips upon her admission. Call it male pride or call it unnaturally developed self-conceit, but Aesop could not help the blaze of arousal that burst through him at her admittance. He knew he was charitably blessed, more so than most men – not that she had any way of knowing – but his love took him perfectly, doing so well for him – only him. 

"Fuck," he rasped out, straining above her as her warm heat continued to envelop him in a vice grip. 

She looked entrancing beneath him, eyes shut, with bitten lips – her chest rising against his, body flushed beautifully as it lay against the pillows. And she was all his. Eternally and entirely his.

"You are doing so well," he praised her in a low tone once more, his hands tracing placating patterns on her skin as they descended towards her hips. He could feel her tension under his fingers, her body shivering – so far removed from the ecstatic state she had been in before. 

"Do you trust me?" Aesop whispered, almost inaudible. 

"Yes." Her voice was squeaky, and she did not open her eyes, but the word spilt from her lips with no hesitation – and that was enough for Aesop.

He firmly took hold of her hips, angling himself above her – rubbing comforting circles into her hips. Gently, he eased a few inches out, her quim clinging to him before he eased himself back inside with the same familiar gentleness. A breathless gasp escaped her, her eyes opening to meet his as he meticulously took in her body's every response, his eyes hazy with desire and wanting – it sent a shiver down her spine. It was a peculiar feeling, entirely recondite but not unpleasant altogether. Each slow thrust which met her allowed his pubic bone to grace her clit with delicious friction, his manhood gradually opening her up with every thrust – battering away any clenching as her womanhood took him. Her arms were wrapped around his torso; fingers pressed into the blades of his shoulders as Aesop rhythmically moved, a little more each and every time. 

She watched as his head dropped between his shoulders, a deep groan escaping him as her warmth circled him. Merlin, Aesop could truly not recall ever feeling even close to this – She was so tight for him, so warm, and so delicate beneath him that it took every atom of his being not to rush himself into climax; he felt like a dratted schoolboy again. Thank Merlin, he was adept at concocting Bruisewort Balm as he knew with absolute certainty that his grip on her hips would leave bruises. 

His grinding movements gradually turned pleasant – no longer pressurising.

"Aesop," she groaned, her tone entreating. "I – ah…"

"You feel so perfect, my love," he groaned, allowing his face to move downwards so his mouth could envelop one of her hardened peaks once more, his tongue swirling around despairingly, his hair tickling against her heated skin. "– Doing so well for me. Taking me so perfectly."

He could feel her womanhood dampening around him, easing his motions further – a dark chuckle escaped him.

"You like that, my love? Being told that you're my good – ah," Aesop grunted as he ground his pelvis deeper, her lower body pushed into the mattress. "– my good, good, girl? All for me?"

"Yes," she sighed contently, her eyes closing in bliss. 

He cooed against her breasts, deep, breathless, his grinding slowly turning into gentle thrusts – still careful not to hurt her. The hands he held on her hips relaxed, one moving lower to angle her hips differently as he moved his own. Each thrust inwards left her closer to being utterly sapless, unable to do anything but take what he gave, his generous length and girth aiming to brush against the soft spot above her entrance that made her way to wail out in pleasure. 

Aesop's head shot up in astonishment when her womanhood tightened around him violently, her rear and head rising from where she lay as she wailed.

"Aesop! Oh…Oh!" 

His length brushed against her spot mercilessly, teasing her deliciously when she was very much sated from the two peaks of ecstasy before – the sensation both aching and sending her closer to delirium. 

"There you go," Aesop rasped, his shallow thrusts gaining momentum. "Is that good?" he asked, groaning, teasingly pushing his length to deliberately beat away at that tender spot. 

"Yes!" his love cried out beneath him, scarcely believing the sheer pleasure she was suddenly feeling – never having felt such an intense cacophony of feelings aimed at her before. With a growl through clenched teeth, Aesop moved his hands to her breasts, fondling them tenderly as he rose up to look down upon the ethereal form of his beloved. The guttural moan he released when he took in the very picture of sin beneath him shook him to his core, the familiar sensation of his impending peak quelling in his lower region. He had to slow down, fearing he would finish before she did, though he could feel her peak approaching. 

She looked like a sacred piece of art – sweaty, moaning, and blissfully boneless, her hair spread out like a halo, cheeks flushed, and eyes closed – his own groans of pleasure hastening her voracity.  

"You're doing so well for me," Aesop groaned. "So fucking well. All for me. My beautiful girl."

"Yes!" she chanted affirmatively. "All for you." 

His thrusts were slow, tempered - reaching parts of her she never thought anyone would reach. His hips canted against her, pushing her further into the mattress, pressing deep, so very deep, into her, the tip of his manhood pressing against her cervix with the sheer force of his thrusts, her womanhood stretched open. She was utterly vulnerable – her legs shook with the intensity of emotions coursing through her, shaking her to her very soul. 

"Fuck," Aesop hissed hotly. "I love you. I love you so much. My good – ah, girl. Doing so well for me. My lovely woman… So warm, so… ah....good."

"Aesop!" she cried out, her grip on his shoulders tightening as the familiar coil of eros bubbled beneath her skin again, the flames of desire licking their way up from her womanhood and spreading through her body mercilessly. "I – oh god. I –"

"I've got you," Aesop rasped reassuringly, his touch a temperate anchor in the endless sea of ardour she was drowning in. She cried out once more, a stray tear spilling from the corner of her eye, which Aesop gently wiped from her cheek before he reached down and pressed a soft kiss into the crown of her hair. 

"I've got you," he promised once more with a sweet sigh, "You're ah – doing so well for me. I love you so much. Ah – taking me so well. Fuck – I'm so...so proud of you… It's alright... let go for me." 

She felt his soft, groping hand, helplessly desirous touching along her body and face, caressing her softly - oh so softly – with infinite soothing and assurance. It was so much and never enough, the staccato building and building confronting her with the innermost parts of herself. Never had she felt so acutely the agony of her own forlornness, yet embraced in Aesop's arms, she knew she would never feel forlorn again. She was his, and he was hers. She had reached the peak twice before that night, but this was so greatly different that she wondered if she had truly reached it after all. He was turgid and quivering inside her, the strange thrills rippling through her like burning embers – dashing to points of brilliant exquisiteness. She lay near unconscious of the frenzied cries she emitted, unaware of his gaze upon her trembling body as she was consumed entirely. She clung to him in her burning passion, his rhythms flushing up into her, filling her entire, cleaving consciousness until she was nothing but a burning flame.

Aesop nearly came apart at the sight and feeling of her, the sight celestial, but he craved, needed, more. 

"Fuck," he groaned. Though his movements slowed, they did not cease altogether, his eyes closing in bliss as his thick manhood scraped against her tender, clenching walls. His thrusts were gentle as he helped her through the throes of her peak, lidded eyes, observing her every tremble. When his love came to, noting his continued movements, her eyes shot open, their hazy gaze blurry.

Stuttering, his name left her lips, the burning molten between her legs never ceasing. "A-A-Aesop."

He continued to rock inside; out. It was a moment of pure peace for Aesop, the entry into the body of her so very pleasurable – his hips meeting hers. Her legs tensed, and her womb clenched, unsure if it was pleasure or pain this time around. The sound of skin meeting skin echoed in the hut, the room hot and humid amidst their moans and groans and her cries.

"Aesop 's too much," her speech slurred, struggling to keep her eyes on his. 

"You are doing so well," he grunted, adjusting the grip he held on her, snapping his hips up violently, his antecedent restraint and control dwindling. His arms circled her, Aesop's body on hers, his wet body touching hers, so close. "You can give me one more." 

His thrusts pushed the literal air from her lungs, gasps and moans spilling from her bitten lips – his name sometimes in between like a prayer. Aesop's hands caressed down her sides until he bent forward, lifting her kneed to wrap her leg around his waist, holding it there – the new angle leaving her vulnerably open. Their eyes met one another – hazy with lust and wanting and need and earth-shattering love and devotion simmering below the surface. 

"I love you," the young woman sobbed out, his manhood hitting the deepest parts of her, the tip of it pressing against the entry to her womb. Her back arched into him, his scalding chest resting over hers, rough hairs chafing against her tight and tender nipples. She loved him beyond anything - adored him till her knees were weak as she walked and her heart could no longer survive without him. He was her air, her warmth, her very reason for being.

Something gave way, and the potions master above her precipitously, violently, thrust his hips into hers, held up only by his bruising grip as the remains of her lay sapless beneath him. Aesop slid his hands down her body, his callouses leaving goosebumps in their wake as he caressed her soft stomach before his fingers found her erect clit above her entrance. Her wails were the sweetest song Aesop had ever heard, the vicious grip on his shoulders sure to leave imprints for days to come. 

"I love you too – fuck," Aesop hissed, allowing himself to close his eyes as he battered away, his movements forceful and erratic. His mind filled with the reason they were engaging in the first place – a vivid image conjured in his mind of her swollen and rounded body.

"You will look so beautiful," he murmured breathlessly. "So stunningly beautiful. Whole with my children – ah, fuck." 

Her womanhood clenched, flowing and alive and vulnerable as the image filled her too – helpless with adoration of him and what she wanted him to do – before it opened, ready to be filled with new life all for him – with him. 

Both her and his yearning adoration for one another was fearful, leaving them helpless in each other's embrace and so different from what had been their relationship – a new dawn blooming. It was sinking into them as his manhood sunk into her, deep into their being to the centre of all creation. Aesop had not known yearning like this – possibly even feared it his entire life, lest if he adored too much, he would be vulnerable; a slave to his emotions which he certainly had never wished to be. Yet as he moved into her, enveloped tightly and loved, he would no longer fight it. It was so fathomless, so soft, so deep and so unknown – yet he surrendered, just as she had.

"Aesop!"  she cried out.

"Your womb will be full with me," Aesop groaned nonsensically. "So filled with life that everyone shall see."

Her hips canted upwards to meet his thrusts, his finger pressing wildly into her bud as ecstasy drew near – for both of them. Her wails of pleasure filled the room around them, his lowly groans swirling between. Her legs had wrapped around his hips, holding him close in her vices, and her womanhood felt perfectly satisfied – the female inside her never more loved and cared for than it had been in this very moment. His phallus was forcing her to take every sensation, and she no longer felt ashamed to want it all. 

"Take it," Aesop growled. "Take my seed, and I shall ensure you will be a mother." 

"Yes, yes, please, I – " she begged through pleasured sobs, wishing he would finally fill her. The yearning with which she realised the difference between wanting a child and wanting his was discordant, even if it seemed ordinary enough. But to be filled with Aesop's child, and his alone, made her feel like a woman reborn.

One final, forceful thrust before Aesop's lips fell upon hers, his ecstasy intermingling with hers, their souls intertwining as Aesop swelled and swelled, pushing his seed inside her – pure deepening whirlpools of sensation swirling through them until they were one perfect concentric fluid of feeling, his life springing into her.

They gasped into each other as the waves of pleasure ebbed through them, laying utterly still as they knew nothing but each other and warmth. Carefully, Aesop wrapped his arms around his lover's waist and turned them onto their sides, limbs entangled and his manhood still resting deep inside her, not allowing a single drop of his seed to spill. Their eyes were closed blissfully, her head nestled into his chest with his arms encasing her protectively. It was done – she had chosen him, and he had chosen her, his duty now forever protecting and shielding the woman in his arms, a duty he would fill with all his honour. A duty, which, in due time, would be extended to life growing inside her – a life Aesop was looking forward to protecting with all he had.

"I love you," Aesop mumbled into the crown of her hair. "I love you most ardently. You are an incomparable gift, my love."

He felt her tears before he saw them, undue panic rising in his chest as he bade her to look at him. He held her cheek against his hand, warm and flushed after their proclivities. 

"What is it, my love?" he asked in hushed tones. "Have I hurt you?"

"No," she shook her head. "No, you have not I –"

"Then please tell me what –"

"Nothing," she sobbed, a shy smile on her face as she burrowed herself into his hand. "I could have never thought these relations to be so... liberating."

"…liberating?" Aesop asked after a breath of silence. He did not understand. 

"Yes," she nodded into his hand, before she smiled up at him. "My mother had told me that...when it happens, I should lie back and think of England. That I would have to endure until my husband had his heir. She did not mention that it could be… that it would be a mere hitch of pain before an endless field of pleasure."

His heart both shattered and thumped upon hearing her admission, his strokes against her back so soft and gentle, barely discernable if her wet and battered body was not as sensitive as it had been. 

"You let me bed you thinking it would be something to endure?" he inquired, praying that he had heard – understood – wrong. 

"Yes," she replied with no hesitation in her voice. "If it meant that you would father my children – our children – I would have endured a thousand times over. But…this?" Her cheeks glowed in the aftermath, unable to speak of their activities even after what had transpired. "This was nothing to endure."

"And you never have to endure it," Aesop resolutely told her, pressing a chaste kiss upon her lips. "I will not stand for it. This was your choice and yours alone. And should you ever –"

"Shhh," she gently interrupted him with a smile upon her lips. "I do not know what it felt like to you but to me? I do not believe a woman could ever be…happier. Or more loved." 

Aesop returned her smile tiredly – relieved and triumphantly proud. "I do not believe a man could ever find more happiness either." 

For the longest time, Aesop Sharp was absolutely certain that he must have eradicated an entire civilisation in his past life, as there was no other possible explanation for the sheer torture in found himself in. But as his beloved lay in his arms, falling asleep, burrowed safely in his chest away from the world, having chosen him as he had chosen her, he truly could allow himself to dream of forever. 

Aesop Sharp now knew that reprieve was possible – even for someone like him, the living proof of it in his strong arms.

[fanartandfanfiction]

Hogwarts legacy modern AU texting

Fig: Help Aesop I think my phone has been enchanted

Sharp: ???

Fig: It keeps speaking to me

Sharp: What do you mean it’s speaking to you?

Fig: It introduced itself to me and said it was my virtual assistant

Sharp: Are you talking about Siri?

Fig: Yes! You know her as well?

Sharp: You know it’s not a real person, right? It’s a computer program.

Fig: Then how can she speak to me?

Sharp: Eleazar, it’s fine. She helps you with whatever you need. You can ask her about the weather, or to send a message.

Fig: Hello Siri how are you today? Please send a message to Aesop Sharp. Please tell him that I’ll try to learn how to use it. Sincerely, Eleazar Fig

Sharp: …

[finkinthisfrew]

Anything (Pt.2)

A Matty Healy Fanfic

cw: non-lifethreatening burns

Chapter 2

I came to in what can only be described as a very peculiar situation. I was fully clothed, laying in a bathtub, soaking wet. Above me, I could see concrete ceilings with warm glowing lights, and a hand holding a showerhead. Cold water poured over my chest, and I sat upright quickly in a panic. Turning to see the owner of the hand, I was once again met with those chocolate eyes. 

"What the fuck?" I said sitting up, head spinning too much to cringe at my ineloquence.

"I'm so sorry, I know this must be terrifying, but we're just in my flat which is above the coffee shop you were just at." My face must have shown my lack of understanding, so he continued. "I was being a complete bellend and was rushing to get to a meeting I was extremely late for and wasn't looking where I was going. I ran directly into you and when we crashed, my coffee poured all over you. I think with the fall and the shock from the hot coffee you passed out. I didn't know what else to do and your chest was bright red so I grabbed you and took you up here. Fuck me, I'm never asking for my coffee extra hot ever again..." he said, his hands in his head.

He looked up and said with such sincerity "I cannot begin to explain how sorry I am."

The shock from everything must have disoriented me because the first thought that I voiced was: "But what about your meeting?" 

Caught off guard, he looked at me in confusion and then broke into a smile. It was such a charming smile. If I wasn't so disoriented I would have had half a mind to flirt with the handsome stranger who was taking care of me. I also would have half a mind to get up and run, but this man's energy was too genuine, too earnest, for me to feel in any danger. 

"I called and cancelled it. Too busy burning beautiful strangers to do business today." He said rolling his eyes, half-flirting, half-self-patronizing. I laughed in response. 

"How are you feeling?" he asked, the twinkle in his eyes replaced with concern. 

"I think I'm okay." I stopped to assess myself. "I just feel a bit dazed, but otherwise I think I feel fine," I continued. 

At that moment I felt myself begin to shiver. He must have noticed too because he then pulled the showerhead away and started to reach for a towel, but as soon as he did, my chest began to burn with such pain that all I could say was "Oh my God no, bring it back."

"Fuck, sorry!" he said, eyes pained as he turned the showerhead back to my burn. "I'm sorry I didn't think this through. I soaked all your clothes... Fuck I'm so sorry, I didn't know what else to do." 

"That's okay," I said through chattering teeth.

"Here, hold this," he said, handing me the showerhead. "I'll be right back." He ran out of the bathroom, leaving me by myself. I shifted myself to let the water pour down my chest, avoiding my legs so I wouldn't feel as cold. 

Waiting for the stranger to return, still in a bit of a daze, I looked around at my surroundings. The bathroom was thoughtfully decorated- nothing like the bathrooms of the men in my life. The entire room was concrete with high ceilings and a large frosted window. A few ivory towels were hanging on the wall and a bottle of Aesop soap sat next to a beautiful arrangement of dried flowers on the green-tiled sink. Unlit candles sat along a wood shelf that ran along the tub, and a beautiful Moroccan rug lay on the ground, bringing warmth to the almost art gallery-type style of the room.

As I looked around, I reflected on how oddly comfortable I felt, aside from the shivering. The stranger didn't feel like a stranger, somehow. His personality felt... almost familiar.

"Okay," I heard, as the man entered the bathroom again a few minutes later, arms full, breaking my train of thought. 

Setting everything down on the wooden stool he'd previously been sitting on, he kneeled next to the tub and rambled on quickly: "Okay, so here is a mug of tea to warm you up a bit, I've only got peppermint though, I hope that's okay, and here are some painkillers- I could only find Advil but I'm pretty sure I've got some T3's hiding somewhere, I just need an extra minute to find them if you'd prefer those. I wasn't sure what would fit you, so I brought a few options- you can borrow those for as long as you like, hell you could even keep them, uhm, right and your burn, we can soak a towel in some cold water to put on it until the ice in my freezer freezes and I can put it in a bag for you- I apologize, I'm one of those knobheads who never refill the tray, so we'll have to wait a bit for that..." 

He must have read my shock as fear, because he then added "And the door to leave is just through this room, straight ahead at the end of this hall down the stairs, just so you know- I don't want you to feel like a hostage. You don't have to stay," he said, wide-eyed. "I just feel bad soaking all your clothes. And for bulldozing you. And for burning you. Fuck, I've really made such a mess of things for you, I am so incredibly sorry."

Realizing I hadn't yet, I accepted his apology. "Thank you, but it's really not a big deal. I'm just in a bit of a shock, but I think I'm okay." I said, looking down at myself, not seeing any blisters or blood anywhere. His eyes still looked pained, so I tagged on "I forgive you, you know," playfully, and his tense face seemed to soften a bit, smiling back at me. "You really shouldn't, I really am trouble," he said winking cheekily. 

I then realized that my initial shock was wearing off, and it was being replaced by a new one. This man was so incredibly handsome. His chocolate eyes were framed with beautiful dark brown curls that fell across his forehead perfectly. His eyes crinkled with such kindness and warmth, I felt my stomach flutter. His smile was upending, impossible to not smile back at. I had just noticed his chest tattoo peaking through the top of his white t-shirt when I saw he had a brown stain all over his front. 

"Wait, are you okay?" I said, pointing to the coffee stain. He looked down to see the stain he'd clearly forgotten about. "Oh yeah, no I'm totally fine. Honestly, I think you took the brunt of it, poor thing. Again, really sorry about that." 

"You say sorry a lot," I responded, smiling. 

"I have lots to be sorry about, unfortunately," he said, chuckling lightly. 

"You sure you don't want a turn?" I asked, gesturing to the showerhead. 

"Yeah, no I think I'm fine." He said, scowling playfully. 

I must have been concussed slightly because I then said "Actually... I think you're not being totally honest with me. I think you might like a turn."  I then turned the shower head to him, quickly and lightly spraying him before returning the stream of water to my burn. 

Mouth agape, he looked at me and said "You little minx." I giggled in response. "You DID assault me and then soak all my clothes... I think it's only fair..." I said with a devilish tone. 

"You wouldn't dare," he scoffed.

That was all the encouragement I needed, and he must have seen that in my eyes because right as I turned the showerhead back at him, he hopped up to his feet. Both of us laughing, he stretched his arms out to block the cold water that now soaked him. 

"Mercy, mercy!" he begged while laughing. 

I lowered the stream of water, and I momentarily admired the new tattoos I could see through his now-soaked t-shirt. Taking advantage of my mercy, he lunged at my hands to grab the showerhead from me. I turned to pull it out of his reach, but he was faster, arms around me gripping at the handle. 

"Now you're in trouble, pet" he laughed, and I squealed in his arms as he sprayed me. I wriggled around trying to escape the stream and I yelled "I yield!" when he lowered the stream back to my burn, both still laughing, his arm still around my waist. 

Our giggles dying down, we stood there, much too close for two strangers. 

The energy shifted as we both noticed the intimacy of the moment. Panting from the laughter, he looked down at me as I looked up at him. His eyes, whatever was going on behind them, did something to me- my stomach sent into a frenzy of summersaults. His curls dripped with water down onto my face, a single drop hanging from his parted lips. I looked back up from his lips to his eyes and saw his eyes returning to mine from my own lips. We stood there for what could have been hours or seconds, I couldn't tell from all the butterflies that roared in my stomach. 

Overwhelmed, I dropped my gaze, the intensity of the moment causing me to break it. He cleared his throat and pulled his arm away, once again apologizing. 

"Sorry really is your favourite word, isn't it?" I said, attempting to break the tension. Once again, he smiled and I felt woozy from it. 

"Not my favourite, but it's definitely up there." He said, handing me a towel with a cheeky smile. He grabbed another towel and started to pat his hair dry. 

"I'll leave you to change, I'm going to go change too after my well-deserved payback soaking." He winked before he continued "Take your time. Once you've finished you can meet me in the living room- it's through here, past the stairs, at the end of the hallway." 

"Thank you," I said, genuinely. We smiled at each other, as he pulled the door shut behind him.

Shell-shocked, I turned to look at myself in the mirror. I stared at my soaked and stained clothes, hair dripping wet, and face bewildered. 

What have I gotten into?

[mrs-sharp]

The Eyes of Graphorns

Read part 1-8 here.

Pairing: Aesop Sharp x Adult MC

Tw: mention of blood, injuries

Summary: Sharp and Elaine return to Scarborough to learn more about their past. When they finally arrive there, they do indeed find clues and a part of Elaine's memory returns, until they suddenly have to flee.

Chapter 9 - The Prohecy

"Ready?"

"Ready."

The cry of an eagle echoed as Elaine released two Hippogriffs from her suitcase. Sharp watched as they soared into the sky and eventually circled over the dark terrain. One of them was snow-white.

Actually, Aesop Sharp was anything but ready for what lay ahead. They had apparated to a forest north of York and planned to continue flying from there. It was too dangerous to apparate directly to Scarborough. The risk of landing right into the hands of the Renegades was too high. Besides, the Floo Network was probably still being monitored, and they wanted to avoid unnecessary interrogations by the Ministry. Initially, they had considered covering the last stretch on brooms, but Elaine insisted on bringing the Hippogriffs. A whistle pierced the cool night air.

“Highwing, Silverbeak!" Elaine called out as the creatures landed, ran towards her, and she patted the head of one of the majestic beings. The other Hippogriff gently nudged her face with its beak.

"I brought company," she explained to the creatures, who immediately turned to Sharp as if they understood Elaine. The Potions Master stood frozen in amazement and a bit of unease, unable to utter a word.

"Bow," she now directed him, "maintain eye contact and don't blink."

Sharp remembered that Hippogriffs were extremely proud creatures, and although it was difficult for him to expose himself so vulnerably to these enormous, albeit graceful beings, he followed Elaine's instructions. For a moment, nothing happened, and Sharp looked up at them with tension. He saw Elaine standing beside the Hippogriffs, ready to intervene and protect him. With a practised eye, she observed every movement of the creatures. Finally, both Hippogriffs bowed almost simultaneously, and Elaine's expression relaxed.

"Wonderful, as I expected," she smiled.

Sharp glanced at Elaine from the side. He watched as she whispered something into Silverbeak's ear. Elaine's presence filled him with a confidence that was otherwise foreign to him, especially considering where they were going. For a moment, he forgot everything around and tried to understand what was happening to him. Before he could find an answer, he felt a beak gently nibbling at his sleeve. Silverbeak had come over to him. Sharp cautiously stroked the creature's neck, whereupon it knelt down and lay on the ground.

"Are you really sure you want to accompany me? You could still turn back and..."

They hadn't talked much since they set out, and Elaine had the impression that Sharp was trying to hide something deep inside himself that he didn't want her to see. Sharp shook his head.

"I'm sure. As I said..."

He walked towards her until she had to look up to meet his gaze. At their first meeting, his height and his dark eyes had frightened her. Today, she only felt safety. She hadn't wanted to admit it to herself and had convinced herself that it was only because Sharp had been there for her after the Battle of Hogwarts. But by now, she longed for his presence. She didn't just want to find a cure for him because she owed him. By now, she realized that she could bear his pain much worse than her own. She yearned for every minute of his company, every look he gave her, every word he spoke to her with his warm, rough voice.

"... you are the only one I would return with."

His words made her tremble. Of course, it was impossible for him to feel similarly for her, so Elaine pushed such thoughts as far back in her mind as possible. She knew it was ridiculous. Even though they were colleagues now, she was still his former student. There was no way that someone as intelligent, sincere, and sharp-witted as Aesop Sharp would get involved with an inexperienced, failed Auror. And so it should remain.

For a moment, Elaine thought back to her last trip to Scarborough. Maybe it had been a mistake to bring Sharp along. She knew he disapproved of her putting herself in danger because of him. That was probably also the reason why he was now accompanying her. However, she couldn't bear it if he...

"We have to go, the sun will rise in a few hours," she replied and turned away from Sharp. She couldn't allow herself to get too used to his presence. Sharp was left puzzled. Something inside him seemed to break painfully, and he didn't understand why Elaine was suddenly so dismissive towards him. Maybe it was just the tense situation, he tried to reassure himself.

Sharp had some difficulty bestriding the Hippogriff, even though the creature had knelt down. Elaine considered offering her help, but she knew he was too proud to accept it, and she didn't want to embarrass him. So she turned away and busied herself with stroking Highwing. Sharp was very much like a Hippogriff, Elaine thought. Proud, intimidating, and dangerous, but gentle and caring if one had earned his respect and trust. She chuckled at the thought that he had recently compared her to a Graphorn. The Graphorn and the Hippogriff. What an unequal pair. Once Elaine was sure that Sharp and Silverbeak were ready, she bestrode Highwing and gave the signal to depart.

The flight on the Hippogriff made Sharp forget for a few moments where they were heading. Not only was the view breathtaking. He hadn't ridden a broom in a long time, but the feeling of being carried by such a graceful creature was unparalleled. It was as if he was carried not by a creature, but solely by freedom and magic. Below them stretched moors and forests, while the starry sky above draped them like a cloak in the cold December air.

Just before they reached Scarborough, they cast a Disillusionment Charm on themselves and the Hippogriffs. They slowly descended and landed on the coast near Scarborough Castle, far enough from prying eyes, and then walked the last stretch south to reach the harbour. Over the sea, on the horizon, a bright strip could already be seen. The sea breeze blew cold and refreshing against their faces. Sharp shuddered as he finally realized where they were. He buried his hands deep in his coat pockets as they set off.

As if sensing what was going on inside him, Elaine linked her arm with his without looking at him or stopping. Sharp did not object. It gave him a sense of security to know she was close, and her touch dispelled the cold of the winter wind. To his surprise, they managed to find a common walking rhythm without any effort.

"You don't have to return alone. Take me with you."

At first, he was surprised by her choice of words, but she was right. He had been preoccupied with his own thoughts and past. He had thought so much about what he had lost here that he had forgotten what he was bringing this time and that he had to protect it at all costs. Sharp smiled. Elaine saw it out of the corner of her eye.

"Thank you," Sharp whispered so quietly that Elaine could barely hear it.

It was still so early in the morning that they encountered hardly any people. As they walked down a side street towards the harbour, they noticed a lone woman sitting by the roadside. She had dishevelled, shoulder-length red hair and dirty clothes. For some reason, Elaine felt a connection to her that she couldn't explain. She looked down and pushed the feeling that had gripped her aside, attributing it to the countless afternoons she had spent on the street herself, searching for something to eat. She moved a little closer to Sharp, who noticed her discomfort. As they passed the woman, Elaine's feeling intensified. As if the woman had read her thoughts, she jumped up and grabbed Elaine's arm so suddenly that she couldn't even reach for her wand. Sharp wanted to attack, but when he saw the woman's face, he paused. She looked almost exactly like Elaine, only older. Her eyes seemed to stare into emptiness. With a distorted voice, she began to speak:

"Two fates, connected like twins, will be led back to the place of their damnation by a dark power. Their souls are one, but their paths diverge. Only one can preserve the future of the other, but will not be able to save it. And the dark power will be the answer to what is missing."

The woman let go of Elaine's arm and looked at her as if she had just awakened from a trance. For a moment, there was silence. It was as if Elaine were looking into a mirror. Both women stared at each other in horror until the stranger whispered one word: "Jane?"

Elaine felt something change inside her. The smell of saltwater filled the air. Somewhere, someone had lit a fire, and the scent of freshly ignited firewood wafted through the streets. The morning sun slowly crept over the rooftops of the city, bathing the street in orange-yellow light. The wind came from the east, and everything suddenly felt so familiar to Elaine that it frightened her. Sharp immediately noticed that something was wrong.

"Professor Hopkins? Elaine?" he tried to speak to her, but she seemed not to hear him. Her gaze stared into nowhere, and her face had lost all colour. She was breathing rapidly. The smell, the light, she had seen all this before, and suddenly she started running, running until she reached the harbour. The memory came suddenly:

Fire. Everywhere, fire. Where is her father? He ran into the fire. He said he had to help and she should wait here and not leave, but he hasn't come back, even though he promised. Elaine hears screams and then sees red and green flashes flying across the harbour. Something dark rushes past her, more red flashes, a body hits the ground in front of her, the face full of blood.

"What is the child doing here?" a woman's voice suddenly calls through the darkness. Elaine knows the voice, but she has forgotten her name. Then a second voice, that does not belong to her father:

"What child?"

Feet tramp over wet cobblestones, reflecting the light of the flames. Someone grabs her by the shoulders and shakes her. The two voices buzz through the cold harbour air. The sun has already set.

"What did you see? What did you see?"

"Come on, get her out of here. I'll take care of the Auror,” the women’s voice says.

"But..."

"Just do it. You have to obliviate her and take her far away."

Elaine feels someone grab her under the arms and lift her up.

She wriggles and screams and tries to break free from the grip.

"No, don't, my father said I should wait for him!"

She feels hot tears as if the fire reflected in her eyes is now running down her cheeks.

Aesop Sharp's hand on her shoulder brought Elaine back to the present. She had stopped exactly at the spot where he had been injured back then.

“What's...?" he stammered.

"Here it happened... the fire... my father... he said I should wait," she stuttered, confused. Sharp didn't understand, but he could see she was in no condition to stay here. They needed to leave immediately. Elaine was trembling. Sharp took off his coat and draped it over her shoulders. He was about to put his arm around her to comfort her when she pushed him aside.

"Watch out!"

Sharp stumbled and just barely saw something dark rushing toward them. Elaine already had her wand in hand and cast a protective spell, but the thing was too fast. It looked like a cloud of dark smoke, erratically moving in all directions and constantly changing course. Red flashes erupted within it. Sharp remembered he had seen something like this before: the day his partner was killed. Suddenly, a terrible fear gripped him that this day might repeat itself today. He grabbed his wand and fired curse after curse, determined to make things different this time, but nothing seemed to work. Elaine desperately tried to find a way out, but all she could think of was to press her fingers to her lips and let out a loud whistle.

Everything happened very quickly then. The cloud of dark magic lunged at Sharp, and he felt something knock him off his feet. At first, he thought the dark power had caught him, but when he got back up, he realized he was uninjured. Instead, he saw Elaine on the ground, one hand clutching her wand, the other pressed to her stomach. Before he could figure out where the dark magic was, he heard an eagle's cry and felt himself being lifted by his shoulders. A glance down revealed that Elaine had been rescued by Highwing and that the dark entity wasn't following them.

The Hippogriffs flew back to the woods from where they had set off the previous night and dropped them onto the soft ground. Sharp's shoulders ached. Suddenly, he heard a whimpering sound. At first, he thought one of the Hippogriffs was injured, but then he realized the sound was coming from Elaine, who was lying beside him in the moss. Her wand lay next to her on the ground, and she now had both hands pressed against the left side of her abdomen. She squeezed her eyes shut and breathed rapidly. Sharp crawled over to her and propped himself up on one arm to get a better look. He placed a hand over hers, feeling the sticky, wet blood that quickly cooled in the winter air. He looked into her eyes.

"Let me see," he spoke calmly to avoid alarming her further, gently moving her hands and the fabric of her clothing aside. Underneath was a deep wound, all too familiar to Sharp. It had the shape of a lightning bolt, a mark only dark magic could cause.

"How... bad... is it?" Elaine asked with great effort.

At the sound of her voice, Sharp's world shattered. Everything had happened so fast. Once again, he had failed. Once again, he had been unable to protect what he... He couldn't bear to finish the thought. But now was not the time for self-pity. Instead, he pulled the vial of Elaine's potion from his coat pocket and dripped it onto the wound. At least it stopped the bleeding for a moment.

"It looks much better already," Sharp lied. Elaine was touched by his awkward attempt to lighten the situation, so she pretended to believe him and smiled. Sharp conjured a bandage that wrapped around her hips and immediately turned red.

"That... was... an... Obscurus," Elaine pressed out through clenched teeth. Her voice grew weaker with each word.

"Shh, you should conserve your strength," Sharp advised. He wiped the blood from his hand on his jacket and placed the back of his hand on Elaine's forehead, hoping to soothe her. Her skin felt hot despite the frost still covering the ground. He looked into her eyes, gently stroking her face with his fingers. It was dangerous to disapparate with her in this condition, but he had no other choice. They couldn't stay here.

"I was there... where it... happened." Elaine swallowed and looked Sharp in the eyes.

"I... I’m glad that... you..." were her last words before she lost consciousness.

This way to Chapter 10 - An Uncertain Night

[superconductivebean]

3, 11, and 35?

link to the list !!!!!

3. What is/was your character’s relationship with their father like?

Julia doesn't remember her father a lot but she recalls he was busy, being a seafarer. But he never minded her being in the bibby with him and whenever he could, he'd teach her marine stuff and bits of his mother tongue, Faroese. Julia misses him dearly.

Aesop reminded her of him a bit.

11. In what situation was your character the most afraid they’ve ever been?

She didn't want to die in the Repository and after surviving it, has a sincere belief she owes her life to someone or something.

Nearly thrown out of what life she was able to construct and gather shaped her psyche in a way today we'd call the Anxiety Disorder.

35. How does your character behave around people they like?

Julia clings. She talks more openly. With girlies, gets in a kissy mood. As a bird, she wants to peck and beak and sit holding with her claws. Overall, you would just step in her house and see things you like, in case you're a friend, and just a cosy atmosphere if on good terms.

[morrithal]

Chuck Tingle's work is exactly like Aesop's fables in that they are seemingly silly stories that are actually extremely sincere moral lessons the vast majority of the time. Aaaaaand post

[zevexsii]

My semester finally ended, so I'm free to write for a while! Right now I'm very hyperfixated on ACTSV, so this blog won't be spoiler free and I'm willing to write for all characters (only nsfw for those 18+ obvs)!

[k7l4d4]

K Reviews and Rants: Miraculous Ladybug Season 5! Episode 21

Alright, onto the episode that is supposedly meant to show Lila finally getting figured out.

Now, I'm gonna ignore the usual Lila Manipulates everyone BS. This episode has two big problems with it.

Firstly, it tries to present Miss Bustier and Damocles as reasonable authority figures... yet neither of them ever actually try and get the students' direct input or seriously question the out of character career requests for them. Additionally, it has Mylene get on a soapbox about kids "being forced to pick their futures so early in life" or something stupid like that. (Takes a deep breath) I literally had to change what I wanted to do for work three times growing up. Now, I'm not that old, I'll admit, but I have firsthand experience with having to make a change in career choice after making a decision. This episode treating Mylene as making some profound statement, when she's basically just rephrasing the simple fact that there's no guarantee a person is going to maintain the same career in life after school as some kind of criticism of the educational system. Now, I know NOTHING about the French Educational system... but when it tries to push an aesop like this right after literally showing everyone cheerfully and eagerly acting as if they didn't have a perfect idea of what they want to do in life, it just comes off as awkward. Oh, and them further making Adrien into a damsel in distress with nothing more of substance to him then his crush on Marinette was... uncomfortable on so many levels.

Secondly, this episode going full sympathetic retcon on Sabrina in the most blatant way possible. For a series that has done basically nothing with her besides have her be Chloe's goon, they are trying very hard to pretend she hasn't been Chloe's willing accomplice all this time. They are acting as if she's never gotten anyone hurt or damaged anyone's lives on Chloe's behalf before, despite this very season showing how she ratted out Marinette's "Crush" to Chloe in Derision and Chloe using that to play a mean prank on Marinette... and ignoring all the times she's lied and stolen on Chloe's request, without a hint of protest. It's hard to see Sabrina as an innocent bystander or dupe when this season is the first time she's ever shown any guilt or remorse for being Chloe's lackey... and it being the first time she's done something THIS bad doesn't really work when she's stating it's because her dad's a cop (when that's never mattered to her before) and because "helping Chloe has never hurt anyone" (which is just a straight-up lie). It feels less like she's turning on Chloe out of guilt or remorse and more because she's upset that Chloe is seemingly replacing her with Lila... when this episode really makes it feel more like Lila is making Chloe HER "Sabrina."

Anyway, rambling Forward over. Onto the review! As always, please forgive my profanity.

Episode 21: Confrontation

Okay, now we get the opening scene of Adrien struggling with an orientation form with Plagg pointing out how simple it is. Just... writing down your request for next year's school and your career goals. Admittedly, I can see why this would be hard with Adrien; bullshit writing decisions or not, Adrien struggling to figure out what he wants to do with his life makes perfect sense. Although I sincerely doubt that this would be a hardlocked "one and done" thing that is absolutely binding, because that would be utterly fucking stupid. Because if this kind of thing WERE absolutely binding, then you could have the biggest slacker in school write down the name of the fanciest, most exclusive school in the area that comes with a lot of perks and then slap down some stupid answer, and I doubt any school in the world would put up with something that easily abused.

...And we hear from Adrien that he isn't even writing down what HE wants, but what his father has DECIDED for him. REAL great development here, nice to know that the kid who literally BROKE OUT OF HIS OWN FUCKING HOUSE is still too chicken to figure out what he wants out of life. Also, the fact that they once again made Adrien's life decisions and attitudes be about someone else (how MARINETTE will feel about his dad making him move to London) is of course just fine. /s

Ugh, fine, I guess hearing Plagg show solidarity with Adrien is nice. Still kinda annoying, since Plagg is pretty much always just the goofball, rather than a serious individual.

Okay, so it looks like these orientation forms do have a safety check, in that the teachers review things with the students to see if they have the qualifications to go to their chosen school for their studies of choice... now how does this get ruined? Oh yeah, Marinette gets a "strange feeling" now that she and Alya aren't the class reps. Clearly this strange feeling has NOTHING to do with the person she KNOWS is a liar and manipulator who will screw over anyone for her own benefit is now the Class Rep, surely not!! Also, "entrusting us with their hopes and dreams!" Dramatic much? It's not as if they can't just apply to schools of their choice anyway... can they? I've got no fucking clue how the French Education System handles this crap.

Let's see what they wanna study...

Alya: Wants to be a Reporter, needs to specialize in Literature.

Nino: Movie Director. Weird how his love of music and DJing disappeared.

Mylene: "Defender of the Earth." Wow, they couldn't even pretend to have her put down a serious job, could they?

Ivan: Stay-at-home-dad. ...Huh, I honestly can't say anything snarky about that, it takes guts to be cool with that kind of life, I just hope he knows what that kind of commitment entails.

Rose: "Hairstylist," okay, not too weird... "For Unicorns." Never mind, they really aren't even pretending to have her be serious, they are straight-up insisting Rose is a delusional idiot. That might sound harsh, but come the FUCK on, there's a line between having an innocent idealism still, and unironically wanting a job that involves working with mythical creatures. Who knows, maybe Unicorns actually exist in MLB, I doubt that her job is even remotely applicable. Wait, she got told Unicorns don't exist... and changed it to "Hairstylist for Dragons."

Juleka: I couldn't even hear what she said, but given Marinette's comment on "that being SO you," I'm gonna assume it's something insanely stereotypically "goth."

Sabrina: A nurse. Because she "loves taking care of other people." I am cringing, because it sounds like they are trying to insist Sabrina being Chloe's enabler and minion is something positive that "Chloe tainted" or some shit like that. Also, she's never shown any indication of wanting to take care of people before, EVER.

Chloe: "I don't need to do anything since I'm already rich." They are seriously this fucking stupid. They can't even give her wanting to be something snobby and "powerful" that will let her pander to her own ego, they seriously are treating her like an unironic "Ideal Rich" stereotype. News flash, even RICH PEOPLE HAVE STUFF THEY LIKE TO DO. God fucking dammit.

Lila: I'm not even going to type her answer since it's a bare-faced lie meant to make her look good, which she even admits to.

Also, I'm genuinely confused on why we never got Nathaniel's, Max's, or Kim's. I'm not even gonna pretend to touch Alix's situation with a ten foot pole.

Seeing Marinette fretting about "entrusting her classmate's futures to such awful girls" really, REALLY annoys me. The entire fucking REASON that Lila is even class-rep is because of the authors trying to pretend that Lila transferred in BEFORE the elections for Class Rep took place, when I'm literally looking at the timeline and she explicitly came LONG AFTER.

Yada yada yada, Lila lying through her teeth again. Wow, not even ten seconds and she's having Sabrina destroy the original forms and forge new ones. UGH. "You're using too many words to explain your plan!" HAHAHA ISN'T CHLOE BEING A DUMB BLONDE STEREOTYPE HILARIOUS!? I AM ENJOYING THIS AND NOT PISSED OFF AT ALL!!! And WOW, Lila's "brilliant plan" is to just... frame Marinette for replacing everyone's forms with ones that would make them miserable. There are clearly no holes in this, certainly not the fact that Miss Bustier KNOWS now that Sabrina can and does forge signatures and handwriting, and that the whole "frame Marinette for doing something awful" routine only has a 50% success record, even with Lila's bullshit in effect. This isn't stupid, nope, not one bit. /s

And we get a reminder from Chloe that Andre is a stereotypical scumbag politician, it's been a while since the show has been willing to do that. I wonder if it has something to do with the show trying to pretend he's a good dad because of Zoe?

Also, apparently the lynchpin to Lila's plan is having Sabrina lie and say that MARINETTE made her forge the papers... wow, people will totally buy that the girl who does anything and everything Chloe says would ever take orders from someone other than Chloe, that's definitely what will happen. Much shock, much brilliance. /s

Wow, literally having Chloe gush over Lila's plan being "utterly villainous." They aren't even pretending to be subtle in the slightest. This is pathetic. And now Sabrina's blowing into her weird whistle in a panic because she "can't do this." Girl, you have been Chloe's lapdog and have had no problem with ruining lives in the past without a hint of regret, don't pretend you have a conscience NOW of all times. Also, what the FUCK is with that stupid whistle? Where did it come from, and why is it only NOW something so important to her??

"Helping Chloe doesn't hurt anyone" YOU LITERALLY TRIED TO STEAL MARINETTE'S DIARY IN SEASON ONE CUT THE BULLSHIT. "Forging documents and lying? It's different!" No. IT IS NOT. YOU HAVE LIED ON CHLOE'S BEHALF MANY TIMES IN THIS SERIES ALREADY!!!

And after a moment of pointless cruelty (and more "I didn't do anything wrong!!" whining from Sabrina) by Chloe, we are now back to the reappearance of... ugh. The "Resistance." What have these idiots accomplished again...? Oh right, they publicly harassed Adrien's father, fell hook line and sinker for Hawkmoth's idiotic "scheme" to conceal his identity again, lead a fairly pointless resistance against Hawkmoth after he gets the Ladybug Earrings... and that's about it. What a joke.

Okay, and somehow Damocles hears them and is looking for them on the basis that they are intruders. He's honestly not wrong, since I sincerely doubt they are supposed to be hiding in that weird nook in the school after class hours. Apparently Nino's "brilliant plan" is for all of them to go to the same high school... for many, MANY reasons, that feels utterly fucking stupid to me, since there's no guarantee that any of them would get schedules that would let them meet up, there's no guarantee that the school would be able to accommodate their future goals and ideals, and, oh yeah, THEY DON'T NEED TO GO TO THE SAME SCHOOL TO STILL BE A TEAM.

And it seems Damocles is a fan of their plan. Not terrible, but that feels like the kind of thing that's gonna get out of hand in the worst way VERY QUICKLY. Also, Nino thinking his plan will be able to fix Adrien's problem would be hilarious if it didn't illustrate how stupid the writers are making the cast for the sake of plot. And yup, the little problem of them having different dreams and goals that are incompatible with all going to the same school immediately crops up.

While Marinette takes a call, Mrs. Mendeleev is tattling on the "Resistance" to Mr. Damocles. For once, she's absolutely right that them lurking in the boiler room is unacceptable. Not only is it breaking several rules, it's just plain dangerous to be in a place like that without a good reason. And... Damocles is covering for them. That would be sweet if it weren't liable to get him in massive trouble. Oh, looks like Mendeleev is unsatisfied with how Damocles runs things. I mean, so am I, but I doubt she'd be any better given her track record.

"It's so unfair that we have to decide what we want to do so early on in life!" MYLENE, IF YOU THINK THAT THIS IS THE BE-ALL END-ALL OF YOUR LIFE, YOU ARE FUCKING DELUSIONAL. Changing careers and exploring different subjects and career paths is NORMAL. People who go into one thing and never divert from it are the EXCEPTION not the rule. I wanted to become a programmer, then got into IT, before I finally ended up as a Pharmacy Technician. Them acting as if "taking a bunch of different courses to figure out what we want" is this groundbreaking thing pisses me off. They come off as spoiled brats, especially when each of them had pretty clear ideas on what they wanted to do right off the bat. This is fucking stupid.

No no no. I'm not even remotely pretending to entertain them acting as if trying to "take a stand" against filing these forms THAT THEY ALREADY FILLED OUT AND HANDED OVER by "striking" is anything other then performative BS. I have had my fill of performative BS for a while now. Fuck this.

Seriously, why the fuck do they have Juleka speaking so fucking QUIETLY? This is just fucking bizarre. She's capable of speaking at a normal volume without issue, she's SPOKEN at a normal volume without issue THIS SEASON, why is she having this problem NOW OF ALL TIMES!? Ding Dong, Rose points out the fucking problem with doing a "strike" when it comes to something THEY HAVE ALREADY DONE.

And it looks like MAYBE Adrien has pushed himself to do something other then be totally enslaved to what Gabe wants of him... and we don't even get to see it. Who bets that it's Adriennette shit? ...Yup, it's Adriennette shit. He literally didn't even list anything, he just said he "wanted to be with Marinette." If that's supposed to be touching, it fails. It's just him basically wasting a form by treating it like a love letter.

And Chloe dumps the form in the emergency bathroom that she and Lila are hiding in. How did no one see them all enter at the same time, and why was no one suspicious? And I cannot repeat myself enough, them trying to act as if Sabrina just NOW has a conscience PISSES ME OFF.

And we get a scene of Caline taking Lila at face value. For fuck's sake, this better not be binding... and Damocles is taking Lila's bullshit rationalization on why Alya obviously put down "Optician" at face value, FUCK. THAT. THIS is why this guy needs to be kicked out of his position, he SUCKS AT HIS JOB. Seriously, why the fuck would ALYA WEARING GLASSES MEANS SHE WANTS TO MAKE THEM FOR PEOPLE!? And Mrs. Mendeleev just saying "her grades allow it" really proves she's no better at this job then Damocles is. Uuuggghhh... your JOB should be to call in Alya and TALK WITH HER since her homeroom teacher has literally JUST POINTED OUT THAT THIS IS UNUSUAL FOR ALYA. FUCK THIS SHIT.

"Juleka wants to repeat the year" NOPE. FUCK THAT. END OF FUCKING STORY. You do not get to CHOOSE TO REPEAT A YEAR!!!! FUCK THAT FUCK THAT FUCK THAT!!! WHY ARE THESE IDIOTS NOT QUESTIONING THIS!?!? Wow, the speech impediment that didn't exist until recently, truly a "brilliant reason" for her to want to be held back WHICH IS NOT A THING THAT HAPPENS. And another sign of Mrs. Mendeleev being just as useless as Damocles in that she doesn't oppose a child apparently sabotaging her own education.

And NOW we get the class reacting to the news!! How will the writers fuck THIS up, I wonder?

"You sure you didn't get mine by mistake?" Kim saying that would be funny if it weren't for the sheer stupidity of the teachers and Damocles apparently being dumb enough to just buy Lila's bullshit at face value AND Miss Bustier doing NOTHING to actually oppose it!!! Oh, and another Dumb Blonde joke, but this time it's Rose who's the butt of it.

And whatever drama this should result in gets sidetracked by what looks to be Juleka getting Akumatized. Let's see if that'll actually go through with it or if they'll bring back the Resistance's bullshit "tactics" again. Also, why is Gabe/Hawkmoth acting like he's got this history of akumatizing people during Teacher Rep Meetings when this is the first time these have ever even been MENTIONED?

And the magical charm proves to be immediately useless! Who didn't see that coming, show of hands!

And it's Reflekta again. UGH. Also, them trying to act as if not being (verbally) understood or listened to is a recurring problem with Juleka falls flat when she's never had this speech impediment prior to this season. Her issue was being SEEN, not HEARD, dumbass writers. Yup, they are using the dumb tactics, and putting themselves in danger in the process. Kiddies, it's WAY TOO FUCKING LATE FOR THAT.

Huh, they actually bothered to give an old Akuma an improved version of their prior power!! Now if only it wasn't the Akuma LEAST USEFUL TO GETTING THE MIRACULOUSES!!! Also, the fact that their classmates didn't immediately run when they saw that the Akuma was Reflekta, especially since this one operates as a hive mind it seems. It's also kinda stupid that they are trying to tie Reflekta's powers of image copying with the motivation of "staying with her friends" since it just plain DOES NOT FIT REFLEKTA AS AN AKUMA.

This plan is even stupider than normal. Not only was the Akuma taken out in less than a handful of minutes, they basically just got lucky that they took out the "real Reflekta." This was a waste of time.

Now back to the school, where Alya and the rest ask Lila what happened at the conference. SURELY this isn't a plot, SURELY this isn't all a trick- Oh who am I kidding, of course it is. Yup, Lila immediately passes the blame onto Marinette. And Chloe immediately pulls out the fact that Marinette's the only one with an unaltered form as "proof" that this is all her fault, and Lila says it's all because they voted her to be Class Rep. Wow, what a "brilliant plan."

Marinette immediately points out the obvious flaw in her being the one to make the fake forms. And when Lila tries to flip it on her, Marinette calls out Sabrina, who Chloe shoves in front of herself. HOW the class can't smell that this is staged, I have no clue whatsoever. AND SABRINA FINALLY GROWS A SPINE!! WHOOPDY-FUCKING-DOO!! WHO GIVES A SHIT!? IT'S TOO LITTLE TOO LATE TO GROW A FUCKING CONSCIENCE WHEN YOU'VE BEEN ACTING AS IF YOU'VE NEVER DONE ANY WRONG UP UNTIL NOW!!!

And Chloe, because of course they are still keeping her the dumb one, loudly calls Sabrina a traitor and says that "wasn't the plan." Lila tries to run damage control... by immediately throwing SABRINA under the bus and claiming that Sabrina is the liar, and was "just being used by Marinette." Seriously, CHLOE ADMITTED THAT THIS WAS THEIR PLAN!!! HOW STUPID IS THIS!? EXTREMELY STUPID!!! Also, wow, calling Marinette a "Civilian Monarch." She isn't even trying anymore.

And Sabrina, no, she is not turning everything you say against you, she's lying. Turning what you say against you is when you repeat what someone says in a way that means differently from what they intend. What she's doing is lying, blatantly, calling you a liar, and trying to gaslight you into going along with what she wants, and she's not being even remotely subtle about it. WHY ARE NONE OF THEIR CLASSMATES REACTING TO THIS!? WHY!?!?!

Yeesh, even if you ignore how stupid and blatant Lila's lies are, this is genuinely creepy how she's openly trying to gaslight and badger Sabrina into doing what she wants and agreeing with her. It's sincerely disturbing to see her being this fucking obvious.

Also, it's kinda weird how Sabrina emphasizes that her dad is a policeman.

And after Sabrina runs off, Chloe literally tells Sabrina to 'heel,' like a dog. THAT'S the Miraculous they think suits Sabrina best... how nauseating. No joke, this part of the episode is making me sick to my stomach.

Wow, a classic "I'll have my dad fire you(r dad)" threat from Chloe. Haven't heard one of those in awhile.

And after Lila begins bragging about how great of a liar she is (SHE REALLY ISN'T PEOPLE!!!), and threatens Sabrina, Sabrina springs her trap and reveals she engineered a public confession. This would be cathartic if it weren't TOTALLY STUPID HOW LONG LILA'S LIES HAVE BEEN MAINTAINED BY PEOPLE TAKING HER AT FACE VALUE OVER ALL ELSE!!!!

Yadda yadda yadda, Sabrina grew a conscience and revealed everything to Marinette, acting as if she hasn't tried to gleefully ruin lives and damage reputations at Chloe's behest before. And they seriously built an entire fake bathroom with a one-way window-mirror thing just to catch her. How obnoxious. Seriously, all they did was put up a "bathroom busted" sign and that was enough, and the school never tried to call a plumber or something!? THIS IS STUPID!!! They should've been aware this ENTIRE TIME that the actual bathroom was perfectly fine, making this entire plan of Marinette's as sound as a pile of SAND!!!

"I'll fix everything." Fix WHAT!? By all accounts you just faked the bathrooms being out of order, switched out a mirror for a back-up bathroom that never needed making and thus probably cost the school quite a pretty penny to make, and wasted several school hours by enabling Lila's idiotic plan involving those orientation forms WHICH SHOULD NOT HAVE ACTUALLY BEEN THAT BIG OF A FUCKING DEAL!!!

Caline says they owe Marinette an apology, they kinda do. They also probably deserve to be fired since they've shown nothing but raw, unfettered ineptitude THIS ENTIRE FUCKING SEASON AND EVERY EPISODE INVOLVING LILA!!! Wow, Chloe actually bothered acting on one of her threats to call her father!! TOO BAD THAT HER DAD DOESN'T HAVE THE POWER TO GET RID OF DAMOCLES!! I agree he needs to go, but Andre doesn't have the power to do that. Mayor of the year, people, Mayor of the fucking year.

I'm just tuning out the rest of this, since it's basically Damocles FINALLY bothering to act like a proper educator and Andre going back to his Season 1 days of being a slimeball politician that throws his weight around to keep his daughter's image clean. Oh, and it looks like the only reason he went along with it was because Audrey was coercing him with her present, CLEARLY they are "in love," and this isn't downplaying Andre being a self-serving spineless leech. Heck, this makes him MORE of a spineless leech since he's getting pushed around by Audrey FOR NO FUCKING REASON.

"Now you're not getting fired either!" Audrey, he's your husband, not an employee, and he has more authority than you. Fuck this bullshit.

And the entire class rallying around Damocles would be more touching if he weren't a fucking joke of a principal on every level. We also see the Magic Charms FINALLY BE FUCKING USEFUL!! Who knows, maybe this unknown until now power will actually be fucking relevant... yeah, I don't believe it either.

Yadda yadda yadda, character shilling for Damocles by acting as if he's always been a good principal and not a fucking joke with no spine. And now we get the scene of Caline joining the "Chloe is pure evil and always has been, so there's no point in trying to change her, point and scorn her as nothing but trash" club. And we get a "I thought you could change if people reached out to you!" speech which acts as if the token gestures that never went anywhere were really meaningful attempts to reform her, blech. And Caline's "punishment" for Chloe is literally just the "extra help" she said Chloe would need last episode reframed as a threat. Idiotic. And apparently Lila has an entirely separate identity as "Cerise" on top of her somehow tricking three women into believing she's her daughter and HOW MUCH FUCKING MORE DO THE WRITERS PLAN ON SHILLING HER AS THIS MASTER MANIPULATOR!? BECAUSE SHE AIN'T ONE!! SHE IS A TEENAGE GIRL WITH FUCKING DELUSIONS OF GRANDEUR!! GOD FUCKING DAMMIT!!!

[studyinglogic]

— ...there was a time when writing was my joy, when I wrote for fun. But after what's happened, there's been a vague sense of guilt about it. I can write, but each time I try to I feel like I don't deserve to.

— Well, I mean leans back in his chair you know that's not true, right.

— Yes, yes. It's a stumbling block.

— Maybe what's tough is getting started. You used to have that online blog, didn't you? How many drafts do you have on there?

— Oh, I don't know. A lot. Let me check. [beat] Six thousand seven hundred and forty.

— Good God. What's stopping you?

(Option A. — I fear society. You know, judgment on my work.

— If you can't be weird on your own blog, where can you be? Look, maybe ... [C])

(Option B. — Alan Watts titled his autobiography "In My Own Way." I quite like that title, because it has a double meaning. He's doing things in his own way, of course, but he's also getting in his own way. And it implies that the two are linked. That his faults and imperfections are linked to what makes him unique.

— Even if everyone was self-actualised, I'm sure that there'd be a wide variety of people. But let's stick to the topic; what was the point of bringing up Watts?

— Oh, you know. I'm getting in my own way, in my own way. And there's a meta-point here. I have so much, and it's just hard to get a handle on all of it.

— Look, maybe ... [C])

[C, see, si, sea, the third synthesis, cf. Kant's footnote]

— Look, maybe you need to find the joy of writing in a low-stakes environment. Something that doesn't pressure you too much. Your online blog is low-stakes enough, I think. You have six thousand seven hundred and forty drafts. Let's say ninety percent of that is crap. That's still enough to last you more than a year if you post once a day. Just post for joy. If you like it. Get used to doing things which you enjoy. Take yes for an answer. Easy easy. No need to make the posts serious or high-pressure, even in your own head. Post things even if they're not great. Start by being imperfect. End by being imperfect.

— That's the spirit. Genius arrests decay. You've been writing yourself, haven't you?

— Here and there. That's all we can do, isn't it. Write ourselves into our work?

— Heh sincere laughter for a good ten seconds good one, but you know what's not what I meant. What have you been writing?

— Oh, fables.

— Excellent. What type of fables? Kafka or Aesop?

— Closer to Kafka than Aesop. That reminds me, you know those videos, what are they called, the ones where people ask, would you love me if I was a worm. Does anyone reference Kafka's "Metamorphosis" there?

— I don't know. I don't watch them. I'm amazed you even know about them. I didn't know about them. Anyway, who have you been reading lately?

— Cormac McCarthy. That's how I got the idea of writing fables. Fables are simple; they show the world "as it is." An illusion, or perhaps just a part, of course, but they're compelling in that way. And I know McCarthy's work isn't usually thought of as a fable, but in fables there's often lots of senseless violence skated over. And perhaps if you see some of his work as dreamlike...

[long pause]

— Continue?

— Sorry, I don't know what I'm saying. But I guess that's how it is. One day I'll get there.

— One day I'll get there.

[ask-luckyguy-idv]

Dear Lucky,

what do you think of their veterans?

sincerely, letter anon

(∴⊗-⊗∴) “Emma, Freddy, and Emily? Those three?…

Emmas really sweet!! Shes my best friend! I like going on walks with her through the manor garden and just catching up on things…

I don’t think I’ve spoken to Freddy that much, so I don’t really have an opinion on him… I know he did something but its kept kinda vauge… which, fair… Its not really any of my business.

Emily!… Emilys really busy working the manor infirmary, she never really has time to talk. But when we do, she always seems really down on herself. I try and assure her shes just doing her best, but I… Don’t think she really believes me”.

(´⊗ゝ⊗`) “She should allow me into the infirmary occasionally. I could help.”

(∴⊗-⊗∴) “Uh… I don’t think you have the right medical license to do so, Aesop. She pointed out one time you didn’t know how to do basic CPR…”

(´⊗ゝ⊗`) “I could help them. She just needs to trust me.”

(∴⊗-⊗∴) “Aha… Uh… Maybe not yet- or.. ever.”

[bronze-bell]

(This time, the letter is on off-white paper, a deep red, ornate border surrounding the words, with the same color ink used to write the words within.)

Dear Victor Grantz,

That does make sense. When unexpected bonds form, people get curious about how. And when they start asking questions, they might start looking for answers too closely for either of our likings. I'd hate for that to happen.

That might be wise, especially to have us all in one place. The temporary nature helps in many aspects, of course. Of course there's a recovery period—you did still die, and you need to get back into shape from all that. I don't know how well I'll do, but I'll try to pull you out of any painful loops you fall, or are pushed, into.

There are many strange things about being able to talk to someone again. To know that someone wants me around. To be truthful, I know how it feels to struggle with being around people, and yet to be forced to exist near them, to be palatable to them all the same. I couldn't do that to you. Pardon me, I... didn't quite understand what you meant. "A mute who can speak"... and even then they didn't let you? Apologies if I'm misunderstanding.

It's... really just what I felt was right to do. If someone tells me something and I have knowledge of what to say about it, I may as well tell them. I've been back and forth on pulling someone aside for a while now, he reminds me of my younger self far too much... I can't say from experience, but... considering the nature of mortality, even if it's different here, I can imagine it's terrifying. Not only from Aesop's and your words, but just the very concept.

Thank you for clearing that up, I will keep that in mind. I suppose there's a certain way of speaking that gave me the impression... and yes, disputes of... many kinds can happen when people are close for long enough.

That is... very good to know, thank you. Putting my faith in you from that first letter was a decision I cannot regret. Loyalty is a risk, a virtue that can go too far. I'll keep you safe. If we're all in the cast, let us all find our true roles and enjoy them. I would do no such thing to you. I won't let you feel abandoned again.

It's quite all right. As you said, we're all lonely here. Maybe we can be less lonely together. You gave me such patience when we met in person last time, I'd be rude not to give you the same.

Sincerely,

Frederick

The letter set is decorated with black music notes against off-white paper. The seal bears a bass clef. Victor's footsteps are hesitant to leave the door, but they do eventually.

[Dear Frederick,

Indeed, questions are quite terrifying. Knowing someone is watching your every past present and future move, scouring your life so thoroughly with their persecuting eyes, is not a good experience at all. I would know. There's so many strange connections in this place that we should be safe, though. I hope.

When will you be okay to meet? It really doesn't take more than an hour or two to recover, thankfully, but it seems that's mainly because it takes quite a while to revive. It appears that most of the healing is done before waking up. You are too kind to me. They could hurt you too, you know.

Of course I want you around, you're wonderful. Indeed, it is strange to get to talk to anyone at all, especially somebody who is so kind about all my strangeness, as much as I try and fail to minimise it. I could never do good in a crowd, and you seem to at least be able to tolerate it. For that I'm proud of you.]

The writing is shaky here. Very shaky. You can almost feel the fear radiating off of it. Each paragraph cuts off suddenly, a moment of lucidity in raging grief.

[That's what he said. Someone as easily scared to silence as a postman can still be threatened by its permanence and they always went through with threats —

I don't know what i did but soon I was a liability and they hated me and it all went wrong I just wanted to do my job why —

There's too many of them and too little of us, I was the only one left after rivals found us and they took advantage of —

I'm sorry. I'm scared. Please don't hurt me.]

The writing stops here. Many, many tears stain the paper below. The hand is forced into a neater style, but it's still clearly shaking.

[if you pull anyone aside, it should be him. You seem to be friends.

Death is scary, certainly. I can only hope any death I come to here is swift and merciful like his. I don't think I could handle it if it wasn't either treated with care or over quickly.

I am glad my loyalty is rewarded. Please keep me safe please be trustworthy I believe I have found my role as a postman rather than a "postman", but I'm not sure if I'm able to play it. Thank you. For everything.

I would like to meet up with you as soon as possible, if that's alright. I can't look at any more letters today.

Regards.

Postman]

[coffeeandmagicaltales]

The Auror&The Devil part 22

profAesopSharp x adultMC

DISCLAIMER: ANGST ANGST ANGST ANGST ANGST Traumatic events, mental health, trauma, death, strong emotions

THE DEVIL FROM THE FORBIDDEN FOREST KILLED 2 AURORS screamed the headline of the newspaper lying on Sharp’s cluttered desk in his bedroom. Two Aurors killed in the Forbidden Forest belonging to the Hogwarts Valley, witnesses, other aurors, dispparated just in time. Chief Constable Vincent Fromm reports: 'At this time, it is unknown whether [the Dark Wizard] acted alone or is collaborating with Goblins—wizards were struck with a fatal Unforgivable Curse while investigating signs of goblin activity nearby. What is certain is that he has nested in the forest depths, and we will soon track him down.' Local residents speak of strange phenomena that began in the forest a few months ago, almost as if 'the Devil himself' had taken up residence there—magical creatures are disappearing, eerie voices can be heard, and a thick, unnatural fog has descended upon the forest. The School of Witchcraft and Wizardry has been temporarily isolated from the outside world until the perpetrator is apprehended. Headmaster Phineas Nigellus Black assures that everything is under control and the castle is fully protected. More on this on page 4.

Next to the newspaper, an open letter from the Ministry lay in the shadows, with flickering light from the fireplace reflected in the crystal glass on the parchment, emptied of whiskey.

Professor Aesop Sharp,

I inform you that today you have been called to active duty. Please report next week, on September 14th, at 6:00 pm to Officer Singer's office in Hogsmeade for a briefing with your new partner. At this time, I cannot provide their name, as we still have many candidates undergoing recruitment. I am fully aware of your health condition and sincerely sympathize, but unfortunately, the Minister of Magic gave me no choice; the matter is truly serious. You will be tasked with investigating the situation in the Forbidden Forest. Headmaster Phineas Nigellus Black has already been informed and regrets that the position of Potions Master will soon be handed over to someone else. I cannot predict how long your service will last. The uniform is already on its way to you. Sincerely,

Chief Constable Vincent Ærinbjørn Fromm

Aesop took the letter in his hands and read it several times. He breathed shallowly, feeling his heart race since receiving this message and then the package with clothes.

He hadn’t expected this. He hadn’t even written to his family about it, let alone Morana... Why?

He put Fromm’s message back in the envelope and, with a quick flick of his wand, conjured a mirror among the few of classified documents concerning the “Devil from the Forbidden Forest” case, then opened the package from the Ministry.

As soon as he felt the familiar rough material of the uniform under his fingertips, a shiver ran through his skin... Well, he was an Auror again. This was what he had always dreamed of, every time he glanced at the badge on his desk, bored during a lesson... Ready to go into battle again, if only the heavens would send him such a chance...

Now... he stared blankly at the wardrobe, hearing only the pounding of the autumn rain against the window mixed with the thumping of his own heart, creating a cacophony in his mind. His legs trembled, he felt a lump in his throat. He felt utterly empty.

He took a deep breath, trying to clear his mind, and stripped down to his underwear. For a moment, he stood helpless and dazed, barefoot in his linen two-piece bodysuit, hesitating to take the next step, as if not quite sure what was happening and whether he had been trapped in a dream... He squeezed his eyes shut and reached for the first elements of the Auror gear. He put on the shin and thigh guards, fastening the straps tightly, checking that everything fit correctly and didn’t chafe or shift despite the underwear. He clipped the socks to the guards with a strap and, rising from the bend that caused an unpleasant twinge in his bad knee, fastened the special underbust corset worn by all officers to support the back, surprised that his hands still remembered how to put it on and which strap to thread through the appropriate buckle... His hand found the shirt and trousers in the box, which quickly found their place on his body, secured with suspenders.

With fluid motion, he put on the leather harness over his shoulders, fastening the buckles and checking that they weren't too loose, and slipped his wand into a special sheath attached to it. He threw on his jacket.

And finally... He looked at the badge glinting in the dim light. Pure memories of what he once loved, embedded in a piece of metal. Cold, with sharp edges. He brushed it gently with his fingers, but didn't feel what he used to... The surge of pride, the nostalgia... All of it was gone, replaced by a monstrous weight of sorrow and responsibility.

It's a strange feeling... To desire something, to dream of it coming true, and when the prayers are finally answered... To realize that it wasn't what you were searching for, it wasn't the lament that often hummed in his heart.

He felt a lump in his throat.

With a trembling hand, he pinned the badge to his jacket in front of the mirror, checking multiple times to ensure it wouldn't come off the lapel.

Who was the person in the mirror? Certainly not him, he didn't recognize himself.

He felt pathetic realizing that he was no longer and would never again be an Auror, that chapter of his life was closed... Yet... he had his students, the school, he could often visit his family, he was free. Maybe he was crippled, but he wasn't unhappy in his new role. His life was truly good, comfortable, peaceful... Aesop Sharp was now a respected professor... He earned quite well, had time to engage in art, go for walks, swim, relax... Something he once despised, considering it a waste of life and potential... heh... How could he ever have thought that a peaceful life was worse...

Now, seeing himself squeezed into the uniform, standing crookedly, constricted by straps and tight fabric that seemed to bind him like chains... He understood that this wasn't Aesop Sharp anymore.

The real Aesop was a Hogwarts teacher, proud, calm, balanced, avoiding trouble, responsible and sufficiently content with life not to seek additional, reckless thrills. Now he would probably finish eating a cookie, have a sip of whiskey, (which some parent sent him hoping to bribe him) and go gossip with Matilda and Abraham.

He didn't want to leave the castle, he didn't want to fear for his life and his partner's again.

He didn't want to be an Auror.

He was afraid of what he might find in the Forbidden Forest, that his disability could become a death sentence... He had managed to escape it once. Would he be able to do so again?

His heart began to feel heavy, as if someone had placed a stone in it. Torn, he didn't know what to do, for a moment wanting to meet with his family, say goodbye to everyone... No... he couldn't be such a pessimist... But on the other hand, if he didn't make it out alive... He wanted at least one last time to hug his mother, John, the Goblins... See Morana...

His tired eyes filled with tears. No. He couldn't worry them. He had enough of the tears from other professors, who were ready to snatch him away from the Ministry. He had enough of Matilda's silence, who, like him, sensed the danger. When he was leaving, she told him to come back, otherwise, Garreth, who was replacing him, would blow his class to pieces... He appreciated her humor, even if it was tinged with deep concern.

Better that his family didn't know. His mother was probably preparing for another trip with John... The Goblins were probably playing cards, outplaying wizards, and Morana?... Hmm... In her letters, she regularly wrote to him that she had been busy with Durmstrang matters for several months, and was making incredible progress with Isidora... He was so proud of her...

He glanced at her feather lying on a soft display cushion.

He picked it up gently and, placing a kiss on it, slid it behind his badge on his chest, securing it with a spell so it wouldn't fall out. He laid his hand on it and stood still for a moment, concentrating, squeezing his eyes shut, and whispered: Lead me.

He checked if he had everything he needed, carefully analyzed the list of potions, went through the case files once more, which were suspiciously few and didn't even include photographs from the crime scene. Maybe they were classified? He took a deep breath.

Only now was he ready.

With a quick flick of his wand, he packed all the suitcases and walked slowly towards the exit of the Guild Tower. A dreadful feeling— the new school year had just begun, not even a month had passed... He never expected he would have to leave the school.

As he descended the steep steps, he saw young Mr. Weasley waiting for him at the bottom. The boy stood with his back to him, nervously shifting from foot to foot.

Aesop cleared his throat and greeted him politely, and at the sound of his deep voice, the boy jumped and quickly turned around.

"Good morning, Professor!" he began shyly, but his thoughts faltered for a moment when he noticed the change in Sharp's appearance. His mouth fell open. Well, he had probably never seen an Auror in person before... Their appearance always made a strong impression on "kids," similar to Quidditch players. The boy blinked and quickly got to the point, barely catching his breath between the many words that poured out of him. "Professor, I promise I won't mess up, everything will be in place when you return, I promise I won't do anything stupid, no experiments, no testing new formulas, nothing like that, I won't cause you any trouble, really. Nothing will blow up, all the cauldrons will be clean..."

Aesop smiled slightly, looking at him kindly and extended his hand. Garreth shook it timidly.

"The Potions classroom is at your disposal, Mr. Weasley, good luck." Aesop said quietly, then passed Garreth and hobbled towards the school's exit.

"Professor Sharp! How nice to see you! It's... It's such an honor to work with you!"

Aesop smiled hearing the familiar voice and seeing in Singer's office a well-known, boyish face, but his enthusiasm quickly faded, feeling an unpleasant tightness in his stomach.

Ammit. Why him, of all people?

He boiled with rage. This was a dangerous mission, probably doomed to fail... Damn it! Not his student, not this young boy! How could the Ministry even think of such an idea!? He was still a kid; inexperienced, unfamiliar... afraid of his own shadow... The case files he had studied day and night were proof that many experienced Aurors simply didn't know how to crack this case and get to the person responsible for the murders... It was someone dangerously intelligent hiding behind strong spells and illusions... Someone even he doubted he could handle, let alone Ammit...

He greeted him trying not to show anything, nodding occasionally, but Mr. Thakkar's excited chatter about how he was accepted and trained at his family's urging seemed to reach him from far away.

"Gentlemen, please focus." Officer Singer said, making a sour face. "The entity described by witnesses as 'The Devil,' which you are to track down, is somewhere in the central part of the forest... The dark wizard has been surrounded by us, the coward hid under a thick shroud of fog... He does not shy away from Unforgivable Curses, plays with illusion... You are to assess the situation, see what his potential cooperation with the goblins looks like, so we don't have a repeat of the incidents with Ranrok and Rookwood..."

Aesop bit his tongue not to say that: "the incidents with Ranrok and Rookwood" were due to the Auror office's negligence. They had all the evidence handed to them on a platter by Morana and Miss Onai...

Now it was different... From what Singer said, he inferred that the Aurors were operating completely in the dark in this case... They stumbled upon someone who disrupted their investigation into the new goblin weapon, or suspected that a person was behind it, but did not expect to be so helpless against him... What made them take on this case with a teenage bookworm and a retired trade crimes specialist? It didn't make sense and the only explanation he could find at the moment was that the Ministry was in deep trouble and lacked Aurors, or needed people not so much brave as incompetent enough in this area to, not realizing the gravity of the situation, cross into the Forbidden Forest.

He snapped out of his thoughts noticing that he wasn't listening to Singer at all.

"... in the protocol. Is that clear?" asked the Officer, to which Ammit immediately nodded. Aesop said nothing, just measured the woman with his eyes.

The briefing lasted, as he expected, briefly, and the portkey quickly transported them to the makeshift Auror post at the entrance to the Forbidden Forest.

"Detective Sharp, Mr. Thakkar." an Auror greeted them, grabbing the brim of his hat.

"Hello Flux, what's the situation?" asked Aesop, remembering this man from his time at the Ministry. Magnus Flux should also theoretically be in early retirement, due to the loss of both lower limbs in a skirmish with a confused Graphorn.

"Eh, it's a mess." grumbled Flux. "Shitty. I have nightmares at night from sitting here most of the day, just making sure no lunatic enters the Forbidden Forest... I'm telling you, this place is haunted, I don't know what the hell happened here, but if you and I got called, it must be bad... I smell Ministry's desperation from a mile away."

Aesop just nodded... He preferred to keep his assumptions to himself, you never knew who another Auror might report something to.

Flux quickly made an entranc ein a s spell surrounding the forest, similar to the one protecting Hogwarts, allowing animals to move freely while blocking any other suspicious entities. "Not very smart." Aesop thought to himself. The forest was full of caves and old mines, someone who knew it even a little would easily know how to escape the Aurors' traps through underground corridors...

When Aesop and Ammit were on the other side, they only heard "good luck" from Flux, who closed the passage behind them.

The path ahead quickly disappeared into a dense, swirling fog, with tall trees casting dark, unsettling shadows, sometimes even blocking out the light. Aesop suspected it to be some kind of a gas, a potion, but its's smell... hmmm... nothing he could recognize. Suspicious.

The disturbing silence was broken by a sound similar to a whisper, and the men drew their wands.

"Mr. Thakkar, before we take a step in any direction, here are a few rules."

"Yes, professor..."

"Ugh, just call me 'Sharp,' alright, it'll be easier." Aesop instructed him. "Please listen carefully and take a few of them to heart. First: you can suggest various things to me, but I will have the final say on everything. Do we understand each other?"

Ammit nodded, somewhat dazed.

"Good. If I tell you to run, you run straight to Flux. That's the most important rule. The second most important rule: if something happens to me, you run. No arguing, no trying to help me, you run as far and as fast as you can. Next: if anything happens to you, even a scratch, we end the mission. Next: you call for help only when you're safe. I go first, you stay alert and try to cover me. We go single file, in silence, we'll cast disillusionment spells on ourselves in a moment... Do you have any potions?"

"Yes! Edurus, 4 vials, Wiggenweld, 25 vials..."

"Good, good," Aesop stopped him, pleased that Ammit had remembered something from his lessons. That was enough, and he had no experience, carrying potions he wouldn't know how to use would only unnecessarily burden him and confuse.

"Let's go," he ordered, then they put on protective masks and both disappeared into the embrace of the silvery mist.

Time seemed to stand still.

It was rather cold, unnaturally quiet, as if the forest was devoid of life, even the kinds less friendly to wizards, like spiders. They couldn't even hear their own footsteps. They walked in semi-darkness because the light from their wands might unnecessarily attract attention. Aesop felt they were being watched, something was lurking here. He heard whispers. Neither a male nor a female voice. At first, it was gibberish, but soon he began to recognize snippets of words: "danger," "leave," "you have blood on you," "I'll find you."

He was surprised that none of these were serious threats, more like... warnings, though he would have preferred not to hear any ghostly whispers at all. He glanced over his shoulder at Ammit: The boy was trembling with fear, looking around nervously... Suddenly, he stopped and, whispering "look," pointed at an object lying ahead of them in the dim light.

A wand.

He didn't recognize it at all, decided not to pick it up for now, it could be a trap. He limped over to it and with a wave of his hand, dissipated a cloud of mist. Nearby lay someone's boot and...

"Turn around, I found a body. Stand guard, listen, stay alert," he ordered, and Ammit immediately complied. The sight of a decomposing, partially eaten by local beasts human might not have been on the list of Thakkar's first mission. "Revelio," Aesop whispered... Indeed, the spell's blow that struck the man threw him back a few meters. Avada, no doubt about it... The second wand was embedded in the trunk of a tree; following its path, Aesop found the second Auror; the woman lay nearby on her stomach, also thrown back by the unforgivable curse. Interestingly... Both had sloppily draped poacher robes over their uniforms... Perhaps they were undercover, trying to sneak through sensing danger? Witness reports said nothing about this, nor did the sparse documents. At least now he was certain that they were compiled solely based on third-party accounts. This shouldn't be; a crime scene involving Wizards should be documented and secured... It was impossible that they were so afraid to come here that they neglected their duties, though if this case belonged to Singer, nothing surprised him anymore. With a quick wand movement, he summoned a notebook with a quill, which began to record all the details of the crime scene. He looked around... Hmmm... He also didn't see any signs of goblin activity, though witnesses claimed they were attacked at their research site... Well, there could be several possibilities. Goblins might have gathered their things; they had enough time, but knowing their sloppiness and tendencies to abandon campsites, they probably wouldn't have cleaned up after themselves... There were no traces of any machines or trampled paths, but autumn rain could explain that too. There was nothing interesting here, which was the most suspicious.

"Prior Incantato," Aesop whispered, and to his astonishment, both wands revealed that the last spells cast with them were...

Avada Kedavra.

He furrowed his brow and pondered. Aurors using unforgivable curses? Well, many advocated fighting fire with fire, like Solomon Sallow, and besides, it's unknown what those two really saw before they died. The sight must have been terrifying for them to decide to send Avada towards it.

There was nothing more here; no details, clues, the bodies were too damaged by animals to determine which wound was inflicted after and which before death. It was even more impossible to state or deny with certainty what had happened here that fateful day.

"Psst," Ammit called Sharp, who immediately put away his notes and joined the boy, sharpening his senses. "I-I think I saw something... Some a-animal..."

Before they could react, another shadow swept past them, a gust of icy wind making their hair stand on end. Ammit let out a faint squeak as they heard a distant howl.

Hagall, Maðr, Ár...

It wasn't an animal's voice, but a human wail. Though like a song, it had its rhythm, to which drumming joined.

Ræið, Ís, Sól, Valknutr

Drums, was this some kind of ritual? Damn it! Aesop was increasingly disliking all this.

"Retreat," he pulled Ammit by the arm, and they started quickly retracing their steps.

"I hear voices," Ammit confessed, his teeth chattering. "I'm scared, what will we do? Oh, Merlin we're doomed..."

"Hold on..." Aesop managed to say, taking the boy by the arm, dragging him along like a rag doll.

I see you... a sinister voice said, the drums pounding... Louder... Closer... Shadows swirled around them, oh Merlin, they might have lost their way...

Hagall, Maðr, Ár, Ræið, Ís, Sól, Valknutr

I see you... I see... You're trapped...

The noise: the cacophony, the howling, the strange song, the unknown words, the drumming, which made their stomachs vibrate, almost completely deafened them.

Fimbulthulur, Fjoelnir, Udhur, Ulfroegni, Thekkur, Thudur, Onski, Ofnir, Rognir, Raudhir, Grimnir, Goendlir, Hlefreyr, Hangaty, Njolstapi, Naudhvindir, Jolfudhr, Jafnhaur, Atridhir, Alfadhir, Sidgrani

Suddenly a blinding light flashed, flickering in rhythm with the drums, similar to thunder, dazzling them with a strong glow they weren't prepared for. They covered their eyes with their hands, completely blinded and dazed.

Sigfadhir, Dughirgjafi, Dresvarpir, Bileygur, Biflidhi, Margvisir, Midhvitnis, Londungr, Launhirdir, Yggr ok Yungir

Ammit fell to the ground, yelling and crying, Aesop grabbed him by the uniform's lapels and with a groan of effort, dragged him blindly behind the trunk of a large tree, into the shadow, trying to calm him down despite feeling like he was losing his mind. The boy was in a panic, thrashing around, covering his ears with his hands, screaming that he was scared, that he wanted it to end, that he preferred to die... He was hysterical.

"No... No, no, no... Stay with me, love, stay with me..." Aesop whispered trying to calm Ammit down, cuddling him, feeling the situation was becoming hopeless, and began thinking frantically, they were trapped.

Just like in Scarborough.

Not even Felix Felicis could help here, nothing could probably get Ammit back on his feet, who suddenly collapsed completely unconscious... Sharp knew he couldn't carry him to Flux and defend at the same time... Tears streamed down his cheek. Was this where he was going to stay forever? Oh, if only Morana were here, if only she could help him...

"Expecto Patronum," a raven shot out from his wand, flying immediately towards the source of the unknown magic, attacking the enemy, buying Aesop some time.

Her feather... Maybe it would protect the unconscious Ammit, help him wait out the worst... Meanwhile, he would distract, when the Patronus disappeared... He immediately placed the raven's feather inside Ammit's coat, laid him in a shaded, hidden spot under the branches, and himself hid behind the trunk, trying to sense instinctively where the dark wizard was now.

Suddenly, he heard a familiar sound behind him... A portkey? But where-?

He turned around and noticed that Ammit had disappeared. Questions swirled in his mind, but after a moment, he understood that Morana had not only secured the feather with protective spells... Apparently, it sensed danger and transported itself, Merlin knows where, but knowing her, somewhere safe... At least he didn't have to worry about that, his partner was already safe. He sighed with relief and focused on the task at hand.

He took a deep breath and, jumping out of hiding, sent a nonverbal spell intuitively towards the larger shadow over which a luminous raven was flying.

“Aaaaaaahhhh!”

He screamed as he was thrown back by a powerful blow when his shot bounced off the enemy’s shield. He rolled on the ground to catch his dislodged wand and quickly tumbled again towards the shadow.

You have no chance... Surrender and leave.

Aesop stepped out from behind a fallen log, aiming his wand at the shadow.

The light stopped pulsing, it became eerily calm, and in front of him, in mist as white as snow, stood a horned, furry figure leaning on a staff. Aesop's mind began to race, piecing together the puzzle, analyzing everything he saw. He felt in his bones that the opponent had something to hide, he was more concerned with Aesop leaving him alone. Was he hiding something valuable? Artifacts, knowledge, someone else? A person, because certainly, behind this entire display, there was a person, did not seem like they planned to deliberately attack him... However, he preferred to stay alert...

Sharp delivered a few more, this time light, warning blows, knowing that he had to dodge and, just like before, the spells bounced off the extraordinarily strong shield that covered the stranger... When the spell hit it, a tight net woven from runes formed, deflecting the magic.

Aesop was panting, feeling streams of sweat running down his face under the mask... He was retreating cautiously, seeing that the figure was starting to walk towards him, the chains wrapped around its waist clanging ominously. He didn't know what to do, what this person’s intentions were, he was on the verge of despair.

He stood crookedly, stumbled, and groaned in pain as he fell, but even while writhing in pain, he did not lower his wand, still aiming it at the eerie figure.

It was already a step away from him, crouched in front of him, tilting its large, hideous, horned head with interest... It was... A mask? Yes. Made of deer's skull,rest of the outfit was sewn out of goat's skin. It was probably meant to scare, to evoke fear from afar, bringing to mind a demonic figure...

“Leave here and don't come back...”

“Who are you!?” Aesop managed to utter, the figure twitched and came so close that Aesop, noticing its audacity, hissed in anger, pressing the wand to the Dark Wzard's neck, then tore off Auror's mask, feeling that it was getting harder to breathe under it, and also to show his own face to the opponent. “Go ahead, kill me, but first tell me who you are, bastard, go ahead... look me in the eyes you coward...” he growled in a sharp, hoarse tone, trembling with fear.

The figure grabbed the horns and, to his astonishment, complied.

The last thing the Auror saw before darkness enveloped the world was large, frightened blue eyes, black curls falling on the shoulders, and a freckled cheek covered with a scar. Aesop froze.

“Morana?”

End of part 22, thanks for reading