#ghost written by my professor | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

qierxing · 10 months

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A/N: An interpreted continuation of @shiny-jr wonderful fic. This is one of the longest fics I’ve written…..carried by my love for Heartslabyul. Been chipping away at this every so often until now. I would strongly recommend reading Shiny’s part first, or else a good part of this will not make sense. Part two will be something that will be floating in the future.

TW/CW: Graphic descriptions of PTSD & panic attack symptoms, self-harm from bad coping habits, dissociation, dismemberment, references to Alice in Wonderland, made up lore LOL

I. II. | Isekai AU | Yan! Heartslabyul x Reader

"So she sat on, with closed eyes, and half believed herself in Wonderland, though she knew she had but to open them again, and all would change to dull reality…"

– Alice's Adventures in Wonderland, by Lewis Caroll

i. Cremation

Ramshackle's mailbox is a pitiful thing.

It sits right in front of the small graveyard near forgotten covered in tangled vines and weeds. Unlike its surroundings which shine from recent renovations and repairs, the hinges still squeak loudly when the latch is opened and the outer parts are scratched and dented. On bright sunny days, it sticks out like a sore thumb.

And today, it's even more obvious.

The box now is in danger of tilting off its support pole, filled with the weight of lumpy letters, spilling out envelopes upon the dirt. Around it sits various colorful wrapped boxes and packages that are piled haphazardly across each other. You swear it gets larger each passing day.

“How many does this make?”

A battered top hat pops into existence next to you, one of the resident Ramshackle ghosts who's been helping you around lately. (He had said you remind him of his siblings when he was alive. You're still unsure whether that was a good or bad thing.)

You let out a sigh through your nose. There's nothing to say about the situation in front of you. You wish they could disappear the minute you wish for it, yet the colorful wrappings and the various envelopes scattered around your feet don’t vanish the more you stare.

“I’m really sorry about all this.”

The ghost shakes his head, frowning at your apology.

“It’s not your fault, prefect.”

The words are reassuring, but they don’t make the gross feeling go away when you crouch down and start picking up letters that have fallen out of the mailbox.

From: Azul Ashengrotto

Sender: Vil Schoenheit

Sent by: Riddle Rosehearts

All of them are addressed to you, of course. You can already imagine their contents: filled to the brim with regret and guilt, blotted words begging for forgiveness for the wrongs they’ve done. When you told the Headmaster that you didn’t want anyone visiting Ramshackle, that wasn’t an invitation for them to flood you with unwanted mail. Then again, perhaps you should have foreseen that they would do this. All of them are stubborn to a fault. It wasn't like your phone was any better until you’ve blocked all numbers making it go off endlessly like a shrieking parrot.

The resulting letters alone are thick enough to rival the textbooks Professor Trein assigns students. Pressing your lips together, you turn around to start heading back to your temporary home.The rest of the bulky packages can wait. The ghost helps swing the door open and Grim perks up from his seat in the living room as you set down the letters.

“Grim, can you get a fire going?”

“Now?”

He eyes the thick pile of letters with wary slit pupils and asks, “Aren’t ya…gonna read ‘em?”

You did. For the first few ones, at least. They were barely discernible, their apologies blurring by as they begged for your grace and mercy. That they would do anything to right their wrongs. If you didn’t know any better, you would say their reverence was akin to a cult.

It makes your skin crawl.

After that, you stopped bothering to even skim through. What is the point of continuing to make sense of lunatics? Of cruel games and intrepid players?

"We have the wood, and the house is a bit chilly, so why not?" You reply. Grim scrunches his eyebrows but doesn't object as heavy wooden logs are dumped into the grate. He takes a deep breath and blows upon the letters scattered on the wood, encasing everything in familiar neon blue flames.

You settle into the armchair next to Grim, staring into flickering blue flames. Grim curls up next to you, purring contentedly. All too easily, your eyes lull close to the sound of crackling flames consuming paper.

–

When you step out onto the front porch the next morning, you're overtaken by an overwhelming fragrance.

There's crimson red petals floating through the air. Fluttering in the crisp morning wind, they fall in your hair and the rest end up crushed under your feet. You'd feel bad if it wasn't so pungent; the very air feels like it's infused with the scent of roses.

Your nose crinkles as you pick up the impossibly huge bouquet that is wrapped in silk and ribbons. It's certainly beautiful, you'll give it that. Yet this scent doesn't bring back good memories. It only brings vivid flashbacks of being lost among rose bushes, covered in dirt and scratches, trying so frantically to find a way out. When every single crack and snap was a possible life threat.

You don't realize you're crushing the bouquet until something trickles down your fingers. It doesn't feel like blood pooling between your skin. Relaxing your grip ever so slightly, you find pin sharp thorns running down the stems where you were gripping. The fleshy meat of your palm is punctured cleanly in the shapes of the thorns. Was it left unclipped on purpose?

The card is the next thing you find with bloodied fingers, rumpling white cardstock and soiling it without a care.

To our beloved player,

We deeply apologize for the pain we have caused you and beg for your forgiveness. We will make sure to atone for our sins of harming you.

The initial and the bouquet is too obvious of who it's from. Riddle must've penned it, because none of the card soldiers would ever write this formally. But it must've been Cater's idea to send the bouquet–Trey nor Riddle would've come up with such a sentimental and sappy idea. And Ace and Deuce would rather die than do such a cringey thing.

The door opens again behind you. You turn to see a half-awake Grim groggily yawning. He stops once his blue eyes land on the bouquet in your hands.

"Whazz that?" He points a paw at the rumpled roses, and you hastily shove them behind your back.

"Nothing." You say.

Grim makes a face before finally breaking the awkward silence with, "Do ya want me to go tell 'em off–"

"No."

The answer is rushed and makes Grim's eyes widen. It's crazy, you know. But to have Grim try to solve the problem for you doesn't sit well with you. It's not like it's his fault for what you went through.

And maybe, deep down, you couldn't bear the thought of telling them nasty insults and curses to make them hate you more.

"I'll take care of it." You add, trying to reassure Grim, who only stares impassively. He shakes his head.

"Am I making another fire?"

"...if you can, please."

ii. The Morgue

It’s been a couple of weeks since you’ve been brought to Twisted Wonderland.

Yuu’s…body has been moved to another room. It freaks you out more than you would like to admit. It’s familiar, yet it’s not. It’s carved to your image, but with none of your personality. There’s something wrong with the way its eyes are tilted, the dip of its cheeks, the curve of the chin. An idealistic, dreamy mirror of yourself.

Still. You’ve seen many dolls in your lifetime, and even you cannot deny the life like artisanship. The seams of the joints are cleverly hidden and the skin is smooth and unfettered without any misshapen resin(or clay?)–these are marks of a true doll-maker.

“It’s your vessel.” Grim had said with a matter of fact tone. As if you weren't looking at an unmoving human body. “Everyone was freakin’ out cuz’ it just shut down outta nowhere.”

It must’ve been because you were brought here at that moment. The hypothesis doesn’t really make you feel any better. You should know better than to blame an inanimate shell of a vessel, but...

You jerk awake, cold sweat running down your neck and face. It takes a second for you to realize you're not being encased in burning scarlet flames and it's not claustrophobic verdant green hedges surrounding you. The bed sheets are tangled, wrapped in a chokehold around your legs and torso. Instead of translucent leaves, the bed canopy curtain shields you from the moonlight pouring in. The soft snores of Grim sync with your ragged breaths in time.

Tonight's nightmare had been recurring for a while. Every single time you thought you had shaken it off, it comes back like a bad omen.

Instinctively, your hand runs over the bumpy raise of scars running down your back and neck. Most of them had faded with magical treatment and time, but there are some that still have rough skin that has hardened like scales on a dragon.

Your fingertips curve inward and dig.

You thought you were safe. The rose maze is large and encompassing: hiding would be the best move. You breath in–

– and you were face to face with the Crimson Tyrant himself.

His face contains no humanity, his eyes only reflect dark, dark anger and resentment. You thought you were staring into a never ending abyss. Something inky black catches your eye, and you realize with horror that blot is trapping your feet and leaving stains upon your skin.

"Stop right there, imposter!"

Your nails scrabble at the bumps and raises, tearing through them with obsessive speed. Faster, faster–it doesn't feel right, you have to scrub your skin clean of those foreign textures.

Adrenaline is the only thing keeping your legs from collapsing to the blot climbing its way up. You have to do something–

–something wraps around your neck and torso, and all air leaves you as it squeezes and knife sharp needles gnaw into bone.

Your breathing grows more hoarse as your nails scratch faster and faster, desperate to remove more of those vile clumps of impurities.

"You will suffer as Yuu did." The verdict is declared with deranged gleeful vengeance. The tyrant points his scepter at your fallen body covered in thorny vines reminiscent of roses. Blot swallows your form and screams whole–

It's only when the familiar smell of iron registers in your mind, that you finally snap back to your senses. When you finally draw your hand back to view, it's covered in clotted blood and torn skin, both dead and fresh, all clogged under your nails. The open cold air now makes your neck and back sting sharply as blood trickles out of reopened wounds.

It's with a heavy heart that you quietly leave the bedroom entirely to wash away the blood in the kitchen sink. Crimson dyes the white ceramic for a brief moment before swirling away down the drain.

The wounds sting and ache, but you can barely be bothered to tend to them as you resign yourself to the living room couch with a thin blanket. You think of Grim sleeping unaware upstairs and close your eyes. The old weathered grandfather clock in the corner ticks on and on with each second.

No, you can't blame a puppet for functioning for its purpose.

But you could tear its limbs out of its sockets so it could never walk anywhere again. If you plucked out its fingers and eyes, it wouldn't be able to find its way around anymore. Sewing the mouth shut would seal the deal.

Then it would truly know how it felt to have no choice.

–

Working as Sam's assistant helps take the mind off things. Crowley had begged you to resume classes as Grim's 'beast tamer', but something in you screamed at the thought of having to shed your feelings aside to return to what normalcy was. As if this world didn't run on the giant malicious cogwheels of fate and lines of code.

How painfully obvious it is that your mere presence is just a substitute.

"Ah!"

You look up from sorting products on the shelves to a surprised looking Riddle Rosehearts. No no no no–

You take in his sunken gray eyes and pale skin, before going back to shelving products. It takes strength to play dumb. Your shaking hands betray the fear growing within as they sort through stationary merchandise. Finally, the products are lined up neatly and you're trying to bustle away as quickly as you can–

"W-wait!" You try to ignore the half whispered plea, moving behind the counter with an unnatural speed.

"Please, wait, I need something!" You do stop, because unfortunately, you can't completely ignore a customer in need. So you take a deep breath and grit your teeth, turning around with a polite smile. Stare straight ahead. Think not of smoldering flames and knife like rose thorns–

"What can I help you with?" He stares into your eyes, frantic and desperate. It's clear with the way his mouth opens and closes that he wasn't sure how to continue his case.

"If you aren't sure, take your time to browse, dear customer." The grin was starting to wear on your cheeks already with how much you struggle to keep it in place.

Please just leave, you internally beg. You settle behind the counter, watching as Riddle bows his head and disappears among the shelves for his items. A tired sigh leaves your nose.

Your hands keep shaking no matter how hard you clench and unclench them.

He can't hurt me here.

Sam is just a yell away and there's mace and a knife in your bag underneath the counter.

It'll be fine. It's not the Tyrant.

A clink of glass catches your attention, as some ink bottles are pushed on the counter.

"I've finished." Riddle's smoldering eyes choke you under their hues.

"I'll ring that up, then."

The exchange happens quietly yet as you hand him the bottles, he pauses, looking down. "What happened to your hand?"

Shit. There were still obvious swollen scratches and puncture holes imprinted on your hand. You completely forgot about bandages after Grim caught you with the bouquet the other day. You quickly hide your hand in your pocket. "I don't know what you're talking about."

He seems to want to say more, but is cut off when someone else comes up behind him, waiting to pay for their items. He only swallows hard and nods, setting out with only a guilty look back.

You finally breathe out a long sigh of relief when the door chimes echo behind him.

"That'll be ten thaumarks and thirty madols."

This is the fifth time Riddle's shown up during your shift and bought ink. This time, it's a deep crimson color not unlike the shade that saturates his dorm. It reminds you of torn skin on nails from that night, and it takes a minute to shake those thoughts off as you pick up the bottles.

"Prefect, could I talk to you after your shift ends?" You turn to fix him with an incredulous stare, and he grimaces.

"I promise I won't harm you! Did you not get our letters?" But how can I trust you? On this cracked chessboard you are forced to play upon, you don't know where to place Riddle at all. He is too much of an unstable bomb that could blow up in your face at the wrong impression.

"Fine." He definitely won't back down until you agree to hear him out, and it's best to let him state his case once and for all. "My shift ends in an hour. I'll meet you outside."

"Excellent. I shall wait for you then, prefect." He takes his bag and leaves with a small bow.

The time passes all too quickly. Sam shoos you out before you can try to coax some overtime hours from him. And much to your annoyance, Riddle is waiting for you promptly as you step outside.

He looks nervous as he bows his head in acknowledgement of your presence. You'd almost feel bad, if it weren't for the fact that he nearly beheaded you at first sight.

"Have you received our recent letter and flowers?" A long silence follows, before you reluctantly nod. Your hand throbs as you open and close it out of habit. You just removed the bandages this morning, but the unbearable itch to reopen the scars is too tempting. Steel eyes are immediately drawn to the movement. "I see. Then I won't drag this out. Prefect, could we prove to you our sincerity to make amends?"

"What do you mean?"

"Exactly as I said. Please let our dorm express to you our sincerity to mend our relationship." The intensity of his eyes makes you sick to your stomach.

"You've apologized enough, Housewarden Rosehearts. I'm sure your card soldiers have too." Subconsciously, your hand drifts toward your neck.

He winces. No doubt it must be a sting to his pride that his numerous penned letters weren't acknowledged. "It's not just about apologies. We want to start over–turn over a new leaf, if you will, for our relationship. It would be a disgrace to the Queen of Hearts herself if I could not atone for what I've done."

Always with the rules. You're not entirely sure what Riddle means when he says 'mending your relationship', but it seems he's already set his mind to it. It would be hard pressing to get him to change his mind now.

"...sure." You reluctantly acquiesce. The tips of your nails brush against scarred skin before drawing back. You shouldn't. It took so long for the wounds to close again, for sinew to piece itself together, and for skin to finally grow back. You don't want another lecture by Crewel or Trein.

He brightens considerably with a look of relief. "Good. Then, please wait for our call."

You watch in confusion as he trots off hurriedly after another deep bow. Wait for our call? What does that–

Something buzzes, and you realize it's your phone, lighting up with a notification from Magicam. You frown, tapping on the icon. A message?

cay4cay sent a message request

The second you processed the username and profile picture, you instantly hit the block button. With a frustrated scowl, you shove the phone into your pocket. You deleted Yuu's account and only had a burner account for info purposes. How the hell did that social butterfly find your handle?

You groan. This is all too much.

iii. Paying Respects

A letter arrives, but not by mail.

A jarring commotion rudely rips you from sleep's embrace. You groggily sit up, blinking once, twice, before realizing the noises were very much real and still happening. Who is this loud on a Sunday morning? Grim continues to snooze right next to you, unperturbed by the disturbances. You debate whether it's worth it to get out of the comfy covers. Then another yell echoes up to the room and you groan in annoyance.

You slam the entrance doors open, ready to give the lecture of a lifetime before you stop in your tracks.

Deuce Spade looks like he wants the ground to swallow him up whole. Even Ace Trappola, haughty asshole that he is, looks thoroughly ashamed to be caught in a compromising pose. The scene is so familiar that you can't seem to be confused. It takes a second of awkward staring from all three of you before you realize that you're still standing in your thin pajamas, out front in the public entryway in the cold.

"...May I help you?" The distant polite inquiry has them both flinching. They scramble to their feet, brushing off dirt and debris from their fist fight.

"We're very sorry!" Deuce bows deeply, while Ace scoffs and looks away.

"Housewarden Riddle told us to give you this, so…" Ace shoves a white envelope with a seal boasting a crown insignia into your hands. The Queen of Hearts. You exhale through your nose. So this is what Riddle meant earlier.

You open the envelope gingerly, carefully inspecting it as if it were some kind of trap.

"We're going to have a party soon." Ace is still determinedly avoiding your eyes. "You can come…if you want."

You hold back a sardonic chuckle. Even after everything that's happened, he's trying to act like some kind of cool, suave guy. Your eyes drop down again and you open up the flap to reveal the elegant crimson cursive that decorates the paper.

You're cordially invited to Heartslabyul's monthly tea party. Please send your response ASAP.

Date: XX/05

Time: 14:00 - 17:00

A silence lingers in the air, heavy as a rock. You can tell without looking that the two were holding bated breaths waiting for your reply.

This certainly was out of the blue. But. It was Ace and Deuce. Riddle may have issued the order, but they must've taken initiative in delivering her majesty's decree. Stubborn and tenacious, yet they were still endearing with their loyal friendship. Who in this world would run across a whole desert for you?

That wasn't for you though. The intrusive thought immediately makes your lips thin. The card soldiers shift at the subtle expression change, nervousness painted all over their faces.

You would be lying if you said you weren't curious. Why an invitation to a tea party? It was rather unlike Heartslabyul–or at least most of them–to be indirect like this.

"Sure. I'll be there. I can bring Grim, right?" You flip over the card and envelope, raising an eyebrow at their stunned faces.

"Wait, you serious?" Ace stutters. His ruby eyes blink rapidly as his mouth gapes open. It’s clear he wasn’t expecting you to actually say yes.

"Why would I waste my time lying to you?" You sigh, crossing your arms. Granted, you never did send any response back to that ostentatious bouquet, but you were already preoccupied with the hundred of other letters and packages flooding your mailbox.

"In that case, of course Grim can come!" Deuce says, looking like he's been released from an entire burden off his chest. It was no doubt plaguing him on what your answer would be.

"Great." You wave a careless hand, turning to close the door. You're so ready to go back under soft bed covers. "You can give my answer to your housewarden. See you then."

A hand grabs at your arm and tugs you back suddenly. You turn and open your mouth–

"You! You're the one that caused Yuu to shut down!!"

Wind blasts past you, leaving a thin trickle of blood down your cheek. Eyes wide, all you can do is stare at furious crimson eyes glaring you down.

"-Hey!"

Those eyes. It's the same bloody crimson. The same sharp glint of raw bloodlust. Your right cheek aches terribly. Cold sweat runs down your back. Try as you might, you cannot suppress the reactive instinct to flee.

"Don't touch me." Your terse response has Ace retracting his own hand immediately.

"S-sorry, sorry–" He’s scrambling to get past his mistake. If you were in a better state of mind, you would've laughed at his genuinely flustered state. "I–I didn't mean to grab you like that, it’s just that–"

"We also have something else.” Deuce cuts in, trying to cover for Ace’s blunder. He shoves something warm under your nose, and it takes a hot minute to process what you’re smelling.

Lavender. The cookies within his hands are simple and aren’t decorated, but the buttery floral aroma they emit leaves you salivating. You slowly take it from his hands, staring at the carefully packaged bag.

“...From Trey,” Deuce offers hesitantly after seeing your surprised expression. His tight expression and stiff posture betrays the way he is attempting to look respectable. “He's wanted to send you something for a while now.”

For a while? His dorm mates were all clambering to get any crumb of response from you. He might've had the manners then to understand that you wouldn't be delighted to hear from someone who only watched from the sidelines as you were being attacked. Did he only wait because his beloved housewarden didn't move yet? How typical.

“Tell him thanks for me.” The two of them shuffle their feet while exchanging glances at your freezing cold tone.

"Don't mind us, prefect." Deuce elbows Ace, causing the red head to click his tongue and glare back. "Sorry for bothering you like this–we'll get going now!"

The two actually leave without more fuss, leaving you to twirl the invitation in trepidation.

When you look down again, the flowy calligraphy has been smudged by your fingers, ink blooming on your skin like blood.

–

"What does one wear to a tea party, Sam?"

The question slips out before you know it, making the store keeper turn around and raise an eyebrow at you.

"And why is our little imp curious?" He teases. At your unamused face, his face splits into a garish grin.

"Perhaps you should ask Professor Crewel. After all, he does have quite the fashion sense." Sam strokes his chin in thought. "While we do have some outfits here, it might be best to get advice from someone who has been to these kinds of events."

And so, you find yourself standing in front of an indifferent Divus Crewel, who takes one look at you and takes another drag from his fashionable cigarette holder. He continues to shuffle through papers, all the while shaking his head.

“I should’ve known Sam would be the one to send you.” His voice sounds annoyed, yet carries no weight of anger. Much like how his bark is worse than his bite, Crewel isn’t one to heartlessly turn you away. “A tea party, you said?”

“Sam recommended that I go to you since you have more experience in this sort of thing.” Crewel does another critical once over of you, no doubt estimating your measurements for the look he’s thinking of. As expected of a former Pomefiore housewarden. He seems to already have an idea of what outfit would be best.

“I’ll help you, but you’re running some errands for me first, pup.”

You shouldn’t have expected anything less from the alchemy professor. Now you’re stuck picking out ingredients in the botanical garden while you’re waiting for him to get the materials together for your outfit.

Of all the botanical zones, it just had to be the tropical zone. The harsh artificial lights shine down as you lean down to pick herbs. While the temperature is bearable, you don't know how much more sweat your outfit can take before it gets soaked completely. The humidity is choking, and you feel dizzy from both the moisture and heat clouding your senses.

“Prefect?”

You look up wearily from basil plants to see Cater Diamond in his labwear, with a face that mirrors your stunned expression.

Give me a break. Immediately, your awkward customer service smile falls in place. First her Majesty, then Tweedle Dee and Dum, and now the March Hare? But Cater knows how to read the room. Maybe he'll know to let it go–

Your hopes are dashed as he immediately bounces up to you with a grin. “Didn't think I'd run into ya like this. Whatcha doing here?”

“Er, Crewel wanted my help with getting him ingredients…” This conversation was quickly swerving into awkward territory. “Why are you here?”

“Ah, you know…” Cater chuckles sheepishly, “I got assigned to water the plants…”

You take notice of the steel watering can in his gloved hands, then the long green hose by his boots. “Ah.”

“Guess that means we’ll be working together!” He chirps cheerfully and you cringe. Seven, anything but that! You quickly turn back to your basket and begin to pick up the pace in harvesting the basil. The quicker you finish, the faster you can get out of this deathly awkward situation.

“By the way, Acey and Deucey wouldn’t stop chatting about you accepting our invitation!” You flinch as Cater idles up next to you, using the hose to spray a generous amount of water over the patch of herbs. “It was pretty cute to see, y’know.”

“R-really?”

"Trey was also glad too. He and Riddle have been planning to make it the best tea party ever," he mock emphasizes. "They've been running the dorm ragged over the party deets. Cay Cay's been so busy with planning stuff!"

"That's not really necessary…" A feeling of guilt worms into your guts for a moment. You squash it. What Riddle and the others do is none of your business and no obligation of yours.

"Right? That's what I said too!" Is he implying that you're the reason there's more work than usual? How shameless is he?

After a good minute of dead silence, Cater pipes up again.

"Sooo, prefect, whatcha been up to lately?"

You can't take it anymore.

“Why are you talking like I have a gun to your head?”

Ever since he made his presence known, he's adopted a high pitched cheery tone that grates on your ears. It was akin to a customer service voice, but you know Cater. That's his influencer speak.

Cater's chipper smile vanishes instantly.

"Whaaaat?!" You catch a glimpse of his snaggle tooth in his exclamation. He quickly turns and moves to water a patch of sprouts further away, "Like, what are you even talking about? You know ol' Cay Cay's just trying to lighten the mood!"

More like he's desperately trying to appeal to you. He knows which attitude will get him the most views, and the best expressions to rake in likes and comments. You often thought that trait was endearing in its own way when you saw him as a fictional character. Now that you're dealing with him as a human being, it just pisses you off to no end. How could he? You know Cater isn't known for his genuineness but….you thought he would at least act his usual aloof casual self. Then you would know that it wouldn't matter if you offended him.

The straw basket is finally filled with everything Crewel asked you for. It's with dirtied skin and sore muscles that you turn towards the exit without sparing Cater a glance.

"If you say so, Diamond." You hurl the words like a molotov cocktail, and it's very effective. Cater's eyebrows twitch and his hands clench around the watering can. It's one thing to call him by his last name, it's another to completely blow off the nickname he blatantly shoves onto you. "See you later at the party."

“Wait, wait, time out for a second!! Can you at least unblock me on Magicam?” The last sentence makes you freeze in your tracks.

When you turn around, Cater’s somehow still smiling that insincere smile of his. Your neck prickles with dread.

You trust me now, right? His crinkled lime green eyes gleam.

You're not fooled. He is desperate to appeal to you not from genuine adoration, but rather guilty obligation. Although he tried to scrub it from his Magicam profile, you saw the blurry reels and pictures of you fleeing for your life. The detailed descriptions underneath. Each one boasting deliberate timestamps meant for best exposure. He put a bounty on your head with his own hands.

Two can play at that game.

"Block you? I don't have a Magicam account," is your dry response. Cater continues to smile as his eyes close.

"Really? I swear that it was you…" His lips jut out in an insincere pout, tilting his head. You shrug apathetically, hoping the conversation runs itself dead.

"Well, if you do make one, hit me up okay?" Cater calls out after your retreating back.

Once you're in the school corridors and catching your breath, you dig your phone out with shaky hands and pull up Magicam.

Hitting delete account has never felt more relieving.

–

The outfit, in your quiet opinion, was not worth the mental gymnastics you had to do in the botanical garden. Not that you were going to say anything to the very teacher who has been known to treat his students like barking dogs.

"It should fit just fine," Crewel smooths out the crinkles in the fabric before handing it to you. "Go on now. Try it on."

A simple white with a red ribbon bow tie and black slacks. It was rather simple, which is just fine. You didn't need or want to stand out in this party. But you certainly didn't want to end up looking like a slob either. This suit your needs quite nicely.

Smoothing down your shirt, you give a spin as Crewel looks on unimpressed. He waves you off with a dry "Don't expect me to do any more favors for you, pup." You mischievously grin and wave him goodbye as you trot off with your clothes in tow.

The last rays of the sun sets the hallway ablaze with orange and yellow hues. You hum as you take the familiar pathway back to Ramshackle. With everything crazy that’s been going on lately, it gets too easy to be swept up in the moment. As you watch the shadows flicker between the stone pillars, you slow down to observe the scenery for a bit.

The sunset catches a glint and reflects bright white for a moment. You blink and it’s gone when you focus. You stop, confused at the intrusion.

A loud click echoes behind you, but when you whip around, there’s nothing but the empty hallways.

You stand for a moment in place, waiting and listening apprehensively. Nothing else happens, and it’s with cautious paranoia that you turn around and start speed walking.

iiii. Funeral

It would be impolite to show up to a party without something.

But now as you're standing before the mirror leading to Heartslabyul, you're having second thoughts.

What if it isn't good? You glance down at your box containing the simple custard puddings you were able to make just last night. You didn't really have the skills to make complicated sweets and the puddings only took three ingredients. And your outfit, what if it isn't up to the Queen of Hearts' rules–

"C'mon, [First]! Or else the food will be gone by the time we get there!"

You breathe out a giggle. "I don't think anyone can beat you on your eating speed, Grim."

"You don't know that!" He hops up and down impatiently, waiting for you to adjust the box in your hands.

Right, who cares about any of that?

You follow your companion through the warped glass.

The fresh spring breeze graces you first, then the refreshing scent of flora, and finally, the warmth of the sun on your skin. When you open your eyes, the stretch of viridian green pastures and vibrant flowers greets you. The land of Heartslabyul is as picturesque as you remembered on screen. It feels unreal.

And waiting for you at the end of the path is the very first dorm you've befriended.

"Weird. Where's everyone at?" Grim grumbles, ears twitching in irritation.

The entrance is completely devoid of any human presence. You don’t sense anyone in the building either, which is completely strange.

Grim's right. Where is everyone? For an incoming tea party, wouldn’t there be various students rushing in and out for the preparations?

“Perhaps they’re in the maze?” You glance warily over to the tall hedges that bloom with beautiful roses. “Should we wait?”

“Ugh, that’s so rude of ‘em to keep us hangin’ though! I say we go lookin’ for them. Who knows how long we gotta stand out here!” Grim shakes his head, distraught at the thought of having to wait for his food. "Let's go to the kitchen!"

"You just want to see if you can eat something." You tut at Grim's scheming face.

"Mya, so what?!" He yowls. "I'm going and you can't stop me!"

"Grim, wait–" You call anxiously, but your companion is already scampering off into the dorm. You're left with no choice but to take a deep steadying breath and press on.

But the kitchen room is also empty when the two of you pop in. However, it seems like it was used recently, if not for the smell, then the sight of various dishes laid out on the counter would have clued you in. You sneakily compare your puddings to the spread laid out before you and wonder again if it isn't too late to put them away in a dark corner.

"What do you have there, prefect?" A low voice breathes in your ear.

You and Grim shriek in tandem, with you almost fumbling and dropping your box and Grim’s signature sharp nails digging into your shins.

The looming presence behind you is revealed to be Trey Clover, who has an apologetic face after spooking the two of you. At least he is conscientious.

"My bad, my bad," he chuckles, "I should've been more obvious about my arrival." He places a steady hovering hand behind your back. Just barely touching, yet close enough to feel its heat. Embarrassingly, the feeling is soothing enough that you can't find it in yourself to pull away.

"Sheesh, for real! You took some of my life with that, y'know Trey!" Grim hisses, detaching his claws from your poor legs. Trey only laughs and ruffles his head.

"I’m sorry about that Grim. Anyway, you guys came just in time," Trey begins to transfer the dishes onto a wheeled cart. "Food just needs to be carried out and the tea party can begin—but you have something, don't you?"

Regret seeps in when you think of your sad puddings next to all these gorgeous pastries and appetizers.

“Uhm, I don’t think it’s really needed since you got all this,” you laugh sheepishly as your hands automatically hide the box behind your back.

“No way.” Trey’s smile is warm but firm. When he gently guides your hands to give up the box, you can’t find it in yourself to protest. “It can’t be that bad, since you made it.”

You're struck silent, and Trey immediately takes advantage of your state to press his hand to your back to usher you forward. His fingertips graze your side, and for a second, you swear his lips quirk into a smirk.

You follow alongside Trey as he pushes the cart out through the door.

"By the way, I'm happy to hear you liked the lavender cookies." You look over to see the baker smile warmly. "I would've tried something with the candied violets I had, but I ran out just as I was making them." He sighs as he shakes his head.

Something with the way he's worded it makes it sound like there was more to the story, but you don't care enough to pry further. Trey's golden orbs slide to meet yours discreetly, and you realize he's waiting for you to respond. You murmur an apathetic response back, and he visibly droops.

It's a long, quiet walk through the rose maze.

It seems your arrival with Trey threw everyone off guard. You don't know why they look so alarmed: the venue looks absolutely resplendent. Colorful lanterns dot the tree lines, swinging back and forth cheerily with brightly colored flags. The long table is draped with fine cloth embroidered with intricate lace patterns. There's not a single wrinkle to be seen in the fabric. And the rose bushes, blooming with both red and white roses, are pruned cleanly, not a leaf or branch out of place.

It is a tea party fit for the Queen of Hearts.

"And the guest of honor is finally here!" Easygoing as ever, Cater calls out jauntily to you both. He seems to be the only one not visibly panicking. "Trey, what took ya so long?"

"Had to get the dishes here, you know." He shoots a knowing glare at Cater, who flinches with a sheepish smile. "Someone was supposed to help me, which would've made it a lot faster."

Ah. Cater giggles nervously while twirling his hair. Ace and Deuce exchange disbelieving looks before shaking their heads.

“Welcome, prefect.” Riddle greets you with a stiff bow. "And Grim." He hastily adds, seeing your companion’s face twist sulkily. The action makes you smile, if only for a moment.

“We’ve been waiting forever for you, Yuu—” Deuce jabs an elbow sharply into Ace’s side, making him cough and sputter mid sentence, but the damage has already been done. Another awkward silence reigns as everyone’s fearful faces are directed at you, trying to figure out how to best traverse the conversational minefield.

“W-What Acey meant to say is–” Cater is cut off immediately.

"Uh, er, come to think of it, what's your actual name?" Deuce is the one who pushes forward despite everyone else’s horrified looks. As if he had uttered a profane exclamation.

"My…name?" You echo back.

Right. Since all they knew was the puppet, they didn't know your true name. Heavy silence hovers in the air, even Grim was looking at you in anticipation.

"My name is…" Something chokes your throat. Reluctance? Or fear?

"[First]. [First] [Last]."

They mutter it among themselves, tasting the syllables and weaving the rhythms of the letters. How strange. With sugar coated lips, their voices ring like church bells for prayer. You're born anew, for the way they look at you is enough to make your heart soar for several fleeting seconds.

For a brief moment, you could believe that you were with your Heartslabyul again.

The tea party begins like a baby animal: slow, unsure, and always in danger of stumbling to the ground. But it’s Heartslabyul, and who else would know how to best host a party for its guests?

By the time the tea is being poured into your cups, a steady conversation has started naturally flowing between all of you.

“Is there something the matter?” Riddle asks for the nth time as he worriedly gazes at the way your eyes stray to the hedges and whimsical decorations beyond the table.

"Oh uhm…” You hesitate, still not meeting Riddle’s worried face. “Why are the roses both red and white? I thought one of your rules is that tea parties always have white roses."

Riddle exchanges a look with Trey at your question.

"That is true, [First], however…" He pauses, before continuing with a determined look. "Red and white roses are customary for parties celebrating with new friends."

“New…friends?” Your hand is frozen at your teacup.

Something fiercely warm fills your chest. There's cautious hope glimmering in Riddle and Trey's eyes. That wasn’t fair. How could they say something like that and not expect you to react?

The party ends on a light note unlike its stiff beginning. The soldiers gather to see you and Grim off, but once Grim scampers off with his leftovers in paw, her Majesty moves to your side.

“Prefect–no, [First], would you come again?” He asks. His hands are trembling, tugging at your sleeve timidly like a young child again. “F-For an Unbirthday party, of course!”

It’s a request that’s not selfish, you note. Her Majesty’s card soldiers look on expectantly behind their monarch, and it takes everything within you to not collapse.

“Of course. I can’t wait for it already.”

Your heart weighs heavy. They do not know that the promise is an empty white lie. Though you cherish them, you do not wish to act the role of a doll whose purpose is to play house.

When they looked at you with those pleading eyes, who did they see?

Yuu, the puppet they adored for its safe default responses and supportive words?

Or you, the player who has their own flaws and biased personality?

It's okay, you reason.

They won't be able to tell the difference between clay and flesh.

v. Burial

You have a hunch about Yuu.

Only a guess based on many hypotheticals, but better than nothing.

If the puppet stopped working when you arrived, then shouldn't it go without saying that if you left this world, that it would return back to life?

The wooden door creaks open, stirring up dust and sending it flying into the air. You cough and sneeze, waving your hand to disperse the irritant. Serves you right. After all, you refused to step into this room since Yuu's body was hauled here. Didn't even dare to come clean the room. The dust settles and you can finally make out the puppet's silhouette from the waning light rays of the window.

It still adorns its proper NRC uniform, wrinkled in the spots where you had lifted it. It hasn't moved at all from its sprawled pose on the sofa. You remember the dread at realizing the only fitting school uniform you could possibly wear was on this puppet. It only cemented your resolve to break away from the puppet's image. Even if you had to resort to clearing out ancient closets and haggling with faculty, you'd rather take the raggedy shawls and worn flannel over the crisp blazer and button up the puppet wore.

Its skin has become ashen gray, drained of any life. Old joints creaked in agony when you adjusted it to a sitting position for better examination. For a while, the both of you stare at each other.

Despair tugs at your mind. How long will you be trapped in this world? Has the Headmaster even done anything to help you get home? You snort. He couldn’t even bother doing anything when it was just the vessel. Why would that change now?

Can you hear me?

The voice, so quiet yet clear, makes you whip your head around. No one's in the room. Are you finally going crazy?

You can hear me, right?

Is one of the ghosts playing a prank on you? You can't pinpoint the source of the voice at all.

I'm here–look!

With dread and fear pooling in your heart, your head turns slowly to meet the doll's eyes; whose pupils are now fixated on you.

The urge to scream and push away the doll is overwhelming. But in a world where the supernatural is natural, you suppose that dolls that can speak are the least impossible thing out there.

I can help you find your way home.

You swallow thickly. Pursing your lips, your grip on its arms tightens as you lean in. Something stirs, and it’s crazy, but you swear it hums in pleasure.

Listen to what I say carefully…

Decorations? Check. Refreshments? Check.

Outfits? Check.

So why does it feel like there's something missing?

"What's wrong, Riddle?" He turns to see Trey's concerned face. He gives an awkward smile back.

"I'm not quite sure, but something feels amiss." He explains, rubbing his neck. It's obvious enough to make him feel the familiar slivers of irritation slither through him.

He tries to will it away. It's a good day, and there was nothing to be angry about. The player–no, [First]–had decided to give them a chance and agreed to come over to celebrate an Unbirthday party with them. Ace and Deuce are behaving as good, law-abiding card soldiers should be. The roses were saturated with dripping red, the dormouse had its nose smeared with jam–so what is this itch that won't go away?

"We can do a double check of everything again," Trey offers gently. “It shouldn’t take too long.”

Riddle shakes his head. “It’s almost time for them to arrive. I will not have them waiting on something that isn’t even a problem.”

“Housewarden~!” Speak of the devil. He turns with a frown at Ace’s loud shout, but it fades to a small smile when he sees you trailing after Ace.

"Hello, Riddle." You smile warmly at him, and his cheeks flush pink.

Wait. He stops. Have you ever called his name? He doesn’t have time to ponder this before he’s interrupted by Trey and Cater bringing in the food.

When everyone is seated and the party is in swing, he notices something.

“Is the food not to your liking, [First]?” He inquires as politely as possible, softening his tone to make it sound less accusatory.

You fluster, waving a hand. “Not at all. I’m just not that hungry right now.”

He decides to leave it, because it’s not as if it’s wrong, per se, if the guest wasn’t eating. He recalls Ace’s previous words to him.

“Housewarden, you really should loosen up a bit! Otherwise you’re gonna end up being a killjoy!”

He may be many things, but he is not a killjoy! Just because he was particular about certain things doesn’t mean he didn’t know how to let go.

But something feels off.

Then he realizes that while the conversation is flowing as usual, you are hardly speaking at all. You only speak when directly spoken to, and even then, it’s short, clipped responses.

He watches incredulously as you pour yourself a cup of tea and then drink it.

The golden scepter materializes in his hand as easily as breathing.

Everyone else reacts explosively, looking alarmed at the scene unfolding. Meanwhile, you merely stare blankly at the end of the scepter nearly several inches from your nose.

"Riddle, hold the phone, what are you doing?!" He barely hears Cater's frantic voice to his left. He's too focused on the way that…that thing is not reacting at all.

"You. Where is [First]?"

It's silent for a moment, and then a disturbing crooked grin breaks out from its poker face. It starts cackling loudly and it makes his blood start boiling.

"Start speaking or it's off with your head!" He screeches, scepter shaking uncontrollably in his hands.

"Boo, I was hoping you guys were stupid enough to fall for it.” The thing taunts, leaning back in their chair.

Red fills his vision. How dare this thing use your visage and breath such vile words? Before he could register it, his arm swipes across. By the time his eyes clear and his breathing steadies, he's staring at a decapitated body that is mangled beyond repair.

It takes another moment to realize he is not the only one who has raised their magical pen.

Trey is at his right, golden eyes dark as Riddle realizes he positioned himself to shield him. Cater mirrors Trey, but his arms are visibly shaking and his eyes keep switching from him to the broken body on the trimmed lawn. Ace and Deuce had positioned themselves to the backside, but they too, barely seem to be holding themselves together, clenched fists at the ready for physical blows.

“What…” he breathes, “is going on?”

The only answer he gets is the wind whistling through the grass blades.

He collapses to his knees as he fumbles with a body that has been torn asunder, but instead of flesh and bones, he only finds clay and chipped resin.

“What have we done?”

#yandere twisted wonderland #yandere twst #yandere heartslabyul #my works #if this gets good reception i'll have a easier time of writing part 2

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exhaslo · 4 months

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Masterlist + Rules~

Hello, Hello! Thank you all for stopping by my page and reading my stories!

I update once a week (Gotta manage my schedule somehow, haha). Usually 1 Request and 1 Chapter of my Story.

CURRENT INBOX REQUESTS: 23

If you would like to make a Request, please do follow the rules I have below:

Things I do NOT write about:

Vomit Play, Fart Play, Voyeurism, Spitting, Pregnant sex, Huge age gaps, no minor sex, fisting and no real life people. BL (Mainly bc I suck at it 😔)Also, anything involving certain mental illnesses or sex change, I will not write only because I do not want to offend anyone if I write something wrong or incorrect.

If I didn't list something and you ask, I will reply as politely as possible as to why I won't write it and I'll add it to the list.

As for characters, please ask away. I normally write my own favorite characters, but if you have a character you want me to write about. I will do my research and write about them!

Masterlist

Here is all the stories I have written so far, request and non! Mainly Miguel, but I do have a few other characters!

Original:

Kinktober Masterlist Ghostface!Miguel x Reader: PT1, PT2 Puzzle Pieces (Mafia!Miguel x F!Shy!Reader) Ch1, Ch2, Ch3, Ch4, Ch5, Ch6, Ch7, Ch8, Ch9, Ch10, Ch11, Ch12, Ch13, Ch14, Ch15, Ch16, Ch17(End) SideStory#1 SideStory#2 SideStory#3 Corruption (Villain!Miguel x F!Hero!Reader): Ch1, Ch2, Ch3, Ch4, Ch5, Ch6, Ch7, Ch8, Ch9, Ch10, Ch11, Ch12, Ch13, Ch14, Ch15, Ch16, Ch17, Ch18 (End) Over-Time (CEO!Miguel x Shy/Clumsy!Reader): Ch1

Requests:

Non-Smut:

Tomboy 1000 Follower Special Miguel x Reader (Rekindled Love) BestFriendOlderBrother!Miguel x Reader Miguel x PastryChef!Chubby!Reader (Part 2 is under smut) Miguel x Shy!SpiderWoman!Reader SugarDaddy!Miguel x Reader Miguel x Starving!Reader Miguel x Reader (Christmas Special) Miguel x Wannabethief!Reader Miguel x GN!Reader (Haircut) Miguel x Reader (Your death/kidnapped) --Sad TouchStarved!Miguel x Handsy!Reader Bully!Miguel x TouchStarved!Shy!Reader PT 1, PT2 BusinessMan!Miguel X Farmer!Reader Yandere!Beast!Miguel x Chubby!Reader Miguel x Witch!Reader Miguel x Party!Reader

Smut:

Bully!Miguel x Bullied!Ghost!Reader PT1, PT2, PT3

ALT Ending to Villain!Miguel x Hero!Reader

Bully!Miguel x Shy!Bullied!Reader

Popular!Miguel x Popular!Reader

Feral Miguel

Professor!Miguel x Shy!Reader

Pornstar!Miguel x PornStar!Reader PT1, PT2

Miguel x SmutLoving!Reader

Miguel x Thick!Reader

Annoyed!Miguel x Brat!Reader

Shy!Inexperienced!Miguel x Teasing!Reader PT1, PT2

Miguel x Inexperieced!Reader

Yandere!Miguel x Fangirl!Reader

Psychopath!Miguel x Shy!Kidnapped!Reader

Yandere!Miguel x Coworker!Reader

Miguel x Reader (Anal)

Miguel x Deadpool!Fem!Reader

Feral!Miguel x Reader

CEO!Miguel x HybridBunny!Reader Pt1, PT2, PT3

Miguel x Reader (Dirty Dancing)

Miguel x Wife!Reader (Lactation Kink)

Miguel x Brat!Reader (Teasing/Orgasm Denial)

Miguel x Baker!Chubby!Reader (Lactation/Breeding kink)

BadBoy!Grimmjow x GoodGirl!Reader

CODGhost!Miguel x Flashing!Reader

Racer!Miguel x FlagGirl!Reader

Possessed!Miguel x Reader

Cold!CEO!Miguel x Sweet!Shy!Reader

Miguel x FashionDesigner!Reader

Miguel x Reader (Sex Pollen)

Miguel x Mechanic!Spider!Reader

God!Miguel x Devil!Reader

#miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o'hara smut #miguel spiderverse #spiderman 2099 #miguel o’hara x reader #miguel spiderman #miguel o'hara #atsv miguel #across the spiderverse #miguel x y/n #miguel x you #bleach grimmjow #grimmjow smut #grimmjow x you #grimmjow jaegerjaquez #grimmjow x reader

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bloodmoonmuses · 2 months

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time lapse | mark lee

genre: mark lee x reader, established relationship, fluff, experimental prose??? warnings: none!

summary: one day, mark finds out you write poetry about him.

Mark was beautiful in a way that evoked poetry out of you. Not the kind of poetry you’d write in a class, or to a rubric, or written to please that snooty professor whose opinion you unfortunately care about. Not stuffy poetry, nor the kind that’s overindulgent in its prose. Not forced devotion.

He evoked the kind of poetry that only exists in the mundane. Snippets of domesticity like just-cooled tempered glass: fragility strengthened by warmth. Remnants of heat hissing faintly amidst silence… The ghost-like sensation of fingertips that once grazed your abdomen, moved to brush tendrils of hair away from your face, and ultimately cradled your blazing cheeks. Warmth like when you steal his hoodie and the body heat is still living in the garment. Warmth like recognition pooling in Mark’s eyes as he wakes to you each morning.

It’s the mundanity of Mark you were obsessed with.

His eyes hold multitudes. You’ve become fluent in their language: the sheen that floods them when he talks about his friends. The haze that clouds them after a particularly exhausting day. Their absence when his eyes crinkle with laughter. Everything about him was poetry, worthy of being chronicled in sonnet form. There’s a sort of rigid lyricalness that encompasses Mark. The tact and efficacy with which he executes choreography, contrasted against his feather-light vocal timbre. You especially liked when he sang, breathy melodies escaping like playground secrets.

His voice is gravely, yet youthful. Buoyant but hearty. Full and bright. His terms of endearment ring like a question, like he’s confirming that his feelings are in fact reciprocated each time he proclaims his love to you.

Mark says, “Love you, baby.” but “baby” has an upward lilt to it. The affection is caught at his throat. You feel it too. When he leaves and says, “Be back soon, my love,” you nod. Because he will be back, and you will be waiting, and it’s cute that he still needs confirmation of such considering you’ve been together so long. “Stay healthy,” he says. You tell him to do the same, shoving a cup of tea in his hands as he bounds out the door. This is your way of saying “stay warm” as well, though time doesn’t allow you to actually verbalize this.

Mark’s perpetually running late.

When you wrote about this, the idea would show up in lines like: “Time decays faster in his wake- eroding at the edges like a distorted strip of film. But when he’s in your eye line, the background of time bleeds into watercolor- faded blues and denim grays swirling in the now frozen frame.” When Mark enters, time stops.

One day, Mark stumbled upon your journal. “I sing about you, it’s only fair!” he exclaimed as he noted the sheepish look overtaking your features. It felt like being torn open. You’d rather read the poetry to him than endure the silence that blanketed the room as he read. But he insisted.

“How do you feel?” You had asked in a breathless whisper, eyes shut tightly to rid yourself of the embarrassment that settled in the flush of your face.

Mark smiles. “Seen,” he said.

#bloodmoonmuses #mark lee #mark lee fic #mark lee x reader #mark lee fluff #nct 127 fluff #nct 127

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goodfish-bowl · 1 month

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Check Your Sources

DP Side Hoes Week 2024 Master Post

Day 2: Jazz Fenton - university times

Summary: Jazz has a misunderstanding with a professor over her selected topic for her paper.

Word Count: 1271

AO3 Link

Jazz Fenton had remembered turning in her psychology paper on ecto-psychology, particularly the role of obsessions in the mental state of Ecto-entities, with utmost confidence. She had meant it as a draft for the final paper she intended to published after the completion of her degree. She had already sent in her paper on Ghost Envy for her application to the college, and it was currently in the process of being peer-reviewed, so she needed something new for her current psychology paper. She had compiled the information for it during her last trip to Amity Park, and organized it into this assignment, including multiple citations both within the ecto-science fields and otherwise, to make sure her paper was well-rounded. She had quadruple-checked everything, from her grammar, to her formatting, to the way she cited each of her sources.

For these reasons, Jazz was absolutely confounded by the red ink and stark zero written at the top of her returned paper. There was a sticky note attached, telling her to talk to the professor after class.

Jazz glanced between her paper, and the professor in horror. During the course of the term, Jazz had developed a deep respect for Dr. Kaplan, and her work on the psychology of people with PTSD. She must have a good reason for giving her such a poor grade, but the fact she received it at all filled her with mortification. She had never gotten a grade so low in her entire education. Jazz needed to know why, but she couldn’t even figure out what she had done wrong in the first place. In the corner of her mind, she had a sinking suspicion, but hoped with everything she was wrong.

Jazz spent the entire class in a tizzy. Constantly flipping back and forth between the day’s class-work and her paper. Outside of the first page, the rest of the paper was completely unmarked. Frustration began to simmer underneath Jazz’s skin. How was she supposed to fix this if the professor never even told her what she did wrong?! But it would be fine… she was meeting with the teacher after class anyways.

From that point forward, class moved forward at a crawl. Jazz still couldn’t pay much attention, and found her notes were much less organized than she would prefer. But when the professor dismissed them, Jazz practically darted to Dr. Kaplan’s podium.

The professor was a thin, wiry woman, dressed professionally, and looked down upon Jazz from behind equally wiry glasses. She gave Jazz a hard-look, almost one of disdain, and it was only the years of facing the nightmares of Amity Park that kept her from physically recoiling. She removed her eyes from Jazz and gazed around the still-emptying classroom.

“It might be better to have this conversation in my office,” Dr. Kaplan stated, leaving the room, with Jazz practically at her heels.

Dr. Kaplan’s office was a fair reflection of the woman herself. Neutral colors, her degree on display, and psychology books lining her singular bookshelf. Her desk was dark wood, and chairs cushions a beige leather. The plant sitting by the window was fake. It was all very professional, and at the same time very impersonal and lifeless. Despite the light colors and the sunlight streaming in through the window blinds, the atmosphere was near stifling.

The professor took her seat behind the desk, and Jazz hesitated, waiting until Dr. Kaplan gestured for her to take a seat. The seats were more stylish than they were comfortable. She gingerly set her paper on the edge of the desk, sitting board-straight in the chair.

“Ms. Fenton,” Dr. Kaplan practically sighed, “is there a reason you’re not taking my class seriously?”

The question came completely unexpected. “What are you talking about, Dr. Kaplan? I’ve been giving this class my best efforts,” Jazz pleaded.

Dr. Kaplan frowned, tapping her carefully manicured, neutrally colored nails against her paper. “This assignment says otherwise.”

Jazz frowned, mentally skimming over the paper. “I… I don’t understand. I’ve followed the assignment criteria almost exactly, I’ve even collected first-hand observations.”

Dr. Kaplan looked like she had sucked a lemon. “Ah, yes,” she said flatly. “Ms. Fenton, while you’ve followed the semblance of the rubric for this assignment to a near exceptional degree, a paper on the theoretical psychology of fictional beings is hardly an acceptable paper topic.”

Ah, there it was. Jazz had suspected as much, but it still didn’t calm the simmering frustration, boiling into anger under her skin.

“Honestly,” Dr. Kaplan continued, “for such a brilliant girl, I can only see the submission of a paper like this as a lack of care, and simply unprofessional to boot. To go as far as to make up sources, as properly cited as they are, is simply-”

It was taking everything within Jazz not to blow up in her professor’s face. Her nails were starting to bite into her palms, and her teeth felt sharp in her mouth as she grit them. Had Dr. Kaplan stopped at the whole ‘ghosts aren’t real’ bit, it wouldn’t have been anything she hadn’t heard before. But to accuse her of lying, and making up sources, that was getting a bit too close to unforgivable. She was losing any respect she had for this professor with every word out of her mouth.

“Those are real sources and I have recordings of the data I collected myself,” Jazz had to keep herself from hissing. “You’re welcome to check my sources. Of course, due to the analog nature of the recordings, they will require a tape player to view. As for the other second and third hand sources, they are all from qualified journals.”

“I admire the lengths you’ve gone to make your work of fiction as realistic as possible however-”

“Have you heard of Amity Park before?” Jazz could not stop herself from growling out the question, shooting to her feet, unable to take this sitting down any longer. “Have you done any research to support your claim over mine?”

Dr. Kaplan had a deer-in-headlights expression as Jazz towered over her desk, while also simultaneously adding the only color to her entire office through the reddening of her face. “Are you delusional? Ghosts aren’t real.”

Jazz felt what little ectoplasm that lived under her skin hum in tune with her rage as she slammed a hand down onto the desk, crinkling her paper underneath her wrath. This wasn’t about the grade anymore.

“Ecto-science is a pseudo-science at worst. It is young and mostly unexplored, but it is hardly fictional. Psychology used to occupy the very same space not too long ago. If you had done any research to check your biases, you would have found this out.”

Something was burning.

Jazz quickly snatched her paper back into her hands, gritting her teeth, and reigning in her anger as fast as she could. She cleared her throat hard enough for it to sound like a snarl.

“It appears your classroom will no longer be a conductive learning environment for me,” Jazz spoke evenly, tone carefully measured. “It would do you well to actually look into the topics your students write about.”

Jazz collected her things, already mentally filing out the required paperwork and emails to the Registar’s Office to have her transferred to a different class. She moved to the doorway and gave her professor a polite nod, ignoring the gobsmacked look on Dr. Kalplan’s face.

“Have a nice afternoon, Professor.”

Jazz fled the room, dead set in ignoring the hand-shaped burn she had left on her professor’s desk and the smoldering paper in her hands.

#danny phantom #goodfish writes #dp side hoes week 2024 #day 2 #jazz fenton #sometimes there are professors who aren't suitable to be teachers too #thinking about that class with the 100% fail rate...

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ghouljams · 3 days

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professor ghost on love's bday: she doesnt like to make a big deal of it and he cant wor up the nerve to give her his gift himself, so he leaves it in her office. its a manuscript, a scribbled out on curled pages, unfinished thing that ghost had to write down so the words would stop screaming in his head. all the edits he has to make to his old work since love came into his life.

Not edits, no, a new thesis entirely. If his first book was a meditation on grief, a thesis on the state of belief in misery, an exploration of predeterminism and fate, then this one is a true love letter. It's frankly embarrassing, but he can't stop thinking about it. None of the words are right. His writing is frantic, messy, nothing like the cool explanatory tone of his other books. He has no references to cite. Or- no, he has plenty of references.

He thinks of Aristotle, of his single soul theory(bullshit, Ghost rejects, my love is whole, she's too much to be half of me, and if she were what a terribly presupposition: that we are all divided into Joy and Sorrow like me and my love).

He thinks of Plato's Symposium, of breaking love into three parts(But that's too small, she can't be broken down into parts: eros, philia, agape. She makes him want to be better, she is passion, she is love in all forms, love to the point of inspiration, love to the point of consumption, to change and be changed. How could he break her into smaller pieces when he wants all of her?)

Ovid maintained that romantic love should never be consummated, that in its purest form it should grow beyond its physical needs, becoming transcendental. What does it mean that his skin craves her every touch, that he can't sleep without her dancing through his dreams? How is he supposed to maintain his distance when she presses to him at every opportunity? When he can't find anything but sorrow without the sight of her?

Ghost scribbles on his papers like a madman. He finds notes on receipts, on the backs of paper bags, in the margins of his books. He reads over the notes Love has left him and feels his heart squeeze in such a pleasantly hurtful way.

Behaviorism perhaps. It's all quantifiable, he just needs to find the right numbers. Or maybe aesthetic philosophy would be better? Feelings which cannot be captured through written language.

Yet the scribbling takes over his work. His walls covered in post its and pencil marks, his laptop running like a jet engine as he pours what must be incomprehensible drivel into his word processor. Ghost pushes his fingers under his glasses, feels the press of the bridge into his forehead, begs for his brain to be quiet, for his stomach to stop clenching each time he thinks about Love. He drags his hand down to cover his mouth, breathing as deep as he can manage through his nose. It all feels heavy, impossibly heavy.

None of it is right, none of it feels big enough, encompasses enough to describe the way he feels. None of the philosophers talk about the actual feeling of it. They don't talk about it hurting, don't mention how much he craves the pain of her.

Maybe he's a masochist.

He sends the draft to his editor with an apology.

"2.5 kids and a dog, eh?" Is the only response he gets.

#cod x reader #x reader #simon ghost riley #x oc #cod x oc #simon ghost riley x reader #ghost mw2 #ghost x reader #simon riley #simon riley x oc #mw2 ghost #ghost cod #ghost x oc #oc: love #professor!ghost #professor au #I smell another best seller #Ghost does his best work when he uses his emotions for his philosophy

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h0nkch0c0late · 6 months

Note

i will literally do anything for jordan li x fem reader

enemies to lovers

Oh my God anon you are setting me up for such a good plot....you have too much faith in me.

Top Five

Jordan Li x Reader

SUMMARY: You and Jordan had always fought about everything. Whether it was because of something you two disagreed on, or a simple topic, but it was always mainly due to your Top Five rankings. While Marie was put in #1, you stayed in place at #3. As they say: the enemy to your enemy is your friend :)

WARNINGS: swearing, slight Gen V spoilers, implications of sex (not specifically written)

You and Jordan had been enemies since you could remember. Both of your parents had been close friends, and thought that their children would be the same.

That had never been the case, though, as you two had been each other's sworn enemies since the day you had met.

Why? Neither of you really had a reason. It had nothing to do with your powers, and most times your arguments had no real...argument. just pointless yelling.

But then, as you grew up, and you both entered Godolkin, it became more than just pointless arguments.

You spent every day trying to prove who the better person was. Which one was liked best, which one performed the best, etc...

It didn't help your case that Jordan was all buddy-buddy with the headmaster, Professor Brink, which let them be in with the popular crowd.

That didn't prevent you from being #3 for the top five, of course, but you were still upset.

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

Its not like you weren't friends with the "popular" crowd either, being friends with Cate Dunlap and Andre Anderson had its perks.

The only downside was that you were constantly in the same room with Jordan when you all hung out together, and she INSISTED on glaring at you every time.

Your response to it was always sticking your tongue out at them like a child, to which they always rolled their eyes.

To you two, it was like a game of cat and mouse, and neither of you could figure out which was which.

To your friend group's eyes on the other hand, it was a game of "who will kiss who" first. They saw your constant fighting as blatant flirting that neither of you were willing to admit.

So, when Marie Moreau came to the school, and Luke had killed himself along with killing Brink, you two finally had someone to be genuinely enemies with.

After all, the enemy to your enemy is your friend, right?

So, while Jordan was thrown to #5, and Marie moved up to #1, you couldn't stop glaring at Marie every time you walked past her.

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

As you walked down the path towards the dorm rooms, you had noticed Jordan standing there, clearly upset.

Ever since their rating had gone down, it was like they were a ghost to the rest of the school. You could relate, however, as being #3 wasn't as nice when the top 2 were being practically worshipped for something they hadn't even done.

So, gathering up your courage, you walked over to him, lips casted into a frown, "you okay?"

Her upset expression turned into one of annoyance (defense mechanism due to the fact her enemy was talking to her), and she groaned, "why do you care?"

You rolled your eyes, expecting nothing less from the supe in front of you, "because ever since Marie got to #1 and you got pushed, you've become a ghost. And you seemed pretty upset so...I don't know."

"You're still #3. You shouldn't be caring about anybody who's below you." They scoffed, their eyes refusing to meet yours.

You sighed, "the enemy to my enemy is my friend, I guess? Look, Jordan," You paused for a moment, "I know we aren't the best of friends, but I just wanted to make sure you were okay. I know how close you and Brink were and what happened fucking sucks."

Jordan's eyes moved to look at you, her frown slightly disappearing as she noticed that you actually genuinely cared. "Yeah, I'm fine."

You tilted your head, furrowing your eyebrows as you knew that they were lying, "there's no need to lie to me. We may hate each other but I do know you."

Jordan sighed, "can we not do this here?"

You gave them a look of confusion, "Okay...where do you wanna-"

You were cut off by Jordan taking your hand and dragging you off to their dorm room, and suddenly you found yourself sitting on their bed as they began to pace around. "Of course I'm not okay! Marie took all of the credit for something she didn't even do! She fucking took off! She ran! And it seems like I'm the only one pissed the fuck off about it because come ON! you did more than her! You actually tried to talk to him! You tried to talk him down and yeah it didn't work but you tried! And I fought him! Where the fuck is our credit, huh?!" Jordan ranted, getting angrier by the second.

Your frown deepened as you watched Jordan get heated, "Look, yeah, I'm angry I didn't get any credit, but at the end of the day, the rankings aren't that important to me. And yeah, I'm stuck at #3, but it's been like that for a while. I'm fine with not getting any credit because at the end of the day, it wouldn't have changed anything. You would have been #1, and Andre would have been #2. I care more about the fact that I lost a friend." You explained, standing up and walking over to Jordan, grabbing their hands in your own to stop their pacing.

She stopped in her tracks, her eyes downcast at your interlocked hands, head low to hide the rising blush that began to cover her cheeks.

"But I thought you did care. Yknow, our constant fighting and all?" Jordan questioned.

You chuckled, "Jordan, I constantly fought with you because thats what we do. We're supposed to be enemies, remember? Enemies fight."

Jordan stared at your hands for a bit longer before gathering the courage and looking up, "what if...what if I don't wanna be enemies anymore?"

Your brows furrowed in confusion, "what do you-"

You were cut off by Jordan planting their lips on your own, and you didn't hesitate to kiss back as your hands let go of their's and cupped their face.

And soon enough, you were back on her bed.

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

It's a little rushed but fuck it we ball 😎

Also, how do we feel about me calling yall gentlebitches bc I find it kinda funny

#x reader #imagine #jordan li x reader #jordan li #gen v fanfiction #gen v #gen v spoilers #enemies to lovers

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why-say · 1 year

Text

Timothée x reader imagine

Warnings: smut, college smut, self-insert, public sex, friends with benefits, slight weight mention (it’s not specific but it’s mentioned), this one may be more plot that smut, stranger x you x Timothée

word count: 1.8k

This is arguably the best thing i’ve ever written.

I started an etsy account selling phone cases so check that out maybe :)

✿ஜீ۞ஜீ✿•.¸¸.•*`*•.•ஜீ☼۞☼ஜீ•.•*`*•.¸¸.•✿ஜீ۞ஜீ✿

You got to class late. That wasn’t usually you, but everyone has bad mornings and today was yours. You entered your class from the back of the classroom and saw all of the seats at the front full. You had no choice but to take one near the back, a few seats over from the last person you wanted to sit next too.

“Hello.” You say curtly. He replies back but with a smile and you find that odd. You and Timothée had an agreement. You wouldn’t interact outside of your late-night booty calls. It had worked to keep things less messy like you both wanted.

You try to ignore the interaction and focus on the lesson, but you can’t see the front or the professor at all, there were too many heads in the way. You raise your hand to let him know and ask for a seat at the front but before you can get his attention, Timothee pulls your hand down.

“Just sit on my lap. You’ll be able to see better, I don’t mind.” He says, he’s already looking away like he’s so sure you will.

“Absolutely not! What? That’s so inappropriate, I’ll just…” Your voice trailed off.

You’ll just what? You were busy for the rest of the week so you couldn’t take notes later and the professor didn’t look like he would stop talking anytime soon. Would it really be that bad? It’s innocent right? It’s not like he would start fucking you in class.

“You’ll just what?” Timothée teases? A knowing smile ghosting over his face already.

“Shut up. It’s just so I can see, you know the rules.”

You move and now you are perched lightly on Timothée's lap. No one in the class even turned to look at you. You were sitting near his knees, trying to keep all your weight off of him and keep listening to your professor who was now fiddling with his computer while still talking.

You didn’t see how Timothée could take notes like this, but he didn’t seem to mind and neither did you.

Before you could start writing you felt Timothée move his hand around your waist. He pulled you further into his lap, so your back was flush with his front. You turned your head to meet his eyes. Timothée was a tall man but in this position, you were looking down to see him. You liked it.

“What are you doing?” You ask.

“Making you and myself comfortable, now continue writing.” He replies, he faces the professor though you can see his mischievousness peeking through.

You could never understand him, but you turned back to continue your work. You feel relaxed. Usually in class you were speed writing, and your brain was going a million miles a minute but today you felt relaxed while still writing. You didn’t understand why. Surely it couldn’t be Timothée? His presence couldn’t be the thing making you feel different. You took a moment to think and that’s when you noticed his arm never left your waist. He was making circles on the side of your body, softly stroking. You turned to face him, and he looked so calm you didn’t even think he noticed what he was doing.

His eyes turned to look at you and you cut your gaze away quickly. You weren’t going to let him distract you outside of your arrangement.

“Shhh, just relax and enjoy it. mkay?” Timothée suddenly whispered. What?

You didn’t understand what he was talking about. It wasn’t until you felt his other hand at your knee make its way up, his other hand still holding your waist.

His hand met the bottom of your skirt, and he kept going, slipping under the skirt. Your body felt hot. You shifted so you were now crossing your legs. His hand was trapped between your thighs, cutting off his movement. You didn’t know the kind of reaction he would give but you were happy to put a stop to whatever he was doing. Or were you? Your breathing was heavier, and your body was still hot.

But it was so inappropriate.

You heard him laugh quietly in your ear. He moved his hands, and you uncrossed your legs. You thought that was that.

The teacher kept talking though you weren’t listening anymore. You couldn’t pay attention to anything with your thoughts ruminating. What was Timothée doing? Why wasn’t he keeping to the arrangement? Did he want you outside of the late-night booty calls?

The light to the classroom goes off and your pulled from your thoughts. You look around and no one is freaking out, so you assume the professor is putting on a film. Your thoughts are correct as an old black and white movie appears. You can’t see anything but the screen except the heads of the people in front of you, but you can’t make out who they are.

“Relax, He put on an old film because we had time left and he finished talking.” Timothée says, still whispering but even lower because it’s so silent. People are still talking to their friends but they’ were trying to keep it lower than the movie which is pretty quiet.

“Okay.” Is all you can think of to say. You're ready to get back into your deep thoughts when you feel Timothée's hands return to where they belong. Where they belong? You couldn’t believe you just said that. Or thought that?

He placed his hands on each of your thighs and moved your legs to the outside of his. His own legs keeping your spread wide open. You couldn’t bring yourself to say anything because in reality you really really needed him. It was all you could think about right now and if he didn’t finish what he started you were going to pop.

With his knees keeping you spread bare his hands made work of you. He slipped his fingers past your underwear, feeling the wetness already there. His fingers lightly pressing into you then back out, shallowly thrusting.

The class was so silent you knew you couldn’t make any noise, but your mouth let out an involuntary moan. No body turned around, so you hope no one heard you.

“I’m not plugging your mouth baby it’s all up to you to keep quiet. Or don’t.” Timothée murmurs.

His words don’t require a reply, but you nod your head anyways, already lost in pleasure.

Sex with him always felt good but it was something about the public humiliation that could happen at any moment that made you feel this all so much more.

His finger continued to work into you, almost prepping you but you couldn’t figure out what for. He flicked your clit unexpectedly and you let out a sharp cry. It wasn’t so loud, but you heard some shuffling a few rows down and to the side. Timothée didn’t stop his assault on your body while you glanced around the classroom. No one was looking but honestly you didn’t care.

You grounded your hips further down trying to feel him deeper, and as if reading your body Timothée moved his hand so two fingers were deep inside your cunt and the heel of his hand was rubbing your clit. His fingers were twisting and pumping into you in ways that made you hold your breath to keep your moans in. You tried to close your legs as a reflex but his own just spread you wider.

The classroom felt like an inferno, and you were ready to cum. Timothée removed his hand from your cunt unexpectedly. You let out an involuntary whine in response.

Timothée moved your further down his now closed thighs, towards his knees. You didn’t understand why? Was he not letting you cum? Had somebody been watching.

You searched around the classroom and to your complete and utter dismay somebody had their eyes on yours. You couldn’t see exactly who it was, but they were standing near the door at the back of the classroom. You knew from what you could see it was a man and his arm was moving weirdly. Before you could try figure out who it was or what he was doing, you felt hands move you again. Too dazed to struggle you didn’t know what was going on until you felt your exposed and dripping pussy meet the head of Timothée's cock.

You felt him slowly pull you down his shaft. Your cunt accommodating for his size and length with an uncomfortable stretch. It was always a struggle trying to fit Timothée inside you, that was why you always prepped yourself with your favourite toys before you saw him. The lack of preparation allowed a strained cry to slip through your lips. You couldn’t think to care who had heard that, but you opened your eyes anyways when you heard a distant grunt. The man at the back of the classroom had your attention and apparently, he had Timothees too. But he wasn’t stopping.

If anything, the attention from the strange man had made Timothee work harder to thrust into you. Because of how wet you were he couldn’t be fast because people would hear, but that didn’t stop him fucking you hard. It felt like he was fucking your breath away with every thrust and you were delirious. Your sensations were limited to just this feeling, the fullness of your cunt, the heat inside your body and the ache at the bottom of your belly.

You could hear Timothée's soft moans and groans in your ear and that was what set you off. Timothée followed behind you quickly after his thrusts turned harder. You felt his warm cum hit your insides and you let out a sigh of content. You wished you could've swallowed his cum instead, but this would do.

Timothée was still panting in your ear, and it wasn’t until you felt something warm and wet hit the side of your face and hair that you remembered the stranger. Both you and Timothée turned back to look at him. He was there, you could see his chest moving up and down rapidly. Timothées hand moved to the liquid on your face. He gathered some on his fingers and placed it in his mouth. He smirked and you didn’t know why until he did the same to you. It was cum.

Moaning at the taste of the strangers cum on Timothees fingers. You looked back up to the stranger and saw him wave before leaving.

These the weirdest lesson you’ve ever day. And you kind of hoped to have it again. You didn't know how you were going to leave the classroom without people knowing what happened, but you didn't care right now.

~~~

Y’all tell me if you liked the longer fic? the plot? idk i need feedback!!

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cheapshrimpysheep · 3 months

Text

Happy Birthday - Malleus Draconia

In celebration of Malleus's birthday, here is a list of the things I've written with him. 🐉🥳

🐉 ONESIE PARTY

SUMMARY: Ace and Deuce, with a hint from Cater and financially support from Kalim, gave you a costume made Grim onesie. And decided to throw a surprise (to only you) onesie party at Ramshackle Dorm and invite all the students you knew. Onesies were the mandatory dress code!

🐉 BROOM FLYING TUTORING

SUMMARY: How would it be if they were assigned by Coach Vargas to help you with your flying lessons?

🐉 POTIONOLOGY TUTORING

SUMMARY: How would it be if they were assigned by Professor Crewel to help you with your potionology lessons?

🐉 5 LOVE LANGUAGES

SUMMARY: A person doesn’t just have one love language, but these are the ones I think would be the most predominant in each of them. In Ortho’s case, at least, this is platonic.

🐉 FIRST DATE - DIASOMNIA

SUMMARY: What would your first date with him be like? I know first dates might not go so well, but let’s pretend these are different. ;)

🐉 SENDING LOVE - PART 2

SUMMARY: How do they react to seeing you make a heart with your hands for them in the classroom? And how do they reciprocate you?

🐉 MEANWHILE WITH MALLEUS

SUMMARY: You spent a lot of time with Malleus while the others fought ghosts. What could have happened in all that time? You needed to sleep before the party. And maybe he taught you how to play the organ.

🐉 SPRING OF CANATHUS (AKA: They’re Babies)

SUMMARY: They drank water that ended up turning them into babies. You were in charge of taking care of them while the rest of the students go looking for the antidote. What will they be like as babies?

🐉 MEANINGFUL KISS

SUMMARY: Would they make Public Displays of Affection? If not, are they protective instead? And how do they show you how much they truly love you through their kisses?

🐉 YOU WILL STOP THE WEDDING! - MALLEUS DRACONIA

SUMMARY: YOU were the one being kidnapped by Princess Eliza to marry her. How would he react and how would he save you? With the aggravation of he already having a crush on you.

REQUESTS:

🐉 AROMANTIC READER

"(...) a platonic scenario with reader and Malleus where reader is aromantic/aroace and trying to explain to Malleus that just cuz they don't like him romantically doesn't mean they like him less. (...)"

If you would like to read more from me, you can find it in my pinned post: INDEX

#Twisted Wonderland #twst #twisted wonderland x reader #twst x reader #disney twisted wonderland #twst imagines #twst wonderland #twst fluff #Twisted Wonderland Fluff #Malleus Draconia #Malleus Draconia x Reader #Malleus x Reader

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theyoungeragrippina · 3 months

Text

🫶🏻 15 gentlebeard/blackbonnet fic recs

(17 if you squint)

hey legends, in this bittersweet period where a lot of a us are feeling gutted but simultaneously, rebelliously hopeful, i've emerged from my reading den to showcase to you all some of the brilliant talent we have in this fandom! these fics are some of the best of the best, and i hope you love them just as much as i do! <3

they are all complete, do not feature any ongoing steddyhands/edizzy/stizzy, and are above 20k words.

peruse part 1, part 2, and part 3 at your leisure if you want to compare our tastes/devour more fine literature, or check out my masterlist as an ao3 collection.

adrift between the dreaming seas by @dandy-pirate-time

49k, mature, locked

stede lives a cursed life on a moving island, until the monotony of his days is suddenly interrupted by the fearsome kraken.

this was such a fascinating & incredible idea! i love how it manipulates aspects of the original story and transforms them into parts of the cursed island <3 sweet & unique & magical. i want to hug poor stede.

Five Birthdays and a Funeral by @bizarrelittlemew

58k, explicit

"When Ed and Stede's friend groups merge, they meet at a birthday party, and Stede's life is turned upside-down. As they collide again and again, he not only has to figure out what Ed means to him, but what he means to himself."

stede gets to be oblivious and a bit of a silly goose as a treat. also: treasure hunts, lucius is the best, ed has a cat whom i would die for, such a sweet & heartfelt fic. you will be so unbelievably fond of this version of every character.

The Ghost of Frigate Point Lighthouse by @piratecaptainscaptainpirates

53k, explicit

"When history professor Stede Bonnet goes to investigate rumors of a ghost haunting the local lighthouse, he's thrust into a mystery centered around the ghost of one of the most famous pirates of all time."

was SO eager to read this and it did not disappoint!! it has everything - fun, magic, mystery, tired TA lucius, and a lil bit of seduction. good enough that i am worried the author may actually just be a sea witch recollecting events he personally witnessed.

Haunted by @thepirateroo

60k, explicit

"The Kraken is a famous spiritualist, working the music halls of 1920s London to help families communicate with their dead. But Stede Bonnet knows that underneath the fame and illustrious title, Edward Teach works as a ghost hunter, debunking the spirits he makes his living off."

this is, genuinely, in the top 5 fanfics i have read for any fandom EVER. i wouldn't bat an eyelid if i read this exact work as a published novel in a bookstore. the mystery is so good and had me guessing and re-theorising constantly, the characterisation is brilliant, and the emotions are perfect. i cried, i laughed, i felt sick with worry for the characters, and i couldn't stop reading until i was done.

haunt me, then by @hyruling

28k, explicit

"He releases the ropes slowly, barely registering the burn as they slip through his fingers. Then, fallible as Orpheus, turns to meet his ghost."

post s1 fixit fics ily. everyone needs some therapy. really VERY well written and a joy to read.

Homeward Bound by mari_who

51k, explicit

"In the long-ago year 2000, bouncy blonde boy-band member Stede Bonnet is 17-year-old Edward Teach's gay awakening. Decades later, Ed hears a voice he could never forget."

i said 'ohhh no poor ed/stede' so many times while reading this. a lovely exploration of emotion and human connection, and finding yourself when everyone else has always defined who you are on your behalf.

I just need some air by @cuddlytogas

26k, teen

"Stede Bonnet's been having panic attacks for almost as long as he can remember, suffocated by pressure and expectation... When [he] finally takes his life back — divorces Mary, moves to Melbourne, starts his own event management business — things get better, but he's still no good at parties. He still needs some air, even at the very events he's brought to fruition. Meanwhile, Edward Teach, renowned chef and owner of Blackbeard's Catering, is wondering why the newest bigwig in events still hasn't hired him."

zoomed through this faster than lightning mcqueen. such a lovely writing of stede, ed and the whole crew - it feels like there's depth in every character, even background ocs.

also fantastic australia rep (i was jumpscared by mention of the cotton on group) AND i've been to the bar the final scene takes place at!!!! most exciting reading experience of my life.

i'll be your treasure by @monksofthescrew

48k, mature

"Wasn't the Dread Pirate Blackbeard rumored to have a hoard hidden somewhere near Essex? It's a metal detecting AU. They're detectorists. They fall in love."

i LOVE this fic so much it is just,,,, so sweet. stede does self-discovery and is seduced. ed is a bit of a goose and i'm obsessed with him. doug and mary are lovely. alma is so cool and i love her.

+ the sequel! drift o'er the rolling hills, swim through the briny sea (made me cry. btw. doug keeps being the best.)

The Kraken's Sacrifice by @trinityofone

22k, explicit

"Every year, a person is chosen—supposedly at random—to be sacrificed to the Kraken, to quell the sea's worst storms and to stop the taking of ships... Stede discovers that there is much more to the creature than he was led to believe—and that they have a deeper connection than he could have ever dreamed."

i LOVED this okay. it was funny and sweet and gave an interesting spin to the ed-is-the-kraken genre. get both of these boys some self-esteem asap. also comes with art by @avatoh!!!!!

lovers in a dangerous time by @veeagainsttheday

52k, explicit

pacific rim au - "Edward Teach becomes a jaeger pilot, first with Izzy Hands and later with Stede Bonnet. It’s not easy trying to save the world and falling in love with your drift partner…"

made me feel every emotion under the sun, including foaming at the mouth jealous that i don't have a drift partner. absolutely, masterfully written. i've popped this link first since its the fic that focuses on stede & ed, but it was written as a prequel for:

+ catagory five: a shatterdome romance by @owlinaminor (27k, mature), which focuses predominantly on jim & oluwande, and which i also massively recommend reading (first). it's told through lucius' words and made up of journalistic notes and transcriptions, and its really terribly clever. i knew nothing about pacific rim before this, and now i'm really very invested. if i wrote something this fantastic (& creative & wildly unique) i would never shut up about it.

More of the Gravy Basket than of the Grave by @veeagainsttheday

36k, explicit

"Ed and Stede’s ‘unorthodox friendship’ ended four months ago when Stede left Ed without a word after Ed asked him to run away to a parallel universe with him. They’re thrown back together when they’re summoned to perform a supernatural exorcism at the Hillside Hotel during a blizzard."

this has got to be one of the coolest and most creative fics i have ever had the pleasure of reading. genuinely kept me guessing and so so intrigued, PLUS the most sweet stede & ed dynamic!!!

Nothing Missing in My Life by @semisweetshadow

63k, explicit, locked

"Hollywood action star Ed Teach is bored with his celebrity life. Everything changes when he meets Stede, a sweet extra working on the set of his latest film shoot. Stede doesn't know who Ed really is and treats him like a real person and Ed can't help wanting to keep him."

ed plays an action hero called jeff the accountant, and if that's not immediately the greatest synopsis ever idk how else to win you over. hilarious, clever, & so heartfelt. i gasped and said 'oh no' with a hand over my heart nearly as many times as i laughed out loud.

not pickles by smallestchurch

84k, explicit

"Ed's minding his business when the new neighbor's kid comes around holding a human puppet. It's creepy as hell, but as soon as the kid's father rounds the corner, Ed doesn't mind."

i actually feel a bit ill when i think about this fic because i love it so overwhelmingly. there's family, and healing, and good food and friends, and ed teach and louis bonnet become the dynamic duo they always had the potential to be.

Our Fangs Mean Death by @flawedamythyst

87k, teen, locked

"Master Vampire Blackbeard's afterlife is enlivened by the arrival of a new coven in town, lead by the self-styled Gentleman Vampire. Now here's a Master who doesn't mind shaking things up by wearing clothes 300 years out of date, buying a massive gothic mansion for a lair, and leading the most eclectic coven Blackbeard has ever seen."

ridiculously fun. this is the vampire novel/fic i didn't know i needed and i loved every silly second. stede really gets to fulfil his dad-ness. i'm furious i can't join the gentleman vampires coven irl, will just need to embrace the gothic vampire aesthetic in my own life.

Wayfaring by @justkeeptrekkin

35k, explicit

"The downside to being stuck on a desert island is that Stede's not awfully good at adapting. The upside is that he and Ed can finally have some peace and quiet– that is, if Ed ever wakes up from the gunshot wound in his stomach."

the sweetest desert island fic, feat. the cutest piglet in the world, a little bit of pining, a helpful skeleton named dusty, and some of the best & most accurately written stede and ed content ever (imo).

#really cannot emphasise how brilliant every one of these fics is #they are all worth 100 million kudos and eternal love #please lmk if i have mistagged anyone or not tagged u!!!#or lmk if u have any favourites or other recs #i would love to talk more about any one of these #ofmd #our flag means death #renew as a crew #save ofmd #ofmd fic recs #blackbonnet #gentlebeard #blackbonnet fic recs #gentlebeard fic recs

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jeonride · 9 months

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mingi reading list / fic recs !

don't forget to like + reblog fics that you like to support the authors <3

navigation

FICS ! ✧*

Counting Stars (smut, also so fucking fluffy & soft you'll get butterflies) by @min-gis

My Way (fluff, angst, suggestive, bodyguard!mingi) by @sorryimananti-romantic

We Fell in Love in August (fluff, smut, brother's bestfriend!mingi) by @mingigoo

The Library Illusion: The Temple Guardian (smut, fantasy, naga!mingi) by @kwanisms

Inked Up (tattoo artist au, smut) by @huihuiheart

Nothing Compares To You (smut, fluff, established relationship) by @noramoons

Slow Down (smut, established relationship) by @strawberryya

Thique (smut, fluff) by @gojosnympho

Numb My Pain (smut, friends to lovers) by @yeonjuns-beanie

Bound In Blood (smut, angst, fated lovers au, vampire!mingi) by @nateezfics

Grant Me The Light (smut, angst, a lil' fluff, dystopian au) by @mingiswow

Skinny Dipping (smut, fluff, gentle dom!mingi) by @byuntrash101

For Me (smut, fluff, angst, sugar daddy au) by @hwanchaesong

Late Night (smut, fluff) @binniesbobastay

Sexual Feeling (smut) by @robyn-core

Jealous (2/2) (smut) by @cyberpxnk

Such A Tease (smut) by @call-me-bha

See Me After Class (angst, smut) by @ateezreactionsandscenarios

Use Me (smut, angst) by @hwaightme

Punishment + Dacryphilia (smut) by @hongism

Sour (smut, angst. with continual parts and different endings) by @itsbeeble

Kinkuary 21 (smut) by @kwanisms

DRABBLES / SCENARIOS ! ✧*

written by @min-gis :

i've never felt alone with you (smut but also so fucking fluffy & soft i got butterflies)

12.27 am (smut, fluff!)

written by @mimgi :

and you're here (smut but also so fluffy i'm cryin) by

pretty please (smut, fluffy!)

wedding buddies (smut, fluff, fake dating au) by @idyllic-ghost

rainy morning (smut, established relationship, soft dom! mingi) @nateezfics

7.36 (smut, fluff) by @riboism

make up sex (smut, fluff) by @nateezfics

somnophilia (smut, lil' fluff?? ig) by @hanjisungs-bigtittyg0thgf

written by @ateezreactionsandscenarios :

thigh riding (smut, soft dom!mingi i'm cryin bc of how soft he speaks)

orgasm control (smut)

fingering (smut)

you're blushing (fluff) by @biaswreckingfics

written by @danihow :

fix you (fluff, simping, reader is mingis's spouse)

24 to 25 (fluff, dad!mingi)

face time (smut) by @byuntrash101

sleep habits (smut) by @cas-skz

the night doesn't belong to god (smut) by @straykids-97

obsession (perv!mingi) by @cybrsan

00.12 (smut, in which mingi wanted fem!reader to sit on his face) by @kwanisms

ungodly hour (smut) by @nabis-dreamscape-world

hard thoughts (smut) by @ateez-melody

22.36 (smut, fluff) by @star1117-archives

the star (smut, professor!mingi) by @flowerboykun

good morning (smut, fluff) by @mingisval

sixty-nine (smut) by @ocean-ai

written by @last-words-ofashootingstar :

sweet dreams (smut, sub!mingi)

don't make me beg (smut, sub!mingi)

use it (smut) by @a-soft-hornytiny

written by @ateezscupid :

random thoughts (smut, soft dom!mingi)

seductive (fluff, smut, crackhead energy)

hard hours : mingi eating you out (smut) by @soobberries

hard thoughts : kiss me thru the phone (smut, fluff) by @kpopscruggles

cold coffee (smut) by @cyberpunkhwx

stop staring (fluff) by @blu-joons

dom!mingi x innocent!reader (suggestive) @/sluttywonwoo

choco ice cream (fluff) by @/woosluv

caramel popcorn (fluff, bestfriends to lovers) by @/leejungchans

model student (fluff, tutored!mingi) by @/itgetsquiet

"don't read that, the lyrics aren't ready yet" (fluff) by @/imaginidol

sick (fluff) by @/lovelyjaem

thoughts on mingi : fucking you for the first time (nsfw, fluffy) by @/minranghae

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xinmin-exe · 3 months

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Man I Am - Simon "Ghost" Riley

WARNINGS - creeps, swearing, threats of violence, alcohol, female reader, bad flirting, age gap (reader is early 20s, Simon is mid 30s), slightly tipsy reader (only unbalanced, nothing more), poorly written bar scenes, not proof read, Simon is probably OOC

Word count: 1301

I was, in fact, listening to "Man I Am" from the Barbie Movie while writing this

You had just turned 21 a couple months go and you and your friends wanted to go get drunk to celebrate passing a chemistry test. Your professor was an asshole who had one of the worst 'Rate my Professors' score you've ever seen. But you and your friends were somehow passing his class with a B+ so you felt like you earned a night of partying.

The night started out great. A couple rounds of shots, slow sipping on a drink and some dancing. It was wonderful. Until, this guy comes up with a couple of his friends and they are clearly drunk. They ask you and your friends to dance. While some of your friends are drunk enough to indulge the men, some aren't and politely decline their offer. You were sipping on a Long Island Iced Tea and you were getting tipsy but you held your alcohol well. But this one guy was just not taking "no" for an answer.

"C'mon baby, just one dance," the guy said while trying to put his hand on your waist. A poor attempt to pull you to him. You easily pushed his hand off and firmly said "No, I do not want to dance, now leave me alone." he huffed and walked away, but he kept staring at you. Like he was a predator, but in a bad way. You could feel his eyes on you and leaned over to your friends, saying that you guys should change bars because the vibes were off. Some of them wanted to stay, but some agreed that the vibes were off. So you made everyone who was staying share their locations with the others before telling them to be safe.

You and two other friends left the bar and opted to go to the one across the street. When you got into the new bar, you immediately felt so much better. You and your friends got some weaker drinks and went to go dance. Something that caught your eye was the group of men in the corner.

They all seemed like pure muscle and way out of your league. Based on the ones you could see clearly, they were all at least in their mid-30s. You kept glancing over at the one in the skull mask, but kept your glances quick. You guessed he was twice your age and kept dancing with your friends. Swaying and jumping around to the various pop artists on the speakers. But two things were unknown to you: 1. the man in the skull mask had noticed you as well. He was just as intrigued in you as you are in him, and 2. the creep from the last bar had followed you here.

Once the current song was over you heard "Man I Am" from the Barbie Movie come on and you nearly screamed in excitement. You and your friends wanted a round of shots so you offered to go get them. You walked up to the bar and patiently waited your turn.

"I'll be right with you!" the bartender said to you as she moved to make two beers for another person. While you waited you could feel someone standing too close behind you. You turned around to ask the person to backup a little but you let out a gasp instead. "Hi there sweetheart, why'd you leave me?" the creep asked as he grabbed your wrist. "I was just heartbroken," he said as his grip tightened.

"Please just leave me alone!" You shouted at him but he didn't budge. "alright love, what can I get for you?" the bartender asked. She took one look at you and the creep and somehow knew something was up. "A shot of the strongest you got," the creep said while keeping his eyes on you. You turned to the bartender with scared eyes and she knew.

"Can I see some I.D?" She asked him, He glared at her as he released your wrist, but shoved his knee in between your legs. He handed her his I.D and she began inspecting it. The creep groaned and yelled at her to hurry up. She told him she needed her manager to check his I.D because she thought it was a fake. She promised it would only take a moment and left. The creep turned back to you and his eyes began to trail your body and it made your skin crawl. He leaned in to smell you and you turned your head to the side in disgust and fear.

What you didn't see was that the group of men had taken notice of this whole interaction. The one with the skull mask decided he was done seeing you being harassed by some dick-less wonder. He set his drink down and stalked over to you. You heard one of his friends, with a heavy Scottish accent tell him to "go easy on the lad!" You couldn't help but look at him when you saw him walking your way.

Thankfully the creep hadn't noticed and suddenly, there was a 6'4 man made of pure muscle standing behind him.

"Let her go," the masked man's voice was low but it was commanding. The creep turned around and scoffed. "Who the hell are you?" the creep asked, but the masked man didn't answer. "Let her go and leave, before me and my mates throw you out," he threatened. The creep looked over to the direction of the other men and laughed, out loud in his face. "Grandpa, stay out of this before you get hurt," the creep told him casually before trying to turn his back.

But the masked man grabbed his forearm and twisted it behind his back. "I said to leave, so leave, before you get hurt." By now, the bartender and her manager had returned with the bouncers.

"Do we have a problem here gentlemen?" The manager asked, mainly looking at the creep. "No problem sir," the masked man let go of his arm and the creep let out a heavy breath. "Right?" He stared into the creep's soul and the creep nodded. "Right.. I was just leaving.." He said before stumbling his way out.

The masked man looked at you. He was silent before speaking. "You okay?" All you could do was nod as you felt intimidated by him. He stayed near you while the manager talked to you to ensure your safety and what they could do to help. The Manager had a printed out photo of the creep's I.D and stapled it to the wall of customers to throw out of the bar if they came back. The masked man offered to buy you a drink which you politely declined. He nodded and asked to at least let him walk with you back to your friend group. This you accepted; you were scared and frankly having him near you made you feel better.

Your friends rushed to you with worry as they began asking you if you were alright. They had all seen what had occurred after you were gone for a little too long for their liking. They elbowed you as they glanced at the masked man who escorted you back. You ignored their snickers and smirks as you turned to address the man.

"Thank you! I appreciated you rescuing me back there," You told him with a kind smile. His mask covered his face, but you could see the smile lines near his eyes. "You're welcome," he said to you. He turned to leave but before he did, he pulled out a piece of paper and scribbled something on it before handing it to you and walking back to his group of friends.

It read "in case you need saving again, Ghost" with his number.

#cod mw2 #simon ghost riley #cod x reader #call of duty #ghost cod #modern warfare 2 #cod mwii #cod #simon riley x reader #simon ghost x reader #x reader #female reader #fem reader #cod ghost #cod simon riley #cod simon ghost riley

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indelibleme · 4 months

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Detective Conan | Magic Kaito Fic Recs

I've realised I write consistently for only one fandom at any given time (DCMK lol), so here are some of my (completed!) works that I'm quite proud of! (Titles in order of posting, newest to oldest)

Yōkai? Ryōkai! : Chps 1/1. 12k words. KaiShin. Shinichi and Kaito finding a place with each other while solving a yokai murder mystery. (Written for the DCMK Secret Santa Event 2023!)

All Things Bright And Beautiful : Chps 1/1. 15k words. KaiShin. In which Prince Kaito and enemy Knight Kudo Shinichi really have no business falling in love, stuck on the brink of a political firestorm, but they do so anyway. Enemies to friends to lovers. (Written for the DCMK Secret Santa Event 2022, rated E)

Wilting Beauty, Blooming Nightshade: Chps 7/7. 22k words. KaiShin. Hanahaki AU! Kaito has been pining for nearly 5 years now, as the flowers he coughs out reminds him. Caught in a murder mystery on a cruise liner, he has (probably) his last chance to confess his feelings. (Written for the KaiShin Reverse Bang 2022.)

Includes 4 gorgeous pieces of coloured artwork and 5 sketches by my artist partner of the event @rux363

Two Is Company : Chp 1/1. 2k words. KaiShin. Post-canon slice of life, where Kaito and Shinichi meet as professors in a university.

The Ace Up Your Sleeve: Chps 7/7. 16k words. KaiShin. Post-canon. Kaito attempts to play detective when a case involving a BO member surfaces after years of inactivity. And the enemy is not who he expected at all. (Written for the KaiShin Reverse Bang 2021)

Under The Full Moon: Chps 1/1. 4k words. Gen fic. There is a ghost on the loose, with spirit detectives Kudo and Hattori on the case. Kaitou Kid would just like to get out of this mess. (Written for the DCMK Halloween Exhange 2020)

In the Name of Science! : Chp 1/1. 1k words. Crack fic. Humor. Akako and Ai decide to collaborate on a project, and Hakuba suffers for it.

Jar, Not Jewel: Chp 1/1. 1k words. KaiShin. A take on the acquisition of Pandora, and its aftermath. (Written for a Fandom Games event on Tumblr)

Hyacinths and Roses : Chp 1/1. 5k words. KaiShin. A heist stake out and a police stake out cross paths. A thief is asked to "lend a hand" in help. (Rated E)

A Case of Identity: Chps 10/10. 49k words. KaiShin. Identity reveal AU. Post-Conan, Shinichi meets Kaito, as Ran's to-be-boyfriend.

Silver Bullet: Chps 3/3. 7k words. Vermouth, on meeting the two most important people of her life.

Kindly Cruel: Chp 1/1. 2k words. KaiShin. Detectives are like sharks in the ocean, ruthless hunters after blood, and Shinichi especially so.

#fic rec #kaishin #shinkai #detective conan #magic kaito #fanfiction #Kuroba Kaito #kudo shinichi

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mybutcheredtongue · 3 months

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I'll Love You 'til the Grass Around My Gravestone is Deceased

harry potter timeline Sirius Black x fem!reader

You lived out your years at Hogwarts with the company of your best friends, Lily Evans and Alice Fortescue. You fell in love with one of the infamous Marauders, Sirius Black. After school, you married and became Mrs Black, living in a home full of love and life with your faithful husband. Your happy life is cut short when Sirius is wrongfully convicted of the murder of Peter Pettigrew and several muggles, and sent straight to Azkaban without trial. The Ministry thinks you must be connected, but after several days of investigation and questioning, litres of veritaserum pumped thrown down your throat, you're proven innocent. You have maintained his innocence ever since, knowing Sirius would never do something like that. The only person who'll hire you is Albus Dumbledore, and with his help your name is reverted to its maiden and your past is buried deep.

This story follows your life during your time as a professor at Hogwarts when Harry Potter joins the school and everything changes.

FULL of angst but has a happy ending.

No use of Y/N

This fic is mostly a collection of moments and scenes! So a lot of time skips.

p.s. title is from the song "I Love You" by Fontaines D.C. — one of my favourite bands!! would so so recommend checking them out :)

CHAPTER ONE (see full series list here)

1991

You glance at your watch, the hand ticking slowly as it moves to show 9:03 p.m.

Finally, the large wooden door opens and a scrawny young boy pushes forward, huffing tiredly, and less than 20 odd first-year students filter into the astronomy tower.

"Evening, everyone!" You say cheerfully. The Gryffindors and Ravenclaws stand awkwardly as they gaze around the room in wonderment.

You feel proud of it. The last astronomy professor had left this room a little...boring, so when you came into employment you spruced it up a little bit. Though there aren't many to write on, each wall is plastered in hand-painted constellations with their names in 5 languages written underneath. You had cast a spell on the floor to conjure up a moon, one that matched the real one's lunar phases. Today, a waxing gibbous.

Telescopes line the edges of the circular room, each pointing high into the sky. You eye your favourite for a moment, the same telescope you'd used during your own years as a student at Hogwarts.

It feels like home in this room.

"Welcome to the Astronomy Tower," you say with a smile. "Here, you'll learn all about the wonders of our universe and its planets, galaxies, stars...everything. Please, find a telescope and stand behind it. We'll start with charting some simple constellations today."

The students obediently line behind a telescope each. Your eyes immediately focus on a young boy, with jet black hair and circular glasses. You lose your train of thought for a moment, feeling as though you're looking at a ghost.

He's the very image of James Potter.

Then, he turns to look at you and his eyes strike you. Green and vibrant, full of youth and gentleness.

Lily.

You feel your breath catch in your throat, but quickly shake your head of the grief and clap you hands, smiling at the students again.

"Astronomy is one of the very few subjects that is present in both the wizarding and the muggle world. That means that there are millions of resources out there for all of you to use, whether it be from a wizarding standpoint or a muggle one! Interesting stuff," you continue. "Now, I want you all to do a small task for me. Look through your telescope — please don't change any lenses just yet — and try and see if you can spot a constellation. Then, using the first page of your book, see if you can figure out which constellation it is. Call me over when you think you have one!"

The students immediately start rooting through their bags for their Astronomy textbooks and you sigh gently, content with your introduction. First-years are always well interested and curious about everything, so Astronomy is a pretty easy subject for them to get into. After all, lots of the first year curriculum is just looking at pretty stars and constellations.

"Professor, I think I have one!" A young Gryffindor girl with bushy brown hair and an excited face says to you, throwing her hand in the air enthusiastically.

You smile, walking over to her. "What's your name, dear?"

"Hermione Granger, professor."

"And what constellation do you think you've found?"

"Aquila, professor," she beams, pointing a finger to the small, 'T' shaped constellation in her book.

You close one eye and look through her telescope, noticing it immediately.

You grin at her. "Well spotted, Miss Granger! Excellent work." You glance at her scarlet and gold tie. "5 points to Gryffindor for being the first one!"

Her face lights up proudly.

"Now, let's see if you can find any of the stars present in it. Any at all, though you may find it difficult to differentiate — "

"The star of Altair, professor!"

Your eyes widen and you chuckle in surprise. "Well, aren't you just making my job a whole lot easier for me? Well done, Miss Granger. Please chart that constellation down on some parchment and continue looking."

In the next few minutes, many students find constellations and are charting them down. One boy seems to be having a particularly difficult time.

"Neville Longbottom, isn't it?" You say as you wander up to him. He jumps at the sound of your voice, knocking his forehead against the edge of his telescope and letting out a small yelp of pain. "Oh, sorry..." You wave your wand gently and his eyebrows raise, bringing a hand to his forehead in surprise.

"Just a small healing spell. For minor, minor injuries," you tell him. "How is your charting going?"

The boy's cheeks go red and his eyes focus on the floor beneath him. "I...haven't been able to find one, professor. I — I thought I had one ages ago, but there were too many stars in it..."

"Let me have a look, Mr Longbottom," you say kindly, bringing your eye up to the lens and grinning. "Well, you most definitely have found one. One I didn't think anyone would find!"

You glance at Neville's face, and he's the picture of shock.

"Pisces, Mr Longbottom. Trust your judgement! Excellent work."

Neville grins, and you step aside, but not before he says something else.

"Uh, professor..."

"Yes?"

"How do...how do you know my name?"

You study his face and smile again. The very picture of Frank Longbottom. With Alice Fortescue's mousy hair.

"I went to school with your parents, Mr Longbottom. You're the spitting image of your father."

Next, the young boy with jet black hair and glasses calls you over. Harry Potter. The Boy Who Lived.

"What one have you found, Mr Potter?"

As he looks at you, green eyes connecting with your own, you try your hardest not to see Lily staring back at you. You try your hardest not to picture your best friend, your honourary sister, a woman of true light in a world full of darkness.

Your heart has felt lonely since her absence. Since James. Since Alice. Since Frank. Since Peter.

You blink.

"Uh, Canis Major, I think?"

You swallow hard. Of course.

"Let me have a look see..." He's right of course, you don't even need to look. You can spot that constellation any night without a telescope. You know it like the back of your hand. "You're dead right, Mr Potter. Brilliant constellation, that is. Canis Major means 'the Great Dog', and it actually contains the brightest star in the night sky visible to our naked eye, Si — "

"Oh, wait, hold on..." Harry says, flicking through his book to find the page on Canis Major. He pauses, eyes skimming down the page. "Uh, Sirius, right?"

You bite your lip, feeling your heart speed up. You take a deep breath, forcing a smile. "Yes, Mr Potter. Sirius."

Your favourite star.

Your favourite person.

Your heart has been broken since his absence.

"Good work." You promptly spin on your heel, heading for your desk as you glance down at your watch. "Alright, everyone. Excellent work today! Now, I won't set anyone any written homework...but if you're truly interested and find you have a little free time, try and see if you can chart any other constellations! Night, everyone."

The students chat animatedly amongst themselves and exit down the spiral stairs, leaving you alone in the room. You sit down at your desk, sighing as you slip a key from your pocket and open one of the drawers. You pull out a small photograph, eyes wandering over the young, elated faces of James Potter, Lily Evans, Sirius Black, Remus Lupin, Peter Pettigrew, Alice Fortescue, Frank Longbottom, and yourself.

Graduation day.

One the left, you're standing in the middle of Alice and Lily, arms around them and laughing wholeheartedly. James stands beside Lily, arms around her and Sirius beside him, who's connected with Remus, Peter, and Frank.

You smile weakly. You remember that day, all full of hope and joy. There was some sadness too, sadness to be leaving Hogwarts and ultimately leaving childhood.

Your fingers gently skim over Sirius' face, feeling your heart ache.

What you wouldn't give to go back to that day.

⁠✧⁠*⁠。✧⁠*⁠。

Dear Moony,

I hope you're well! School's started back up again. Been a bit crazy lately, sorry that I haven't written since your last letter. Someone let a troll into the dungeon. Quirrell went mad, fainted in the middle of dinner and set all the students into a panic. It was torture.

Harry's started here. It's hard to look at him sometimes. He's the image of James. It's uncanny. He has Lily's eyes, too. Sometimes I start to feel like I can talk to them through him, even though I know that's mad of me. Neville Longbottom's here too. He's just like his parents. Both in Gryffindor, you'll be happy to know.

Dumbledore's gave me strict instructions not to say a word to Harry about it all. Says it'll be too much for him. He won't be able to understand why I couldn't have raised him instead of the Dursleys. He says that Harry will only start digging around for more information on me if he finds out I'm his godmother. He'd ask about his godfather then. It's too much for a young boy to know that his godfather is in Azkaban.

I wanted to talk to him so bad, Remus. I want to tell him about his parents, show him the photos. I want him to be able to feel at home here, feel like he's got someone here. A part of his family. I know exactly what those Dursleys are like. Petunia always hated James, you know that well enough. I hate that I have to keep this secret for even longer.

I talked to young Neville though. Merlin, he has Alice's clumsiness, that's for sure. Such a sweet lad. He was more than happy to see photos of the two and hear stories about them. I feel like a little bit of the weight that's been hanging over me has been lifted. I even showed him that photo of Alice falling into the Black Lake in 5th Year. If she was of sound mind she'd surely throttle me for that.

I think I need to get out of the castle for a bit. Wanna get a coffee? It's been a while.

I've omitted a few details of the past few weeks so I have something interesting to tell you about next weekend, if you're up for it.

all my love,

You sign the letter, folding up the parchment gently and dropping it in an envelope. You grab your bland wax stamper and press a small circle of black wax over the envelope's seal. You slip it into your pocket and stand up from your bed. Beside you, your black cat, Dubh*, stirs from her sleep and meowls at you.

You give her a loving scratch behind the ears. "Just popping down to the owlery. I'll be back."

On your way down to the owlery, you pass two lanky, identical students with heads full of ginger hair. They haven't noticed you yet. They're peering around the corner at Filch, a suspicious-looking bag in one of their hands.

"Bit late for the two of you to be out, isn't it?" You whisper behind them. They wheel around immediately and their eyes widen in shock.

"Professor! We — uh, we weren't doing anything!" George blurts out.

"Don't you look just lovely tonight, Professor? There is such a...healthy glow about you," Fred remarks suavely and you raise an unamused eyebrow at him.

"I sincerely hope you don't think I'm that thick, Mr Weasley."

"Never, Professor!"

You sigh, shaking your head. "Off to bed, both of you. Quickly, before Filch can catch you. I advise you to keep your pranks within the time you're actually allowed out of bed."

Fred's shoulders slump in disappointment, his want for a good prank evident on his face. George however, is staring at you in surprise.

"No detention?"

Fred immediately smacks his hand over the back of George's head, scowling at him. "Don't give her any ideas!"

"Get going, you two."

They take it this time, quickly scampering down the hallway. You step out from it, into the same one as Filch, who's eyeing you suspiciously.

"Is someone there?"

"Only me, Mr Filch," you answer.

"I thought I heard voices."

"Just me. I was trying to remember a poem I heard recently, it's three pages long. Would you like to hear it?"

Filch's face contorts immediately. "No."

You shrug. "Suit yourself."

You walk past him and out into the cold night air, trying to suppress the smile on your face.

->-> read chapter two here!

⁠✧⁠*⁠。✧⁠*⁠。

*Dubh: pronounced 'duv'. Irish word for 'black'.

→ all types of interaction appreciated ♡

#sirius black #sirius black x reader #sirius black x you #fanfiction #fanfic #hp #harry potter #harry potter fanfiction #marauders #the marauders #angst #angst with a happy ending

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