#I house sat for two weeks for this professor and it was the most stressful and intensive dog sitting I’ve ever done

[prozach27]

.

[loversj0y]

saving face

pairing: siren x gn!reader (villain wilbur soot from tommyinnits clinic for supervillains)

tws: okay so, im going to be REALLY thorough because there is some dark content throughout so kidnapping, chloroform use, drug use (power enhancers), reader gets called sweetheart at one point, violence, injuries, torture, major head injuries, alcohol, alcohol is poured on reader, mental manipulation (attempts at it), blood, broken nose, siren tells someone to claw their eye out, mentions of a fractured skull and concussion

notes: big major thank u to @medlarwrites for this idea!!!! ive been obsessing over siren since i read clinic and had to write something abt him. im not in love with the start of the fic bc i had a very different direction at first but!!! dont care i like how it ended up!! so :3

medlars original prompt: “anyways lemme leave you a siren!wilbur who finds our his bestfriend from college got kidnapped because they suspect she's associated with siren and so want to get information about his identity from them :)”

word count: 5.5k!

taglist: @l0veb0mb1ng / @core-queen / @zooone

When you were in college, you had a rather… peculiar best friend. Maybe you should’ve cared a bit more about the moral consequences of what he did, but honestly, it was college. Your best friend was one of the most well-known supervillains, Siren.

That wasn’t how you met him, though. You met him as Wilbur Soot, the guy who sat next to you in your Literature class, who often forgot his pens. You had a small crush on him, so you made a habit of always bringing an extra pen for him. You became quick friends after, bonding over mutual hatred for the professor’s teaching style, as well as sharing an onslaught of opinions.

You didn’t mean to find out about his identity, it was a complete accident. You and him had this mutual agreement that if something was going on (life troubles, finals stress, etc.), you have free permission to come over for some company. If the other person wasn’t there, you would just wait until they got home. It was a good system that kept both of you from getting too lonely, especially you. He lived at home, but you lived in a dodgy apartment by yourself. He would always make an effort to show up any time he had anything he wanted to talk about, mostly to keep you from feeling too alone. One night, the loneliness had gotten pretty rough, so you decided to go to Wilbur’s house. You two had given each other spare keys a long while back, and it wasn’t the first time you’d done this, so you were quick to unlock the door and head into his room to wait for him to come home. When the door did finally open, it wasn’t Wilbur who walked through.

You immediately jumped, backing up a bit as you saw Siren walk in. Once he’d processed that you were there, he cursed under his breath, trying to console you while quickly pulling off his blindfold. You watched as he went from Siren to Wilbur in a matter of seconds, your head swirling with confusion. You two had a very long conversation that night, while you helped him clean up a scratch along his arm.

After college, you didn’t see Wilbur as much anymore. You worked a lot, and he worked quite a bit too. You two still saw each other, just not as often.

You saw Siren much more often, though. Since Wilbur knew where your walk home from work was, he would always make an effort to be there and walk you home at night once a week if he could. Sometimes he would only watch you from the rooftops, other times when it was a bit darker and there were fewer people out, he would walk with you, chatting about anything he could think of. Over time, what once had been a small crush blossomed into genuine love for your best friend.

It was nice, a really good system. Kept you and him talking, even when your busy schedules tended to keep you from each other. However, for as good of a system as it is, it also had some apparent downsides.

Like your current situation.

You didn’t know exactly where you were.

The last thing you remembered was leaving work. You locked up the small bookstore you worked at and began your walk home when you felt a hand wrap around you, pressing a cloth against your mouth. Whoever it was ended up being too strong for you to fight against, and it was only a few minutes before the chloroform reached your brain, knocking you out quickly. In terms of kidnappings, it was fairly tame, at the very least.

It took a while to wake up, your consciousness floating in and out a few times, allowing you to get small glimpses of conversations.

“Try and get ‘em to talk. Just being friends with Siren doesn’t mean they’re strong. We can break them, even if it takes some… stepping in.”

A bit of a horrifying thing to hear post-kidnapping, but even if it wasn’t on purpose, it at least got your guard up a bit.

When you woke up, you spent a few minutes looking around and familiarising yourself with your surroundings. You were in some shitty warehouse. Which, honestly, cliche, and how many abandoned warehouses did this city have? Large, brown-stained windows lined the top of the walls, allowing for a bit of light to pour in. There were garage-type doors every few feet, but most of them had large padlocks, except for one the furthest away from you.

Your hands and feet were tied onto the chair, one hand behind handcuffed while the other hand and your legs were attached with zip ties.

Escape was not going to be easy, but you knew a bit of fighting, Wilbur having taught you how to protect yourself. You finally looked over to the middle of the room.

It took you a while to recognize the guy who’d kidnapped you. You did know him, though, only because of the things that Siren had told you. Schlatt, previously known as Gunmetal, an ex-hero. His power was the ability to strengthen his body to a metal-like level, making him incredibly hard to take down. The Syndicate considered approaching him for membership, but he was… unstable. He got discharged by the Hero Committee after his increased strength led to the destruction of an apartment building. There weren’t any villains around to pin it on, either, and there were too many witnesses. It had also been discovered that he’d been utilizing power enhancers, which were supposed to be outlawed, in order to extend his abilities and allow him to strengthen multiple parts of his body at once.

If what Wilbur had told you in his frustrated rants was true, Schlatt wanted to take over the Syndicate. He’d attacked them numerous times, always aiming to kill, and he’d taken a particular interest in finding out Siren’s identity.

You sat up a bit, preparing yourself for whatever bullshit he was about to spew at you.

Wilbur caught onto something being wrong a few hours after you’d been taken. He had gone on a minor heist with Techno, and things ran… suspiciously well. No hero intervention for the majority of the heist, until Flame showed up towards the end. Blade handled most of the fighting for him, while Siren took care of their escape. It was when they finally escaped that he noticed something odd. He and Techno passed by your apartment, and he knew your habits well enough to know that you would not be asleep this early. Despite that, the lights in your apartment were off. A bit of searching later, and he was quick to notice your disappearance. When he arrived back home, he was quick to enlist Tubbo to see if they could get a ping on your last known location. Your phone wasn’t anywhere to be found, so he hoped he could at least figure out where you had been. Normally, he would pace to try and distract himself, but when it came to you, there was no use. He immediately headed out, trying to find any sign of you and waiting for a response from Tubbo.

“Good mornin’ sweetheart,” Schlatt chuckled, standing in front of a table in front of your chair. He had two briefcases set out in front of him, “Don’t worry. I ain’t gonna hurt you.” There was an implied ‘yet’ at the end of that sentence. You got a good look at him. He wore a pressed suit, and an airsoft mask – equipped specially with two ram horns on the sides, his signature look. His knuckles were wrapped with red athletic tape, at least you’d hoped it was originally red.

“Then what the fuck do you want with me? It’s hard to believe you aren’t going to hurt me when you kidnapped me off the street.”

“I just need a bit of information, that’s all.”

You scoffed, “Really? So you just fucking kidnap me?”

“It’s effective, is it not?” He chuckled, leaning forward, “Do you have any powers?”

You rolled your eyes, “Cut the shitty small talk. Why am I here?”

“To answer my fucking questions.”

You looked down at your arm, noting a small cuff wrapped around it, “If I tell you, will you take the stupid power dampener off?”

He snorted, “Don’t act dumb.”

“Oh, good, then I’m not telling you.” You did have a power. It was part of why Wilbur felt comfortable being around you. You were also a mind manipulator, but you couldn’t get people to actually do things for you. You could just easily see through their words and arguments. Which meant that you could get them to believe you were telling the truth as well, which would be a bloody good thing to be able to utilize right about now.

“Fine, be like that.” He held up a photo, “So, if you won’t tell me your power, maybe you’ll tell me why Siren has had such a close eye on you?” You looked at the photo closer, being able to clearly make out Siren walking you home.

“He’s just a nice dude. Wants to walk me home sometimes,” you shrugged, trying to act nonchalantly, “I don’t know much about him if that’s what you’re wondering.”

He snorted, “Yeah, like I’d believe that.” He pulled out a folder, spreading out numerous photos of you and Siren, hanging out and eating together in your apartment.

“Have you been fucking stalking me, you absolute creep?”

“Not you, but Siren. You just happened to be there. And I wanna know why.”

“What? You’re mad that a citizen can show compassion to a villain?” You scoffed, “Boo-hoo, poor Schlatt, must be such a sad life you have.”

He growled, and you grinned at how easy it was to get under his skin, even without your power. “I couldn’t give less of a shit about that. I want to know why he’s trying to recruit new Syndicate members.”

You laughed, “God, you could not have worse of a grasp on the situation. He’s just a nice guy. Came to my bookstore once, offered to walk me home, and we became friends. Is it impossible for villains to have friends?”

“Supervillains don’t have friends. Not without an agenda.”

“What about their healer? He’s a friend, isn’t he?”

“He works for them. He doesn’t count.”

“Well, I clearly don’t work for them. So just leave me alone, why don’t you?”

“Okay, I will let you go. If you tell me one thing.”

Oh, here came the stupid request. “Oh? Let me guess? You want me to tell you Siren’s real name.”

“Obviously.”

“Do you really think he’s that stupid? To let a random civilian he met know his name?”

“No. But I know you’re not just a random civilian he met. Because these photos date back years.”

You tensed a bit, trying to hide any clear facial reaction, “And?”

“And, no one who doesn’t work with him would stick around that long, unless there was something keeping them there. So, you obviously know who he is.”

“Oh, obviously?” You tried to will down the blush on your cheeks. “Is it really that obvious? You don’t know anything about me, and you clearly don’t know anything about Siren.”

“So tell me what I don’t know.”

You rolled your eyes, “I’m not falling for that, dipshit. If you want information on Siren, you’ve got the wrong person.”

“Yeah, except that can’t be true. I know you have a power you’ve been hiding, and we know that Siren has spent a highly significant amount of time with you, longer than he ever did their healer. And, we have photos of you with him and other Syndicate members at your apartment. So we know you know his identity. But we can figure out other ways to make you talk.”

“Wow, so you’re adding misuse of power against a civilian to your list of crimes? That combined with the kidnapping, not to mention the murder and the numerous times you’ve hurt civilians and destroyed their homes, oh and getting discharged as a Hero?”

That got under his skin, “I have no problem adding torture onto that list.”

“So much for being a hero then.”

His fists curled up, and he slammed it down on the table, “ex-hero, for a reason.” He walked closer, crouching down to be eye-level with you. “So then, you’re really trying to tell me that the numerous dates you’ve gone on with Siren just don’t mean anything?”

“We- They weren’t dates!” Your face flushed dark red, “We’re just friends!” You blatantly tried to ignore the fact that you’d been in love with him for years.

“Your face is telling a different story,” he smirked, “Is he hot under the mask? Or maybe you just like a man with power?”

You moved back from his hand, jaw tensing, as he tried to cup your jaw, “Hm, well, if you aren’t saying anything willingly, I can make you talk.”

He stood again, walking over to the second briefcase, opening it to where you couldn’t see the contents. You didn’t know if you wanted to. “Plus, this is all just a distraction.” He lifted your phone, turning it on, “They’ll be here soon enough. I won’t need you then, I can take down the Syndicate myself.”

A shiver went down your spine, and you prayed that Wilbur hadn’t noticed your absence.

Tubbo was able to find you pretty quickly. Just when he’d thought your phone was too far for a proper ping, he got one with an exact location that he quickly relayed to Siren. Siren was on it almost immediately, but he wasn’t going in alone. He didn’t know who took you, so he was going to be prepared. By enlisting most of the Syndicate to join him. He made it to the location first, but he knew better than to jump in early, especially since he was one of the least physical fighters. He did some surveying, though, spotting a few guards in suits. Suits were the tell of Schlatt, and he mentally cursed the team members for not getting there as fast as he’d wished. He knew Schlatt could be violent, unpredictable, and hot-headed.

The rest of the Syndicate arrived, and Nemesis and Thanatos made quick work of taking down the guards. Which meant it was time to take down Schlatt.

You’d lost track of time. Schlatt had some interesting methods for getting you to talk. Most of them involve hitting you, his ability making it easy to hurt you, if the broken nose and cut lip were anything to go by. But a lot of it was mental. Using taunting words to try and get under your skin.

“It’s going to be so funny when you’re little boyfriend comes here,” he snickered, grabbing your jaw to make you look up at him, “It’ll be even better to make you watch him die.”

He almost seemed drunk the more and more he continued, “Or, maybe, I could hurt him more. Make him watch me kill you slowly. Or,” he chuckled, but the laughter quickly turned maniacal, “I’ll let him kill you. I’ll make him use that shitty fucking voice of his to kill you.”

You snorted, and he raised an eyebrow, “Something about that funny to you?”

You looked up at him, spitting blood out of your mouth, “His voice is real nice, actually. Much better than yours.” You were playing with fire, but you needed to buy time to get him hopefully exhausted enough to give you a chance to escape.

He smacked you, a loud crack reverberating and echoing throughout the warehouse.

“You piece of shit,” he rolled his eyes, moving away from you. He grabbed a water bottle, downing half of it easily. You watched cautiously, becoming all too aware of how thirsty you were.

“What? You want some or something?” He chuckled, walking back over to you, “Be my fucking guest,” he poured the water over your head. You tilted your head back and drank some of it down. Once you’d gotten some of it in your mouth, though, you quickly realized that it was not, in fact, water but instead vodka. You coughed once you realized, spitting out as much as you could.

He laughed as you hissed in pain, the alcohol stinging the wounds he’d left. He went to throw another retort at you, but before he could, the door slammed open.

Just as Schlatt predicted, the entire Syndicate was there. You sat up, watching as Schlatt moved back to his briefcase and pull out a syringe.

“Siren, run!” You yelled, thrashing and trying to draw attention to yourself, “All of you! Run! It’s a trap-”

You weren’t able to finish your sentence as Schlatt stormed over, grabbing you by the hair. “Oh, Jesus, just shut up with your whining,” he rolled his eyes, hitting your temple harshly, sending the chair to the ground and you with it. The ground rushed up to meet you, and the darkness of unconsciousness was quick to follow.

Siren was pissed. Blade quickly began to advance on Schlatt, but Wilbur was faster. It was stupid, he knew he was being stupid to rush in like this, but he was angry. He watched as Schlatt quickly injected himself with something, some odd shimmering yellow liquid, and in seconds, his body started glowing the same yellow. Power enhancers, Wilbur’s mind supplied. He cursed, hanging back to allow Blade to hit first. Zephyrus flew overhead, getting behind Schlatt to prevent him from running. As much as Wilbur wanted to fight, he needed to make sure you were okay.

He rushed over, grabbing a knife from the table that he prayed hadn’t been used on you. The first thing he did when he approached you was check your pulse, thanking anything that would listen that your pulse was still coming through. He cut the ties easily, then he moved onto the power dampener, trying to pry the thing off. He had no clue where the key for it was, but he didn’t have time to waste looking for it. He started breaking it off when he was tugged back, Schlatt having grabbed the back of his collar. He slammed Siren against the wall, grinning at him.

“For a world-class supervillain, you’d think you’d be smarter,” he chuckled, leaning his knee against Siren’s back and pinning him there. He pushed all of his power into his knee, strengthening and solidifying the metal against Wilbur’s back. “You know how easy it was for me to track them down? You made them an easy target, Siren. You’re the reason they’re here,” he pushed his knee further into his back.

“Let me go,” Siren ordered but to no avail.

Schlatt started laughing louder, “What, you think I’m an idiot? You thought I wouldn’t prepare my mask for you?”

Fuck.

Siren didn’t have to fret much longer, though. Blade came up behind Schlatt, driving a sword through his shoulder. He’d put too much power into his knee, leaving the rest of him vulnerable.

The rest of the takedown was easy. They were planning on taking Schlatt in, hopefully, to use as a bargaining chip against the Hero Committee since he was wanted by them. Once Zephyrus had him subdued, Nemesis and Thanatos grabbed his things and started heading back. Siren lingered with Zephyrus, Jester, Blade, and Ender (who’d only shown up to help take anyone who needed healing to Apollo). Siren walked over, ripping Schlatt’s mask off.

Schlatt was still spilling curses and threats against them, but he’d quieted for a moment as Wilbur pulled his mask off, eyes adjusting to the light. Wilbur threw the mask behind him, and a sinister grin spread over his face.

“We need him alive, Siren,” Blade reminded him.

He groaned, huffing softly, “Fine.” He hummed, tilting his head.

“Claw your left eye out, then knock yourself out.”

Wilbur didn’t stay to watch the aftermath, but he heard the groans and screams of pain from Schlatt as he walked back over to you. Ender was waiting next to you, double-checking for any serious wounds.

Wilbur got the rest of the power dampener off, throwing it to the side. He carefully lifted you, making sure to be mindful of your head.

Ender gave him a concerned look, "It looks bad, but they should be okay."

“No, not should be.” Siren snapped his head towards Ender, shaking his head, “I need them to be okay. Bring us to Apollo.”

Ender nodded, placing a hand on Siren’s shoulder. In seconds, they disappeared in a flurry of purple particles, appearing now in Apollo’s clinic in the Syndicate building.

Tommy was sitting by the desk, playing on his DS. He perked up quickly when he heard Ender teleport in, looking up and seeing Siren cradling you. Siren moved forward, placing you down on the doctor’s mat in the center of the room.

Tommy quickly walked over, “Jesus, man, what the fuck happened?” He placed his hands near your head, warmth emitting over them as he began healing you.

“Schlatt happened. But he won’t be a problem anymore,” Wilbur huffed, tearing off his blindfold and coat, draping them over a chair. He paced around the room as Tommy worked on healing.

“You’re going to burn a hole in the floor,” Tommy huffed.

“I couldn’t care less, Toms. They weren’t supposed to be involved with any of this, I’ve fucked it up again, I-I put them in danger,” Wilbur ran a hand through his hair.

Tommy straightened, pulling his hands away as he finished healing, “Don’t start with your self-deprecating shit, man. They know you’re Siren. They’ve stuck around, and they always knew this could happen. You’re not to blame.”

“But I-”

“You weren’t the one who kidnapped them. It’s not your fault,” Tommy sighed, grabbing a glass of water.

Wilbur nodded, walking up to you, still unconscious, “They- they’ll be fine, right? They’ll be okay?”

Tommy took a sip of his water, nodding, “Yeah. Head injury was the worst of it, but it should be all healed up now. They might be a bit foggy when they wake up, though.”

“When will they wake up?”

Tommy shrugged, “Should be soon. Probably an hour or two. Can’t give you an exact time. You should get them somewhere more comfortable before they’re up, though.”

Wilbur nodded, carefully picking you back up, “Thanks, Tommy.”

“You don’t have to thank me, man, it’s my job.”

Wilbur rolled his eyes, “I want to thank you, dickhead. Now, go to sleep, child.”

“I am n-” Wilbur cut off Tommy’s response by closing the door to Tommy’s clinic behind him. He called Techno, and within a few minutes, Wilbur was being driven home with you still resting in his arms.

“They’re going to be fine, you know that.”

“I know they will be, but they never should’ve been there in the first place. They never asked for this.” Wilbur sighed.

“Oh, please.” Techno snorted, “You tried to scare them away way back when. You even used your ability to try and convince them to not want to be around you.”

“Yeah, but that’s not the same. They turned down the offer to join the Syndicate, which meant they never should’ve been involved with this stuff.”

“Maybe you should ask again,” Techno shrugged. “Even if they don’t want to fight, we could use someone to help out with questioning people. Their ability would work pretty well for that.”

“Techno, I just said they shouldn’t have been involved with this stuff.” Wilbur sighed.

“All I’m saying is if they do become a member, it would be a lot easier to keep them safe. Less loose ends that we can’t keep our eyes on.”

Wilbur bit his lip, nodding with realization, “True. I- yeah. I’ll ask them.”

“Plus, with how in love with them you are, it won’t be long before something like this happens again.”

“I- What?” Wilbur spluttered, eyes widening, “How-?”

“How do I know that? Wilbur, it’s insanely obvious,” Techno laughed, “I have no clue how they don’t know.”

“They won’t know. And you won’t tell them.” Wilbur hissed out.

“Mmhm, okay, sure. Pretty big wimp move for a supervillain.”

Wilbur groaned but didn’t respond past that.

The rest of the car ride was quiet, Wilbur gently playing with your hair gently. He routinely moved a hand to check your pulse, just as a reminder that you were fine and alive and here with him.

He carried you out of the car once Techno pulled up, heading straight to his room. He laid you down gently, placing your head on his lap.

The world seemed fuzzy when you came to. You were too comfortable to open your eyes at first, shifting slightly and letting out a soft groan. Your joints felt sore and stiff, but your face felt even weirder. Your face felt warm but like all of your muscles were new and had never been used before. You scrunched your nose, slowly opening your eyes and letting them get used to the environment around you.

You recognized the room instantly and relaxed as the memories started flooding back to you. The kidnapping, Schlatt, getting knocked out. You heard humming, looking up to see Wilbur leaning against the wall, humming with his eyes closed. He was fidgeting with his fingers and biting at his lip.

You slowly shifted to look up at him fully, “Hey.” Your voice was groggier than you’d expected.

He looked down quickly, “You’re up,” he smiled, “Hi.”

“Did everything go well? With Schlatt?”

He laughed, shaking his head, “God, you just woke up from getting knocked out and tortured, and the first thing you ask is if the fight went well?” He moved a hand to your hair gently, “Are you okay?”

“Well, yeah,” you shrugged, “I feel fine, just a bit tired, I guess. I feel like I’m supposed to feel worse.”

“Tommy healed you,” he supplied.

You sat up slowly, and he carefully placed a hand on your back, keeping it there until you’d gotten in a better position. “He didn’t have to do that. I would’ve been fine.”

“You would’ve had a concussion and a fracture in your skull.”

“That’s not the worst thing in the world.” You joked and gave him a lopsided grin, and he shook his head, chuckling.

He pulled you into a tight hug, “I’m so fucking glad you’re okay.”

You hugged him back, burying your face against him gently, “I would’ve been fine.”

You were lying. You were not fine, actually. As strong as you acted, you couldn’t deny the slight shake that lay in your hands as you thought about that warehouse and the overwhelming fear the image of that mask in your head put in you.

You could’ve used your ability to make Wilbur believe you. You didn’t honestly have the energy to do so.

“You don’t have to be fine,” he whispered, rubbing your back gently, “I know how terrifying it must’ve been. But it’s okay, you’re safe now.”

Your fists balled up the fabric of his sweater, and the tears started falling soon after. He rubbed your back as you cried, the waves of fear and stress finally coming out. You could only hold it together for so long, and Wilbur would always be there when you finally broke.

By the time you calmed down, you were left with soft gasps of breath and holding Wilbur like a lifeboat. He leaned over to his nightstand, handing you a glass of water. After a moment’s hesitation, he placed a gentle kiss on your forehead.

You drank slowly, not wanting to overwhelm yourself. Wilbur’s kiss didn’t exactly help, but physical affection wasn’t something new to either of you.

As if he knew exactly what you were thinking, he wrapped his arms around you gently, leaning his face against your shoulder. You leaned into his touch, letting your eyes close for a moment.

“He was stalking me. Well, he was stalking you, but he had photos from years ago of us. Of Siren walking me home. Of Blade at my apartment. Of Zephyrus in my living room.”

Wilbur tensed, keeping you a bit closer. “I’m so sorry.” He whispered, “I-I never should’ve let you get involved with the Syndicate stuff, I was so stupid to think something like this wouldn’t happen.”

“Wilbur, you never let me get involved. In fact, you were the one pushing me from getting involved. I chose this. I knew something like this could happen, and I chose to stick by you.”

“You’re not a member of the Syndicate, though. I know you can protect yourself, but I don’t want to be the reas-”

“Wilbur.” You hissed out. “If you even for a moment insist again that this is your fault, I will use my ability to make you believe that the best way to sleep is by falling out the window.” He bit his tongue from responding, nodding. “I didn’t turn down the Syndicate offer because I thought it would keep me safe.” You reached for his hand, taking it and squeezing it tightly. You didn’t know if it was your foggy mental state that made the idea of confessing your feelings so appealing or if it was just the residual fear in your system, but you didn’t care regardless.

“Why did you turn it down, then?” Wilbur asked softly.

“I turned down the Syndicate offer because I was worried about working with you.” You sighed, “It’s hard to focus around you, Wilbur.”

“Me? I don’t understand, we’ve been best friends for years, why would..?”

“That’s the problem. It’s hard to focus around you because I am constantly wishing that you would love me back.”

You held your breath once the words left your mouth. Wilbur pulled away from you, and you felt your heart drop.

“Do you mean that?” He asked softly, moving to sit in front of you.

You nodded, unable to respond further in fear of the tears resurfacing.

Wilbur reached a hand out, pausing and hesitating for a moment. He continued though, gently cupping your cheek.

“Can I kiss you?”

Your eyes widened. “Only if you mean it.”

He smiled softly, leaning forward and kissing you hard. You wrapped your arms around his neck, holding him close as you kissed him back, putting all the passion behind it that you’d wanted to for years.

When he pulled away, you rested your forehead against his, catching your breath slowly. He smiled, fingers lightly tracing your arms.

“So… about joining the Syndicate then,” you started.

He laughed, pulling away to grin at you, “You don’t have to decide anything tonight. But it would be really nice. You probably wouldn’t be on the front lines, but we’d love to have you. Plus, we’d be able to see each other a lot more.” He grinned.

You smiled, “Well, I’ll give you a formal answer in the morning. But as for an informal one, I’d fucking love it.”

He grinned, holding you close once more. You ran your hands up and down his back gently, and he hissed in pain when you reached the midpoint of his back. You pulled away.

“Will? You alright?”

He gave a thumbs up, and you smirked, “Say it out loud.”

He groaned, “I am alright. I am perfectly fine.” You could feel the pressure of his words in your head, and they almost sounded distorted. A clear lie.

“Let me see your back.” You smiled, and he groaned.

“You know how much I hate that I can’t lie to you?” He huffed, turning and pulling his sweater up.

“I know, I know,” you took a good look at his back, frowning at the dark bruise on his back, “Wilbur, you have a huge bruise. Are your ribs okay? It looks like some might be cracked.”

“They feel fine,” he shrugged. The pressure returned to your head, and this time you could feel a sensation of burning below your hands. A big lie, then.

“...I’m texting Tommy.”

“No, do not!”

You already had your phone out, texting Tommy to ask for him to come as soon as possible, both for Wilbur and so you could thank him for healing you.

“Too late,” you smiled, and Wilbur huffed, pulling his sweater back down.

He wrapped an arm around you again, kissing the top of your head, “You’re lucky I love you, Aletheia.”

“I am,” you smiled softly. There was no pressure or warm sensation. He did love you. He meant it. “Alethia? God of… truth, right?”

He nodded, “It’s Techno’s codename for you. He chose it out months ago.”

You smiled fondly, “Cool. Has a nice ring to it.”

He nodded, “I agree. And for what it’s worth, I’m lucky too.” He smiled, and you gave him a gentle kiss.

“We’re both lucky. Maybe our duo name could be Tyche.”

“Oh, god, I’m going to have to deal with so many more Greek mythology references with you in the Syndicate, aren’t I?”

“Oh, absolutely.”

[mkt808]

Knockout Romance Chapter 1

"Since you are all adults now, I think now is the perfect time to reintroduce everyone to a classic," Sakura said to her class.

"Here in my hands, I have a copy of Romeo and Juliet. Before all the moaning and groaning, tell me, Ms. Yamamoto, have we read this book before? I want you to read it again, and we will have a discussion on it," Sakura said.

"Professor Yamamoto, do we really have to read it?" one of her students asked.

"Yes, indeed. As adults now, you may have different perspectives on this book, such as different themes of love, betrayal, desire, lust, and adventure. You don't just have to focus on the main characters but the side characters as well," Sakura explained.

Sakura glanced at the clock on the back wall; it was 1:25 PM, meaning class would be over in five minutes. She debated whether to continue with the lesson, but based on her students' anxious faces, she decided otherwise.

"Since there are only five minutes left, you may all leave early. One more announcement: there will be no class on Friday. I want you all to read up to Act 2 and write at least two paragraphs about a theme, a scene, or your thoughts on the book. Have a great rest of the week," Sakura said as her students eagerly scurried out.

Sakura began packing her belongings to head out for the day. As she was gathering her things, she heard a small knock. Looking up, she saw her older brother waiting at the door. She grabbed her bag and walked over to give him a hug.

"Sora, what a nice surprise," Sakura said while hugging her brother. After pulling away, she looked at him with curiosity.

"What are you doing here? Did you drive all the way from the city?" she asked.

"Yeah, I needed a break from the city, so I decided to drive up to Stony Brook," Sora said.

"Well, what a nice surprise. Any plans today?" Sakura asked curiously.

"Actually, do you want to grab a coffee and just hang out for a while?" Sora asked.

"Yeah, I'm free for the rest of the day," Sakura replied.

"Great, let's go," Sora said.

The duo sat across from one another at Bean and Blossom. Sora was drinking an iced black coffee, while Sakura had an iced vanilla latte. They shared a chocolate croissant and a vanilla scone at Sakura's request.

"So, how's it going at the publishing house?" Sakura asked, sipping her coffee.

"It's really busy but good. I'm now the manager of editing," Sora said.

"Wow, Sora, that's really great. I'm really happy for you," Sakura said.

"Yeah, but sometimes when I'm reviewing stories, I don't always agree with what the writers are producing," Sora admitted.

"Don't you have a say in what gets published?" Sakura asked.

"I do, but there's only so much I can do," Sora replied.

"Well, all jobs have pros and cons. Sometimes you just have to roll with the hand you're dealt," Sakura said, taking a long sip of her coffee.

"I know, but this issue is the worst thing I've had to deal with," Sora sighed.

"What article is stressing you out? Is everyone fighting over the newest pair of designer shoes?" Sakura joked, laughing.

"No. I wish. Here's the article coming out this week," Sora said, sliding his phone over to her.

Sakura picked up his phone and almost choked on her croissant. The screen displayed a picture of Jungkook walking with two girls beside him. The headline read: Popular boxer Jungkook, also known as "The Phantom Strike," spotted with two groupies after his loss to The Raging Bull. Sakura stared at the article in shock, confused as to why Jungkook would jeopardize his image. Shaking off her thoughts, she handed the phone back to Sora.

"Jungkook is your best friend. Did you at least give him a heads-up?" she asked.

"Not yet. I'm scared he's going to go nuts over the article," Sora admitted.

"If he wants to hook up with people, that's his right. It's not like he's in a relationship, so who cares?" Sakura said.

"His agents will care! He's one of the most popular boxers in the U.S. and has a brand deal with Nike. What happens if he loses his sponsorships?" Sora countered.

"That's on him, then. Sometimes you need to hit rock bottom to climb back up," Sakura shrugged.

"I swear, you're an English professor—you need to stop using so many damn quotes and metaphors," Sora groaned.

"Can't help it. It's part of my education," Sakura said with a grin.

Sora sighed, composing himself before revealing the real reason he had come to see her.

"Sakura, I need a favor," Sora said.

"Which is?" Sakura asked skeptically.

"Would you come with me to see Jungkook tomorrow?" he asked, pleading with his eyes.

Sakura took a long sip of her coffee. "I have office hours, homework, and other things to attend to."

"Please, Sakura. I know the last few months have been tough. I think it would be good for you to come back to the city for a couple of days and reconnect with old friends," Sora pleaded.

"Yes, the last few months have sucked. But I don't think going back to see someone I barely talk to will make me feel better," Sakura said.

"Please, I need you. When you needed me, I was always there for you," Sora reminded her.

Sakura thought about how much her brother had helped her—moving her into her new apartment, being a shoulder to cry on, always dropping everything for her. She pondered for a moment before sighing.

"Why do you need me there anyway?" she asked.

"Jungkook has always had a soft spot for you," Sora smirked.

Sakura rolled her eyes. "Alright, I'll go. But you're buying most of the meals and all my coffee in the city."

"It's a deal," Sora said with a grin.

Welcome to my first book on tumblr.

[alovesongtheywrote]

Nightmare Academia | Spencer Reid x Reader

♥ Summary:  Have you ever seen the tiktok where that guy brings a typewriter to his class because his prof doesn't allow laptops? Yeah, it's that, but you are the source of the typewriters. In other words, you're Reid's worst nightmare. [Prof!Spencer Reid x GN-Prof!Reader]

♥ Warnings:  Descriptions of emotional vulnerability from a student to a professor, reminders that the world sucks and Gen-Z is fucked when it comes to housing. The reader is. Kind of Mean to Spencer, but I won't say he doesn't deserve it. Enemies to Lovers, but they're just Enemies right now.

♥ A/N: a couple things about this fic. 1) i have no clue when this takes place in the criminal minds timeline???? i just know reid took a some kind of leave from the bau, and this is what he's doing with it 2) reid isn't actually in this one that much. my bad. 3) i've got no clue what university these two teach at. i researched typewriters extensively for this, but i didn't bother googling universities.

♥ Word count:  2371

Series Masterlist

♥♥♥

“Alright, my little chilli babies, that’s about it for today. If you have any questions, office hours start now, and please remember there’s an exam next week. It makes me sad when you forget. Got it? Got it. Cool.”

Your students immediately began to stand and file out of the room. They left in groups. Some of them chatted amongst themselves softly, and some called out a farewell to you, but most of them were silent. One or two lingered behind to ask about the administration process of the PCL-R, but that was about it.

Except for this one girl.  

You were pretty sure her name was Opal. She sat near the back of the room in the second to last row. She got good grades and performed well on tests and projects- although she was a touch shy during the one presentation project you assigned during the semester.

Usually, Opal was one of the first to leave, practically running from the room, but today she just sat there, staring straight ahead. You watched her for a second, vaguely assuming that she had a question or something. She didn’t get up to ask, though. She just sat still, staring at her laptop.  You paid her no mind.  Sometimes your students just needed a second, and that was usually nothing to worry about.

You were just about to pack up your own things and head for your office when you heard a sob. You looked up again to see Opal just sobbing into her computer. You winced. A pang of sympathy hit you dead in the chest. University was just like that sometimes- and she wasn’t the first or last student to cry on campus.  

Shit, you cried on campus. Like, all the time. As a professor.  The previous Tuesday you thought about the two-headed calf poem too hard and you ended up sobbing in your office.  

You headed for the back of the room, leaning a hip against the back of the seat beside her. She didn’t seem to notice your presence. Her laptop screen was covered with detailed notes- it was honestly an impressive collection.  

You crossed your arms, raising an eyebrow, “Everything okay over here?”

Opal gasped, looking up at you with wide eyes, “I-I’m- I-” she sobbed again, “I’m so sorrrrrry.”

“Sorry? What do you have to be sorry for?”

“I’m crying in your classroom, and I’m so overwhelmed, and my next assignment is going to be late, and I’m so sorrrrry.”

The poor thing put her face in her hands and hunched over in her seat. You pulled out the chair next to her and sat down.

“You have nothing to be sorry for. University is stressful. It’s easy to get overwhelmed and crying can provide a cathartic release from that.”

“I- I know. It’s just so- so embarrassing.”

“Again, don’t worry about it. I literally cried in here last week.”

“R-really?”

“Mhmm. Now, if it helps, I can provide an extension on that assignment. Your feedback might be a little less in-depth, but that’s really nothing to worry about. Your work has always met a high standard.”

Her eyes somehow got even wider, “Are you- are you sure, professor?”

“Absolutely. It’s not a big deal- it might not fix your whole problem though,” you pulled your legs up onto the chair, sitting criss-cross facing your student, “If you’re feeling overwhelmed, the school provides free counselling services. They can help you feel less… whelmed.”  

Opal nodded, wiping her eyes, “It’s really just- just this one class I’m in. Our professor doesn’t allow laptops so I have to take notes by hand. But my- my writing is really messy, so then I have to figure out what I wrote, and-”

She was working herself back into a frenzy. You had to intervene. 

“Hey, hey, it’s okay. Which prof is it, maybe we can ask about getting an accommodation made?”

“It’s-” she sobbed, “It’s Professor Reid.”

You froze. Opal continued to sob as a dark, heavy storm cloud rolled into your brain.  

“That fucking bastard,” you hissed, effectively shocking Opal out of her stupor.

“Wh-what?”

“This isn’t the first time he’s- okay, come on, follow me, we’re going to my office.”

Wordlessly, Opal put her things in her bag. You ran to your desk to do the same, snatching your keys and water bottle before heading out into the hallway. Opal followed diligently, but she struggled to keep up with your purposeful strides. Her face was still tear-stained, but now, instead of sorrow, her expression was the ultimate picture of confusion. When you reached your office, you swung the door open wide and ushered the girl inside.

In all honesty, you were quite proud of the space you had created. It was warmly lit, a necessary contrast from the harsh white lights of the hallway (you fucking hated those lights). The walls were decorated with your doctorates and neat little art pieces you found in various places. It was colourful and pleasant, and now was not the time to focus on your choice of decor because you were on a mission.

Opal remained near the door, watching as you rounded your desk and reached for something below it. With a slight groan of effort, you quickly emerged with your prize.

A vintage typewriter.

A heavy vintage typewriter.

You placed the thing down on your desk as delicately as you could. Opal stared at you in confusion as you beamed at the fine piece of machinery.

“Which room is his class in, I’ll have someone bring this to you.”

“Professor-?”

“You use it for one class, just one, and I guarantee he’ll let you use your laptop. Damn, technophobe.”

“I don’t know how to use a typewriter.”

You placed your hands on the desk, leaning forward on it, “Okay, come here then, I’ll show you.”

Opal timidly made her way towards you. You made sure to leave her lots of space as you ran through the tech tutorial. She picked up on it quickly, being the good student that she was. When you were done, you collapsed back in your chair, another bright smile on your face. Opal looked significantly less distraught, but still vaguely confused.

“Can I ask why you’re doing this for me? You- you didn’t even have to give me an extension. Why are you-?”

“Because you aren’t the first student to have this problem.”

It was true. This was the seventh sobbing-student-style complaint you’d had about him in as many months- and Reid had only been there for seven months.  You’d received emails, phone calls, and office hour meetings where desperate and devastated students would explain to you that they were falling behind. It broke your heart a little bit- and it pissed you right off.  

It was ironic that Doctor Reid had come straight here from the FBI- his technophobic nature was slowly but surely murdering your students, and now, you were going to murder him.

“Now about that extension, does five days sound good?”

Opal handed in the assignment two days into her extension. You smiled as you looked over her incredible paper. Your little scheme had worked. You hoped that Reid was pissed.

–

He was! Kind of. Not really.  It was a bit of a disappointment to be honest.

You had only known Doctor Spencer Reid for the seven months he’d been teaching alongside you, and boy howdy were you starting to hate his fucking guts. At first, everything was fine. He’d seemed sweet, and polite, and you were willing to overlook the whole FBI profiler thing to maintain the peace.

Then one of your students passed out during class.  

Thanks to his high expectations and fear of computers, there was a lot of shit for his students to cope with. The worst part was, you agreed with some of his policies- of course, you didn’t agree with the tech thing, that was stupid- but there was other stuff that you liked. He taught your students things that could help them improve- but at what cost.

Your formerly dim-eyed and sleepy students (let’s be real, they were never going to be bright-eyed nor bushy-tailed, they’re fucking college students) were now going through life in a state of anxiety that was not good for their long-term health. That was enough to make you hate Spencer Reid.  

And then one night, over a very full glass of wine you looked up his FBI career. You learned that the BAU used a private jet.

A private. Fucking. Jet.

They didn’t need to use the private jet. They could’ve used trains and it would’ve done the same thing. Shit, they didn’t even have to leave Quantico. They could’ve done their job from their main office. Most profilers do their job from their main office.  Instead, Reid’s team had dumped fucking jet fuel into the damn atmosphere because they fucking felt like it.  Not to mention just. FBI. Ew.

So, yeah. Fuck Reid’s three PhD’s, and fuck his ability to teach. You didn’t give a shit about any of that. You hated the man. You wanted to eat his heart in the main atrium, and given your way, you would.

Taking all that into consideration, it was only natural for the expression on your face to morph into one of absolute joy when Reid came to your office with the typewriter in his arms, and his tail between his legs.

“Doctor Reid,” your smile was a plastic thing, a false beauty with venom hiding beneath it, “What can I help you with.”

“Please stop sending that typewriter to my class.”

You opened your eyes a little wider, playing dumb just to fuck with him, “Typewriter? Whatever do you mean? I can’t imagine anyone in this century would even own a little antique typewriter like that thing there.”

“Little? That thing has to be over a hundred pounds- and it’s not antique, it’s-”

“It is literally thirty-three pounds.”

“Oh, okay,” he nodded. It was very clearly a ruse, “But how would you know that unless you own the typewriter?”

“I do a lot of research. That’s a 1960s Vintage Royal Empress Typewriter measuring about twelve inches in width and weighing thirty-three pounds and eight ounces. Y’know, now that you mention it, I’ve actually been in the market for a vintage typewriter.”

You put your elbows together on the desk and placed your face in your hands, “You wouldn’t know where I could get one would you?”

“Dr. (L/N), this is your typewriter.  Please stop sending it to my classes.”

“Hm, I guess it doesn’t pay tuition, that’s not fair to the other students,” you opened your laptop, “What class do you teach again? I’ll sign it up and pay the price in full.”

Doctor Reid let out the most exasperated sigh you had ever heard in your life- and that was impressive. You taught college kids.

“Why are you like this?” he mumbled.

“Pardon?”

“I said-” he at least had the decency to look embarrassed, “I said, ‘Why are you like this?’”

Your smile split your face from ear to ear. You emerged from behind your desk slowly, carefully, like a predator eyeing up its prey.

“Why am I like this, Dr. Reid? I’m like this because in the past seven months, I have had to deal with seven emotionally wrecked students, and what did they all have in common? Was it personal tragedies? The pure state of the world and everything in it? The knowledge that very few of the students at this school will be able to afford houses once they enter the working world?  No, Dr. Reid. The thing they had in common was you.”

“What are you implying?”

“Implying- what are you implying, he asks me,” you muttered, “I’m saying that your fear of computers is fucking over your students.”

“Studies have shown that handwritten notes-”

“No, no, stop. You don’t get to talk.  I’m talking now. Handwritten notes might be better for long-term memory retention, but not everyone writes as fast as you talk. Most of these kids don’t have time to switch their notes to a digital format! And that doesn’t account for shit getting lost, or students who get sick and miss class. Look, I get that computers might be scary for you, but in a climate where most of your students are full-time students, who take a mind-numbing amount of courses that cover incredibly difficult material, go home and struggle with the steaming pile of shit that is reality, and then head out for their part-time jobs- or, in some cases, their full-time jobs- you might want to have a degree of sympathy.”

Reid stared at you. He seemed unaffected. You wondered if that was because you were like, an entire foot shorter than him. You pulled up a chair and stood on it.

“Let your students use their laptops, or I swear to god, I will never stop sending the typewriter to class.  You will hear the incessant sound of keys clicking in your nightmares, got it?” 

He paused, his eyes darting across your face from your lips to your eyes and back.

“How old are you?”

“Excuse me?”

“You’re standing on a chair like a child. How old are you?”

“Twenty-seven. Now get out of my office.”

He did as you asked. You could see a small smirk on his lips as he shut the door behind him. The sight of it made your blood boil, and there and then, you decided you were gonna keep sending the typewriter anyway because fuck that guy.

Still, over the next few months, you never heard another complaint about Spencer Reid and his technophobic habits. Your students went from extreme emotional agony to regular, day-to-day emotional agony. He’d stopped making them take notes by hand.

You were still gonna kill him just… maybe a little bit less.

[redheadspark]

19 with Oliver Wood please👉👈

A/N - This is CUTE for Oliver! Thanks for requesting this, anon!

Know So

Summary - Sometimes Oliver needs some words of encouragement when it comes to being the Quidditch Captain

Warnings - Just some fluff :)

As soon as you plopped down next to Oliver, you knew he was thinking too deep in his head.

The Three Broomsticks was not as crowded that night since it was during the week and most of the students were out shopping at either Zonkos or Honeydukes.  It was one of the very rare nights that Hogwarts students were allowed to come to Hogsmeade for a few hours before curfew, and the ones who were allowed to come had excellent marks in their classes.  Mostly it was 6th and 7th years, those who worked hard and had their noses in their books then causing trouble. It was also meant for Prefects and Quidditch Captains, which was why both you and Oliver were there with the older students. 

Being a co-captain with Oliver Wood was no easy task, but he was the one who handpicked you.  You both were in the same year and started Quidditch on the Gryffindor team at the same time as 2nd year.  You saw his competitiveness and thirst to win, not to mention his natural talent on the broom and as the keeper.  You were just as good, but Oliver was always a pinch better, which was why he was chosen to be the Captain when Oliver was a 5th year.  There was no need to be jealous of that achievement since you knew Oliver earned it with the hours at practice and the plenty of scrapes and broken bones.  But was surprised you was that he wanted you to be his co-captain the next year when you two were 6th years.  There has never been a co-captain in Hogwarts quidditch history, and he had to get special permission from both Professor Dumbledore and Professor McGonagall.  Both of them agreed, which to the dismay of Slytherin house.

In the end, you were grateful that Oliver chose you to work alongside him, you thinking that he needed more strategy.  But he confessed how you were more leveled headed when it came to making plays and handling stress, and he wanted someone to counter him when he got stressed.  You were a great player nonetheless, a great Chaser and reserve Beater when one of the twins was out.  Oliver loved watching you play and talking to you about things to improve on, so this past recent practice you could tell he had something on his mind.  He was not entirely focused, not like how he would usually be.  So when the rest of the team left for the showers, you pulled him aside and suggested the pair of you unwind at the Three Broomsticks.

He accepted, showing off the handsome smile on his face as you clasped him on the shoulder. 

“Here,” You said, handed him his Buttebeer while you sat next to him with yours in your hand, “Wanna tell me what’s going on?  You look like you’re in deep thought,”

He gave you a questioning look, “What makes ya think I’m in deep thought?” He countered back as you raised a brow at him.

“I’ve known you since our first year, Oliver.  You can tell me,” You reasoned, seeing him paused as he held his Butterbeer glass in hand, “You always seemed to overthink about a lot of things, especially when it comes to Quidditch.  Wanna tell me why you’re overthinking?”

Oliver sighed, tapping the glass with his fingers as you took a long sip from your own glass and waited for his answer.  Seeing how he still seemed a bit stiff and uneasy, almost sitting a bit too stiff like a breeze would  knock him over.

“Sometimes I feel like I’m not doin’ a good enough job as the captain,” He said in a grumble, you looking at him in shock as he was watching the bubble in his drink rise up a bit, “I mean, I know I push the team a lot and I make the practices go longer, but maybe I go too far when it comes to—“

“Oliver, you are not a bad captain,” You interrupted him as he looked over at you and you smiled at hime, “I know for a fact you’re a great captain!  The other do too, and although they grumble a bit at times, they still think you’re great,”

That perked Oliver up a bit from hearing that from you, though he eyed you with a hint of suspicion, “You think so? I really value yer opinion and I wanna know from ya,”

“Since when do I lie to you?” You asked with a playful shove of your shoulder against his, seeing his smile not leave his face as you went on, “Let’s be honest: the others may give you slack from time to time, but I know they would follow your calls in every game.  They know you’re a great leader and captain because you care about them.  Remember that one time you told the twins to back off from decking the Slytherin Beaters when they were targeting me that one game?”

You remember that game very well, how nasty it was, and how brutal the Southern team was being against the Gryffindor team.  The two beaters on the Slytherin team made it a plan to target you and try to take you out since you were raking up the points.  One bludger was close enough to make you fall off your broom, barely missing your head as the twins were about to retaliate.  You were fine, spooked but fine nonetheless as Olive barked orders at them to back down.  Luckily, Harry snagged the snitch just in time to win the game and to give the Slytherin team scowl looks of defeat.  

“They were gifts for doin’ that to you,” Oliver grumbled, you knowing he was talking about the Slytherin beaters.

“But still, you made sure the twins weren’t going to make fools of themselves.  And I recall that one time you helped me out when I wasn’t feeling confident enough, back when you asked me to be your co-captain,” You explained, seeing Oliver scan your eyes for a moment bringing up that other memory.  You were hesitant in taking on the role, though Oliver seemed so confident about the choice he made.  You two were sitting in the stands side by side, the sun going down over the Scotland mountains as you were questioning if he made the right choice in choosing you.

“You’re gonna be great helpin’ the team, and helpin’ me,” Oliver explained to you as you were fiddling with your practice robes, “You’re great at the game and I can’t think of any other person in working alongside me,”

You eyed him with suspicion, seeing his glorious smile as the setting sun was setting on his face, and made his chocolate eyes twinkle a bit more.  You saw it in how he was watching you, how close he was to you in fact that he was telling the truth.

“You think so?” You asked tentatively.  Oliver nodded, his smile never leaving his face.

“I know so,” he replied.

“You’re an amazing captain because you’re an amazing person,” You reassured him, seeing his smile once again as you two were sitting in the booth.  It was evident that his mood was lifted, he was no longer in his funk and he held up his glass to you.

“Thanks,” He replied, you raising your glass to touch his.

“Anytime,” You hummed, the pair of you taking a long drink from your glasses.  You had no idea that Oliver was insanely moved by what you said, making his intense crush on you deepen by the second.

The End

April Prompt Session

[hphmmatthewluther]

HPHM Ship Week: Day 2 - Soulmate AU

It's time for another ship fic! This time we have a look at how things might go in a world where relationships and destiny have an odd connection to each other...

Again, thanks so much to @hphm-ship-week for organising this event!

It seemed like a perfectly ordinary evening as the students of Hogwarts filed into the Great Hall. They’d been called in earlier than usual for some sort of special assembly. Amongst the crowd, within the Slytherins, a girl with bright pink eyes and messy brown and orange hair looked across the room.

“Looks like it’s only the fourth-years.” she said, raising an eyebrow. “Wonder what this is about?”

Ismelda, who looked on with her usual lack of enthusiasm, shrugged. “No idea. Probably something dull like a new room we’re not allowed into.”

Barnaby had his eyes on the back of the room. “Oh, there’s something under the cloth! Maybe it’ll be….a cake?”

Merula looked across at him. “Barnaby, I don’t think it’ll be a cake. The cloth would get icing on it.”

“Oh yeah.” Barnaby said, frowning. “What do you think it is, then?”

Merula had to get up on her tiptoes, but she saw what Barnaby was talking about. “Hmm…some kind of trophy? Maybe we’ll have a new inter-house competition! I’ll get to kick Luther’s arse again!”

“Doesn’t he kick your arse all of the time?” Ismelda pointed out, flicking the hair in front of her eye.

“It’s…” Merula hissed, clenching her fists. “It’s 50/50. We’re rivals, damn it! I get just as many wins as he does!”

“Maybe.” Ismelda shrugged. “But he doesn’t care about it like you do. So that means he gets an extra win.”

“Oh, are you guys talking about Matthew?” Barnaby asked, innocently. “He’s over there if you want to say hi!”

As the fourth-years sat down, Merula was unable to stop herself from turning to Ravenclaw. Sure enough, sitting at their table a few seats down was Matthew Luther, spinning his silver bracelet around on his wrist. There was a moment when he looked up at her, but Merula scowled and looked away.

“Whatever this is…I’m going to beat him!” she muttered under her breath. 

A few minutes passed, and Professor Dumbledore stepped into the middle of the room, as Filch dragged the cloth-covered object over. “Welcome, fourth-years!” Dumbledore’s voice boomed, “welcome to a very special moment in your magical journeys. As you know, our society has enjoyed relative tranquillity outside of the occasional dark wizard. The reason for this is that everyone knows that the person they end up closest with is the most perfect one for them.”

Merula had only been half-listening when she realised just what Dumbledore had been saying. This didn’t sound like “inter-house competition” talk.

“This part of our world has been kept secret from all of you until now, and I ask that you do not discuss it with anyone in the lower three years. There will be severe punishments if this happens. Do I make myself clear?”

The whole room nodded, muttering to each other. Merula also noticed Matthew clutching his stomach. He always did that when he was stressed. She’d always found it odd how someone so capable at magic could have such an adorable habit. No, no, nott adorable, maybe…silly. Yes, silly. She definitely didn’t think it was cute or anything like that.

“So!” Dumbledore brought his hands together before reaching for the cloth. “Behold the secret to your happiness. The Mirror of the Soul!”

Dumbledore pulled the cloth away, and there stood a luxurious mirror, the glass held aloft by what looked like silver branches complete with leaves. There was a loud “oooo” as people craned their necks to see more properly.

“One by one, you will come up and gaze into the mirror.” Dumbledore explained. “You will then get to see your soulmate. From there, you will have free time for the next two weeks to find and get to know your soulmate even better. Following this, you will be given new timetables for your lessons together.”

Merula blinked once or twice. She wasn’t sure she’d heard him right. Soulmates? The thought enveloped her head so quickly she barely realised that she’d got up into the queue of fourth years, all excitedly chattering to each other about who their soulmate might be. Barnaby ended up near Matthew in the queue, and Merula could only watch as Barnaby excitedly began to talk with him. Looking at them standing like this, Merula hadn’t realised just how tall Matthew was until now. Even though he was slouching, he was still more or less at the same eye level as Barnaby. A vague curiosity about what he’d look like standing upright appeared in her head for a moment.

Once the line had been formed, the soul-reading began. One by one, each student went up, stared into the mirror, and stepped away with a significantly changed expression, be it surprise, relief, heartbreak, or anything else. Merula had to cover her mouth to laugh as she watched Penny walk away with an incredible look of confusion on her face. The K’s passed into the L’s as Jae walked away happy and Chiara walked away incredibly flustered, and didn’t miss the look they gave each other. By the time they’d reached the L’s Merula had barely started thinking about who she wanted her soulmate to be. She’d honestly never even given it much thought, never exactly subscribing to fate or destiny (unless of course it was her destiny, that being one of greatness).

Having gone just before Chiara, Barnaby jogged back down the line to Merula. “That was so cool! I never even expected it! Oo, Matthew’s next.”

Matthew slowly made his way up to the mirror, taking deep breaths as he did so. Merula scoffed. “Look at him…who’d he reckon his soulmate would be? Lobosca? Tonks?”

Barnaby’s smile turned into a frown. “Actually, um…he didn’t think he had one.”

“What?” Merula asked aloud. “But he’s…” she paused and fumed for a moment, before turning back to Barnaby. “What’s with him?! Why can’t he see how popular he is? How much people just love him! Why on earth would he think he couldn’t have a soulmate?”

Barnaby shrugged. “You know how indecisive he gets. This might help him, though.” He pointed out, before moving towards the others. 

Merula turned her attention back to Matthew. He’d been staring into the mirror for a while, the glow of the glass illuminating his face, his green eyes focused on whatever he was seeing. It must have been important, as Merula noticed his tongue slightly stuck out in concentration. He always seemed to do that right before coming up with another of his brilliant plans, often thwarting her own. She didn’t mind, though. She liked the challenge, especially from someone like him…a thought which she wasn’t going to fully process at that moment.

Eventually, Matthew pulled away from the mirror, his eyes wide. He didn’t seem to have a stomach ache anymore, and simply walked down with the other Ravenclaws who had been soul-read. Merula tried to keep her face still as she realised what she’d been hoping for. The Ms-Ss passed by in mere seconds from her perspective. Before she knew it, it was her turn.

She huffed, and strutted over to the mirror, making a show of how totally beneath her she found all of this. She rested her hands on the silver and gazed into the mirror. She felt herself lean forward, her face passing through the glass, and suddenly she was somewhere new. Refusing to let this sort of thing get to her, she swam through the clouds, trying to find something or someone.

Giving up, she yelled out “Hey! Anyone there?! Isn’t someone supposed to be telling me who my soulmate is?!” But there was nothing.

A deep fear arose within her. Did she even have a soulmate? Could anyone, feasibly, realistically, want to spend their life with her in it more than anyone else? The thought made her feel very afraid as the clouds around her began to grow dark. She’d be alone, wouldn’t she? She’d done it to herself after all, it was how she wanted it…but it wasn’t so simple, she realised. This was more than being a lonely heart, dreaming of romance. She had become a lonely soul, desperate for any human connection. And no one would give it to her, right?

The answer to that question appeared embarrassingly quickly. She knew the one person who might possibly understand how she felt. Who knew loneliness. Who knew how it could make you throw your life away for no good reason. Who knew how tricky it was to rebuild everything, but also knew how important doing so was. The clouds had parted.

Before she knew it, she was back in the Great Hall. She wasn’t sure how long it had been, but she turned to try and voice her thoughts.

“...Oh…” was all that emerged from her mouth. She walked away from the mirror, back across the line, and sat down. She turned, and found that she had sat next to him.

He looked over at her. You okay? His expression read.

No point denying it, is there? Her expression replied. I suppose you’re stuck with me.

Matthew’s eyes widened and he pointed to himself. No, no! You’re stuck with me.

Merula simply rolled her eyes. Fine, we’re stuck together, then. Not much different from how we were anyway. Matthew couldn’t help but laugh at that. Merula smiled as well, her eyes fixing on the open door. You know, with everyone stuck on the soul-reading, we could just leave.

Matthew considered this. As long as you don’t think we’ll get caught…

Who could keep up with us? Merula held out her hand, and Matthew took it. They turned to run, out the door, out the school, and away…

***

Merula found herself in her bed. She opened and closed her eyes a few times, before her eyes widened. She twisted around and planted her face into her pillow, cringing at herself.

This isn’t fair. I thought I wanted to be alone, but then that Smartarse showed up and now…now I’m having dreams where I’m his…

She paused mid-thought. The word filled her brain. She didn’t need some magic mirror to know that they were more similar than most people knew. She knew and he knew, and somehow she preferred it that way. She knew now, in her soul, that this was unavoidable. She’d have to do something about her crush on Matthew Luther.