#*thought bubble with a random potion spilling* | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

bestiesenpai · 3 years

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Hocus Pocus - Sukuna

Boil toil and trouble, let's make this cauldron bubble lol gender neutral reader no content warnings! This is a...I guess medieval sort of au lol Sukuna is a knight and there’s kings and queens and blah blah

“(Y/N)!” Shrill voices rang throughout the empty stone walls, the pattering of little feet causing you to break your concentration from the glass vase you were holding over a smoking cauldron. Turning to the heavy wooden doors as they were thrown open, you held the vase in the air as two children scampered into the room and began to tug on your clothes.

“What do I owe the pleasure of this visit?” Laughing breathlessly, you looked down at the royal children that had decided to come spend time with you.

“We want to play!”

“Right now?” Taking a sweeping look over your messy workshop, you felt them begin to try and pull you from the room. “Alright, alright! Just a moment.” There was no stopping the children when they wanted something, especially from you.

Closing your spell books and setting down bubbling beakers, you pushed the kids out of the room, closing the door tightly behind you. Letting them guide you towards their playroom, you took a deep breath, pushing down the slight irritation growing from being pulled away from your work. There’s no way the King and Queen would appreciate you losing your temper or simply saying ‘no’, even if you did have studying to do to become a proper witch and not a simple apprentice.

Walking through the halls of the castle, you shared pleasant smiles with the more senior witches talking amongst themselves. Their robes were the rich and vibrant colors of the kingdom, a stark contrast to your plain black robe and a strong reminder of how far you still needed to go.

Coming upon the playroom, you winced as they threw open the door and made the metal knob bang against the stone wall and shocking the other occupant in the room.

“Sukuna! Sukuna! We got (Y/N) to play too!” They yelled, finally letting go of your robes as they ran to the intrepid knight who looked ridiculously out of place sitting on a tiny chair surrounded by stuffed animals in the light pastel room. He turned to you and you had to bite your lip to keep from laughing at how annoyed he seemed with the whole thing. He was still in his armor, so you figured the children had pulled him away in the middle of his business as well.

“Oh how fun.” Sukuna said, clearly less than enthused about this whole thing. His pink hair was sticking out in all sorts of directions and he ran his hand through it once more, the clinking of his cold and shiny armor differing greatly with the softness that filled the room.

The children paid him no mind, rushing further into the room and grabbing toys and throwing them into the middle of the room. Talking animatedly amongst themselves, you used the opportunity to slowly walk over to Sukuna.

“So, what were you doing when they got you?” You whispered, taking a seat next to him in another tiny chair.

“Fucking training.” Nudging the sword at his side, Sukuna let out a gruff sound. “As you know, a war might be brewing in the East and-”

“There’s always a war brewing.”

“Exactly!” Throwing his hands in the air, Sukuna missed the way you chuckled softly. “I don’t have time to entertain these brats, I don’t even know why they had me join!”

“I don’t understand how your fellow knights let you get away from them.” Sukuna was one of the castle's best knights after all, having been praised countless times by the King himself and bestowed with many medals and honors.

“They thought it was a joke! Thought it was funny to see the brats pulling me away and I couldn’t say anything.” He scoffed with a roll of his eyes.

“Well, it is a little funny to think about. The Great Sukuna defeated and captured by two eight year olds.”

He rolled his eyes, but you could see the small upward curve of his lips even though he tried to hide it. You were pleased to notice him relaxing a bit, willing to converse with you as the kids ran around, completely forgetting the two of you were even there. Sukuna was usually so stiff around you, talking in short sentences and barely looking in your direction; always preoccupied with the thought of battle.

“(Y/N)! Caspian won’t let me play with this thing!”

“I had it first!” You turned to see them fighting over one of the vials from your room, recklessly pulling it back and forth and nudging the cork out of place. The shimmering purple liquid sloshed inside, threatening to drip out of the glass and splash all over the two of them. Jumping up, you ran over to the kids before they could open the bottle by mistake and cause a disaster.

“Caspian! Give that to me now!” You yelled after pulling them away from each other. The boy shook his head, holding it away from you. You groaned, taking a deep breath before kneeling to him, holding your hand out. “Caspain, please, it’s very important that I get that back.”

“Kid, just hand it over.” No longer having the patience to deal with this, Sukuna got up from his seat, taking long strides over to you. He grabbed the boy’s wrist as gently as he knew how, attempting to yank the vial out of his hand, but Caspain tightened his grip.

“No, it’s mine!” A small struggle ensued between the two with Caspian pushing and squirming to try and get away and Sukuna attempting to be as merciful as possible to try and get the vial.

“It’s not yours and you know it. Return it.” Sukuna was growing more annoyed by the second. He could easily overpower this kid and end this silly squabble but if he was too rough there were sure to be consequences.

“Be careful, don’t spill it!” Standing off to the side, your eyes were focused on the vial, anxiety rising every time it was yanked from one side to the other. Your cries went ignored, drowned out by them shouting at one another.

“Here!” Pulling the cork out, Caspian hurled the vial right at Sukuna’s face, coating him in the liquid. The glass clattered to the ground, quickly getting crushed into tiny shards as Sukuna stumbled in shock.

“What the-” Wiping furiously at his face, Sukuna could hardly open his eyes. The liquid evaporated on his skin, leaving behind a tingling burn.

“Caspian!” You exclaimed, glaring at the boy and running to Sukuna. The pungent odor of the potion burned your nostrils and forced tears to well in your eyes.

“What is this stuff?” Biting back the swear that desperately wanted to come out, Sukuna looked blindly around the room.

“It’s- well-”

“Out with it!” Sukuna barked, shoving you away. He felt like he was going to vomit, head swimming as he fell to his knees.

“Sukuna has kitty ears!” Caspian’s sister, Caroline, shouted in surprise.

“No I don’t!”

“Yes you do!” She pushed but it went unheard, overshadowed by the pained scream that ripped out of Sukuna’s chest. Writhing on the ground for what felt like ages, the pain slowly subsided and he was left breathing raggedly.

“Hello?” Opening his eyes, Sukuna was shrouded in darkness. Fabric covered his face and body; they were his clothes, he could smell that much, but he had no idea where he was.

“Sukuna? Are you okay?” Tiptoeing over to him, you nudged the armor now sitting on the ground in the shape of what used to be Sukuna’s body. Tiny claws tapped against the metal and a pink haired cat's head popped out of the top opening.

“(Y/N)?”

“Oh my god.” You placed a hand against your chest in shock, watching in horror as Sukuna wrestled himself out of his armor, angrily cursing his new height without really looking at himself.

“Kitty!” Caroline yelled, immediately crowding him and trying to pick him up. Keeping her at arm's length, you scooped up Sukuna’s new cat form into your arms and held him tightly to you.

“Kitty?!” Sukuna yelled, looking down at his body being cradled by you. “(Y/N), what the hell happened?!”

“Uhm, well it seems Caspian threw a metamorphosis potion at you...” Trailing off, you winced as Sukuna let out a growing hiss.

“Is that why I’m a fucking cat right now?” You nodded pitifully and he groaned. “Fucking brats.” Giving the two of them a look, Sukuna pushed himself up on shaky arms and crawled up onto your shoulder, digging his claws slightly into you as he settled around your neck. “The King and Queen will be furious to know what you’ve done.”

“(Y/N) can fix it!” Caroline shouted, trying to save them both from getting in trouble.

“Um, I guess I-”

“No, no they can’t.” Sukuna cut you off, sitting up a little straighter and letting a smug grin overtake his face. “You know (Y/N) is only an apprentice, do you really think they can fix this?” Letting a pause fall over the conversation, Sukuna tilted his head, his ears tickling your cheek. “You know how hard magic is to control, what if no one can turn me back to a human? Your parents will be enraged knowing they lost their best warrior to a pair of little brats.”

“Okay!” Slapping his hands over his ears, Caspian stomped his feet a few times. “We’ll fix it! What do we have to do?”

“There’s a list of ingredients I need to reverse this spell.” Pulling out the pen and pad of paper you were required to always have on hand, you scribbled down a few random items without thinking too hard about it. “Go get me these by the end of the day and we’ll have human Sukuna back in no time!”

“Let’s go!” Grabbing her brother's hand, Caroline ran from the room, ripping the paper from your grasp as she went. The door to the playroom banged against the wall again as they exited and left you and Sukuna alone.

“Well now that they’re occupied for a bit, go ahead and change me back, (Y/N).” Jumping onto the ground, Sukuna shook his head side to side and sat on the ground, his long tail swishing back and forth lazily.

“About that…” Wringing your hands together painfully tight, you could barely look at Sukuna.

“What?” His eyes narrowed, sensing your hesitation.

“I just, well I-”

“Out with it!” A loud hiss spurred you into speaking, along with Sukuna arching his back angrily.

“I can’t do it! That potion the kids took was a fluke to begin with, I’m surprised it even changed you into a cat and didn’t just burn your eyebrows off!” God it felt embarrassing admitting that Sukuna had essentially been right when he was calling the kids bluff. There wasn’t much more you could do on your own other than light a candle with your mind and make paperclips levitate.

“Okay, it’s not that bad. We can get one of your seniors to do it.” Starting toward the door, Sukuna let out a shriek when you scooped him up.

“No, we can’t do that! They’ll never let me live it down!” Holding him tightly, you felt his claws dig into your arms and hands. “L-let me figure it out, please!”

“You just said you couldn’t do it, why would I let you ‘figure it out’ when I can get changed back within a few minutes?”

“Please, just let me try! I have to prove myself!”

“Is this really the time for that? There’s a war-”

“Sukuna, there’s always a war! That’s all you ever talk about!” Yanking his claws out of the skin of your arm, you huffed and tried to calm the burning of your cheeks. “Just give me until the end of the day, please? I can fix you by the end of the day.”

Breathing heavily as well, Sukuna raked his eyes over you. There wasn’t much he knew about you other than you were another fledging witch scouted by the kingdom and that this was the most you’d ever spoken to each other directly and not in a group setting. It wasn’t just Sukuna who was stiff in conversations, it was you as well.

“Fine.” Worming his way out of your hold and back onto the ground, Sukuna swiped at his face a few times to fix the fur around his eyes. “If I’m not a human by nightfall, I’m going to your mentor.”

“Deal.” Nodding your head in agreement, you gestured toward the door. “Shall we go back to my study?”

“Lead the way.” Falling into step next to you, Sukuna walked down the halls to a part of the castle he never really visited. While he was marveling at some of the magic happening behind doorways, you were worrying your lip and praying with every step you took that you could actually find a way to turn him back.

“Nice little shop you got here.” Sukuna commented upon coming to your study. Truly it was nothing more than a glorified broom closet, just enough space for a bookshelf, cauldron, a few shelves and a tiny desk shoved in the corner piled high with a mountain of notes you’d scribbled down late at night.

“Thanks.” Your room looked like all the other beginner witch's rooms, but it felt nice for Sukuna to compliment it all the same. Clearing off a space on the small table beside your cauldron for Sukuna to sit on, you went to the bookshelf to try and find a spell to turn him back.

Taking sneaking glances at you, Sukuna went up to the edge of the cauldron, sniffing the vapors that rose from the bubbling liquid. Curling his lip in disgust at the pungent odor, he hopped off the table. Too engrossed in your books, you set down a few on the spot he’d previously been occupying.

“(Y/N), what’re these papers on your desk?” Glancing over, Sukuna had leapt onto the furniture, gently swiping his paw at some papers and making them slide from the messy stack they were in.

“Just some notes from my lessons, I have a test coming up in a potions class and I really can’t afford to fail.” Shaking your head bitterly at the upcoming deadline, you turned your attention back to the book in your hand.

Glancing over a few, Sukuna found that you were correct, there were scribbles on pages and in the margins of textbooks cramming all possible information into them.

“What’s this…?” Catching the first few letters of his name on a paper that was crinkled up and folded several times, Sukuna felt his curiosity grow greater and greater.

Struggling to open it with his new appendages, Sukuna eventually got it open. At first, he wasn’t sure where to look, there were love hearts dotting nearly every letter and a hundred exclamation points. As he read and deciphered the words on the page, he started to laugh to himself. The person who you’d been passing notes to was gushing about another knight named Okkotsu and his kind demeanor all while teasing you for liking none other than Sukuna.

“So (Y/N), you have a crush on me?” He asked loudly, just barely catching the slightest hesitation in your body at his question.

“What’re you talking about?” Fighting to keep your face neutral, you sprinkled a blue powder into the cauldron.

“This note here says you’ve had a crush on me since you arrived at the palace and I’m pretty confident this is your handwriting.” Sukuna could practically see your heart begin to race the longer he spoke and a grin overtook his face.

“I-I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Nervously clearing your throat, you shook your head and closed the book in your hand. Taking a glance at him, your face fell slightly at seeing his paw holding the note open.

“Really? No clue at all? Maybe I should read it out loud and jog your memory.” If Sukuna’s smile got any bigger it would rip his cheeks apart. “Now where should I begin? How about this line, ‘Sukuna is so sexy when he does training in the evening! I love that he never wears a shirt, you can see all his tattoos!’”

“Shut up!” Throwing the remaining objects in your hand onto the table, you lunged towards him and the note. Cackling with laughter, Sukuna snatched the paper into his mouth and leaped off the desk, running circles around you in the room.

“I’m so sexy, you want me to kiss you!” He teased you mercilessly as you chased after him, reciting every embarrassing word you wrote. “You love my morning voice when I pass by you at breakfast!”

“Sukuna! Stop it!” Your entire body was on fire the longer he went and frustrated tears welled in your eyes. It was bad enough you had a crush on the most popular knight in the kingdom but to have him know about it so deeply was another blow to your ego entirely. Grabbing your wand out of a robe pocket, you let out a small shout and pointed it at him, hoping that was enough to get him to stop.

And surprisingly it was; Sukuna suddenly froze all movement, hanging in the air above the cauldron that he was trying to leap over. Stomping over to him, you ripped the note out of his mouth and tore it to shreds, letting the pieces flutter to the ground at your feet. Glaring at Sukuna with glassy eyes, you mumbled a short incantation and released him from the spell, making him plop into the cauldron below.

Sukuna let out incomprehensible screams of terror as he splashed around in the cauldron, struggling to grab any sort of footing on the side and pull himself out.

“(Y/N)! G-get me out of here!” Coughing at the liquid entering his mouth, Sukuna hooked an arm around the edge of the cauldron and tried to pull himself up only to be burned by the hot metal.

“I’ll think about it!” Crossing your arms, you kept your back turned to him. His mocking words rang in your head over and over, nearly drowning out his frantic cries. Quickly growing tired of the noise, you grabbed him by the back of the neck and yanked him from the cauldron, letting him fall to the ground in a sopping wet mess of fur.

“Took you long enough!” Sukuna sputtered, shaking himself violently to try and dry off. Unable to fully look at him, you slammed open the book you’d had open before and leaned over it, blocking out the world around you and forcing the words on the page into your head.

“(Y/N), do you have a towel around here?” Your head nearly turned on instinct to answer Sukunas question, a small twitch in your neck almost giving way to a full turn. “Oh c’mon, don’t ignore me.” His paw swiped the back of your leg and you shook him off.

“(Y/N), stop being a baby.” Touching you again, Sukuna grunted and rolled his eyes when you fully stepped away from him. “(Y/N)! I’m freezing down here with this wet fur, quit fucking around.”

“Find one yourself.” You snapped at him, storming over to your desk and plopping down on the chair. Out of the corner of your eye you could see Sukuna weighing his options, looking between you and the door behind him. You could almost see the gears turning in his head as he debated on what to say.

“If I apologize, will that make you feel better?” He asked, earning a snort from you and making a smirk pass briefly on his face. “The Great Sukuna doesn’t apologize often, so listen closely, okay?”

“I won’t hold my breath.” Rolling your eyes, you relaxed the tight crease in your brow and let your back straighten up a little, no longer hunching over the desk. Clearing his throat dramatically, Sukuna padded over with wet paws and stopped before your chair.

“I’m sorry I teased you about having a crush on me, but in my defense who wouldn’t be hopelessly in love with me?”

“Is that really your apology?” Biting your lip to stop a burgeoning smile, you forced your eyes back on your paper.

“What do you want me to say? Oh (Y/N), please forgive me for learning about your everlasting love for me, I’ll conquer a hundred enemy fortresses if that’s what it’ll take!” Swaying side to side dramatically, Sukuna laughed as he made a chuckle force it’s way past your lips.

“Fine, I guess I’ll forgive you.” Rolling your eyes once more, you did a quick wave of your hand and a sharp gust of wind went over Sukuna, drying his fur in an instant.

“Just like new.” Walking in a few circles, Sukuna surveyed his body and without warning, jumped into your lap, making space for himself and looking over the book you were reading.

“Make yourself comfortable.” Adjusting in your chair, you had to move Sukunas bobbing head out of the way several times to continue to read. “Sukuna, do you even know how to read this?” The book was written in strange symbols only able to be read and understood by those imbued magical prowess.

“No, but it’s pretty interesting to look at.” Shrugging his shoulder, he let his chin rest on the edge of the pages. Quietly reading over the book, you had to shuffle Sukuna in your lap a few times, adjusting him over and over again until you were practically cradling him with one arm and turning pages with the other.

“I could get used to this.” Sukuna yawned loudly, a purr rumbling from his chest. You didn’t have the heart to tell him that his heavy, muscular feline form had made your arm fall asleep and become completely dead to the world.

A few minutes later and a soft snoring filtered out of Sukuna, a gentle sound to fill the room bathed in warm afternoon sun. The tiny window above your desk showed a sliver of the outside world, overgrown trees skirting the edge of the window pane and attempting to obstruct your view of distant mountain ranges.

Forcing deep breaths through your nose, you couldn’t stave off the drowsiness creeping into your body as well. Every blink made your eyelids heavier and the words on the page began to blur together until you couldn’t fight sleep anymore and let your head lean against the chair, joining Sukuna in a light afternoon nap.

It was you that woke up first, thirty minutes later and with a foggy mind. Surprisingly, Sukuna hadn’t woken up from the sound of a door slamming closed across the hall, still sleeping soundly as ever in your arms.

Looking over him, you noticed the markings across his face and body, tattoos that carried over from his human form. Tracing your finger along his face, you were enraptured by the soft fur that met your touch and continued along his body. Fully petting the length of Sukuna’s body, you prodded his soft, relaxed stomach and scratched gently with the tip of your nail.

“That feels nice.” He mumbled, barely awake and cuddling deeper into your side. Despite feeling embarrassed at being caught you kept going, expanding upwards and rubbing along his ribs and chest.

“Sukuna you’re so cute as a cat, are you sure you want to change back?”

“As much as I love being pet like this, I have a duty to my kingdom.” Stretching his legs out, Sukuna grunted like he was going to get up but gave up halfway, flopping back and letting out a soft sigh.

“You don’t seem to be in any rush to get back.” You chuckled, scratching behind his ears and smiling widely when he began to purr.

“Well…” Pushing his head against your hand, Sukuna shrugged. “They’ll be fine without me for a little bit.”

There was a pregnant pause before he spoke again, filled with his loud purring and soft breathing. “You know, I haven’t slept this well in ages. Always too busy with training or going to battle.” Blinking his eyes slowly, Sukuna peered up at you. “Maybe I should become a witch like you, (Y/N), then I could relax like this all the time.”

“You’re kidding; me, relax? I’m constantly on edge, there’s so much pressure to break my back for the kingdom and become the strongest sorcerer.” Slumping against the chair, your head lolled back and you stared at the dark stone ceiling. “I’d love to trade places with you Sukuna, I want to know what it’s like to be so strong and confident all the time.”

“It’s pretty great, I won’t lie.” He mumbled under his breath and you laughed, jostling him around as you straightened up your spine.

“You’ll have to teach me sometime, okay?” Standing up and opening your arms, you haphazardly placed Sukuna on the desk and walked over to the cauldron, cracking the bones in your back and looking over the ingredients you’d put in so far. “Now, let’s turn you back into a human.”

“(Y/N).” Sukuna said your name slowly, hopping from the desk to the table by the cauldron and slinking past forgotten vials to settle close at your side. “Mind if I watch?”

“Why?” It wasn’t that you didn’t want him to but unless Sukuna was suddenly granted the gift of magic the recipe you were following would be of no use to him.

“I want to know what it’s like to be the smartest in the room.” Sukuna grinned at you, bumping his nose against your arm a few times.

“Shut up.” A light flush went over your face and warmed your cheeks, and a slightly impish smile pushed your cheeks up. The compliment warmed your heart just as much, making it beat faster in your chest.

“Shut up and take notes? Got it.” Nodding curtly, Sukuna squinted his eyes and stared intensely at your hands. Laughing wholeheartedly at how serious he looked, you did a dramatic wave of your hand and picked up a spellbook.

“Alright, watch and learn.”

Whether or not Sukuna was actually learning anything or truly paying attention was lost on you, but it was certainly fun having him so focused on you and your actions. Humming and nodding like he understood when you mumbled to yourself, Sukuna was acting just like you had when you first arrived at the palace with bright eyes and an eager mind.

“Try this.” Pouring a mixture into a jar, you tilted it back for Sukuna to drink from.

“Fucking disgusting!” Wrenching himself away, Sukuna spit the bright yellow liquid onto the ground and watched it sizzle. “Are you trying to poison me now?”

“Wha- but I was so sure that was the right one!” Scrapping the jar, you returned to the book. “Maybe I need spider legs after all…”

“You need me to go out into the garden and catch you some?” Still reeling from the rancid taste in his mouth, Sukuna glanced out the window. The light in the sky was beginning to wind down, it was almost dinner time and his stomach was starting to growl.

“No, I-”

“(Y/N)!” An all too familiar voice shouted your name and you got flashbacks to just a few hours before when your door was slammed open and two children ran inside.

“Oh great, the royal brats.” Snarling at the kids, Sukuna leapt up and onto your shoulder, curling himself around your neck and burrowing into the collar of your robes. Flinching away from him, Caroline and Caspian hesitantly showed you what was clenched tightly in their small hands.

“We got all the stuff on the list!” Caroline showed hers first, a handful of daisies and a small chunk of amethyst.

“Caroline was too much of a baby to get the other stuff.” Caspian huffed, extending his palm out and showcasing the dead spiders and newt eyeballs.

“I can’t believe it, you two actually listened for once.” You marveled at the ingredients, quickly snatching them up and sorting them out on the table.

“Took you long enough.” Sukuna huffed. “Now go get my clothes from that stupid playroom!”

“Okay!” And away the two of them went, rushing down the hall with echoing footsteps. Flipping pages in a book you’d cast aside, you read it over and put in all the ingredients they had brought.

“This spell really is the one to turn you back to a human. God, I feel like an idiot, the answer was right in front of me!” Kicking yourself internally, you looked at your stash of ingredients; you had all the things the kids had brought you already at your disposal.

Right as Sukuna was about to speak, his clattering armor and underclothes made an appearance in the room, clattering to the ground as the kids struggled to carry it all inside. Laying out his clothes for him, you poured the new potion into a glass.

“Turn around children, I don’t want you to see something you shouldn’t.” With a chorus of giggles behind you, you even covered your eyes as you held the glass to Sukuna’s lips. “Try and jump onto the ground after you drink it all, I don’t want you breaking the table.”

“Got it.” Sukuna was better prepared for the transformation this time, swallowing all of the potion and gritting his teeth at the discomfort coursing through him. When you felt the glass was empty, you turned around to give him privacy.

Holding your breath and crossing your fingers, every fiber of your being was hoping and praying that Sukuna returned to normal. You heard clothing rustle and armor clanking, but you didn’t open your eyes until a heavy human hand landed on your shoulder.

“I’m back!” Sukuna cheered, flexing the muscles in his body and tightening the various straps on his clothing. He’d forgon putting his armor back on, opting to wear just the loose green tunic and pants that he had on underneath.

“We did it!” The children cheered as well, clapping and smiling.

“You two were the whole cause of this mess! You should be cheering for (Y/N) for saving you from a punishment.”

“Thanks (Y/N)!”

“Yeah, you’re the best!” Giving you brief and crushing hugs, the two youths ran from the room, probably off to find other mischief to get into. Letting out a relieved sigh, you began to clean up the table.

“Nice work, (Y/N).” Patting you on the back, Sukuna attempted to help you by gathering all the empty vials.

“It would have been better if I’d just checked that book to begin with. I thought I wrote down those ingredients for them at random, but turns out the answer was so glaringly obvious that of course I missed it.” While it felt good to turn Sukuna back into a human, the knowledge that this could have been done a lot sooner weighed heavily on your mind.

“Don’t beat yourself up about it.” Returning his hand to your back, Sukuna let it rest a bit heavier. “You’re still learning, you’re bound to mess up here and there. But hey, you turned me back in the end!” Smiling at you, Sukuna gave you a half hug, not caring if he crushed you against his chiseled physique.

“Sukuna, that was so nice of you to say, thank you.” Hugging him back, your heart felt like it was going to burst.

“You think so? I’ve been practicing ever since my commanders told me to be softer to the new recruits and give them words of encouragement.”

“Well it’s certainly paid off.” The heat from his body transferred onto yours, making it obvious when you pulled away from each other that your whole body was slowly being set on fire from the sweet words melting your brain.

Cleaning up was quick with Sukuna’s help and before you knew it your workspace was just as messy as before all of this had happened and there was the familiar chatter of other witches walking down the halls towards dinner.

“I guess I’ll see you around.” It was bittersweet knowing Sukuna was leaving to the same place you were but going to sit at completely different places, on opposite sides of the dining hall. You desperately wanted to ask to eat with him, to extend the moment you two were having, but your social rank prevented you from being the one to make the first move.

“What do you mean? Aren’t you going to eat dinner?” Grabbing the door, Sukuna slowly pulled it open, ignoring the shocked looks from passersby as he started to make his exit.

“I am but-”

“Then c’mon, let's go.” With half his body already out the door, Sukuna paused when he saw you weren’t making any move. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing, go on without me.”

“I want to go with you.” Quirking a brow, Sukuna swayed on his feet for another moment before getting fed up with waiting and grabbing onto your sleeve, yanking you from your room and into the hall.

All eyes were on you and you knew there would be a lot of questions hurled your way sooner or later about what was going on with the two of you. Someone as high ranking as Sukuna wasn’t seen with new recruits, especially not coming out of their workspaces.

“Now let’s go, I’m fucking starving.” Sliding a hand up to the collar of your robes, Sukuna held a fistful in his hand and made you walk with him down the hall.

“Sukuna, you don’t have to be friendly with me anymore, I already held my end of the deal.”

“Why should I stop? I liked hanging out with you, (Y/N). Unless you don’t want to hang out with me anymore.” His grip softened a little and you grasped his wrist.

“No, I do! I-I really do! It’s just, you’re such a high rank and-”

“So what?”

“So, it’s not really heard of for us to mingle!”

“What’re you talking about, I mingle with witches all the time!”

“Yeah but they’re more senior than I am.” Letting out a sharp grunt, Sukuna stopped abruptly and turned you to face him.

“Fine. (Y/N), as your superior I order you to have dinner with me. Happy now?” Without waiting for an answer, Sukuna began to walk again. “And if you give me any more shit, I’ll make you run up a hundred mountains when I train you.”

“You want to train me?” Sure, witches received some physical training but a majority of your learning was focused on magic.

“I think it’s only fair since I learned a bit of magic today.” Getting into the line to enter the dining hall, Sukuna finally released your collar.

“I’d like to learn from you.” Giving him a bashful smile, you were mentally clearing your schedule in preparation for the day.

“You might fall even more in love with me, I can’t wait to read the notes you pass around about me afterwards.”

“God, you’ll never let me live that down will you?” Slapping your hands over your face, you felt the urge to bang your head against the wall.

“Never.” Laughing at your misfortune, Sukuna nudged you forward and into the dining hall. “Now go get some food, I’ll save my biggest fan a seat next to me at my usual table.” Leaving you all alone and dying of embarrassment, Sukuna walked to a group of other knights, his loud and boisterous voice easily carrying over the others in the room.

Gathering all the pieces of your dinner, you looked out at the massive dining hall, crammed with knights, witches and other civil servants just trying to make it. Scanning over the tables, you could see gaggles of knights but not the one you wanted to see.

“(Y/N)!” Just as you’d given up searching and turned away, Sukuna yelled your name, somehow cutting through all the noise. Looking over your shoulder you saw Sukuna standing on a table and waving at you once you made eye contact. The seat next to him was completely empty, a space big enough for you to sit and eat at.

“C-coming!” You yelled back, unsure if he even heard you until you received a big thumbs up and Sukuna jumped off the table. With scalding cheeks, you gripped your plate tighter and rushed over to the table, eager to spend more time with your new friend.

#jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen fluff #ryomen sukuna #sukuna x reader #jujutsu kaisen au #jujutsu kaisen scenarios #jujutsu kaisen fanfic #jujutsu kaisen imagines

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xaharadesert · 3 years

Text

Accidental Potion Drinking - Headcanon

Arcana Characters (Main 6) x MC

A/N: This is one of the super cute requests I’ve gotten from @firefly-child! It’s taken some time to get to it (as I’m currently working through older requests), but I’m super excited to write something light and fluffy :) the backstory provided was along the lines of MC and their LI having a little wine night when MC accidentally grabs the wrong bottle and they end up drinking a harmless potion instead, which is a really fun request! I don’t know anything about wine, so I’ll just casually skirt around that issue by leaving it to the reader’s imagination, but since the type of potion was left up to me I’ll definitely be having some fun describing the effects! Please let me know if there are any spelling or grammar mistakes, and requests are open!

TW: drinking, consumption of alcohol, tipsy characters, mentions of alcohol, sorry I don’t really know how to tag for this kind of thing, but the alcohol bit is really only mentioned briefly to set up the scene

❤️Julian❤️

It didn’t take long to realize that you had grabbed the wrong bottle, considering that after the two of you had taken a few sips of what you had thought was wine you had both started slowly floating upward

There were a few moments where Julian thought to himself “wow, this stuff must be pretty strong, I kinda feel like I’m floating” before he realized that, oh, he was, in fact, floating

This was followed shortly after by only a second of panic, which quickly turned into delight when he remembered he was dating a magician and this sort of thing was probably normal for you

Honestly though, as endearing as it would be for him to simply trust that you were pulling a harmless prank, you would probably be panicking a bit more because oh my stars you grabbed the wrong bottle and which potion was this exactly?

But of course, Julian has an infectious laugh, and seeing as you were already a bit tipsy and nothing majorly bad was currently happening, you dissolved into a fit of giggles as well

By now the two of you were drifting near the ceiling (thank goodness you were inside), laughing at each other as you tried not to spin too far apart

The effects of the potion wore off a few minutes later, seeing as you had only had a few sips each, and you settled down peacefully, no harm done

🧡Portia🧡

The two of you had been having a rather peaceful evening, for once devoid of any sort of job or task that needed tending to

You were genuinely relaxing, drinking wine and telling bad jokes that would send you into full-bellied laughter— the kind that only seemed to grow whenever you tried to stop

With that being said, it wasn’t that surprisingly when the two of you developed a bad case of the hiccups after a while

What was surprising were the bubbles that floated from your mouth afterward

Although you were initially confused, Portia’s obvious delight at the magical turn of events quickly dissuaded your worries

She was always thrilled whenever you performed even the smallest bit of magic in your daily life, and this was no different, even if it was an accident on your part

Her hiccups only seemed to get worse as she laughed harder, tears of joy starting to spill from her eyes

The mood was infectious, and you would find yourself joining her in her pure delight

Small moments of joy such as this permeated your relationship, but this one in particular would always be a favourite of Portia’s, she was sure

💛Lucio💛

You know, even with Mercedes and Melchoir’s incessant barking, you two had been having a rather relaxing evening, sharing your favourite wines with each other as Lucio regaled you with endless stories of his epic past battles and parties

However, as always, things took a turn in the most unexpected way

The two of you had only taken a few sips of a bottle you had brought out when you noticed the dogs’ barks seemed to sound… different

You tuned out Lucio for a moment and came to the realization that you were, in fact, hearing actual genuine words coming from the dogs’ mouths as they yelled at Lucio, an endless chant of “Dad, dad, dad!”

Lucio seemed to have not noticed, so you gave him a gentle shove and motioned for him to be quiet and listen to the dogs, which promptly lead to his own eyes widening and his mouth hanging open as he processed what was happening

He was thrilled, obviously, to be able to communicate with his beloved dogs, and all thoughts of the story he was telling were forgotten

In all honesty, Mercedes and Melchior didn’t seem to have a lot to say other than “Dad!” and “Love!”, but Lucio’s eyes were brimming with tears anyway as he hugged his dogs close

Let’s be real, having the opportunity to tell a beloved pet that you love them and to have them understand it would be one of the greatest feelings of all time, and Lucio was determined to not waste a second

What may have been a small mistake on your part was one of the greatest moments of Lucio’s life, in his words

💚Muriel💚

It wasn’t noticeable at first— then again, Muriel’s voice was rather deep

But after a few more sips, you couldn’t deny it; his voice was definitely getting higher

He had been in the middle of telling you about something funny one of the chicken’s had done that day, and you had been quietly listening, but now you absolutely had to know

So, as politely as possible, you interrupted him, only to find that, oh, yeah, your voice was much higher than before

Both of you seemed pretty shocked, but let’s be honest, it’s hard not to laugh when it sounds like both of you had just inhaled helium, which, apparently, was the effect of the potion you had accidentally poured out for the two of you to drink

Muriel tried to stifle his laughter, but failed miserably as you embraced the situation and let out a long and loud sound of joy

There was no harm in drinking the potion, luckily, so the two of you decided to continue as you were, telling stories in the most serious voices you could while trying not to burst out laughing

💙Asra💙

Most evenings you spent alone with Asra were filled with quiet laughter and gentle light continuing to illuminate the room even after the sun had bid you goodnight, and today was no different

You had opened a new bottle of wine just a few minutes prior, despite both you and Asra having slightly rosy cheeks from being a bit tipsy already

The cozy light of the lantern above your head reflected off of him in a way that almost made him seem like he was glowing, although combined with the way he dressed it wasn’t very unusual

That was until you reached out to him to push aside a stray curl from his face and subsequently realized that relative to you, he really was very much actually glowing

You had been telling him about a particularly stubborn customer earlier, and as a result, hadn’t had as much to drink, so the difference was clear

He picked up on your surprise quickly, and reached up toward his own hair, thinking perhaps there was something stuck in it that startled you, only to also see his skin was glowing with a faint light

Of course, he knew as well as you did that potions were often misplaced in the shop when there was no real urgency to keep them sorted, so he knew right away what was happening, and, frankly, he found it hilarious

If you were at all apprehensive about drinking random potions while tipsy, Asra would have been pick to put those thoughts from your mind by quickly downing more of the potion and snuffing out the lantern

This on it’s own would have been a funny sight, but when he smiled widely at you and you noticed that even his teeth were glowing with a bright white light, you wouldn’t have been able to do anything but laugh, which, of course, had been his plan all along

He would encourage you to drink the potion as well so the two of you could wander around in the darkened Vesuvian streets and scare other citizens :)

💜Nadia💜

Wine nights with Nadia are pretty common— it’s one of her favourite ways to unwind after a long day of working to improve Vesuvia

However, she’s usually the one providing the wine (seeing as she’s a very wealthy Countess), so nights like this one, where you brought over some of your favourites to share, were rather uncommon

The two of you weren’t particularly tipsy when you accidentally poured a potion into her glass instead of wine— an accident that you immediately recognized when Nadia morphed into an entirely different person in front of your eyes

Nadia herself seemed a bit surprised as well, seeing as the effect of the potion usually left the user with a mild child down their spine

You were quick to point out the error and apologize, but to your confusion Nadia seemed thrilled with the mistake

Blending in with Vesuvia’s population to gain a better understanding of her people was something she had always struggled to do, but you had just handed her the perfect opportunity

Wine forgotten, she grabbed your hand and lead you toward what was sure to be one of the most adventurous nights you had ever had in Vesuvia

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sophisticated-creepy · 3 years

Text

Daybreak was bright, crisp, and exhilarating, Lola feeling every fiber of her being humming with excitement as the brisk autumn sun kissed her face. She was inspired and playful, eager to attack the morning as she initiated day one of her research plans. The more she thought about the Hobblin’ Goblin for her story, the more she realized she didn’t know the essentials to his origins. She was completely attached to the idea of him being her “Mr. Goblin”, the imaginary friend and childhood companion, and never dove deeper into why he played his pranks, only that he did, and therefore, negated any notion for further investigation. He simply existed, and her imagination conceived the rest. Even Raphael, she discovered over breakfast, wasn’t fully aware of the iconic legend’s origins, and he was a history Professor.

“I guess I don’t know him as intimately as I thought,” she said, stunned to the awakening of her own ignorance regarding the goblin.

“Don’t feel badly,” Raphael had comforted. “I have no doubt you’ll turn this story of yours into an adventure yet.”

Taking her beloved’s advice to heart, Lola got into the proper mindset for delving into the task of research. Her deadline was fast approaching, and she wanted to make as much headway as possible in gathering her facts before putting pen to paper. Five hundred words held the capability to be irrevocably profound. This challenge was an opportunity to showcase depth instead of fluff, so today was all business, strictly pounding the streets for information, putting in the hard work of sleuthing, deducing, and discovering what exactly made the Hobblin’ Goblin tick.

Since the town was saturated in claims of the goblin’s mischief, Lola decided that she would first get as many personal testimonies from the victims of these pranks as possible. Then, upon more research, she would be able to see what connections in claims could help in unlocking the mystery of the Hobblin’ Goblin, allowing her assignment to look into the character of the people affected by the imp, and give her plot heart. Her own opinions were too biased in a light-hearted, flouncy sort of parody she perceived of the goblin’s personality, and while in some cases that may translate well in a fairytale aspect of playful misdemeanors, Lola wanted substance, something tangible to pull in the judges’ interests. As she gathered enough information, she would know in which direction to craft her words.

One such person she wanted to interview first was her former retail manager Stacy. Lola had spent a sizeable amount of time as an associate of the boutique Lotions and Potions, and had a few experiences of her own in her pocket to pull from if need be, but Stacy swore up and down that the place was actively haunted, sharing her stories daily of what went bump in the night. Stacy tended to lean on the side of over-exaggeration, but Lola wouldn’t discount any leads if the potential to find a nugget of inspiration rested somewhere in the spinning of a yarn, so onwards confidently she marched, notebook in one hand, coffee in the other, and entered the establishment filled with buttermilk and bubble bath.

The familiar chime sounding as she walked through the door brought a smile to her face, however, seeing Stacy on her hands and knees in front of a cabinet of decorative glass bottles had her frowning. A clumping of paper towels and a wastebasket at an elbow told Lola that, at least, nothing dire had happened.

“Do you need some help?” Lola asked, setting her belongings on the checkout counter as she fully entered the store. Stacy glanced up from her position, giving her head a slight shake, crookedly smiling at the former employee.

“You don’t work here anymore, Lola, it’s no longer your job to help clean up spills,” Stacy remarked, carefully scooping up a glob of lavender scented lotion mixed with glass shards.

“That doesn’t mean I can’t help out a friend.” Lola went to get the cleaning supplies on hand stowed in a nearby cabinet drawer for emergencies such as these. She handed the bottle of cleaner to Stacy while she herself took up a broom to gather fly away chunks of glass. “I didn’t mean to catch you at a bad time. What happened?”

“Oh, nothing out of the ordinary,” Stacy sighed, spraying down the ceramic tiled floor, cleaning up the last of the mess. “A bottle of lotion leapt off the shelf is all.”

“Really? That’s wonderful!” Lola grasped the broom tightly to her chest in delight, a beaming smile lighting up her eyes as she turned excitedly to the woman still crawling on the ground.

“Well, you don’t have to sound so excited about it,” Stacy informed. “I mean, product isn’t cheap, you know. I’ll be out of business if things keep flying off my shelves only to have them break on my floor.”

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” Lola frantically apologized. “It’s just…I couldn’t ask for more perfect timing. May I record you?”

“Record me? What…?” Stacy watched flabbergasted as Lola rushed to her purse resting on the checkout counter, rummaging deep within the numerous confines before emerging with a portable tape recorder. Lola immediately rushed back over to her former manager, sliding to her knees, shoving the recorder up close to a bewildered Stacy’s face.

“How did the bottle fly off the shelf? Did you hear a noise prior to it falling, or after? Like, maybe a thumping, dragging sound? Was there an ominous presence before it happened? Did you see a shadow figure? Do you believe this was the work of the Hobblin’ Goblin?”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa,” Stacy laughed, rearing back on her haunches, straightening away from Lola’s tape recorder and barrage of strange questions. She couldn’t help but find humor in Lola’s exuberance. “Ease up there, gumshoe. Are you playing detective now, or something?”

“I’m in the middle of an investigation for the creative arts,” Lola declared seriously.

“Sounds important.” Stacy got to her feet, taking with her the wastebasket and cleaning implements, stowing the items behind the main counter, Lola a closely following shadow.

“So, about this incident with the lotion bottle…do you think it was a prank caused by the notoriously reputable Hobblin’ Goblin?” While leaning over the counter, Lola held her tape recorder out to Stacy. “Try to speak slowly and clearly. And enunciate,” she added, demonstrating her instructions in the same manner she wished her friend to speak.

“Why are you asking so many questions about the Hobblin’ Goblin? And why are you using a tape recorder? Do they even make tapes anymore? There is a thing called ‘digital’, you know.”

“First of all Stanley,” Lola began, indicating her tape recorder’s name, “has been with me since the beginning. He was there when I got scared by a bird that one time during an evening stakeout.”

“When did you---?”

“Secondly,” Lola interrupted, “I’m asking these questions because I’m working on a story about the Hobblin’ Goblin. Weird things happen in here all the time, and I wanted to get some of your stories and see if they line up with our local legend and his patterns for hauntings.”

“Well, that makes sense,” Stacy said with a smile. “I’d be glad to talk about the hauntings that happen here. I have plenty of stories to share.”

“Great!” Lola cheered. “Let’s get started with what happened right before I walked in.”

“Oh, that was nothing,” Stacy stated, waving her hand dismissively at the cabinet full of fancy lotions. “That was probably a case in gravity, if I’m honest. The truly weird things come about in the early mornings when I’m trying to get the store ready to open.”

“Tell me about these weird things.” Even with her recorder rolling, Lola still took handwritten notes to capture important details in the moment so as not to miss an idea that could be overlooked when reviewing the tape several hours later.

“For starters, it’s like I’m being watched,” Stacy described. “I can feel eyes on me, observing me, and it’s very unnerving. Sometimes I hear footsteps following behind me, and when I turn around to look, there’s no one there.”

“What kind of footsteps? Is there a limp? Are they heavy set? Quick?”

“More of a gentle shuffling,” Stacy clarified. Lola frowned while marking in her notebook.

“The Hobblin’ Goblin is supposed to walk with a crutch, so his step pattern should be different than ‘normal’ sounding footsteps,” Lola voiced her thought aloud. “Is there anything else out of the ordinary that you can think of? Maybe something that pertains to the goblin himself?”

Stacy thought hard, trying to recall occurrences of the abnormal befalling her boutique. “Sometimes I hear breathing,” she said at last. “And sometimes, things will fly off the shelves. I’ve had the record player cut off on me once or twice as well.”

All of Stacy’s stories sounded more of a casual haunt than specifically that of a trickster, the activity appearing more benign as opposed to mischievous. Lola wanted to stay as open minded and unbiased as possible as she asked her questions to help form her story, but she was honestly hoping for something more lively and extraordinary. “Can you tell me of anything…fun?”

“Fun?” repeated Stacy.

“I mean, has anything…I don’t know…silly…happened in the time you’ve experienced these haunts? The Hobblin’ Goblin is a light hearted trickster, he plays pranks. Do things go missing only to turn up in the most random places? Do the lights flicker as if to say ‘hello’?”

“I had a pen thrown at me,” Stacy shared. “I wouldn’t necessarily call that ‘fun’, but it was the most out of the ordinary incident to have happen to me.”

Lola perked up at hearing the news. “What were you doing when that happened?”

“Actually, I was talking with a customer about the Hobblin’ Goblin a few days ago,” Stacy recalled, the memory of the conversation returning to her mind. “When it happened, I just laughed, figuring he must not have appreciated what it was I had been saying.”

“What did you say?” Lola’s sparkle was back in her eyes as she eagerly listened to what Stacy had to tell.

“I said I thought that he was childish, and that there were a lot more scary things out in the world than an imp who merely liked to play tricks.”

“Oh, Stacy,” Lola admonished, clicking her tongue reprovingly. “That was cruel.”

“How was I being cruel?”

“You said his pranks were childish like it was a bad thing,” Lola pouted. “Goblins are generally mischievous, and you insulted him. I think you might even have gone as far as to hurt his feelings.”

Stacy laughed. “Why am I not surprised that you would defend the Hobblin’ Goblin?” The door chime announced a new arrival walking into the boutique as the friends were sharing a laugh. Stacy looked over Lola’s shoulder to greet the person, smiling friendly as she recognized the mail carrier. “Good morning, Joyce.”

“Good morning, Stacy. Morning, Lola,” the mail woman greeted. “I haven’t seen you in a while, little miss. How’s tricks? Staying out of trouble?”

“I wouldn’t dream of it,” Lola jest. “Hey, Joyce, do you have any stories of being pranked by the Hobblin’ Goblin?” Lola turned her recorder towards the mail woman, prepared to document the newest insights into her subject matter.

“I have no time to deal with pranks,” Joyce stated. “I deliver the mail, and go about my day peacefully. I don’t call upon the Hobblin’ Goblin to play his tricks on me.”

“Meaning, she’s afraid of him,” Stacy snidely commented good humoredly.

“I respect the spirits, Stacy,” Joyce quipped in return with a smile, no malice exchanging between the two friends. “Why are you asking?” she then asked Lola.

“I’m doing research for a story about the goblin, and I wanted him to have some authenticity to his character,” she answered.

“I see. Just be careful where you go poking around,” cautioned Joyce. “You don’t want to inadvertently stir up trouble.”

“Actually, I think she does,” Stacy teased.

“More or less,” Lola agreed. “Thank you for your concern, Joyce. I’ll make sure I’m careful,” she promised.

“You’ve got a good heart, Lola, I’m confident you’ll be safe.” Reaching into her mailbag, she passed a handful of envelopes and a newspaper to Stacy. “You be careful, too.”

“I haven’t done anything wrong,” Stacy defended.

“Yet, but I know you also like to go looking for trouble. Have a nice day, ladies.” With a tip of her hat, and a wink of an eye, Joyce left the boutique.

“I should probably get going, too,” Lola sighed, shutting off her recorder and gathering her belongings. “I was going to see if maybe Mr. Jasons would be interested in sharing some of his stories next. Thanks for letting me bother you.”

“You weren’t bothering me in the slightest,” Stacy assured as she began filing through her mail. “Oh, hey, look at this,” she said, unfolding the newspaper to read. “The old train yard at the Miners Museum made the front page.”

“Neato,” Lola responded automatically, only half listening as she slung her purse over her shoulder, her mind already on her next objective.

“Oh, my God! Someone was attacked!”

“Wait, what?” Stacy’s declaration fully captured Lola’s attention. “What happened?”

Stacy’s eyes furiously scanned the front page, speed reading as much of the information as she could. “The police aren’t sure,” she shared after a breathless pause. “They say a security guard was pushed down while chasing away some kids during the middle of the nightshift rounds. He hit his head on the railway of the old mine train. He has a major concussion and a fractured skull.”

“That’s horrible,” Lola gasped.

“It continues to say that another guard found him in the train yard shortly after he fell. No evidence, however, of the kids, allegedly, playing around the site could be found,” Stacy concluded.

“Poor guy,” Lola sympathized. “Are they sure it was kids mucking about, and that he didn’t just accidently trip?”

“Looks like it,” she validated, continuing to rove the paper. “The second guard states the first guard, the victim, went to go chase away the kids playing by the mineshaft when they saw flashing lights from the security monitors. Here’s a picture of the scene.” Stacy turned the paper around for Lola to see the front page where a photo of the old steam engine and mine were pictured, and with it, just on the outer margins, was the backdrop of the Dead Forest. Lola felt a chill creep down her spine as she looked at the newspaper. Something ominous radiated from the main image, and she squinted critically at the photo, taking the paper to examine the image closer where a shadowed form blending into the tree line, a darker mass of shapes, hovered half-cropped out of frame. The anomaly warranted further investigation, and Lola knew just the person from whom she wanted a second opinion.

“Do you mind if I hang onto this?”

“You can keep it,” Stacy offered. “I don’t read much from the paper anymore.”

“Thanks,” Lola said distantly, her eyes glued on the blurry, pixelated blob. She began to turn and leave when Stacy summoned her back.

“Little witch,” she called. Lola blinked, focusing on Stacy. “Are you planning on flying out of here, or may I have my broom back?”

“Hmm? Oh! My bad,” Lola chuckled, embarrassed. “Sorry about that.” Lola leaned the broomstick she had been holding onto since helping clean up the broken bottle against a cabinet. “I didn’t even realize I’d still been holding it.”

“It’s hard for a witch to hide what comes naturally,” Stacy joked, giving Lola a look that spoke of amusement.

“Thanks for not blowing my cover,” Lola kidded back. “And thanks again for sharing your time and stories with me, I really do appreciate it.”

“Of course. Don’t be a stranger.” The two waved their goodbyes, and Lola stepped out onto the historic cobblestone, once more lost in the picture of her newspaper.

“There’s just something ‘off’ about this picture,” Lola murmured to herself. “I can’t put my finger on it, but I’m hoping Modesta can.” Folding the newspaper back into its original shape, Lola cradled the bundle into the crook of her arm along with her notebook, her coffee in one hand, and set her confident march towards her friend’s shop of Curios and Oddities.

~~~~~~~~~~

#newberry at night #adventure #fantasy #romance #love #magic #witches #ghosts #goblins #ghost stories

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kanene-yaaay-o-retorno · 3 years

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How To Catch a Friend

Kanene’s note: Heyaaa! Well, this is a very late fanfic written due @kieraelieson‘s Make This In Your Only Style Contest. I choose prompt one because it was the one that most inspired me, and I really like the result!

Warnings, fun facts, random things and stuff:

* That is an Alternative Universe with Fairy!Patton, Magic!Logan, Witch!Virgil and Magic!Roman

* This characters do not belongs to me. They all belongs to Thomas Sanders in his series of Sanders Sides.

* Warning for Angst (but only a bit), cursing, fighting, mention of explosions, slightly hurt/comfort and brief shouting. This has about 7.000 words because I got hella inspired due this very good prompt. Kiera, I am looking directly at you XDDD <333. Thankys for the inspiration!

* I didn’t proof read it very well, so I am sorry for any spelling, pontuation and grammar mistakes! Any advice is very very welcome!

* Want to know more about this AU? Here is a post for ya! They’re precious and I will fight for them. Thankys for reading, my lollipops! Stay calm, take a time to yourself, remember to eat today, hug asoft thing, make a wish, drink water and sleep well! Byeioo!~

[~*~]

“I can’t do anything right!” The tiny fairy cried, crumpling forlornly onto the stump.

Logan realized then that the dare to keep walking had not been intended to be possible. He frowned slightly, wondering if it was even possible to comfort the little thing when he was the one to upset him.

“Please don’t cry. I can step back and you can try again to trap me.”

The fairy sniffed, wiping his eyes. “You would do that?”

“Certainly. I’ve tried enough difficult things to know that it sometimes it takes several attempts to get it right.”

“Ohh, okay!” His tiny head nodded thoughtfully, the hair strands bouncing a bit with the movements, which made Logan wonder how the gravity influenced the little being and if he could bring up this discussion in his school.

Definitely not during class, the other kids didn’t like when he talked a lot, especially about things that weren’t in the book and ‘therefore’ - Logan didn’t grasp the logic in this. Books are great, however can’t contain all the knowledge that existed about the subject and most of the time their approach wasn't nearly as interesting as it should be. - weren’t important to say.

Logan couldn’t understand how could exist something that wasn’t worth being said or asked.

“How do gravity work on you?” He blurted out, looking behind, the tip of his tongue out matching with the frown on his face as the boy tried to step on his exact footsteps previously left on the dry dirt.

The fairy hummed, the movements of his wings making him to go slowly up and down, up and down, up and down. Like a seesaw, Logan would point, if he wasn’t so concentrated on the task of retreating and re-doing his previous steps very carefully. A funny image of himself and the fairy playing on the toy would also pop on his mind, perhaps making a giggle bubble on his chest.

The small magical being, in other hand, would think it was more like a leaf swinging back and forth on their branch before falling, the actual image of him and a very small human swinging and holding a branch as they smiled shining among his thoughts for three pieces of time, leading a giggle to escape and shake the tip of his wings. But he quickly tapped his temple a few times, attempting to poke that thought away.

The other fairies said he got attached too much easily.

“I don’t know.” The human seemed flatter his shoulders with a ‘oh’ and the winged being couldn’t help but continue his sentence, hurried “But I know how to sing in bee! Ah, please stop right there!”

The boy did as requested, his left hand running on the spine of his book back and forth, making the other wonder if the letters inside it were bigger than his – comparatively – tiny hands. His gaze fled until it met with the bigger being sparkled eyes. “Do you? Really? Why do I need to stop here?”

“Because it’s the closest where my trap is, kiddo! I’m going to redo the magic really quick. Then I can show you a bit of the dance!!” His tune bathed itself in joy, his hair strands looking as if they were floating in the air with how fast he flicked his wings, coming down to grab a brown pot, a silver liquid gleaming inside it. He stepped on the ground, spilling the potion on ten green leaves before going up, the liquid following him on absurdly thin strings that the magic fairy used to tie on the lower branches from the tree shading their forms, intelligible words coming out his mouth during the whole process.

The strings then spiraled before turning invisible.

“There! You can try to pass again, please, please, please!”

“Thank you,” the boy replied, remembering it was polite to reply with a good word when someone used a good word with you.

But it didn’t work. Again. The one who spent hours and hours preparing the potion - not only the simplest spell, but the simplest magic human trap - felt a painful tug on his stomach. The mean thoughts came back one more time, but he was too much distracted looking at the unfazed silver strings to poke them out.

“A-are you really a human?” He sniffed.

“Yes. I believe I am.”

“I can’t even catch the easier prey in the world!”

The young human noticed the distress on the other, this making an unpleasant feeling scratch his chest. He thought about what he could do to help. Usually talking about things he understood helped him. Yes, he really liked to talk. It felt good and very, very warm. Not hot. Hot made him stink and gave a really disgusting feeling on his skin. Talking was warm, different and good. Especially when people paid attention to him.

He could pay attention to the fairy. He also liked to listen.

“Why wouldn’t it work if I was not a human?”

“Humans are too much curio-ous to feel the magic or run away from it. This was the simplest potion to catch you! I spent an entire day preparing it, the ingredients aren’t hard to find, b-but I get very distracted.”

“Do you want me to come back tomorrow so you can try again?”

The tiny fairy blinked, looking at him with awe. “Would you do that?”

“Yes, of course. That is why I offered.”

“Oh, my stars. You’re the best human ever! Thank you, thank you, thank you, kiddo!!”

However, then he remembered a thing about humans. Humans are liars. They’re always busy, full of things to do and words empty of meaning to share. His bright smile fell a bit.

Well, at least they had the good luck of spending some time together having fun, right? Something deep down which wasn’t prepared to say goodbye grabbed the first excuse which appeared on his mind, didn’t want it to end just yet. “Do you still wanna see the dance?”

“Yes!” His wide eyes followed as the winged creature danced in loops and shaking his body, a soft buzzing filling the wind along with giggling.

“It can tickle.” It’s the explanation after he is done. Logan nods, making notes on the book he is carrying around, the tip of his tongue showing out again. He suddenly stops.

“What does it mean?”

“What?” The other asks, sitting on the pages and discovering with a joyful couple of clicks that his hands are actually bigger than the letters!

“The dance. Mom says that not everything has a meaning, which is weird but I remember seeing on TV that bee’s dance is commonly used to communicate, share localizations and therefore all their dances mean something. What does it say?”

“Oh,” he traced a letter with his finger, feeling the texture and avoiding the taller one gaze, “goodbye.”

“Thank you.” Logan nodded, circling some symbols and adding more symbols above it “Can you move, please? The Sun is beginning to set, I need to go home.” Both were momentarily embraced by the silence as the fairy moved to sit on a near branch, swinging his legs distractedly as a bird sang near, their attention captured by the melody.

The boy was the first to get out of the trance when the song stopped. “I’m going to be back by the same time tomorrow.” He wondered if fairies had clocks, however something on his mind said ‘no’, probably because the small being wasn’t always looking at his pulse and clicked for an entirely different reason. “Two hours before the sunset.” He provided, his chest for some reason scratching again when he didn’t see the excited flutter of the tip of the other’s wings, or the floating hair, just a smile.

“Okay.” Humans were busy, full of things to do, full of important tasks to attend.

They don’t come back.

“I will wait for you.” Patton - but Logan didn’t know this yet (and would him ever?) - answered with the most truthful sentence he could gather.

“Ok.”

Both waved as the distance between them increased, smiling their own small smiles.

The other fairies said he got attached too easily.

[~*~]

“Good afternoon, fairy.”

“You came back.” Patton’s mouth was wide open, the small pot shaking precariously on his hold, his utensil falling and being forgotten beside the rock where he sat. This couldn’t be true. Was it true? Was the damsels of wind and light pranking him with illusions?

Humans didn’t come back.

They didn’t care enough to come back.

But not this human.

“You came back!! You really came back!” Suddenly it was like the Sun had set on his stomach, filling his entire body with warmth and rays and sparkles and energy and warmth, warmth, warmth!

“Clearly. Just as I said I would.” The human’s voice sounded a lot more near now, since Patton bust in his direction, flying around the other in a paint of loops, twirls and giddy giggling that didn’t take long before being accompanied by the taller own huffed giggles. “Is it a bee dance again? What does it say?”

“No! It’s a Patton dance and it means ‘Welcome Back’!!”

“Patton?”

“Yes! That is me!” The tiny fairy landed on his hair, gasping a bit, unaware of his wings messing with some hair strands with their incessant, uncontrollable flapping.

“You’re not a specie.”

“Nope! But I’m as special as one! Just like you’re also the only one of your kind!”

“I’m not the only human that exists.”

“Yup! But you're the only one that thinks, feels and lives just like you.” Patton could feel the human frown in confusion. Clicks filled the air as he tried to think in how to explain his thoughts. “Everyone is... special. The Universe will never be able to make another Patton again, that is why I exist and that is why it’s a Patton Dance!”

“Hm.” Logan didn’t actually understand everything, but his mom told him every opinion is important, even if sometimes you think they’re wrong... or weird. The little magical being was a bit weird. Other people said Logan was also weird, usually when he talks a lot about a lot of things.

The boy decided it was a cozy feeling, being weird with Patton.

“My name is Logan.”

[~*~]

Virgil was not worried.

He was a witch. He studied every single spell put in front of him in the most complete way possible. All the weakness, all the dangers, all the consequences, all the afterwards effects, all the ingredients, the necessary rituals... Everything. His full nickname on the academy used to be Thunderstorm of Stormclouds due his habit of knowing all the details, all the books, as if he devoured every bit of information in front of him. His dorm was often full of sounds and explosions of his incessant attempts of replicating all the magic learned.

That is the why of ‘Thunderstorm’.

But never, ever, any accident happened in the classes he one day attended. Because he was careful. He understood the dangers of magic and its instability. He mastered protection spells and charms and it wasn’t before him to wait for all of his classmates to go to sleep to sneak out of the dorms and shove on a big part of the building a bunch of security magic.

The thought of that, even years later, if the professors searched carefully, they would still find some of his amulets between the walls’ small holes and webs on the ceiling still made a toothless smile cripple on his face.

So, back then, even if people were wary of him most of time, they still felt safe enough around him - and honestly, to Virgil that more than enough - that is why of ‘Stormcloud’.

It wasn’t that Virgil didn’t trust his professors or classmates. He was just prudent.

TOTALLY DIFFERENT FROM THOSE TWO KIDS!

Virgil huffed from the shadow he was sat, camouflaging his form as his gaze traveled to the watch on his pulse, confirming that one hour had already passed and the tiny fairy - Patton, as it seems - didn’t come back looking for any forgotten belongings. His form sunk in the darkness, submerging on every tree’s shadow in a ray of thirty meters to check the strong points on the protection spell he casted there on the last week. The tight knot on his stomach loosening with the acknowledgement that his entomagic triggered in the afternoon didn’t affect it, even if the guilt kept the knot firmly where it was.

The witch didn’t expect such a bigger reaction from them, when he first set the spell. It was something simple, really, only a few groups of spiders, ants and caterpillars appearing from a dull thud around the two unsupervised kids playing with magic and trying to crawl on them. A quick, unharmful and scary enough act to make them flee and hopefully go to get an adult next time they desired to practice their spell abilities.

But Virgil should’ve known how much terrifying an army of insects would be to a fairy, who immediately screamed as the scene before him settled and attached himself onto his friend – Logan, I think? – the fear apparently taking over his body, leading him to half fly and half stumble around the human, confusing and startled him enough to fall and kick in despair to get the most away as possible from the animals.

The adult immediately undid the spell, realizing how spectacularly it failed – like most of the things he tried to do, ha – however, he couldn’t just make the small whimpers and tears from the other’s two disappear in a ‘puff’ as well, his heart being squeezed with the scene of Logan trying to clumsily hug an obviously shaken Patton as him himself tried to stop his trembling limbs. And, even if Virgil deposited in a near, visible rock a small chocolate bar with curative properties and whispered soothing, soft words on the wind and made them fly to the others until they both were calm again, he couldn’t bring himself to go away back to his cottage like any other day.

He quietly accompanied the two as they ate his treat (not after Logan’s analyze and final word that it was safe, of course) and forgot the trap in order to play and have fun a few feet from its original location and then talk about stars and planets, a subject which seemed to interest both parts.

Virgil wasn’t good with social etiquettes, so it took some great days of searching to discover how to apologize in Fairies Language and to find the exact gift he was looking for.

He put the star map and the small pot of cider inside a trunk, visible enough to be seen only for the younglings when they arrived in the same spot they always met.

The witch took a deep breath, shaking his head. No. Nope. His work here was done. He put charms and spells around the place. They would be fine. They would be okay and even better as the adult stopped to put his nose on their business. There was absolutely no reason for him to keep extending it. He would go back to his cottage and to his normal life, just like it was and always had been.

Just like it was supposed to be. It had been fun to remember those times from the academy, when people trusted him and actually got a gleam on their eyes when he entered the place.

But this wasn’t his academy. Virgil had nothing to do with Patton and Logan. He should go.

And that was what he did.

[~*~]

To their and his own credit, it took about one month in its entirety before things came crashing down in an avalanche.

He was quite impressed, when he stopped to think about it. But on the day the events occurred? He was terrified.

And he knew, believe me, Virgil knew very well when the wind got a tad stronger than it usually was, causing the fairy to lose his balance and slightly hit the boy’s hands, not even hard enough to hurt any of them, but enough to cause a distraction and to let an extra drop of Waterfalls Tears – secure, easy to find, easy to lose. Extremely volatile when used together with Aqua Flower’s petals; Used on the Old Era due its beautiful pyrotechnics – on the mix. More specifically, the mix of Dandelions Roars, Rainbow Feathers and Aqua Flowers, that none of them, except for him, would notice the mistake before it was too late.

Before their eyes got wide as the mix started to spark, air full-filling in clicking sounds as the pot heated on the point its own porcelain almost melted, too much scared and distracted by the louds sounds that grew louder, louder, louder to acknowledge the trepidation of quick, desperate footsteps getting closer and closer of them.

Aqua Flowers and Waterfall Tears.

Virgil knew the dangers of magic. He knew that he spent hours planting and sneaking protective spells and amulets as well as charms, the exact ones he was trespassing right now, enough to keep them safe especially to moments like that without his help or interference.

Aqua Flowers and Waterfall Tears.

This is not safe. Run. They need to run.

He knew about explosions and scars and the consequences. He knew about despair, the paralyzing fear taking over their bodies, and yet the witch found himself wishing they would just run, go away, to be safe.

Why was he back?

Aqua Flowers Waterfall Tears.

Not safe. Not safe. They need to run, run,

RUN

They were just kids playing with things that they don’t entirely understand. They had nothing to do with him. They would survive. They would be okay, eventually. Things like that took some time, but they eventually heal. Everyone eventually heals. He has nothing to prove, nothing to owe to them.

Why the fuck was him back?

Patton screamed something he couldn’t understand with his heart beating pulsing on his ears, Logan firmly closed his eyes – so fearful, so wide – and covered his ears, curling on his own form as the sparkles and bolts shouted from the bowl. Virgil got faster, stronger.

He got close enough to involve both with his arms, hugging them close to his chest as his body turned in a dangerous slip, creating a physical barrier between the younglings and the explosion, which hit him more like a hot wave than something actually dangerous. Good. It had worked. He felt trembling forms under his touch, except the witch couldn’t really tell if it was Patton, Logan or his own wobbly hands.

“Shh, shhh. It’s okay. You’re okay.” His gaze, sharp, wary, darted to the ground behind him, looking for any hints of other danger lurking near, signing in relief when found nothing, altered breathing.

Oh stars, he was getting too old for this shit. “The explosion is over. It can’t hurt you anymore. You’re okay, you’re okay, you’re okay.” Only then, after being sure nothing really represented danger anymore, Virgil turned his attention to the kids in his embrace.

He first noticed the boy inside a brown shield, a coat of arms on the necklace hanging on his neck shining brighter or duller as Logan seemed to mumble something to it, small words and nods as he kept his hands firmly pressed on his ears. So the youngling kept an own protective amulet with him? Smart boy.

It was only when the witch stared the fairy glaring at him with gleaming, warm eyes, mouth slightly open that the gears on his mind looked to start functioning again.

‘…the kids on his embrace’

Oh no. No, no, no. He had just jumped on act, taken over by his instincts again and then screwed everything blowing his cover up during the process, hadn’t he?

Fuck.

The realization seemed to just got stronger as Patton open and closed his mouth a bunch of times, the tip of his wings fluttering in a way that probably was terror, leading the fairy to go up and down, up and down in maybe a despair to run away, but too much afraid to actively leave his friend alone with that scary random guy who jumped out a damn shadow and grabbed them out from nowhere.

Well done, Virgil. Well hecking done. Now you terrified those kids out of their mind. They can’t even speak properly anymore. You don’t even know how fairies or kids work! Now look at this, you broke them!

“It’s you!” To the one dressed with the long vestments typical of witches blinked astonished when the first thing to come out from the small being lips wasn’t a scream. Patton only beamed more, his smile increasing as he closed his eyes and concentrated. “It’s really you!!”

“Why did you do that?” Logan, who previously dissolved the magic shield asked, his tune free of discomfort, blank and curious.

“I…”

“Logan, Logan, it’s him!!” and, before any of them could add anything else, Patton continued amidst his clicks “It’s the kind witch!!”

[~*~]

“No.” He said firmly, internally wishing he seemed a whole lot sterner than he sounded.

Virgil was a skilled witch. He knew things enough to be a requested warrior at the beginning of his career, quickly turning on the most feared opponent due his tactics. He was the Stormcloud: fast, wary, unpredictable, soundless, using the environment in his favor with hidden traps and shadows for locomotion. His attacks were restless and never unfair. He was strong, resolute…

And he was NOT going to lose because of Puppy Eyes.

“No,” he repeated, trying to keep his composure when even Logan pouted, “give up, I’m not going to throw Patton in the air, especially just to see how the gravity works on a fairy.”

“But it’s an experiment!” Logan quickly pointed, frustration painting his tune as if Virgil couldn’t understand the importance of this statement. “This is what science is for!” Virgil sensed a small wave of deja vu, feeling like he had already heard this somewhere else.

“He can fall and injure himself and I’m not going to spend my ingredients to make a heal potion when I could avoid the injury in the first place.”

“But, but, but! I’m not going to fall, you're going to catch me. I know it! I trust you!” And then, in a totally unfair move Patton held Virgil’s index finger between his palms, somewhat increasing his pleading eyes, “If something goes wrong, I can fly!! Please, please, kind witch.”

Virgil growled, deviating his eyes to Logan.

“He is correct. This is what science is for. Please.” The boy adjusted his glasses, looking pointedly to him. “Science.”

Virgil growled louder, however extending his hand to the tiny fairy, who excitedly flied around his head a few times before changing his way to hug his left cheek, clicks and fluttering wings materializing his delight while Logan swung back and forth on his feet, fists shaking and a toothy smile painting his expression.

How Virgil was supposed to say no to that joy? The adult internally signed. These kids were going to be the end of his existence.

“Quick, before I change my mind.” He lied to cover his soft spot for them – not that would ever admit it – snorting as Patton quickly shoved himself on his palm and Logan hurriedly ran to get his notebook and pen from the blue, looking slightly old, backpack.

And, as Patton was thrown, his squeals of excitement along with the fast scribbles of Logan’s pen filled the air Virgil allowed a small grin to wander on his face.

[~*~]

“Mom is in the yard today.” Logan announced as he arrived, accepting the sandwich offered for Virgil, looking at its content and giving a happy hum as he found it had onions on it, picking one ring and eating it apart.

“Oh, that is fantastic, Lo!” Patton said, had already finished his snack and now taken a few Colorless Petals from his purse. “Will she stay there today?”

“Yes, I think. She will be waiting for me when I come back.”

“Great! Look, I finally found everything we need! We can start my trap again!”

“Does she like gardening?” Logan hummed in agreement, his eyes fixed on the new ingredients, probably memorizing them to write later. Logan’s mom is still a mystery to Virgil, the most near of a responsible adult in this boy’s life being Remy, a guy who his magic almost danced from his body - leading cold chills to run the witch’s spine - when they first met right after the Aqua and Waterfall accident. The coat of arms Logan used was definitely from him, and by the way Remy’s questions about the accident were precise, it was definitely much more than just an ordinary and simple protection advice.

The witch would be much more defensive and wary on that day if he hadn't previous Magic checked the amulet and found only protection and kind, lovely feelings involving it. Patton, as a fairy, one of the most sensitive magic beings of the world, also seemed to trust the object, so he did his best to not attack or hiss at the stranger (even though both looked to have come to a silent agreement they didn’t like each other) when he showed up other times.

“We could search for some seed flowers to give her later, then. You think she would like it?” Logan nodded, humming contentedly a ballad about flowers and peaches. Virgil turned to Patton’s direction, frowning as he noticed the purse’s content. “Where are the Dandelions Roars? I thought they were the crucial part of the trap.”

Patton froze for a second, his breathing failing, but he quickly forced himself to act naturally, wishing the perceptive human hadn’t got his mood’s drop, “I, uhh, I found a new receipt of a new trap that I think will work better!” He wasn’t lying, “it’s a harder potion, so I will have to practice a bit more, but I’m sure this time I will succeed!”

“Oh, ok.”

[~*~]

The drop of Wind’s Whispers hit the pot and suddenly Virgil’s soul froze. After weeks of frowning and strange twitches on the pit of his stomach, he recognized the potion, no, the summoning they were doing.

“Patton!!” Loud, harsh tune. The fairy froze in the same place.

He knew it. He knew it he knew it knewitknewitknewit.

Virgil discovered everything.

He would try to stop Patton.

The tiny magic being held the porcelain and, in a flash, hid it in one of the thousands branches above them. “Please, please, don’t!” Virgil’s eyes were traveling from tree to tree, trying to find the object, his heart pounding, his head spinning and the fairy had plenty of knowledge of why.

It was risky, much riskier than anything anyone could ever try. But it was worth it. It was so worth it. Virgil would have to understand. “V, please, listen to me.”

“No, Patton!! You lied! You lied to me to do… that!” Virgil attempted to even his breathing, he would have to concentrate if he wanted to end this as quickly as possible. Unfinished potions were extremely hard to localize, but being a forbidden magic made it a tad easier. Patton got closer but he refused to deviate his attention. The adult gritted his teeth. He did not understand. “You’re not stupid, Patton. You KNOW what happened to everyone who tried to do that! You know about the rumors, about the marks and especially WHY this is a forbidden trap! You know all of this and don’t you dare to try to fool me again.”

That sentence hurt. It bruised almost as much as the hurt the witch tried to suppress from his glare. The fairy didn’t know he was clicking until this moment but the desperate sound was almost impossible to ignore now. “No, no, Virgil. I didn’t want to… The fairies, we have a new idea, a new way to make it and now it can work, Virgil! It can work and I can finally do something right and I have-”

“You HAVE? Patton? You have what? Put yourself, put me and Logan in danger just because of a dumb bunch of fairies that don’t even care about who you really are? Is it because of that you were trying to kill us all?”

There was a sound banging on the background. It was banging and pleading for attention but Virgil pushed it away.

“It’s not because of them! I don’t want to catch a star for any of them! I just want to-”

STOOOOOOP!

The sound harshly hit them as a strong wave of magic passed all of Virgil’s protection spells, breaking them as if they were made of glass and shoving the other two on the ground, both attention being deviated from the discussion and captured by Logan. A Logan involved by a thundering, navy waves of magic which fled and hit everything on its way. Virgil felt his voice disappear.

Logan wasn’t a human.

“Lo.” Patton was the first to speak, trying to crawl to his friend’s position even being clued on the ground with the waves’ force. “Lo, dear, please, look at me, okay, kiddo? I am sorry we were screaming. Look at me, look at me.”

SHUUUUUT UUUUP!

“Everything is okay.” The pressure on his body made his voice hoarse, however the witch pushed forward, getting on his knees, arms in front of him in a calming gesture, “we’re okay. You’re okay. I need you to take deep breaths, okay? You can do it, I know you can.”

Logan shook his head, gasping. With the corner of his eye the adult realized the pot floating from the second tree on the left, its content starting to gleam in a strong red color, and sudden dizziness took over his body.

The trap had been activated.

“Of course, you can! You’re so, so strong and brave and really smart and cool. I believe in you, Logan. You can control it.”

The porcelain object slowly floated in Logan’s direction, looking as if it was devouring every bit of magic being thrown at it together with all the remnants of the environment. Virgil got up on his wobbly legs, gathering on his vestments all his attack potions and throwing at it from all the directions, activating on his run his protections charms and directing them to the trap with despair, the feeling only increasing as his efforts were broken by the force without even managing to touch the container.

The color started to grow brighter and brighter, a portal opening above it, consuming more and more of the uncontrollable magic. If Patton was sensing it, he resolved to ignore, using the opportunity to get closer from his friend, his voice in a constant tune, talking and calming, soothing and warm.

But all the three of them couldn’t ignore the moment everything stopped.

The harsh strong waves ceased its explosion and came back to Logan, who laid with a silent thud on Virgil’s arms. The leaves on the tree stilled, soundless, birds were nowhere to be seen, wind frozen midair, Patton’s voice was muted and even their beating hearts were paralyzed during this piece of time. An horrible ringing exploding in their ears.

The light turned white, stealing their breath.

And then everyone and everything was engulfed by it.

…

“Hello?”

Patton was the first to feel his senses come back. His eyelids trembled before opening and he had exactly a second to realize he was laid on Virgil’s coat.

Because on the other tick of the clock, his gaze was captured by the tall, smiling, magic – so, so, so magic. In every atom, every blink, every cosmic dust around him, they all screamed magic, magic, magic! - creature looking down at him. “What a hello, little fairy!”

And then Patton screamed. Because the last minutes of his life were the most horrible, nerve wrecking moments he ever imagined to feel. Because his friends were unconscious. Because he was scared, and more important than everything else…

Because his trap had worked.

“No, no, no, little nebula, calm down, calm down” The being began to move his hands without any idea of what to do with them, “I’m not going to hurt you, okay? AAAH!”

The star screamed because that sinister thing under the fairy moved, launching to a sitting position while it also screamed, and, on his turn, Virgil screamed because he got up to a big shadow hovering above him and moving closer to the fairy, that is also why his arm shooted to be around Patton, his chest vibrating as he hissed to the other being, eyes sharp and yet trying to focus on its human looking like features.

“Don’t you dare to touch him!”

“No, no, Virgil!” Patton finally saw the one who was captured by the trap, - by their trap – absorbing the way colorful dots shined on the other’s skin, how the eyes staring back at him were deep and antique and yet so joyful. He noticed how the hair floated playfully, as if the being had a kind of its own gravity, reminding the winged fairy of himself when he got really excited. Actually, Patton could feel some light brushes on his neck from his hair moving around. “Virgil, Virgil! It worked!! We did it!! We really did it!! We trapped a shooting star!” Then, his voice came out lower, as if he really acknowledged what this truly meant. “Now I can give Logan a wish.”

“A wish?”

“A wish, indeed! It’s a pleasure, the bestest of the pleasure, to finally get to know you earthlings! You’re really so cute, makes me want to squeeze your poor soft materialized face! By the way, everything is so soft and light here! No wonders such little gravity is enough to keep everything down. I bet I could carry your all, no, explode that, I can carry you and all the Earth’s content all together! That sounds fun. What is the most heavy thing you have here? I’m going to lift it. Ah, right, I almost forgot” He lightly hit the side of his head, his words coming out non stop, as if he didn’t need to breathe, what, looking at the situation, was much more likely it, “Star Roman Prince, at your service for one wish and one wish only! Even though I was captured by three of you, my power is too much, well,” he laughed, loud and boisterous, “powerful to interfere more than necessary on the planets. So, choose well, little ones.”

“Are you really a star?” and the young bipedal who had just woken up was so full of reverence that Roman felt the magic dance inside him as a lovely breeze. Yes, that was it! That was exactly it he was imagining, – for ages and ages wandering in space. Able to watch and graze at any planet he could ever imagine and desire, but never visit them without being invited – truly dreamed for the moment when he would finally be caught, no, be claimed for a terraqueous.

He was glad he didn’t need oxygen to survive, because the view would absolutely have his breath taken away. There were so much green and vivid colors and things to touch and life! So, so, so much life and companies and being who he could actually talk to.

Oh, my gracious Universe. Roman could talk with them. He could talk, sing, ramble, explain, complain, discuss and be answered.

It made him kind of want they never wished anything in the first place. This way he could stay more.

“Yes, I,” and then he jumped holding the sing-sang word as he took the form of a fairy in mid air, holding the other’s fairy hand and spinning him a few times – smiling wider as the other squealed excitedly – before turning into the height of the second shortest of the group, conjuring a small vision of a particular cozy Universe’s corner before growing to a perfect replicata of the adult there, booping his face and taking steps away as the taller hissed, finally stopping his melody, “am!”

The tiny fairy clapped happily, flying closer, “I am Patton!”

“A pleasure.”

“Stars are loud.” Logan pointed with his usual blank voice, then hummed, a toothless smile painting his features as he went to get his loyal notebook.

“Well, stars got to shine. ~”

“And we are going to have a conversation. A private conversation.” The second sentence came sharp, cutting any remark the cosmic magic being was about to say. Virgil’s eyes seemed to stare deep into his core before gently shoving the younglings aside.

“A star?” It was the first thing that came out from his mouth, directed especially to Patton, since the other boy seemed occupied taking new notes on his book. “You were trying to catch a shooting star for Logan?”

“He is… my first best friend. Ever. And he loves stars a big lot! And, and, and I thought… I’m not very good or powerful to give him a really great thing like a star, but… If I could catch a shooting star then he could have a wish and ask to see a constellation! Or to have one! Or to visit any planet! I just… wanted to give him something cool.”

“Patton, come here.” The witch extended his palm, carefully ruffling Patton’s hair when he sat there, his voice was soft. “You are a pretty cool guy, okay? Logan thinks that too.”

“Of course I do.” Logan said, yet writing even when a yawn escaped from his lips. Something about how nonchalant and sure he sounded, as if it was silly to doubt about it in the first place made Patton feel like his tiny form was full of Suns, again.

“And I hope you both use your wish wistfully.” The two kids brightened up right away, the fear hidden deep in their minds that the adult would somewhat forbid them to interact with the new person – kind of – dissolving in pure bouncing excitement. “But never ever again you two dare to ever think about trying to do something dangerous like that without warning me first!”

They nodded eagerly, bouncing up and down, making Virgil sign loudly, questioning all his life choices and shaking his hands to dismiss them “Go think about what you two want or whatever, your little demons.”

They didn’t take long before losing themselves in a joyful ramble with each other. Virgil took the opportunity to deviate his attention to the older one, who was trying to coach a very suspicious bird to come closer to him, narrowing his eyes. The guy reminded him those geniuses belonged to those old, with yellowish corners, tales where thousands of humans, monsters and magic beings were disgraced as their wishes were evilly twisted to go against them.

Well, he got closer from the other, who turned to him with a charming smile, this guy was about to have a big storm coming if he thought they would be so easily tricked.

“What.” said Roman.

“You…” Virgil started, warningly.

‘Got it.’ Roman thought, smugly and immediately expanding his brightness to an astonishing level.

“Done!” He announced, happily “Since you requested so eagerly for my company then that shall be!” He ignored the human irritated shout. “Oh, what an honor! That, of course, means I will stay together with you through your whole journey in this human form and therefore be free from my duty until your wish is fully granted! It will certainly be an awesome experience!”

“Awww, you asked for a new friend, V!” Patton didn’t seem sad for losing his chance, smiling wide and patting one of the human’s red cheeks.

“It was an accident!”

Logan made a low small upset sound on the back of his throat. “I desire to know how to properly set and activate the trap… We did it wrong. We messed up the steps and nearly didn’t put all the ingredients as asked, but it still worked, how?” He turned his head to Roman, who lowered his body a little in order to read the step-to-step spell written on the boy’s calligraph, he tsked in disapproval, taking the object and summoning a feather pen, starting to scratch a bunch of lines from the receipt.

“No, no, that is definitely wrong. That is the magic you were trying to use to get a shooting star? Damn, just don’t. You do this and you’ll definitely get a Supernova.” Then he stopped, his mouth slightly open, a lamp popping above his head, gleaming. “Oooh, that explains why Remus was always being claimed. I just thought earthlings didn’t like me.” For lonely and long thousands of years, “heh, silly me. Aaaand, there you go, kid! A brand new magic to get a brilliant Shooting Star as well as, of course, the wish.”

“Do you know a Supernova? Roman, that is so cool!!” Patton gasped.

“Of course I do, he is my brother.”

“The astros can be related? I didn’t expect it to be possible. How?”

Patton’s laughter and Logan’s questions made him smile, not that the witch would ever admit it. Well, maybe... maybe there was nothing more he could do now except keep an eye on them, right? Just because the star- no, Roman, - could turn out being dangerous too, sure. It has nothing to do he got utterly attached to the young ones. No, get off his thoughts, damn!

And, yes, things weren’t fully resolved. They haven’t thought about what to do about Logan’s outburst or how Patton’s managed to get the forbidden trap or to even fully understand what Roman was. However, as questions, answers and warm – that good warmth, which embraces your heart - feelings fled all around them, Virgil felt the anxious knot on stomach to ease a bit, relaxing before the scene of the rays of sunshine dancing with the Damsels of the Wind in between the leaves and trunks from the forest. A calm breeze attempted to carry all the smiles and grand gestures to a faraway land as the reminiscent magic began to disappear, and, along with all of this…

They were okay.

…

The entire ground trembled when Remy suddenly appeared between them, even if his clothes were a mess, hair uneven and face marked by brown drops which could be just dirt on the best scenario his crossed arms sent shivers down almost everyone's spine – Roman’s ‘nice’ fell on deaf ears – and his voice wasn’t boisterous or even loud, but echoed, cutting the thick silence skillfully.

“What the HECK happened here?”

21 notes · View notes

reinacastro · 3 years

Text

Name: Reynalda “Reina” Castro Nicknames: Reina, Rey, Ree Species: Witch || Natural Age: “26” || 923 Gender: Female Orientation: Bisexual Pronouns: She/her Trigger Warnings: death

BIO/SEMI INTRO:

Light and Dark. Good and Evil. Wrong and Right. This used to be Reynalda’s struggle.

And still is-though the witch will not admit it.

Reina has been around for several years and she plans on being around for several more. She does what she needs to in order to preserve her life and good looks of course. But it wasn’t always easy for her to choose the light path. Until the choice was pretty much taken from her.

When Reina was very young, she grew very close with her father, Lorenzo, and thought the world of him. He taught her how to be patient, kind, and hold her head high no matter who spoke down to her or claimed they knew better. He was her rock.

Her mother Alma on the other hand, was a complete and a wicked bitch. Alma only cared for Reina to look pretty, have a body that could have all male and females beg on their knees for her attention, and to remember spells that only brought them good fortune-no matter who else had to pay the price. Alma paid Reina no attention until she came of age and her powers grew stronger. It was only then that Reinas mother had stopped waisting her time at bars and sleeping with other men; her mother has ruined more marriages and has broken many bridges that Reina is still trying to mend them to this day. Why Reynalda’s father stayed with her mother, Reina still wonders.

Her mother finally pushed Reina to her breaking point though. She wanted Reina to use spells and lean towards the darker path that was said to hold stronger powers over all creatures on this earth. Except, Reina had grown to love the light magic works and was very good at what she did. But, that choice-the choice of finding out what pleasures the “other” side could bring was taken from her when her mother finally forced her hand....

Many years ago:

“Choose now child. Choose if there shall be a death tonight.” Her mother stood before her in the woods outside their home. Stood with a knife on her fathers neck and his hands tied behind his back. Alma had wanted Reina to cast a blood spell that would finally draw her closer to the sorcerer side and shut the door on the light. Shut the door that her father had done so much to keep open to Reina and promised the world to her.

But Alma would have none of that.

“I won’t mother. Y-you can’t make me.” Reynalda struggled to keep her words steady and if it weren’t for the calm look she saw in her dads eyes, Reina would have lost it.

“Oh can’t I?” Her mother pressed the knife hard against her fathers neck and drew a deep line to keep a steady streak of blood spilling-but not enough for him to bleed out.

Reina swallowed hard but didn’t pull her deep chocolate eyes from her fathers. She knew him too well; she could read him by looking into his eyes-just as he could read her with a single look.

Don’t let her take your light away Reina. Not even for me.

Her fathers words passed through her and she felt the tears in her eyes finally begin to spill.

Please dad, do something! The girl pleaded with her eyes. But her father had simply shook his eyes at her. So much Reina had wanted to ask her father. So much she was dying to learn still. So much and many years her father was supposed to have alongside her. And now...it would be taken away.

“Do it.” Reina finally told her mother, looking at her father now and sending the last words he deserved to hear out loud and through his mind. “I love you father.”

I love you too mija.

“You think I won’t do it?” But Reina didn’t have a chance to open her mouth as her mother slit her fathers throat in a single motion. And there her father fell before her-his eyes closed and his face in peace.

Reynalda was never quite the same after that. Yes the woman was cheerful and was always smiling and having a good time. Pretending to be a “tough girl” with thick skin at first because that was required when you lived in a city like this one. Only those she really knew would get honest smiles and warmth from Reina. But, during the late hours of the night, when the moon was high in the sky or pure darkness surrounded the forest, Reina would find herself longing for silence and using her magic to cast a spell around her to let all the unwanted air out and contained herself in an air bubble; she wished to hear no noise, no chaos, no screams and no death threats that were a constant in Calamity.

She only simply wished to be with her father once more.

But her work was not done here. No. The woman was doing her best to teach those other witches the way of the light and the fun it could also bring. She wanted to get rid of the evil and unjust creatures that wandered this earth. And if not get rid of them completely, then to make them think twice about harming those who could not defend themselves.

Reina isn’t perfect though. There are times when she wishes to take the easier and “less restricted” path that calls witches to the darker side and she IS tempted. But, she always finds one reason or another to remind herself of her fathers sacrifice: the sacrifice that let her keep her choice of being on one or the other side-a choice that would have been taken away if she had bent to her mother’s demand and her father hadn’t allowed himself to be killed by her mother’s hands.

HEADCANONS:

Break Reina’s trust once and you loose it forever. If one wants to gain back her trust, they must start from zero and go above and beyond to give Reynalda more than one reason to help them.

Reina has a strong connection with the four elements: fire, water, earth, and wind. She studies daily as well as practiced wherever she is at. She will help any who want to learn magic or who struggles with staying on the “light” path. Has she been tempted by the seductive whispers from the darker magic available to her? Of course. But, Reina continues to find a reason to stay on the Natural path.

Reina will always, always help those who need help. There are times when different species cross her path needing help and Reina can’t help herself-she helps them. She strongly believes that if they deserve to die, then they will. But Reina will not have any part in causing their deaths or leaving them to die.

Reina is not at all boring. She loves to have fun and a good time. While she is “innocent” towards the side of magic, any other actions don’t always fall in that area. The trick is to enjoy Reinas company regardless if her smile is true; only those she trusts and believes in will hear her true laughter and see the difference in the warmth her smile can bring to the room.

PHYSICAL ASPECTS

Hair: black/dark brown

Eyes: dark brown

Skin: olive

Piercings: TBD

Tattoos/Scars: TBD

TRAITS

Positive: independent & talented

Negative: unyielding & bossy

RANDOM

Talents: dancer, potion maker, (still adding)

Favorite Weapon: Powers & guns

Likes: (still adding)

Smokes: Yes

Drinks: Yes

Drugs: Yes

#Bio #Bio1

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malaks-perch · 4 years

Text

lock the door

portia x reader

asra should not have left you to clean the shop, especially if he knew portia was swinging by

warnings: fluff, a little steam— wait no, considerable amounts of steam, not a sauna; some crack in there

a/n: i really don't know what happened here, i had fun though and yes i was fully sober for all of it

it was a nice day outside, not that you would know.. it was your turn to go through inventory. you bribed asra with being the one to clean out the shop so that you would be the one to go off on an adventure instead of being left behind.

asra so teasingly flaunted how you practically begged him to be the one to leave the shop and he’d be lying if he said that he didn’t feel guilty when he saw how you visibly deflated.

he patted your head and promised to bring you back something like he always did. but right now? you didn’t want a present. you wanted this broken jar of pickled sage to clean itself up.

asra didn’t even use pickled sage. you set yellow vials stained by the sage atop the counter as you cursed whoever thought up the idea to pickle herbs. you were too busy cleaning up off the slimey substance from your hands to remember that you had indeed left the door to the shop unlocked.

you heard the door opening as you disposed of the glass. “we’re closed!” you called into the shop only to hear a familiar giggle.

“you’re supposed to the friendlier of the magicians.” porta called to you. “what’s with the mess?”

on her days off, portia would always come around the shop. learning what she could from asra and he would leave you to tutor her so you both could have a little practice. sometimes she would drag julian along and he would often watch and take note of the ingredients while asra would sometimes craft new spells. to have her hear would make things go easier.

“not even magicians like to clean their rooms,” you half grumbled making the bubbly devorak laugh.

“what are these little bubbly vials for?” she asked, as you picked up a few bins to bring to the front so you could sort everything by it’s colors.

“asra and i were trying to bring in a few more customers by making little treats. you can try one. let me know what they taste like.”

there was a beat of silence before portia let out a small burp and giggled, “it tastes kind of like a lemon cake. i didn’t know a drink could be so foamy.”

“foamy?” you said to yourself. you and asra didn’t make lemon-

a crash interrupted your thoughts and you were racing out the back to see one of the yellow vials empty on the floor. there was no sign of portia. you went to pick of the vial when you spotted a hand and you followed it to find portia unconscious behind the counter.

“i fucking killed her.” you braced your hands on the sides of your head. asra hadn’t been gone for a day and you were already screwing everything up. you hoped asra liked sailing because there was no telling how vesuvia would react to manslaughter through magic. “oh my gosh, she fuckin’ dead.”

your thoughts were interrupted by portia’s body taking on a golden glow when portia’s hair shifted in the slightest. you knelt down by her, pushing her hair aside when brown pushed up against your hand. you jolted up, throwing yourself at the cluttered counter. pushing the sample treat bottles aside to grab the unmarked yellow ones. you uncapped one and held your nose over it.

it didn’t smell like any regular potion. this must have been one of asra’s forgotten side projects from a long time ago. the date was expired on it, so if a few ingredients had perished, it meant the rest must have mixed to make something completely different. before you could investigate any further you were distracted by a groan.

your head whipped over to portia as she called out to you and your heart dropped into your chest. she wasn’t dead, but what the hell would julian think if he saw portia like this? oh. stars. what would nadia think?

portia’s antlers had grown that so wide that they blocked any way around her. you leaned down, in an effort not to startle her.

“okay. now, portia-”

“what’s wrong?” she was wide eyed, lifting her head and an antler getting caught on a shelf beside her. upon seeing it portia screamed.

“portia, calm down! it’s okay-”

“it’s not okay! this isn’t okay-” she shook her head. an antler hitting the counter making a pink vial come crashing down on portia’s hand. the pink worked instantly, fur growing on her hand and she shrieked even louder.

what the hell did asra have in those old vials?

“portia, if you keep swinging your antlers someone could get hurt-” you were cut short when portia swung her head around a jar from the shelf on your right came hurdling into your face. the jar breaking upon making contact with your face.

you hissed, falling back as the feeling of the potion in your eyes. a scream ripped from your mouth, it felt as if someone had poured salt into your eyes. portia was screaming with you the entire time and when you finally realized it hurt no longer. you pulled your hands away from your face to find that your hands were normal. nothing unusual there.

you looked up at portia and smiled only for her to lift a finger, whimpers coming from her mouth. “don’t scream, okay? don’t scream. portia.” you warned, lifting your hands up when you caught sight of your reflection in the class counter beside you.

green feline eyes had taken the place of your eyes, but your newly transformed eyes dropped to your teeth that resembled those of a leopard.

you were screaming now, turning to portia who was violently shaking her head making potions fall and tumble.

it was a little while later that you both calmed down and portia was sitting on the opposite side of the counter while you swept up the broken glass from your panicking.

“i’m really sorry.” portia motioned to the jars while she let her fingers trail over a few of the bizzare vials that shouldn’t have been too hazardous.

“no, no. it’s my fault. i shouldn’t have put those yellow vials so close to the samples.” you waved her off as you threw away the broken glass. “i didn’t think that asra had so many unfinished projects he’d left around. i was careless.”

portia nodded to herself, a mischevous smile crawling up her face when she picked up a green vial. “you think we’ll get in trouble with asra?” rubbing the underside of her paw against her face.

“probably not. he’s probably forgot about all these potions.” you told her, as you set the broom aside to get back to organizing. “he’ll probably never leave me to do inventory again.”

portia motioned to a box of vials and jars marked expired. “do you want to find out what those do?”

you couldn’t help, but laugh at portia’s resilience. both of you were screaming your heads off moments ago and here she was wanting to have another go at the randomness of potions.

you shook your head, motioning to the box on the floor.

“it’s probably dangerous to be playing with these things.”

upon lifting the box a red vial slipped out of woven box and spill at your feet. purple fog engulfed you as the box slipped from your hands. when it disappeared you found your skin was freckled with red spots.

you shook your head, groaning at the sight of your different skin tone. portia laughed and helped you pick up the box only for portia to slip on the forgotten red vial and go falling beneath you. she yanked at your tunic and a lavender bottle went flying.

your eyes went wide. lavender bottles were important bottles. only important or significant spells and potions were marked down with that lavender color. you were hopping over the counter and diving for the bottle.

portia gasped upon seeing you slam into the bookshelf on the far wall, but when you caught the potion she cheered. you smiled at her, celebrating far too soon because the big book of spells that asra always balanced on the top shelf came slamming down on your hand and the lavender bottle broke in hand. covering you in it’s contents.

your skin began to tingle and you shoved the book off of you to find that you were not covered in scales or fur, but in the sweetest aroma that smelled of strawberries. you coughed at the overwhelming amount and found portia hurdling towards you.

you caught her and spun the redhead so she lay beneath you. more books came tumbling down, but you were focused not on the dictionary that had smacked you on the back of the head but the languid kisses being pressed up your neck.

“h-hey, porita.”

she smiled against your neck and wrapped her legs around your hips to pull you directly on top of her. “hey, my beautiful partner.”

“y-you.. you know what a-asra says... not in the s-shop?” you stammered out when she raked a hand through your hair.

her lips were at your ear, portia eagerly tightening her grip on you and shifting her hips to bring you impossibly closer to her. “asra’s not here, love.”

then it clicked. that potion in particular hadn’t been expired. it needed to be disposed of because it was a love potion. asra refused to sell those and this must have been some of the last that he didn’t get rid of. for those who had already established an insatiable connection, the deeper it’s more.. lewd effects would have on the user.

lewd indeed by the way portia was pressing kisses to your neck.

you pressed a feverish kiss to her lips, silently apologizing to portia as you deepened the kiss. she moaned and when her hold loosened, you bolted.

you grabbed the woven box of potions as you slid rather ungracefully towards the stairs. tripping as portia moaned your name. you were about to slam the bathroom door shut when it was shoved open. vials went flying around you when you fell back into the huge tub.

you scrambled to hold yourself up as portia approached you, “you thought you were going to leave me to take care of myself?” portia hummed as she leaned over the tub, walking so she was between your legs that were high in the air. “not today.”

something broke beneath portia’s foot. you weren’t sure if you were disappointed when the pink haze in portia’s eyes seemed to dissipate, but you knew that the smell that came after was absolutely disgusting.

rotten eggs filled your nose and you scrambled to block out the smell. portia stepped back and another sound of something breaking took the air.

the other smelled of flowers and when it came together. it was less intense, but still so very intoxicating. you let your hands fall from your mouth and you grinned, “now this something i can get behind.”

the intoxicating scent drowned out every thought in your brain before you met eyes with portia who gave you a lazy smile and pointed at you, "i love you, bisshh. i ain't never gonna stop lovin' you, bisshhhh."

you could only smile like a lovestruck fool completely forgetting that portia would tell you.. not those exact words, but exclaim her love every day.

but you, oh you... opened your arms out to welcome her into them and in doing so, freed your upper body from the tub and in turn made your head slam on it's bottom.

portia slurred giggles, nearly falling in the tub upon trying to brace her swaying steps.

"portiaa!" you cried out so loudly that it vibrated the tub. "i hit my head!"

portia laughed again, leaning further into the tub, taking note of your twisted up face. "so? are ya any smarter now?"

"portia, you stoopid." you groaned whacking her in the forehead making her gasp and hold her head. "i'm gonna die! i hit my head."

portia, who was also completely high off whatever fumes were in that bottle, dropped to her knees sobbing.

you rolled your eyes and sat up in the tub, dizzy from hitting your head, shaking the redhead. "i have twenty four hours, dummy. like the stories."

you don't exactly know what stories associated hitting your head with dying in twenty four hours, but boy did you look convinced.

your matter of fact tone made portia nod, her antlers hitting your square in the forehead and sent you flying back in the tub.

"i'm gonna fucking combust if you keep hitting me, portia!" you hissed at her making the redhead put her hands over her mouth.

"you. are. so magical." she grabbed your face, "so beautiful."

she stared at you with wide eyes and slammed her lips to yours. it was.. it was sloppy. kinda hot though. portia stuck her tongue in your mouth and she climbed over you in the tub while you held her hips.

you sat up so fast that you made portia land on her back, sitting at the lip of the tub.

"portia. i got an idea." you looked down at her and then reached over the side of the tub. portia gasped when you pulled up two vials and she leaned forward staring at your hands.

"where did you get those?"

"i don't know." you swallowed, but you met her eyes and handed her a vial. "but these. this should make us birds."

portia shook her head, "but then we die faster."

you shook your head, sitting on your knees in the tub and uncapping your bottle. "if we drink this, we can fly away from death."

there was a beat of silence before portia nodded, enlightenment washing over her. "that makes sense. it can't find us if we're birds."

"exactly and because the feathers will cover our bodies." you told her.

you were tipping back the vial and portia's slipped from her paw and slid down the tub and behind you.

the fog clouding your mind cleared and it was then you saw portia's hair sticking all over her forehead and she was reaching for your pants.

"whoa! portia, what are you—" she grabbed the vial underneath you and tried clawing off the top when you reached for it. "portia, no!"

"we're gonna die! we need to be birds! the feather—" the words came rushed from her mouth, but you understood every word of it and then.. none of it at the same time.

"what the— what are you talking about? you're not gonna die!" you hissed, tugging portia's hair so you could see her eyes. her pupils were dilated and there was almost no trace of her blue irises. the vial went flying out of the tub and you spotted a ton of them strewn on the floor.

before you could react, portia was leaping out of the tub for them. you went to follow her, but she grabbed a vial and uncapped it with her mouth, tipping back a bottle while you slipped out the tub and landed on three.

as portia was sobering up, your skin changed yet again so one side was a vibrant red and the other was a very dark blue.

portia reached over, cupping your face as her brows had drawn up. "oh my stars, are you okay, y/n-"

you burped and flames exuded from your mouth. you and portia stared at each other as ash came down around you both. portia grabbed up another potion, "one of these should take that away, right?"

portia opened another one and dumped it in your mouth as a new flame started up.

the heat in your mouth seemed to stop and you nodded at portia who sighed. before she could sit back, you grabbed her arms.

"check before you sit."

she turned her head, knocking your face to the side with her antlers when she brushed open a spot for her to sit while you carefully picked yourself up off of the broken glass. you were thankful that you'd worn especially thick pants today.

portia sighed, staring at your bicolored skin and weird eyes. she laughed, cupping your face. "i wonder what asra would think if he saw you."

you shook your head, leaning into her touch. "i don't even want to think about asra right now."

"well he can undo everything once he gets back, right?"

the sound of the front door closing downstairs made you sigh. "i forgot to lock the door."

you hurried up, rushing down the stairs with portia on your heels. "how long have we been up here—"

portia was stuck at the stairs, but you hadn't stopped. you were already at the bottom when you spotted julian. you smiled, feeling better knowing that it wasn't some stranger.

julian spotted you and his eyes went wide from where he was looking down at the mess behind the counter.

"monster!"

whatever you were trying to say couldn't be heard over julian's shrieking. he grabbed a broom and raced towards you.

yup, you guessed it. you slipped and fell, successfully breaking a stray vial on the floor.

"hair! hair! julian, look at my hair! it's me!" you squeezed your eyes shut and held your hands out.

he stopped, but before you could say anything to him. you noticed yellow spots coming up on your skin. julian held up his coat lapel as he backed away from you. you stood up, trying to calm him.

"you're sick, love." he told you, tripping over himself as he hurriedly scrambled for the door.

he full on shrieked when you wrapped your arms around him. you couldn't say seeing julian freaked out like this wasn't funny. because it definitely was.

but your fun had come to an end when you saw portia standing at the bottom of the stairs with her arms crossed.

you grinned, but the door opened yet again. stepping through was a white head of hair, his eyes scanning over portia's antlers and paw. then you with your different colored skin and feline eyes as you held a very uncomfortable julian.

asra said nothing. only letting out a sigh and shutting the door behind him.

"that went well." portia smiled.

you shook your head, "we need him to help us get rid of all this."

portia was ushering julian out to catch the magician. after the door shut, portia giggled nuzzling into your side when you shook your head and ran a hand down your face.

"i really should have locked the door."

29 notes · View notes

cupcakezys · 4 years

Note

Geraskier, Kissing Prompt #5😉

@aeonthedimensionalgirl thank you for this! Sorry it took me a bit, life hasn't really given me a lot of opportunity to write. :( But this was super fun! I loved the prompt (angry kisses yessss) and I thought it was a great way to write my first Witcher fic. I hope you enjoy!

From this ask game.

It’s also on AO3 if you prefer to read there. :)

5 - Angry Kiss.

Jaskier wasn’t sure what beast it was Geralt had been sentto face this time. He’d been passing through a random, tiny village on his way northwhen he heard someone whisper about the White Wolf. He’d immediately stoppedand turned, interest peaked. He hadn’t seen Geralt for some months now, and hewould have been lying if he’d said he wasn’t curious as to what his old friendhad been up to.

He hadn’t been surprised when the villagers had told him Geralthad agreed to help them get rid of a monster that had been attacking them.

He’d been getting details, trying to figure out where Geralthad gone, when an old man had interrupted them.

“It doesn’t matter where he went bard.” He had said. “He’sdead, same as all the others that have gone after the beast.”

Jaskier had scoffed. They didn’t know his Geralt. He was awitcher, after all, and defeating monsters was kind of his whole thing. He wasfine.

Then the old man had chuckled. “He’s been ripped to piecesbard, just like the last three witchers we sent after it.”

Jaskier had tensed, the edge of worry biting at his heart. Hehadn’t known they’d hired other witchers before. That those witchers hadfailed.

“You’re just going to get yourself killed alongside himbard.” The old man warned, even as he pointed Jaskier in the right direction.

Jaskier had ignored him. He didn’t know Geralt. He wasstronger than anyone Jaskier had ever met, and he couldn’t imagine anythingtaking him down.

Not that that had stopped him from rushing to the last placethe villagers had seen Geralt.

Now Jaskier was wondering around the forest, half out of hismind with worry and trying to pretend he wasn’t. Geralt wasn’t supposed to be far– the beast lived in a cave close to the village, and it only left on thenights it chose to attack. Jaskier found it easily – and with it he found boththe monster and Geralt lying, unmoving, in the clearing just outside the cavesentrance.

“Oh shit.” Jaskier breathed. “Oh fuck.”

He ran towards Geralt, not sparing the monster a secondglance. Geralt’s silver sword was thrust deep into its neck – it was dead. Hiseyes were on Geralt and Geralt only. The witcher was lying on his front, facedaway from Jaskier, and Jaskier couldn’t see him breathing.

He was by Geralt’s side in an instant, not even sure how hegot there, shoving the man in an attempt to roll him over. When he finallymanaged to get him on his back he couldn’t hold back a gasp. Geralt wasbreathing, but just barely, and three ragged claw marks ran from his rightshoulder all the way down to the opposite hip. It was bleeding sluggishly, andjudging by the pile growing on the forest floor, it had been for a while.

“Shit.” Jaskier said again, shaking Geralt slightly. “Geralt.Geralt! Come on, wake up!”

The witcher didn’t move, didn’t even groan, and Jaskierfought to swallow back his fear.

His eyes widened.

Swallow.

“Okay.” He jerked upright, reluctant to leave Geralt butknowing he had to. “Don’t you dare die on me Geralt.”

He turned and ran, desperately peering through the trees ashe went. He knew it wouldn’t be far – Geralt never set up camp far from wherehe battled his contracts.

“Roach!” He yelled when he finally caught sight of the camp.“Roach where are you?”

He heard the horse shuffling about at the edge of the camp, happilymunching on some grass, and could have cried. He ran to her, ignoring her greetingnudges in favour of rummaging in her saddle bag. It took him a minute – toolong, far too long – to find it, and when he did he ran immediately backto Geralt’s side.

“Geralt!” He yelled, getting no answer, though he didn’texpect one.

Geralt was lying exactly where he had been before, stillhardly breathing and bleeding out. Jaskier fell to his knees beside him. Hishands shook as he wrestled with the bottle’s cap, and for a heart stoppingmoment he feared he would spill the sallow all over the forest floor. He grithis teeth and managed to pull himself together enough to pour the healingpotion down Geralt’s throat.

Jaskier sat back on his heels, watching Geralt’s chestintently.

“Come on.” He muttered, again and again, waiting forsomething, anything to change.

When Geralt’s breathing eased into something less like awhisper, and Jaskier could see the blood slowly stop weeping from his wounds,he knew he had to act. He pushed himself back to his feet, determined to findRoach and get Geralt back to the village so the stupid man could heal somewherethat wasn’t the forest floor. It was the least he could do, after everythingGeralt had done for him.

///

The inn owner allowed them to stay free of charge, providingthem with everything they needed for Geralt to heal. They said it was paymentfor what he had done for them, and Jaskier agreed, though to him they owedGeralt much more. He’d saved the lives of everyone in the village and almostlost his own in the process – providing him with a place to heal was the veryleast they could do.

They should be singing Geralt’s praises and lining up togive him gifts of gratitude, in Jaskier’s humble opinion, but no one ever askedhim. Not that it really mattered. Jaskier sung Geralt’s praises any chance hegot, and Geralt didn’t much care for gifts. Not unless they were for Roach, theselfless bastard.

“Jaskier.” Geralt ground out, in the very early hours oftheir second day in the inn, startling Jaskier out of the doze he had falleninto. “Where’s Roach?”

Selfless bastard. Of course the first thing out of his mouthafter almost dying and spending days unconscious would be concern for his horse.

“She’s in the stables, probably being treated better than weare. The children love her.” Jaskier crossed his arms over his chest. “Notgoing to ask why I’m here? Or how you got into this nice, lovely bed instead ofdying out on the hard forest floor?”

Geralt groaned and rolled away from him to face the wall.“Hmm.”

“I’ll tell you.” Jaskier said. “I was wandering my way north,spreading my songs to those unfortunate few that have yet to hear me, when Iheard rumours of a witcher passing through the nearby town. And lo and behold,when I get here, I’m told the White Wolf has gone to face a monster that hadkilled anyone else that tried to kill it.”

“It was just a contract.” Geralt said gruffly.

Jaskier spluttered, disbelieving. “Just a- three witchersdied trying to kill that thing! You almost died!”

Geralt didn’t seem to care. Which, knowing Geralt, he didn’tcare about himself, but knowing that didn’t make Jaskier any less angry atthe man. He cared about him, damn it. And while he didn’t normally have to worry,knowing Geralt had faced a monster that had bested other witchers was enough toset him just a tiny bit on edge.

And maybe just a little out of his mind with worry.

“Damn it Geralt!” He said, standing up and glaring down atthe man.

“What?” Geralt grunted, forcing himself upright.

“What is wrong with you?” He yelled. “You almost died- youwould have died if I hadn’t found you! And you don’t even care!”

Geralt stared at him, calm, and it made Jaskier’s bloodboil. “I’m a witcher Jaskier. Fighting is what I do. Dying is always apossibility.”

Jaskier grit his teeth. “I know that! But you could still carefor yourself, at least a little!”

Geralt said nothing, and Jaskier felt his temper snap. Helaunched forward and grabbed Geralt’s tunic, though he was still mindful of hisinjuries. He intended to drag him forward and yell at his stupid, pretty face untilhe actually started to care about himself at least a little bit.

He managed the first half. He pulled Geralt forward, untilthey were nose to nose, but then Jaskier got distracted by the gold of Geralt’seyes, and then the white of his hair, messy and loose without it’s tie, andthen his lips, as kissable as they’d been the very first time they’d met, and suddenlythat was all Jaskier could think about.

And then he was kissing Geralt.

It wasn’t the type of kiss Jaskier normally gave, filledwith passion and desire. There was some of that, certainly. But it was almostentirely lost underneath the anger Jaskier could still feel bubbling in hisgut, the anger borne from worry and fear and maybe, possibly, a little bit oflove.

Geralt was frozen underneath him for a moment before he startedkissing him back fiercely, with none of the anger and all of the passionJaskier had imagined they would share when they finally kissed. It made himangrier, impossibly, and he pulled away with a growl.

“Stop almost dying.” He said, no, commanded, no room forargument.

Geralt swallowed, sighed, and shook his head. “I can’t.”

And Jaskier felt like crying, because he knew. He knewGeralt could never turn his back on someone that needed him, no matter howdangerous it may be. It wasn’t who he was.

And so their second kiss was only a little lessangry, but by their seventh Jaskier thought maybe he could forgive his selfless,idiotic witcher.

If you wish to support me, please consider donating to my PayPal.

#caketalks #the witcher #geraskier #my writing #cakeswriting

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fantastic-fantasy-fanfics · 4 years

Text

HALF CRAZY FOR YOU (Part sixteen (finale)- untied again, divided no more)

Series Summary: Jefferson had lost his wife years ago. But, when some mysterious evidence of her survival appears, he must find her.

A/N: Second to last chapter guys! Only one more to go!

Jefferson x Rapunzel (OC)

Word count: 950-ish

Summary: The fate of Rapunzel after the deal is revealed.

Warnings: insanity, Rumpelstiltskin being a dick.

PART 15

(GIF not mine)

[Third person POV]

Jefferson ran as quickly as his feet could carry him with Emma not too far behind him. Grace had gone home, knowing that this situation could potentially be dangerous. Desperation, fear, anger, and hope battled each other in Jefferson’s heart as he ran. His beloved and precious Rapunzel could possibly be alive, but there was a heavy chance that Jefferson got his hopes up for nothing.

Jefferson rushed through the front door, silently shutting it behind him as Emma snuck in through the back entrance so Gold wouldn't have any escape routes. Gold was standing at his desk in the back room of the shop, working on what looked like some magic elixir.

Emma drew her gun and slowly approached the doorway to the room he was in while Jefferson snuck up to the curtain that acted as a wall in between the back room and the main counter.

"I wouldn't do that if I were you, dearie," Mr. Gold warned the gun-wielding sheriff. Emma was a little bit startled. He knew they were coming. She cautiously stepped into the back room, giving Jefferson a look that whispered ‘be careful'.

"You can come out now Jefferson," Gold was surprisingly calm and confident, considering Emma, the person with a functioning handgun, was absolutely furious with him. "She's not here, Jefferson," Gold said matter-of-factly.

A bubble of rage surfaced within Jefferson's chest, but he kept his cool. Even though Jefferson was panicking internally, a brilliant idea popped into Jefferson's head. "But you know where she is…" he sang calmly pacing around the room and studying the many antiques as if he was at an art gallery, "and I would appreciate it if you'd let me in on your secret,". Jefferson was acting crazy! Well… he was the Mad Hatter after all.

A light, sarcastic chuckle erupted from Mr. Gold, "oh, I'm sure you would," he laughed, "but I'm not going to tell you anything,".

Jefferson looked over Mr. Gold's shoulder at the spell book he was reading, nodding in approval. "I see… well, that's a shame because you give me no choice but to-" Jefferson took the bowl full of the potion and splashed it into Mr. Gold's face.

A cringe-worthy sizzling noise echoed in Jefferson and Emma's ears as the strange liquid made contact with Mr. Gold's flesh. A scream of pain left the old man’s lungs as he used his powers to hurl Jefferson into the bookshelf that was located directly behind him.

Emma took action and aimed her gun at Gold, but Gold acted quickly, using his powers to knock the gun across the floor and slam Emma down onto the desk, breaking it in half. Jefferson lunged towards Gold, knocking him to the floor. Before Jefferson could do anything else, Gold grabbed his cane and jabbed Jefferson in the stomach, making him fall to his knees in pain.

A large cut formed on Emma's forehead along with many bruises. She rushed over Gold who was back on his feet, but Gold dodged her and kicked her through the curtain. A loud clanging thud sounded from where Emma landed. She had crashed into the glass display case and knocked a few things over.

Jefferson swiped Mr. Gold’s feet from under him, causing Gold to fall flat on his face. Emma rushed back in and grabbed the lapels of Gold’s suit jacket, slamming him against the wall. She violently pinned him up against the wall. Emma landed one solid punch to Mr. Gold's jaw and he was out cold.

The sheriff helped Jefferson get up off the floor and onto his feet, "I'll get the whole department over here to see if there's any sign of your wife or where she is," Emma smiled, "I promise, Jefferson, we'll find out what happened to her,".

Weeks had passed and all that the police could find were stolen items, broken pieces of furniture, and random pieces of so-called ‘evidence' that lead to nothing but dead ends. Gold was currently being held in custody until he spilled the information needed to find Jefferson's wife. Jefferson had been called many times about his wife and where they thought she was based on the ‘evidence' found in Mr. Gold's shop. But, after so many urgent phone calls and so many false alarms, Jefferson lost all hope that he would once again be reunited with Rapunzel.

Grace, on the other hand, was still determined to find the mother she never knew. She always told her father to answer the urgent phone calls and encouraged him to attend the many fruitless searches the police went on.

Grace was working on her math homework one night when the phone started ringing. It rang loudly for a good thirty seconds, but Jefferson didn't answer. A few minutes later, the same number called once again, Jefferson still didn't answer. After the number called a third time, and since her father was refusing to answer the phone, Grace decided she would answer it herself. The call must've been important if they called that many times. "Hello?" Grace greeted, holding the phone up to her ear.

Grace burst into her father's room without knocking. Jefferson was just sitting at his desk, with his face held in his hands, and his back turned towards the door. "Papa! Papa!" Grace yelped urgently, jumping up and down while flailing her arms in front of her father. "What is it, Grace?" Jefferson groaned sitting up straight, "Papa! That was Sheriff Swan! She says they've found mother!". Jefferson was caught very off guard by this. They found her? “Where?!” he asked. “they found her at the Mental Institute! She’s being taken care of at the Sheriff’s office right now!”.

Jefferson and Grace navigated the hallways of the sheriff's department, holding each other's hands tightly. This was either a horrible joke or the moment they had been hoping for. Jefferson felt like he could cry. He was so hopeful but fearful at the same time. What if it was just another false alarm? What if this was just another huge let down?

As They stood outside of Emma's office, Jefferson knelt down in front of Grace, holding onto her shoulders to keep her attention, "Grace, I'm going to go in there and make sure this is the real deal, okay?". Grace nodded. "You stay out here until either I or Miss Swan comes out to get you,". Jefferson kissed his daughter on the forehead before entering the big office.

He closed the door and turned around to take in the sight before him. A beautiful woman with a long red braid and amber colored eyes was talking to Emma. She had a bright smile and a lighthearted laugh, just like Rapunzel had all those years ago. The woman slowly turned her head to look at Jefferson. Realization lit up her eyes as if she recognized him. She looked simply awestruck.

"Jefferson?" she whispered, stepping closer.

Excitement and relief overwhelmed Jefferson, "b-bunny?" he sobbed, taking stepping closer to her. The woman reached out her hand to cup Jefferson's cheek, "it's you… it's really you this time!" he cried, pulling her in for a tight and loving embrace.

Jefferson was quietly sobbing tears of relief as he held Rapunzel close for the first time in years. Rapunzel pulled him in for a sweet and gentle, yet intense and passionate kiss. All her pain and joy and fear was poured out into that kiss. Jefferson pulled away, looking into Rapunzel's tear-filled eyes, "I missed you so much…" he squeaked, smiling through his tears.

The creaking of the door prompted Jefferson and Rapunzel to turn their heads to where the noise was coming from. Grace was sheepishly entering the office to see what was going on.

Rapunzel looked at Grace, then back at Jefferson. “I-is that…?” Rapunzel stuttered. Jefferson nodded.

A cheerful smile crept onto Grace’s face, "mother? Mother!" she cried, lunging herself into the open arms of Rapunzel. Rapunzel was crying tears of joy as she embraced her daughter for the first time after years of being a prisoner to Rumpelstiltskin.

Jefferson looked at his wife and kissed her once again. He gazed into her eyes, attempting to memorize her face again. Finally, after years and years, he got to embrace his whole family again. He kissed Rapunzel’s cheek and whispered, "I'm half crazy for you,".

Rapunzel gazed into his shimmering blue eyes, then glanced down at her daughter, whom she was still embracing tightly. She was holding them close after decades of separation. Rapunzel took a deep breath and smiled back before responding, "well I'm full crazy for you,".

#reposting this because I accidentally deleted it #jefferson #jefferson ouat #jefferson the mad hatter #jefferson ouat x oc #jefferson x oc #oc #original character #half crazy for you #hcfy series #fantastic-fantasy-fanfics

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marshmallow-phd · 5 years

Text

Midnight Hours

Part of The Untamed - EXO Wolf Universe

Genre: Wolf!AU

Pairing: Sehun x Reader

Summary: For you, being a good witch was easier said than done. Something dark was lurking inside of you and the others knew it. When you’re forced to tag along with Soomi and help a local wolfpack face a coming evil, you’re sent on a path that breaks into a crossroads. While you struggle with your inner demons, could the wolf Sehun be the key to your ultimate fate?

Part: 1 I 2 I 3 I 4 I 5 I 6 I 7 I 8 I 9 I 10 I 11 I 12 I 13 I 14 I 15 I 16 I 17 I Final

You weren’t so much as “packing” as you were throwing clothes into the suitcase that was currently lying open on your bed. Sure, everything would be wrinkled and disorganized, but your annoyance and frustration refused to let you care. You weren’t even paying much attention to what you were grabbing from the closet and dresser drawers. All you were told was to pack enough clothes for a long stay.

A long stay. What did that entail? A few weeks? A month? Until the blood moon? And what if the blood moon arrived and nothing happened? Would you have to stay until the next one after that or would be allowed to come home until the next vision hit?

After throwing the pair of jeans in your hands towards the mountain forming in your suitcase, you landed hard on your back on top of the messy covers, whining the whole way. Hands folded on your stomach, you stared up at the ceiling, contemplating your life.

The only thing you wanted was to be left alone. You wanted the visions to leave you alone. You wanted the elder witches to leave you alone. Hell, sometimes you even wanted Soomi to leave you alone. You wanted to be allowed to be who you were without someone trying to channel the path you were supposed to take.

It wasn’t fair. It was like you weren’t allowed to make any mistakes. Markl could accidentally make Mother Adansonia lose her eyebrows and Martha could mix up the potions and cause the whole coven to fall asleep for an entire weekend, but you weren’t allowed to even spill a cup of water. You had to keep all toes in line. You had to basically do the impossible and be perfect. Or else you would be considered a danger to the world and the mothers could take drastic action.

Now you were being forced to leave and… do what, exactly? What were you supposed to do once you reached the wolves? Say “hey there’s this weird blonde woman who’s going to do… something on the blood moon? We don’t know yet but we thought you mutts might have an idea?”

You snorted to yourself. Yeah. You couldn’t wait for that conversation.

A soft knock came from your door and Soomi poked her head inside the room. “Are you almost ready?”

You sat up, folding your hands in your lap. “Um, yeah. Almost.”

But your answer couldn’t hide the monstrous pile beside you. Shaking her head, Soomi stepped in and started folding your clothes for you, arranging them in a somewhat organized manner that would allow the luggage to close when the time came.

“This might not be all bad,” Soomi insisted. You gave her a side eyed glance that let her know how much you believed her, but stayed quiet. “Their farmhouse is surrounded by woods, a little less than an hour outside the city.”

“More total isolation,” you murmured. “Joy.”

Mother Willow’s cottage wasn’t completely all alone out here. The other mothers’ homes were scattered around in a randomized fashion, their only connection being a gravel road that most ordinary humans could never find. Every once in a while, a stray hiker would stumble across the coven, but Mother Sumire had a talent in memory potions disguised as lemonade.

It was a rare treat for you to be able to venture into town. Mother Willow would sometimes send you to get groceries or allow you to buy new clothes at the tiny boutiques, but you were never alone. You felt like a parolee under strict observation. If they turned their backs, you’d be on the run. And maybe they were on to something. The thought had never really crossed your mind until now, running away. Really the only thing stopping you was the fact that you had nowhere to go. You didn’t know how to truly function in non-magic society. The coven had been your entire world and the idea of not having it to fall back on was terrifying.

Besides, you couldn’t break Soomi’s already fragile heart.

“I was implying that you could have quite a bit of alone time,” Soomi hinted at with a side glance of her own. “To practice….”

You scoffed. “You wouldn’t rat me out?”

Soomi pursed her lips, keeping her focus on folding the shirt in her hands. “I am saying nothing of the kind. There are all different kinds of plants for you to study there. That’s all I meant.”

Of course. “I’m sure I can find sort of leaf that I haven’t seen before.”

With your suitcase properly packed now, Soomi zipped it closed and turned to you. Sadness and worry glistened in her eyes. Cupping the back of your head in her hand, she kissed the top of your head. “I’ll be out at the car when you’re ready.”

Alone once again, you took a few last mental pictures of your room. Would it be covered in dust by the time you got back? Would you be coming back? An ominous feeling was settling in the pit of your stomach. Things would be different after this trip, there was no doubt about that. You couldn’t verbalize what it was that would change or be altered, but you had a feeling that you were starting down a path that would take you to a place you couldn’t come back from.

Sliding your suitcase off the bed and pulling up on the collapsible handle, you rolled the bits of your life that you were taking with you out of that room and down the hall to whatever unknown future awaited you.

Sehun sat at the table of the coffee shop, staring blankly out the window. People - ordinary people with ordinary lives - passed on by in groups of twos and threes. They laughed and chatted amongst themselves as they gripped their shopping bags or pushed their strollers down the sidewalk to their next destination. Leaning forward, he took a long sip of the bubble tea in front of him.

Luhan was late, but that was nothing new. He was always antsy leaving his mate, terrified that even after all these months, her old organization would hunt her down and take her away. Not that he could be blamed, but Harper insisted that she’d covered her tracks and made it seem like she’d perished in the explosion that destroyed several buildings on their compound. Her sister – the only one in her family to know the truth - was sworn to secrecy and no one had even come sniffing around their town as far as they knew.

Sehun snorted. Sniffing around. His jokes were getting about as bad Junmyeon’s.

“Do you want another one?”

Straightening up, Sehun turned to see who’d offered him another drink. It was Jinyoung’s coworker – Mia or Mandy or… something that started with “M”. He looked down to find that his drink was, in fact, empty save for a few surviving boba. When did that happen?

“No, thank you,” Sehun answered flatly. “I’ll be fine.”

“Are you sure?” she smiled coyly at him. “It’d be on the house.”

As tempting as a free drink was, he didn’t care to accept the implications behind it. “No, thank you,” he repeated. “I don’t need another one.”

Unfortunately, she wasn’t deterred in the slightest. “Well, if you change your mind, you know where to find me.” She winked at him before turning away, nearly colliding with the body that was running towards the table. “Oh, hey, Luhan.”

Sehun perked up. Finally.

“Hey, Marcie!” Luhan waved as he collapsed in the chair across from Sehun. He gave an apologetic look. “Sorry, I’m late.”

Sehun shrugged, holding back the pout that was pushing on his lips. “It’s fine. I get it.”

“But we rarely get to hang out anymore,” Luhan went on.

And whose fault is that, Sehun really wanted to ask. But the true answer was no one. It wasn’t anyone’s fault. Luhan had found his mate and then nearly lost her. He couldn’t blame the wolf for wanting to make up for lost time. The only trade off was Sehun being left in the dust.

Luhan glanced over his shoulder and smirked. “Marcie’s really got a thing for you.”

Not really caring for the direction of the conversation, Sehun kept his focus on the straw that was housed in his cup, “So?”

Realizing the fruitless effort, Luhan sighed. “Never mind.”

Sehun held back the sigh of relief. When will the others realize that he simply wasn’t interested?

As if she heard her name from all the way on the other side of the café, Marcie came back over, a cup of water in one hand and a napkin in the other.

“In case you get thirsty,” she practically purred as she put both objects down and walked away.

Sehun took one look at the napkin and groaned. “Okay, let’s go.”

Luhan tilted his head. “Why? I just got here.”

“Too bad.” Sehun stood up, the legs of the chair scraping against the fake wooden floor. “You should have been on time.”

“At least let me- ah!” Luhan snickered when his eyes finally landed on the napkin. Marcie’s number was written carefully across the paper in blue ink. The older wolf started to reach for it, but Sehun’s reflexes were faster and he slammed the plastic cup down on top before it could be snatched away.

“Leave it,” Sehun demanded through gritted teeth. Luhan rolled his eyes and stood up, obeying the request. Both of them left the café without a single glance towards the cash register. Sehun didn’t care if her feelings were hurt. She should have gotten the message the first time around.

Quickly forgetting the encounter, the two of them hurried down the sidewalk towards the hair supply store. That was the real reason Sehun had called Luhan out. He needed one last opinion to see if he should really do this or not. Or to tell him no so he could solidify his resolve to do it.

Some might say it was an attention thing. And maybe it was. Maybe it was a test to see who noticed or how even cared. Either way, he needed a drastic change. Something that would shift his world even in the slightest of ways. His life had become too routine, too mundane. And that was saying a lot for a supernatural creature.

“I thought you had plenty of dye at home?” Luhan asked once they reached the hair color section.

Sehun shrugged as he roamed over the different selections available in front of him. “It’s all the same. I want to try something else.”

“Sure,” Luhan nodded. “Everyone wants a change. And too many of us are blon- whoa, what are you doing?”

Picking up one of the more radical colors, Sehun simply raised an eyebrow before moving on to the sheers. “Do you think Hae In could help me with this part?”

Luhan stared at the youngest wolf in disbelief. “When you said different… you really meant it, didn’t you?”

“Kind of the point, Luhan,” Sehun replied dryly.

Knowing that he wouldn’t be able to talk him out of it, Luhan sighed. “Actually, I think Kimberly will be the one to ask. I’d be a little terrified of the idea of Hae In with scissors near my face.”

Sehun thought it over before nodding in agreement. “You’re right. Let’s go.”

He headed towards the front before he could even think about changing his mind.

The sun was completely gone by the time you arrived at the farmhouse. Soomi put the car in park near the front porch and gently shook you awake. High pitched groans and whines vibrated in your throat as you sat up and rubbed your eyes.

“Hey, sleepyhead,” Soomi giggled at you.

You frowned at her through squinty eyes before yawning and stretching out your limbs. The only light to see by came from the front porch and from the heavy duty spotlight on top of the giant detached garage. The long, two-story house was planted near the edge of the giant circular field. Soomi was right, they really were in the middle of the woods. Nothing but trees filled your vision no matter which direction you looked.

“Come on.” Soomi cut off the engine and popped the trunk before hopping out of her seat. You followed behind at a slower pace, still partially asleep from your less than satisfactory nap.

Suitcase in hand, you shut the trunk lid and struggled up the stairs of the porch. Maybe you’d packed a little too much.

With her dainty little fist, Soomi knocked on the door. At first, you thought she’d done it a little too softly as the two of you stood there, nothing happening. With how late it was, you were sure most – if not all – the habitants were asleep. You really didn’t feel like waiting out here all night. Rolling your eyes, you lifted your own knuckles to hit it harder when the door suddenly swung open.

Junmyeon, leader of the pack and Soomi’s once-upon-a-crush, stood the doorway, his eyelids flickering from being up so late.

Soomi chewed on her bottom lip guilty. “I’m sorry, Junmyeon, we meant to come earlier.”

“No, don’t apologize,” the alpha motioned at the two of you. “Come on in.” He opened the door wider and took ahold both of suitcases, lifting them and taking them inside the house with barely any effort on his part.

“Thank you, again, for doing this, Junmyeon,” Soomi sighed as she shut the door behind you.

Junmyeon shook his head as put the suitcases down next to the couch. “No, Soomi, you’re the one who should be thanked. You’ve been keeping us informed about what could be coming since the beginning and you didn’t have to. You have your own family to worry about. I’m sure once the boys hear about what else (y/n)’s seen, they’ll start taking it a little more seriously.”

You fought the urge to make some sort of snide comment. It wasn’t surprising that the wolves weren’t concerned in the slightest over your little visions. If they weren’t coming to you in the first place, you wouldn’t think much of them either.

But you could feel the dark cloud that came with each scene. The fear, the evil. Each one came with a presence, a lingering darkness that you couldn’t see but absolutely terrified you. Whenever you relayed the episodes to Soomi, you’d downplayed your worry. But you couldn’t stop figuratively glancing over your shoulder as if that presence would personify at any moment.

Had it already in the shape of that woman?

“Are they all asleep already?” Soomi asked.

Junmyeon nodded. “I told them that you were coming, but not when. I thought it best that the two of you rest before meeting them. They can be… rambunctious at the best of times. I didn’t want to overwhelm (y/n).”

“I remember how they can be,” Soomi chuckled softly. Glancing at you, she sighed. “I guess we can just crash here for now.”

“Actually, one of the guys is in town with his mate. You can take his room for the night. We’ll figure out your long term place in the morning.”

Soomi pursed her lips. “If you’re sure that won’t be a problem….”

“Not at all,” Junmyeon insisted. “Jongin would volunteer anyway if he were here. Let me show you to the room. You must be exhausted.”

As if on cue, you yawned, earning a chuckle out of the elders in the room.

Careful not to make too much noise, you followed the alpha up the stairs towards one of the rooms in the middle of the long hallway. He opened the door and ushered you inside before turning on the light.

“The bathroom is across the way in case you need it,” he told the two of you softly. “In the morning just come down whenever you’re ready. We’ll have breakfast for you.”

“Thank you,” Soomi nodded.

At your silence, she elbowed you in the stomach. You scowled at her before muttering, “Thanks.”

Junmyeon didn’t seem to take offense, laughing to himself. “Good night.”

As soon as the two of you were alone, you dived into your suitcase, pulling out the large t-shirt and comfortable shorts you’d packed away to sleep in. When you were changed, you hopped in between the covers and settled in. Soomi moved at a slightly slower pace, taking her time before shutting off the light and climbing in beside you.

“Soomi?” you whispered after a few minutes of silence.

“Hm?” Great. She was already drifting off to sleep.

“How long do you think we’ll be here?” Not exactly what you wanted to ask, but you decided against the more emotional road while she was only partially awake.

“Until the blood moon, probably,” she murmured. You didn’t ask anything else and soon she was fast asleep beside you.

You lied there, staring up at the ceiling for what seemed like ages. While you were completely drained, your mind refused to shut off and let you get some rest. Your eyes fought to stay closed, but that wasn’t the same as being off in dreamland.

While your mind was churning over how the morning’s events would play out, your ears picked up on the squeak of floorboards outside. Never the one to turn down your curiosity, you carefully slid out of bed and tiptoed over to the door. Praying that the hinges didn’t squeak, you pulled the door open at a snail’s pace. Right in front of you, there was nothing. Then, you risked peeking your head out farther.

Your eyes took a second to adjust to the dimly lit area. Just as they were able to interpret what they were seeing, you found the source of the noise. Down at the other end of the hallway, a door was opened. One of the wolves must have come home late. You didn’t see much of him, just the broad shoulders hidden under a plain t-shirt before he disappeared into the bedroom. Shrugging at the anticlimactic discovery, you closed your own door and headed back to the bed to, hopefully, finally get some rest before the next big adventure that waited for you in the morning.

#exo #exo wolf au #exo wolf!au #sehun x reader #oh sehun #exo werewolf!au #exo werewolf au #exo supernatural au #exo fanfiction #exo fanfic #exo series #Midnight Hours #untamed wolf universe

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hxseok-honee · 5 years

Text

i found | part 22

a/n: i wish i could tell you that i was in my right mind when i wrote this but we all know i wasnt - you can really see the point when i stopped listening to cute songs from the playlist and started to listening to Trampoline smh. hope you like it!

previous | next

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“Listen, all I’m saying is that if we all pitched in a little and made a book of study materials for the NEWT exams, we could make so much fucking money selling copies to all the seventh years!” Everyone groans at Hoseok as he continues to push his idea on them. They’re rushing into the Three Broomsticks, trying their best to get out of the cold. Making their way inside, Taehyung pushes past the insane amount of people in the room to snag the last open booth by the wall. He’s angered a few people on his way, but it’s nothing a charming smile can’t fix. The rest of the group makes their way over to him, Y/n sandwiched safely between Jin and Jimin in their little march to the table.

She’s almost there when someone bumps into her from the side, sending her flying into Jin’s back. Clinging to him and laughing brightly, she brushes off the young student apologizing to her and waddles the rest of the way to her seat, sliding into the booth behind Jin. She’s about to thank him dramatically for having such a large frame, but her phone buzzes in her coat pocket as she’s opening her mouth. Pulling the device out, her eyes barely skim over the name of the sender before she’s unlocking her phone and opening the message, a soft smile gracing her features.

coordinated as always, I see

Glancing at the other tables in her line of sight, her gaze scans the room until it locks onto someone who’s already looking her way. Yoongi’s sitting in the furthest corner he could find, occupying a small booth meant for two people. He’s got his bag on the table, his books spread out and a half-empty butterbeer cradled securely in his hand. He looks like he’s been there for quite a while, comfortable with staying in his little space for a long time. Once they make eye contact, he raises an eyebrow at her, his eyes bright with amusement as he recalls how she almost just wiped out in front of everyone.

Tearing his eyes from her own in case someone happens to notice, he brings his gaze back down to his phone, seeing that she’s typing out a response already.

“iM noT t H a T muCH oF a rEcluSE” whatever headass, you look like you’re going to die alone in that corner- what’re you even reading anyway?

Covering his mouth to muffle the laugh that’s threatening to come out, he types a quick response and goes back to his book, tossing his phone onto the table and glaring lazily at anyone who comes too close to him while he reads.

just some dumb legilimency book my dad sent me- he wants me to brush up on my skills apparently

Scrunching up her features, she types a quick response before looking at how he glances at the screen once it lights up.

ah yes, just some light reading then

Y/n watches as he laughs to himself, and she wishes greatly that she could hear it, but she’s already turning back to her friends in an attempt not to be obvious. When she glances up at the boys, however, they’re all giving her the same look.

“What? Do I have something on my face?” Namjoon rolls his eyes at her, using his chin to point in Yoongi’s direction.

“Why don’t you go talk to him?” She gives him a hard stare, turning her gaze dramatically to land on Jungkook, who smiles awkwardly at her.

“Maybe because if anyone were to see me interacting with Yoongi in a friendly way, they’ll all react the same way this brat did?” Jungkook’s smile grows more awkward.

“That’s me, I’m the brat.” Hoseok reaches over to ruffle his hair affectionately as Taehyung drops his head onto his boyfriend’s shoulder. Y/n finds herself smiling at her boys, realizing how much different they’re acting about Yoongi even just a week after she’s forgiven them. She’s seen both Jin and Hoseok acknowledge Yoongi subtly in potions- a simple head nod whenever he walks into the room, but it’s better than nothing- and Yoongi himself mentioned that Jimin even smiled at him once in the corridor, but he swears Jimin mistook him for someone else. She’s happy the boys are listening to her and taking her feelings into consideration, even if they don’t particularly trust him yet.

Looking at Jimin beside her and pinching his face lovingly, she laughs when he complains and finds herself glancing over at the far corner almost out of some uncontrollable instinct. When she locates Yoongi’s form, however, she finds that he’s already looking at her, a small smile lingering on his lips as he watches her. For a second, she thinks he’s texted her again and is waiting for a response, but when they make eye contact he looks away so fast that she wonders if he was even looking in the first place. She watches as he raises his glass to his lips before pausing, staring down into it before grimacing and placing it on the table. She realizes it’s empty, and it’s obvious by the way he glances unhappily at the bar that he’s not looking forward to getting up and ordering another one. Once he goes back to his book, Y/n nudges Jimin, pushing him out of his seat so that she can climb out of the booth. Glancing over her shoulder at the guys, she calls back to them lazily as she starts to walk.

“This round’s on me!” She hears them all cheer as she’s leaving, and she can’t help the laugh that bubbles out of her. Pushing past the crowd and finally managing to perch herself on a bar stool, she catches the attention of one of the bartenders.

In the time that she’s left, Yoongi is flipping through his book absentmindedly, sighing at the fact that all his butterbeer is gone. Finally leaning back into the wall of the booth, he chances a quick glance over at Y/n’s booth, only to find her missing. Eyes flitting across the room, he wonders if she’s just gone to the bathroom when he catches sight of a pair of shoes he recognizes. The rest of the person is blocked from view by the crowd, but as he watches the owner of the shoes swing their legs almost childishly and notices that one of their shoelaces is untied, he smiles to himself, knowing instinctively that it’s her.

It’s always the left one… You’d think by now she’d have fallen enough times to learn her lesson.

Shaking his head, yet another soft smile on his lips, he pulls his gaze away from her, intending to go back to his book, but he locks eyes with someone before he can. Jin’s staring at him, a knowing smile on his face as he watches the Slytherin look for his best friend. He watches the way Yoongi searches with a little too much determination to just be curiosity, watches as he finds her when it really should have been impossible. He watches as Yoongi’s features soften unconsciously, and he knows the guy is hooked. And if Yoongi wasn’t being obvious enough, the way his eyes widen and he looks away when he realizes he’s been caught by Jin gives it away completely.

Jin watches for just a little longer, taking in just how nervous the Slytherin looks as he flips mechanically through his book, and he wonders if Y/n’s picked up on any of it or if she’s too caught in her own feelings to notice just how clear everything is. Just in time, Y/n returns to the table to break his train of thought, carrying two glasses in each hand as a random 6th year Hufflepuff girl follows behind her, carrying the rest. Setting everything down, Y/n turns back to the girl with a sweet smile.

“Thanks, Claire! I don’t know what I would have done without you-” The girl laughs brightly, shaking her head.

“It’s no problem. I watched you contemplate carrying all eight at once and I knew it was just going to end up being a huge mess.” The boys all groan, the thought of Y/n spilling eight butterbeers crossing their minds at once. Y/n glares at them after she’s waved the girl off, sitting in Jimin’s old spot at the end since he’s taken hers.

They all stay there for a while, drinking and laughing as they enjoy their day off together. Only after they’ve convinced Namjoon to down the rest of his drink all at once and laughed so hard they thought they would cry when some of it came out of his nose did they decide to head out, following the routine they’ve had since they were 3rd years. Just as they’re walking out, one of the bartenders passes them, smiling politely at Y/n. The same bartender makes his way over to Yoongi, who had spent the last half hour wondering if he should order another drink or just leave. Yoongi glances up as the man approaches him and sets a full drink on the table.

“Uh… I didn’t order this…” The man smiles at him, pointing at the empty booth once occupied by Y/n and her friends.

“The young lady who was sitting there earlier ordered it for you. It’s already been paid for.” Yoongi’s only noticing now that she’s left, actually having gotten into reading his book for a while. Glancing up at the bartender, he smiles awkwardly and asks for a to-go cup as he packs his bag.

Honeydukes is just as crowded as the Three Broomsticks, if not more. Y/n immediately gets separated from the boys when they enter the store, each of them going in different directions to grab their candy hauls for Winter Holiday. Y/n heads straight for the giant pile of peppermint toads, hearing the sound of Jin already starting to argue with Hoseok over a pack of jelly slugs. They’re there for a while, each of them piling up on way more candy than they can handle. Y/n doesn’t even see Yoongi make his way through the door, too busy examining a pack of licorice wands. He almost laughs when she makes a face at the item and puts it back, and he catches a glimpse into her basket as her name is called by Jungkook and she’s passing right by him.

He chuckles to himself at how focused she is, unable to process her surroundings when she’s on a mission. He wanders the store a little longer, grabbing a few things he knows he likes- mainly simple chocolate bars and a few sugar quills- before making his way to the counter. When he approaches the clerk, he waits until his candy is bagged and he’s handed over enough money to clear his throat, catching the young woman’s attention. Pulling out his phone and scrolling through his photos until he finds the one he’s looking for, he shows her the screen. It’s a photo of himself, but there’s someone next to him. Y/n has her head on his shoulder and her eyes are closed, having fallen asleep after a particularly long night talking at the astronomy tower. Yoongi’s smiling sweetly in the photo, but before the clerk can see too much of that part, the photo’s been zoomed in to focus on Y/n.

“Uhm, there’s a girl here right now- this girl, I mean. She’s hard to see right now because there’s so many people here, but she’s carrying a basket filled to the top with peppermint toads and chocolate wands- I’d like to pay for her items if I could.” The woman looks a bit shocked, wondering just who this guy is, but she nods politely as she tries to estimate how much it would cost. Yoongi only adds to her curiosities about him when he pulls out his wallet and hands her a handful of galleons, mumbling that she’s probably still shopping but that it should be enough to cover everything. Cocking his head to the side and staring into his wallet as the clerk stands there with an open hand full of galleons, he hums to himself and pulls out a handful of sickles, placing them into her hand with a smile and a quick comment to just keep the change.

“Ah, I would also really appreciate it if you didn’t tell her it was me…” The woman nods, finally giving up on figuring him out, and thanks him for his purchase as he grabs his bag of candy worth less than even half a galleon and smiles awkwardly at her, turning on his heel and walking away.

When Y/n approaches the counter not even ten minutes later, lugging a very heavy basket at her side and complaining loudly to Taehyung about how much it was going to cost her, the woman smiles knowingly at her and starts bagging her items. Just as Y/n is pulling out her wallet, the woman addresses her.

“Actually, Miss, it’s all been taken care of already- here’s your receipt!” Y/n takes the receipt blankly, very confused at the fact that she didn’t just have to fork over half of her life’s savings. Staring down at the piece of paper, Taehyung complaining over her shoulder about how lucky she was, her eyes lock onto the amount that was paid.

“Huh?!”

After texting Yoongi several times and only receiving very vague responses, Y/n finds herself about to hunt the man down. She doesn’t mention anything to the boys, but Jin knows her well enough to realize by the way she’s looking around as they wander through the town that she’s looking for someone. He’s about to leave her to her aggressive searching when he sees a form he recognizes passing by the window of one of the shops on his left. Nudging Y/n gently, he points at the entrance of Tomes and Scrolls and gestures for her to follow his gaze. When she glances in and sees the silhouette of the man she’s looking for, she smiles gratefully up at Jin, calling out to the boys.

“Hey, I’m just going to head in here for a second! There’s a book I wanted to buy!” Thanking Jin when he takes her bag of sweets, she makes her way into the dimly lit shop, not hearing as Hoseok questions the rest of the group (“She reads?”).

The bell to the shop dings quietly when she enters the store, the clerk smiling at her as she passes him, happy to have a new customer. The store is essentially empty except for her and her target of attack, who at the moment is hidden from view. She makes her way slowly down the aisles, peering into each opening and searching for her friend. She’s starting to wonder as she’s reaching the last aisle if maybe both she and Jin were hallucinating when they saw Yoongi, but there, in the very back where she should have expected him, is the exact person she wanted to find.

He’s facing the shelf, a book open in his palm as he flips through it, his eyes steady as he skims the pages. A receipt for Honeydukes is peeking out of the corner of his bag, confirming her increasingly high suspicions. Walking up to him, completely unnoticed as he focuses on the book, she pulls the item out of his hand swiftly and suddenly.

Turning to face whoever decided to interrupt him, the look of irritation fades from his face as he realizes who it is. She’s staring down at the cover of his book, mumbling the title to herself.

“Moste Potente Potions?” Glancing back up at his face, she gestures to the book. “Isn’t this available in the library?” Yoongi smirks, grabbing it from her and tossing it gently back and forth in his hands.

“Indeed, Miss Y/l/n, it is. But it’s only in the restricted section, and - well, that’s just too much work, don’t you think? I’d have to return it at the end of term anyway, and I like writing in my books- but how are you on this fine afternoon?” She scoffs and steps toward him, forcing him to step back awkwardly as she continues to approach him. Eventually, his back is pressed firmly against the wall and he’s staring down into her eyes as she stares back steadily.

“Mister Min, who asked you to pay for my purchases at Honeydukes? And that much, no less?” Yoongi curses himself silently, mad that he wasn’t able to predict that she’d guess it was him. He reaches out in an attempt to ease her frustration, running a hand over her shoulder and down her arm before coming to a stop at her elbow. He leans down into her face, a sense of mild satisfaction running through him when her expression falters and she leans away a little bit. He thinks it’s funny that she wants to act tough, considering who he is. Coming just that much closer to her, he waits until she’s blinking rapidly, the heat in her cheeks very obvious, before he whispers softly to her.

“I do what I want, Y/n.” If their positioning wasn’t enough to fluster her, the authoritative tone of his voice, no matter how whispered and soft, is enough to set her skin on fire. But he doesn’t seem to be done. Internally, he’s screaming at himself to calm the fuck down, but externally he’s playing a game that she started- the only thing he shows is a smirk that tells her he’s turning the tables on her in this moment they have alone.

Wrapping an arm around her waist and pulling her closer, he keeps whispering to her, using his other hand to tuck a strand of hair behind her ear.

“Just think of it as an early Christmas present. Would you accept it then?” When all she does is grumble about how annoying he is, he chuckles at her and turns slowly, forcing her back to the wall as he switches spots with her. Releasing her waist in favor of placing a hand on the wall next to her head, he brings the hard tone back to his voice, thankful that he’s had so many years to practice it and that it actually works on her.

“You’re so whiny, Y/n. Why are you making me out to be the bad guy when you paid for my drink earlier? You know I don’t like you doing things like that.” He reaches out beside him and drops the potions book on the shelf, using that hand to take hold of her chin and turn it so she’s looking him in the eye, unhappy with the way she’s been looking at anything that isn’t him. When he has her gaze, he keeps her there, wondering if she can see everything he’s feeling in the moment just by looking into his eyes.

Worried now that his own gaze makes him too vulnerable, he lowers his eyes, allowing them to come to a stop just under her nose. He has no idea that to her, all he’s done is gone from looking into her eyes to staring down at her lips. Not wanting to make the same mistake as last time, she forces herself to remain still, deciding instead to speak softly to him.

“I do what I want, Yoongi.” He watches her mouth move, watches as her lips speak his name, and he can’t tell if he’s more amused that she’s talking back to him or more frustrated by his own urge to kiss her. In an attempt to regain control of himself, he raises his gaze to meet hers, not realizing that once he locked eyes with her again, his self-control would only weaken. Thrown off by the way her gaze makes his heart lurch and his breath cut short, he finds himself glancing down at her lips again, trying to decide if he should make a move.

He’s in the process of falling apart when her soft hand comes to rest on his forearm, still propped up against the wall next to her head. She’s wrapped her fingers around his wrist and is staring openly into his eyes, and in any other situation it would be enough to push him over the edge. But before he can even move, the bell above the door to the shop rings out again, signaling another customer.

“Y/n! What the hell’s taking you so long in here?” The sounds of her friends making their way into the shop and greeting the clerk prompt her to realize exactly what they were about to do, if she had even read the signs right. Putting her hands on his chest and pushing him back gently, she ignores her pounding heart and brushes past him, whispering that she would see him later as she goes.

Yoongi watches her walk out into the open aisle, catching the attention of her friends as she claims that she couldn’t find the book she was looking for and that they should just leave. Once they’re gone, Yoongi is leaning heavily against the wall, sliding down to sit on the floor as he breathes heavily. Sinking his head into his hands, he curses softly to himself, thinking about everything that just happened.

What the fuck just happened?

#bts texts #bts au #bts smau #bts social media au #bts hogwarts au #min yoongi #yoongi texts #yoongi x reader

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tynct · 6 years

Text

Love Potion

summary: renjun accidentally drinks a love potion, but he realizes he doesn’t need it to fall in love with you

genre: fluff

words: 1.3k

warnings: none

a/n: send in some numbers! october is almost over and i havent written as many halloween themed posts as i wanted to so ig i’ll post them in november too lmao.

Renjun knew his friends were all a little weird. He was too, which was why they fit so well, but it had never occurred to him that maybe they were just a little too weird.

At least, it hadn’t until Chenle started screaming after he had drank a cup of orange juice.

“What did you do that for?” Chenle cries, diving for the carton and holds it to his chest. “Do you know what you just drank?”

Renjun narrows his eyes. “Orange juice..?”

“I ran out of places to store my potions, so I dumped out the orange juice and replaced it with a potion!” Chenle says, nervously watching as Renjun stiffens.

“Then what did I just drink?”

Chenle unscrews the cap and sniffs, making his nose crinkle as he covers it. “Yup. That’s definitely a love potion.”

Renjun immediately slaps his hand over his eyes, the anger bubbling up in his chest making him grab his cup and throw it in Chenle’s general direction. It misses its target entirely, and Chenle sighs as it shatters against the wall.

“Look, it’ll be fine. I just need to whip up a reverse potion and-“

“How long will that take?” Renjun groans, already dreading the thought of missing the one class he had with you.

Today had been the day of picking partners for an assignment in spells, and he knows that if he’s absent, you’ll end up choosing someone else. He’d rather not have to spend the next few weeks sulking while you worked with another student he knows he’ll most likely hate afterwards.

“Maybe a few hours? Depends.”

“On what?” Renjun growls.

“On how long it takes for you to catch me.”

Renjun reaches for the nearest object and his hands land on what feels like a plate, and Chenle screams as he narrowly dodges it.

The feeling of not knowing where you’re going is terrifying when your school houses students of magic.

Renjun is blindly navigating the halls with dark sunglasses, and he had Jisung color them in with black sharpie after he had found him trying to get out of the kitchen so he doesn’t accidentally fall in love with a random classmate.

He’s not missing out on the opportunity to be your partner even if he has to publicly humiliate himself to get to the class. Jaemin has offered to walk him there, and Renjun is regretting how fast he had turned him down. If he keeps up this pace, he’ll arrive well after the class has started.

“Renjun?”

His head perks up at his name, and he nervously leans into the wall when he realizes that it had been you who called him. Maybe if he doesn’t move, you’ll keep walking-

“I can see you, you know.”

Renjun sighs in embarrassment. “Hi, Y/n.”

“How’d you know it was me?” The surprise in your voice makes him pause, trying to figure out how to explain in a not creepy way that he’d always be able to tell it’s you because of his giant crush.

“Uh..”

“Never mind. Do you need help to class? Chenle said you hurt yourself last night and I was worried.”

Renjun grits his teeth at the mention of his friend, but turns to what he hopes is where you’re standing when he registers the rest of what you had said.

“You were worried about me?”

The small smile on your face falters, and you’re glad he can’t see because you’re pretty sure you look like a deer caught in headlights.

“I mean, who wouldn’t,” you answer quickly, trying to ignore the way his lip quirks up. “Do you want help or not?”

Renjun nods as he reaches out, and he forces himself not to blush when he slips his arm through yours. Who knew all he had to do was drink a love potion to get you to talk to him for more than three seconds.

“So, you know Chenle?” He asks, your pace slow in fear of making him trip.

“Yeah, he sits next to me in potions class.”

Renjun presses his lips together in annoyance because Chenle hadn’t mentioned that to him once, and considering Chenle knows very well about how he feels about you, he thinks it’s information he should’ve shared with him.

“Poor you.” He mutters with a frown, and you laugh.

“I mean, it’s not all bad. Beside that time he spilled a sickness potion on me and I was out for a week.”

Renjun stops with a gasp. “That was why you were sick? I’m gonna kill him-“

“It’s fine, Renjun.”

“Seriously, first he makes you sick and then he does this to me-” Renjun is cut off from trying to leave when you tug on his arm, and he stumbles when someone hits his shoulder while they’re passing by hard enough to make him lose his balance.

Renjun tries to catch himself on anything he can on the way down, but all he ends up doing is grabbing your hand and tugging you with him.

In the middle of the school hallway, you’re both on the ground, holding hands, and Renjun can tell you’re trying to keep yourself from laughing when you look at him.

“People are staring,” you grin, and Renjun feels his heart flutter.

And then he realizes that his glasses had gotten knocked off, and he quickly squeezes his eyes shut. Panic tightens his throat as he sits up, scrambling to find the glasses.

“What happened?” you touch his shoulder, pressing what he was looking for into his palm and he quickly slides them on. “Renjun?”

He shakes his head as he gets to his feet. “Nothing! Nothing. It’s fine. I’ll see you in class.”

You watch in confusion as he shoves through the crowd, not caring anymore who he bumps into as he keeps his head down.

Renjun can barely think straight as he pushes past a group of friends, ignoring their angry shouts. He had looked directly into your eyes, and yet, he doesn’t feel any different.

Renjun somehow makes it back to their dorm in one piece. Bruised from all the constant bumping into things, but he’s alive.

The slam of the front door makes Chenle jump as Renjun collapses onto the ground, whipping off the stupid sunglasses and tosses them somewhere behind him.

“How’d it go?”

Renjun sighs in defeat as he stares up at the ceiling. “Terrific. Thanks for sending Y/n to help me, cabbage head.”

His chuckle from the doorway only worsens Renjuns mood, and he feels around for something to throw at him again when Chenle holds up a bottle within his line of sight and he freezes.

“I made the reverse potion, but from what I’m guessing happened, you don’t need it,” Chenle leans over him and Renjun screams when he meets his eyes, shoving him back and covering his face with his hoodie.

“I swear, Chenle, if I fall in love with you because of this potion, I’m-“ Renjun stops himself, not feeling the tingling of love bubbling up in his chest and he turns to Chenle. “What the hell? Was your potion a dud?”

Chenle scoffs. “My potions are never duds. You just didn’t need the love potion to fall in love with someone.”

“What does that even mean?”

“It means you’re in love with Y/n, so the potion didn’t work with them,” Jeno says, entering the living room with a sandwich and Renjun frowns.

“What is it, everyone hate on Renjun day?” He points an accusing finger at him. “And I’m not in love with Y/n.”

Chenle wiggles his brows with a smirk. “Then why didn’t you fall in love with him then?”

Renjuns excuse dies on his tongue as he realizes that maybe they’re right. Maybe he is in love with you.

“Don’t you have class you need to attend?” Chenle nonchalantly swirls the potion and Renjuns head snaps up.

Before Jeno can tease him anymore, Renjun is gone, leaving the door wide open and Chenle closes it with a grin.

“He’s going to embarrass himself, isn’t he?”

Jeno pats his shoulder. “Not anymore than he has already.”

474 notes · View notes

saintaugustinerp · 5 years

Photo

Congratulations Holly! You have been accepted for the role of The Golden Heir with the faceclaim Émile Woon. Please be sure to check out the accepted applicants checklist! Also be sure send us a link to your blog within the next twenty-four hours. Welcome to St. Augustine!

OUT OF CHARACTER

Name/alias: holly

Age (18+) : 21

Gender/Preferred pronouns: female, she/her

Timezone: pst

IN CHARACTER

Desired Skeleton: The Golden Heir Character Name: Julien Moreau

Age (18+): Twenty-one

Gender/Pronouns: Cismale, he/him

Hometown: Ottawa, Canada

Major: Political Science

Desired Faceclaim: Émile Woon

Character blurb:

He gingerly steps onto the platform, toting rosy cheeks and a practiced grace. This is understandable considering the lineage he stems from — a background that everyone who surrounds him is intimately aware of, including you. He is well-dressed, well-fed, well-loved, and all of these factors exude from every pore of his being. There is a faint glow that radiates from him; the aura of untouched naivety, of someone who lives blissfully free of worldly worries. He offers you a warm grin as he walks past, though it does not seem to reach his eyes. Still, you cannot help but smile back.

Developed Headcanons:

HISTORY: Julien’s father is the highly respected speaker for the Canadian parliament, and his mother runs a slew of non-profit foundations, and deems herself a socialite in her off hours (read: stay-at-home mom, without much of the mom part, and more of the thinly veiled alcoholism and marital problems). He has one sibling — a bratty younger sister, Anais — who he deeply cherishes. His family name is delicately braided into the foundations of the French and Canadian governments; information that is well-known to familial outsiders. All of them have established connections in high places, as their reputation and lineage overshadow any and all other personal details.

His childhood is etiquette classes, private tutors, lavish events, and the echoes of empty rooms in a house that is far too large. The essential fares of a lonely rich boy, though he doesn’t consider himself to be particularly lonesome. He is well-off and pampered, with parents who pay heaps of attention to him, despite being caught up in their own affairs. He is showered with near endless accolades throughout his youth, grooming a belief that the world is giving and kind, and the people who inhabit it are inherently good, keeping him trapped in a bubble of opulent warmth.

Though every moment is quietly controlled, and every action laced with the constant fear of mistake or failure, he is still — generally — quite contented with his life.

(Or at least, he can fake it enough to make everyone believe that, including himself.)

PERSONALITY: ( alignment — lawful neutral / mbti — esfj / zodiac — taurus )

His image is clean-cut and untarnished, making it easy for others to project whatever they desire onto him. Everyone who surrounds him views him differently — the golden child, the loving friend, the gifted student, the talented athlete. None of the interpretations ever seem to skew on the negative side, at least the ones he is aware of.

He was bred to hold a fear of negative emotions, and shown that the only viable option to stay above the heap is to project a very particular image. Those kinds of feelings are to be expressed only in private, only out of the public eye, if expressed at all. Interactions between his family unit are either unbearably positive in that ‘a very special episode’ sort of way, or heavily weighted periods of uncomfortable silence.This has contributed to a complete suppression of negative feelings, to the point that for a long while, it appeared they were going to exist in a permanent lock-down.

The events of the past year have proven to be an excellent lock-pick, as gradual cracks in the canvas have begun to form. Within, he is a deeply troubled kid. Worrying lack of sleep, poorly handled stress, a penchant for watching depressing foreign films alone at 4 AM — these are all signs of deeper problems that he tries to brush off as simple character quirks when questioned. This neuroticism has begun to peek through the holes in occasional blowout fits of rage and depression — the aftermath of which are always desperate apologies and sheer embarrassment. The last thing he desires is pity, or for any word of these growing issues to get out into the world. His feelings are for him to repress all by himself, thank you very much.

THE PARASITE: The beginnings of Julien’s relationship with The Parasite were primarily rooted in the image obsession he has been bred with, though it certainly has bloomed into true and deep affections. He has always been somewhat of a romantic; compelled toward soppy love stories and the concept of soulmates. That four letter word does hang unspoken on his lips, and was a mere fraction away from spilling until Frederick’s death. His head has been significantly more cloudy since — though he still considers The Parasite to be one of the few presences that can truly ground him. (Oh, poor naive soul.)

THE FALLEN ANGEL: There are not many freedoms offered to Julien in the way of natural youthful rebellion, as he had been directed onto a very particular path without much room for deviation. This factor led to the development of a deep jealousy toward his peers who were permitted to run freely, feel the wind in their hair and all that cliche ‘coming-of-age’ nonsense. This jealousy presents itself in his adult life as a sense of superiority over those who live recklessly, and of those who experience the consequences. If he is able to keep his head on straight, exist carefully between the lines, why should he be expected to sympathize with those who throw that all away?

The Fallen Angel’s fall from grace is tragic, yes, but in his mind, they are simply facing the heat for their actions. Julien harbors regret for how he has treated them, but he cannot be expected to throw his work, his reputation, his name into the flames to keep one person warm.

THE GOOD SAMARITAN: They were rugby teammates and friends, and though it’d be a stretch to say they were close, there was never any bad blood or tension between them — as two kindhearted and popular year twos, they got along quite well.

Frederick’s death has proven to be quite the blow to Julien’s mental state. He grew up incredibly sheltered from the pains of the world, outside of the charity balls his mother would throw for starving children or dying animals or whatever tragedy she chose to care about that month, so being personally involved in one has resulted in feelings he is unaccustomed to. He carries the thought that he could’ve done something, if only he hadn’t been so wrapped up in his own business. If he would’ve just been paying attention, he would’ve seen him wander off into the woods alone… he has been plagued by recurring nightmares about the bonfire in light of this guilt.

MAJOR: Political Science was not quite the major he would’ve chosen for himself, but it was essentially a base level expectation that he would follow in the footsteps of his family and pursue a career in the political world. He receives high marks, but has approximately zero passion for the work he is doing. He is still about a second away from switching to Philosophy or Literature or anything that would be more engaging.

INTERESTS: He has a frankly astounding addiction to caffeine. Seeing as he very rarely gets enough sleep — both due to his schedule being packed to the brim, and his own propensity for staying up for no reason — he relies on about five cups of coffee a day. (Or a noxious mix of random energy drinks and an assortment of painfully sugary candy, though that is a potion for only the most dire of occasions.)

As a pretentious child of wealth, offered private schools and personalized tutoring, it is only natural Julien adore reading as an adult. He was raised on the pompous classics, though his all time favorite book will forever be The Lion, The Witch, and The Wardrobe.

Though he grew up in a house with maids, his mother always made certain that baked goods were personally prepared with her family recipes. And as a boy with a sweet tooth that will not quit, a blend of Malay and French desserts comprise the most nostalgic flavors of his childhood. In times of immense stress, he would sneak to their expansive kitchen in the middle of the night, hastily (and poorly) prepare a galette or a red bean kuih or whatever else his tongue was vying for, and scarf it down like a seasoned champ. Nowadays, he’s replaced this stress relief with a (decidedly worse) smoking habit. The lack of filling pastries with the addition of endless packs of cigs has contributed to bad breath and a stomach that is perpetually craving a sugar rush.

AESTHETIC: Decorative lattes, thick hardcover books, untouched piles of snow, cozy turtlenecks, rose bushes, the click of shoes on tiled floors, kiss-swollen lips, acoustics with loads of reverb, leather oxfords, a lightly floured cutting board, whiskey glasses, ugly babies from historical paintings, ashtrays, Baz Luhrman films, an icy rugby field, the drone of coffee-shop chatter, the moment of stillness before sunrise.

Writing Sample:

The gentle glow of soft orange light. The burn that builds in the pit of his belly, flooding his veins and tingling down into his toes. A warm and inviting hand, curled into his own. Eyes crinkling with a joke being told; a genuine smile that makes his cheeks hurt.

Snow falls from the heavens. The flakes that drift before his vision, that pile softly around his feet, are blood red. He looks up — the sky is a dark crimson. When his eyes drop, everyone around the fire has vanished, leaving Frederick alone, slumped unnaturally. He tries to call to him, but no sound comes out.

Frederick turns, and his eyes are pitch black.

Julien jolts up. His breathing is labored, erratic, and his hair lays flush against his forehead, glistened with a cold sweat. His heart is making it well known that it desires a very promptexit from his chest, banging wildly against the walls of his ribcage. He spares an errant glance at the clock at his bedside — 5:32 AM — an offers a heaving sigh. A half-hour of sleep feels hardly worth it, moreso considering his mind will need far longer to quiet down.

Thin legs swing from a cozy cocoon of three thick woven quilts, and goosebumps immediately take residence. He snatches a cigarette and a well-worn lighter from his side-table, delicately plodding toward the dorm window. Oh, if only his mother could see him now: up before sunrise, eyes weighed by bags so large they could declare themselves a sovereign nation, with the final cigarette from his pack held between deft fingers. Not to mention the sheer illegality of it all, what, with him lighting up in his room. A room that was the previous lodging of monks, no less. He figures recurring horrific nightmares about your dead friend are a sound enough excuse.

(He is, however, unsure if the monks would accept that.)

He props himself beside the window, eyes grazing the skyline. The view is less than engaging at this time of the morning — snow-capped roofs, flurried flakes, and an almost uncomfortable stillness. There are a few quiet flicks, before the flames spring to life in the darkness. The smoke comes soon after, wafting in a delicate stream up to the ceiling.

How long would it take to get over this? Another puff toward the ceiling. Months? Years? He was a friend, but their closeness was nothing to write home about, so how does it figure that he is still so hung up? He has always vied to befriend everyone in their year. He’s not sure how he’d react if this happened to anyone else. Would his brain plague him with countless dreams then?

Just my year, now, he thinks, after a moment. Another puff.

Maybe he would never be over it, cursed to exist obliviously warmed and content by the bonfire, Frederick’s blackened eyes forever on him.

Other: i created a mockblog right here that is available for perusal! also thank you for reading this gigantic wall!!!!!!! :^)

#rp #rpg #roleplay #golden heir #accepted

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alkwritesthings-blog · 6 years

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This was originally a prompt from @writing-prompts-s Shout out to @caffeinewitchcraft and all the amazing writers on @writeblr for the courage to put my writing up here

writing-prompt-s

You’re a mystic who runs a shop full of mysterious artifacts and potions and you’re sick of uninformed middle-aged suburban moms asking for energy crystals and herbal weight-loss mixtures while throwing around made-up terms.

She had spent a lot of time trying to get the aesthetic just right in her shop. Owning a small business was no joke, and even less so when you were a real psychic pretending to be a fake one pretending to be a real one. Getting the vibe just right was critical.

The crystals, candles, herbs, scarf hung over one window were all things that made it easier for her to do her own work.

The posters on the walls, the odd goodwill books and knick knacks in the shitty bookshelves, that was for show.

The old-fashioned looking business ledger seemed like a great touch, and even though she worried that the feather taped to the biro was too much, she left it as it was.

The rest of her business could be summarized easily with “just go with it,” so why limit herself when it came to a feather and a pen?

She had spray painted the side of her shop with a few symbols that felt like they could be vaguely occult: the Triforce symbol from Zelda, that pyramid thing with the eye on top, a simple five-pointed star, all black and dripping and the effect was great.

That, with the sign that read “PSYCHIC. For all your Fortune Telling Needs,” she felt like she was pretty set.

Things went fine for a while.

A mother who came in wanting to know the omens for her children.

Pictures of the children, a scruffy dark haired boy, an older girl with piercing eyes, a tiny baby in a bright green shirt, and she set out a piece of burned wood, a chunk of hematite, a little stub of green candle. A few muttered words, holding the picture with one hand and the woman’s hand with the other, she could feel wisps of future as the feeling of gentle fingernails tracing a path down her back, fleeting tastes of bright color in her mouth, brief, brisk images like spouting, gurgling water from a hose. It was hard work that left her dizzy for days and made it hard to concentrate for hours after, but she had spent her life stubbornly hanging onto and figuring out how to interpret these flashes of sensation and darts of movement and feeling and sight.

The baby was fine, the little girl would seek out her passions for art and music and should be encouraged, the boy with the dark hair -- something dark and fleeting, burning her tongue with blackness and splashing the backs of her mind with an oozing, crawling feeling -- she should keep an eye on her scruffy-haired son.

Little abuela who came in every week to talk to her sisters who had passed. “Lo siento, abuelita. No puedo hablar con los muertos.” Yes, of course I can do a palm reading. She dug in the dish on her table for a piece of shiny brown stone with a thread of gold wound throughout, and took the old woman’s hands. Strong will, the smell of corn and the taste of something delicious in her mouth that Elena herself had never tasted and didn’t have a name for. Strong hands, hands that had held children, but never grandchildren. Elena felt something, traced a scar in the side of one of the woman’s hands, trying to focus on that feeling, reaching out, and finally felt a touch of lightness like the feeling of a piece of down-feather landing on your outstretched fingertip, or popping a soap bubble on your finger. She told the woman that one of her daughters was expecting a baby, and wanted to speak with her about naming the baby after one of her sisters. The woman left, much happier than when she had arrived.

There were smaller things, lost things needing to be found (a few black candles lit and ink spilled on rough paper helped focus, helped her trace the ‘maps’ in her mind. All lost things wanted to be returned to where they belonged, after all).

A lost dog that she had to tell the mother with her eyes (and not speak aloud to the woman’s young boy who sat at her table) had been hit by a car, and was dead three streets away from their house.

She had no notion of reading tarot cards or speaking with the dead, and kept people who asked such things out of her shop.

She’d been making a tidy sum of money, and had been slowly growing her reputation. Oh, I heard you knew of Mrs. Martinez’ granddaughter, can you tell me if I’m pregnant? I heard you found Hayden’s mom’s phone, can you find mine?

When a man strode into her shop, his expression full of purpose, she expected another recommendation via word of mouth.

Instead, the man strode right up to her counter and demanded to see her paperwork. He wore slacks, and a suit jacket, more formally dressed than anyone else she’d seen in her shop.

Elena straightened her shoulders and pulled her ledger from beneath the counter. She had a license to run her small business in the same space as she lived (she was the only employee), a form in her name for how taxes would be taken for the work she did, as well as a list of each customer (with a few who had insisted upon aliases, which she had agreed to do), what service they had requested, and how much she had charged them. “I beg your pardon, sir,” she said, struggling to keep her voice even. Elena hated confrontation, but she had all of her paperwork in order. She was in her own shop, and on firm ground here.

He interrupted, barely glancing down at the tidy stack of documents tucked into a pocket of the ledger. “Where is your license to practice magic, silly girl. I’ve felt you from clear across the city since you tracked my boy, and I demand to see your registration!”

Elena felt a chill run down her spine. There were always more powerful psychics. Life was like nature, in that way. You always thought you were the tiger or the bear, but you weren’t. There was always a better psychic than you. But she’d never met anyone else who was one, had done her research on the internet and learned to keep her head down. She had thought this shop was the perfect cover. She glanced up at the man and saw he was glancing around her shop, and that he rolled his eyes at her shelf of random crap she’d found.

She glared at him, straightened again. She might not have been as good of a psychic as him, but she was no silly girl, and he had no right to demand to see anything. “Where’s your registration, sir?” She asked, and although her voice quavered as she asked the question, she kept her shoulders back as he looked at her.

He snorted, and Elena forced herself to keep her mouth from falling open as he rolled his eyes and withdrew a large wallet from one pocket of his suit jacket, and with a practiced flip, opened it. A document the size of an 8.5 by 11 piece of paper, decked with seals, proclaimed Apollo P. Smith to be a Licensed and Registered Wizard of the State, permitted to Conduct Business and Pursue Spellwork as the Law Allowed.

Now it was Elena’s turn to snort at him. “Well Mr. Smith,” she said, all her nervousness vanishing. Her brother was a pro-level bullshitter, and she knew how to handle this type of thing. “I must have let mine lapse. I’m ever so sorry to have interfered with your boy…” She resisted the urge to roll her eyes, but it was only in service to the peak amount of sarcasm and fake-deference she put in her tone and facial expression.

He snapped the wallet back in place, the document folding neatly. “See that you re-certify. Pesky brat has been insufferable since he sensed your presence. I had him convinced I was the only possible magical teacher in the area, and he’s been...trying my patience… since he felt your connection to his mother. Do not interfere in my work again, and I won’t report you to the Board.” The man tucked the wallet back into his suit jacket, and without waiting for a response, stalked out of Elena’s shop.

Elena’s mouth fell open. As she struggled to process what she’d heard, she dug for her phone in the shelf below her counter.

She had a lot to look up, and the first thing she typed into the window was ‘psychic versus magic user.’

It was going to be a long night of reading.

#this is my version #alkwritesthings #originalfiction #writing-prompt-s #original character #elena

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crvdence · 7 years

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thlaise potion partners headcanon

blaise zabini and theodore nott didn't exchange any word during the two first years of hogwarts

and that changed when they became potions partners, during their third year

at the beginning, theo didn't really understand why blaise chose him to be his partner, when he could literally pick anyone

he understood finally when he noticed that draco, as brilliant as he was, liked to either gossip or talk endlessly about potter with pansy, that goyle and crabbe were completely useless and that daphne and millicent only were focused when they found the potion interesting

theo was just the best option (something he wasn't used to feel), as it was blaise

they both were quiet in different ways, theo preferred silence and quiet spaces, the library being his happy place, while blaise was okay with crowds and company, even if he chose to be quiet and only speak when he really, wanted to

but they worked well together, they didn't really speak unless they had to, to ask for the time of brewing, for an ingredient, 'do you cut it, or do you smash it?', things simple and short, like the potions partners they were, nothing more

but a year sitting together made them closer, and they started to learn about their differences: they both were quiet and intelligent, but while blaise liked to make sarcastic remarks (that always made theo grin) and had a much more practical-focused intelligence, theo was very good at memorising and sometimes, he just made the most random jokes

that made them, somehow, the most efficient of the partners, theo always knew the properties of the plant they had to use, and blaise always knew how to throw them in the cauldron or how to stir them, like his muscles knew things that theo couldn't learn in books

around the middle of the year, they started to talk more besides their small potion-related talking: blaise really liked quidditch, his favourite team was montrose magpie, he was allergic to seafood and his most disliked subject was charms. theo loved arithmancy, as much as blaise didn't understand it, he was afraid of flying, but because of his father, he attended several quidditch matches, and never liked the taste of plum

they even talked about their life outside hogwarts, blaise said he didn't see himself in the ministry in one of those bloody boring office works, and theo told him about his wish to become a mediwizard

it surprised everyone, draco and pansy the most, when from the corner of the room they were working on, blaise would say something and theo would chuckle, a dimple adorning his cheek

“you're hard to understand” blaise told him once while they were working on a potion, a bubbly purple-ish liquid brewing in front of them “that makes you unusual, interesting, and valuable.”

blaise grinned after saying that, and theo felt the heat creeping all over his cheeks, he then thought only someone like blaise zabini would chose the word valuable to describe another person, but he somehow felt strangely touched by it

“and you're much more than meets the eye” theo shrugged, his voice small as he was spilling a secret, his cheeks still warm after blaise's words. the other looked at him and grinned, looking satisfied, as he gave the last stirrings to their potions

they remained potions partners over the years, quietly working between random jokes and sarcastic remarks, talking about draco's stupid fixation over potter, pansy's wasted talent or goyle's stupid hair, they prepared exams together, revised each other essays and borrowed each other books

they became closer than probably anyone expected them to be, and they understood each others in ways no one else could

nothing seemed to change until their sixth year, when they had to brew the amortentia together

theo thought, that for being such a strong potion, it was rather easy to prepare, blaise and him working together as they always did, measuring and cutting and stirring and boiling, until it was done

both of them were rather sceptical, so when theo leaned forward, he didn't expect to be hit by such a pleasant and inviting scent: something like sandalwood, he had smelled it in their dorm, so deep and rich it felt like it was engulfing him whole, and then something fresh, like the grass recently cut in the quidditch's pitch and the familiar scent of used, old books

it was such a delightful feeling, theo wanted to bottle it and always carry it with him

when he noticed, blaise was looking at him intensely, but when he opened his mouth to say something, slughorn told them to bottle the amortentias, and that class was dismissed

a week after, blaise pressed him against a wall after a quidditch match, kissing him deeply, and theodore nott smelled that again: the deep aroma of sandalwood, and the freshness of the grass, he wanted to say something, but blaise was first

“fuck, the amortentia, it was you.” he mumbled, between relieved and excited, looking at theo with blown pupils. “that bloody sweet thing you like to use for the shower.” he whispered, and moved to press his nose against the curve of theo's neck, making him shiver but before he could open his mouth to say anything, blaise was kissing him again

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stophookingatmeswan · 7 years

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We’re Strange Allies with Warring Hearts

A deleted scene from 3x14 in the aftermath of “if it can be broken, it means it still works. Beautiful artwork by @somethingalltogether

Rated: M for sexual imagery because smut bunnies gonna smut bunny. Heavy on the angst and self-loathing with sprinkles of fluff.

Written for the 2017 CS Storybook, which can be found here.

Also on AO3

“Is that enough humor for you?”

The words haunted him in the dark, the stars overhead dimmed by fog, an unintended assist by nature to help reflect his mood. There was something beyond a chill in the air; Killian was cold to his bones even through layers of leather and rum, and he laughed humorlessly – a short staccato that reverberated on the water – at the metaphor of it all.

Those hero types, always talking about hope. And for once, he’d had hope in spades. Hope that he could find a magic bean. Hope that the offer to trade his ship would be enough, and that the accord with Blackbeard wouldn’t be too bitter a pill to swallow. Hope that when he found Emma, True Love’s kiss would break the curse and cause her memories would return. Hope she would come with him back to Storybrooke.

Hope that there would be an us.

One by one, those final hopes were dashed until he was left sitting alone at her kitchen table as she went to tend to the us she had with another man. Monkey or not, he’d had her heart, at least far more of it than Killian had ever had. It was a bitter pill to swallow and burned as much as his first sip of rum all those years ago and sat in his gut just as heavy and burdensome.

That acidity had bubbled up and over as they walked in the woods searching for Zelena as Emma questioned him about how he’d spent his time during the missing year. He’d lied and doubled down when she called him on it, and then brazenly changed the subject, simultaneously guarding his own heart and breaking it as he asked about the proposal.

I was in love, so of course I was considering it.

Sitting in the dark he allowed his envy to shape a different reality; one in which he rarely indulged. He usually allowed his frustrations to manifest themselves carnally, preferring a hand on his cock and her on his mind to soothe the ache in his loins to dreaming of things that multiplied the ache in his heart.

But instead of envisioning a veil of blonde hair in his lap, he stared at the water and let himself picture Emma in a veil made of tulle and lace that did nothing to obscure the joy on her face as her parents walked her down a makeshift aisle on the deck of the Jolly Roger where he stood waiting at an altar.

Her name fell from her lips – not as an oath as he spilled over his fist, but as a vow as he said I do.

He wasn’t holding her in arms against the door of the captain’s quarters as he fucked her breathless. They were dancing as husband and wife, his hand at her back and her fingers curled around his hook as they moved in unison to music she’d picked to play.

Killian’s breath caught suddenly as the visions of a life he so desperately wanted clouded, his mind’s eye distorting his own face until someone else stood before Emma on her wedding day.

With a curse, he willed the phantoms away; throwing his flask into the water at the spot on which his gaze had been fixated for good measure, hoping the ripples on the water spread his heartbreak just a little further when a familiar epithet in an even more familiar voice mingled with his own.

Shite.

Humor me.

Said entirely without humor and with measured challenge in his eyes, Hook’s words had put her on the defensive, not that she hadn’t already been on edge.

She almost preferred him flirty and laden with innuendo, his push and her pull (away) keeping things from becoming too complicated. Emma had kept things light as they trekked through the trees, joking about his hook and the swashbuckling adventures he must have had in the year she’d been in New York.

Instead of taking the bait with a snappy comeback offering to show her just what he could do with his hook, he’d become even more sullen and lied to her face – superpower be damned – and then refused to back down when she called him on it.

The water was calm tonight; the stillness a stark contrast to the whirlwind Emma had been caught in since the moment she’d downed a potion handed to her by a mysterious man whose presence unsettled her, baffled her and made a tiny corner of her heart ache in ways she couldn’t explain.

Life in New York had been comforting, each building serving as a stalwart soldier and obscuring the next in a never-ending battlefield of hustle and bustle. She supposed in hindsight there was a metaphor there; a parallel to the chaos of life in Storybrooke that somehow faded into the background at the water’s edge; water, she was loathe to notice, that was missing a familiar ship with yellow trim and tall rigging.

“What the hell were you doing for the last year alone on that trip?”

In the woods she’d been distracted by his caginess and deceit, anything but drawing him out the furthest from her mind but alone with her thoughts and the gentle lap of water against the docks, her mind wandered as she turned a rock she’d scooped up on her walk to the harbor in her hand.

Had he been alone? She’d left, his promise to think of her every day lost in the fog of a curse. What if he’d moved on as she had, spending his days one swashbuckling tale after another and his nights on the narrow bunk in the captain’s quarters, moving over and inside a writhing body from which he tirelessly wrung pleasure?

The thought infuriated her, the ire of being lied to pushed aside by a possessiveness on which she rarely allowed herself to dwell. He’d come back for her – to save her. Would he have done so if he’d spent a year indulging in sins of the flesh?

Scrubbing a gloved hand over her face, she wanted to scream into her hands, instead huffing out a forceful sigh. The warmth hung in the air, much as it had earlier when she was face to face with him, his hope and her fear mingling in the still air along with their breath. Since when did flowery, piratey phrases such as “sins of the flesh” replace things like the blunt but much more Emma Swan-like “banging some random wench he picked up at a bar.”

It felt like he’d been slowly seeping into her bloodstream and it was disconcerting. When she was cut, he bled and she didn’t know what to do when he stood in front of her, wounded and wanting something from her she didn’t think she’d ever be able to give.

With a loud, “Fuck!” she tossed the rock she’d been holding into the water, startling when a different curse echoed back in the darkness.

Shit.

They sat in their respective solitude for a moment, neither wanting to be the one to make the first approach. Emma had frozen when she heard Hook’s voice, wondering if she could just play possum and wait for him to leave if he hadn’t caught onto the fact that he wasn’t alone. Her ass was already all but frozen to the bench, so what were a few more minutes?

Her second bout of swearing was quieter but just as forceful when his voice rang out again, clear as day and closer than she’d anticipated.

“Swan, I’d recognize your dainty, ladylike ways even without the quiet veil of night.” He kept his tone light, the heavy burden of his private thoughts pushed aside by the possibility of a light game of cat and mouse. He even laughed when she called back, her voice gruff and filled with the exasperation he was beginning to think was just as natural a state as her willingness to fight.

“I’ll show you dainty and ladylike, pal.” Emma lobbed the retort, leaving the window open for some patented Captain Hook innuendo and he didn’t disappoint.

“Well, darling, if that’s the only slot left on your dance card for the evening, I’d be happy to oblige.”

They sat in an odd, companionable silence for a moment, drinking in the normalcy of the exchange. When she didn’t answer, Killian found himself lamenting the loss of his rum, suddenly in need of liquid courage. He wasn’t often at a loss for words, but somehow she brought it out in him. And after their exchange in the woods he was keenly aware of how far a divide there was between saying something and saying the right something.

Emma fell silent, too, knowing if she playing into his mentally wandering hand, things may go too far and wondered when the hell a quick scratch of nature’s itch with a gorgeous man became complicated. So, for once, she followed his other lead, the space between them giving her courage she hadn’t had earlier in the day.

“Did you mean what you said?”

“I’ve said a great many things, love. You’ll have to be more specific.” Killian bit his tongue – a tongue that had been saucily poking his cheek just a minute before as he’d once again pictured him wrapped around her, swaying to imaginary music as they coupled in a bed he could no longer call his own.

“That if a heart is broken, it means it still works.” It was a bastardized version of what he said, but Emma figured it was close enough as the moment of candor got away from her. “Sometimes I wish Cora had been able to pull my heart out of my chest. Just to see that I still have one. Sometimes it feels like it’s been ripped out, over and over again.”

Her sudden openness was a welcome surprise and Killian thought carefully but quickly before replying, not wanting to give her time to regret and repress. For once, his quick tongue might be useful for something other than talking himself out of a scrape.

“Isn’t that all sadness is though, Swan? Pulling our own hearts out over and over to look at the damage.” He shifted on his bench, every inch of his being trying to not transport himself to the deck of the Jolly watching the crocodile crush the life out of Milah right before his eyes. “As a man who has spent more than his fair share of lifetimes seeking revenge in a shroud of misery, I might be an expert on such matters. There have been times I’ve been the villain in my own story, hell bent on crushing my own heart. But every time I’ve pulled it out, it’s still been beating with purpose. It’s up to us to define that purpose and not let it rule us.”

He had a point. Several of them. As she mused on his offering, Emma heard him laugh.

“Take that all with a grain of sand, Swan. Wisdom for others I may have in spades, but it was also borne of hundreds of years of singular vengeance.”

Laughing along with him in spite of herself, Emma pivoted away from the depth of conversation into shallower waters.

“Must be the one hand. Keeps you from multi-tasking.”

His indignant gasp put a smile on her face as she stood, the cold and the gravity of the moment more than she could take.

“I’m heading home, Hook. You should do the same. And…thanks.”

Awkward, but better than nothing.

He caught himself before he could blurt out that he had no home, but it was neither the time nor place for such revelations.

“Good night, Swan.”

Her boot steps fell, echoing on the water, and Killian strained his ears as they grew faint until he could no longer hear them. He pulled his coat closer, the air still breathtakingly cold but with a new sliver of warmth in his chest.

Because even if it was broken, his heart still worked.

#cs ff #captain swan ff #captain swan fic #emma swan #killian jones #cs deleted scene ouat 3x14

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