#homework abandoned and unfinished
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I am under the table in the social lounge filling my camera roll with five men in cages wearing leather and chains like
#homework abandoned and unfinished#there are PEOPLE all around me#my hashtag fouble life#double#.。.:*✧ this just in#love and deepspace#lnds#lads#l&ds
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newly creds | S.R.
in which the BAU team wants to see your newly issued credentials
who? spencer reid x fem!BAU!reader
category: fluff
content warnings: marriage. changing your name. slightly suggestive at the end but nothing explicit.
word count: 498
a/n: first and foremost, thank you so much for 100 followers AND for almost 3k likes i am so astounded by this im just so grateful. i absolutely wrote this while i was supposed to be doing privacy law homework. very proud of the title too. also today is my birthday so legally you have to like and reblog this!!! please enjoy <3
“So, let’s see it,” Derek prodded as he leaned over your desk, obviously searching the surface of it for something.
You peered up at him, “Can I help you?”
Before he could properly answer you, Emily entered the bullpen. Her eyes found you and she hastily piled her things on her desk before joining Morgan next to yours. “Do you have it?” She asked, dark hair shining as she inspected your desk.
Obviously, you had missed some sort of memo about whatever ‘it’ is. “I have uh, half of a bagel?” You offered helplessly, gesturing to your unfinished breakfast that was waiting patiently for you on top of a napkin.
“Y/N!” Penelope called your name from the glass doors she was rushing through, “Did I miss it? I want to see!”
Spencer rounded the corner of your desk, slowly placing a mug of fresh coffee on your desk, next to your abandoned bagel. “What’s going on?” He asked, carefully bringing his cup of coffee to his mouth to take a sip.
You shrugged, “They all want to see something but won’t tell me what ‘it’ is.” You grumbled, holding out your left hand, “Is this it?” The whole team had seen your ring already, Emily, Penelope, and JJ had even helped Spencer pick it out. You wondered if maybe they all wanted to see the engagement ring with your wedding band.
“Y/N,” another voice called, you resisted the urge to bury your face in your hands as you turned to face JJ. “Did you get the envelope that was on your desk? It got delivered to me by mistake, but I kept it safe while you two were honeymooning.”
Your lips parted, “Oh!” Quickly, you realized what everyone was pestering you about. You and Spencer had just gotten back from your weeklong honeymoon. The both of you got to work first, just to find a package on your desk. Rolling your chair back slightly, you rolled your eyes, “You know, you all could’ve just said something.”
You reached into your desk drawer and pulled out your credentials before unclipping your badge from your belt loop. Handing your creds to Derek and your badge to Garcia, who squealed in excitement, you couldn’t help but smile at Spencer. “SSA Y/N Reid,” Derek said, sounding like a proud parent.
Spencer placed a hand on your shoulder, and you beamed, “I wasn’t expecting them so quickly, I don’t even have my new driver’s license yet.”
“Does this mean you’re both going to answer to Reid now?” Emily asked, smiling at the prospect of confusion.
Shaking your head, you took your badge back, “Not unless it’s a prank. Hotch actually specifically asked us not to do that.”
“Welcome back,” Rossi said, walking into the bullpen and passing your desk. “I sure hope the two of you had the same kind of fun I did on my third honeymoon,” he teased, winking as he continued up to his office.
Spencer choked on his coffee.
#spencer reid#criminal minds#criminal minds fanfic#criminal minds fanfiction#spencer reid fanfic#spencer reid x reader#spencer reid x you#aaron hotchner#derek morgan#emily prentiss#penelope garcia#jennifer jareau#david rossi#criminal minds fluff#spencer reid fluff#written by margot
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RECKLESS ABANDON--------
CHAPTER ONE - school, life, and a punch to the face TASK FORCE 141 X READER (PLATONIC) MASTERLIST || AO3 LINK || NEXT CHAPTER TAGS: gender neutral reader, angst, fluff, slow burn found family, PTSD, trauma bonding, kidnapping, reader is a foster kid in high school, family drama, blood, violence, guns
"After your life falls apart at the seams very early on, you work hard to keep the small amount of peace still have. Foster care is rough, work is draining, school is a drag...but you eventually find yourself in a good place. All of that quickly goes to waste, however, when your family's unfinished business finally finds its way back to you."
If hell is real, you’re pretty sure you’re dead.
Time drags on; seconds feeling more like hours and hours feeling like an eternity—punctuated only by the shriek of the occasional bell. It’s a familiar limbo you’ve grown to tune out in favor of your daydreaming, interrupted only by the end of a period or the sound of your name being called from across the room. Your pencil taps idly against the desk with the beat of your heel against the floor. Untied shoelaces pull taught under your feet when you shift to lean forwards, squinting at the equations scribbled across the whiteboard by a wrinkled, dark hand. Numbers and letters swirl together.
Mrs. Hall. An elderly, frail, equally as tired woman—worn down by decades of bullshit brought on by stubborn, unmotivated students much like the kids behind you, whispering and snickering in a way that made your eye twitch with deep irritation. Still, you’re not much better, your mind lost in thought staring at rain that pounds against the ground of upstate Texas until the sound of your name stirs you from the depths of your own brain. When you look up, confused, Mrs. Hall stares back at you with an expecting stare—and a few students are turned around to stare at you.
You’re also pretty sure if hell is real—it's the American Public School System.
“Uh…”
“The three X’s in number five,” Mrs. Hall taps the equation on the board with the marker. “On the homework.”
“Right. Sorry,” your tired eyes flicker down to the chicken scratch on the paper in front of you, scanning the crumpled paper for the answer you hastily scribbled down earlier that day. “Three, square root of two, and negative one?”
“Incorrect.”
You bite the inside of your cheek, scratching at your neck as you try and fail not to notice when one of the boys behind you stops whispering mid-sentence and stares daggers into the back of your neck. Shit. Fuck.
That’s the last time you do someone else’s algebra homework. Math, in all its forms, was your academic Achilles heel.
The rest of fourth period escapes you. After what feels like a lifetime and a half of talking and scribbling on your paper, the bell rings out across the classroom. Like Pavlov’s dogs—the students instinctually rush to life—shoving chairs and throwing backpacks over their shoulders, eager to get on with the day.
You're quick to sweep your things into your backpack and high-tail it towards the door of the classroom before a certain boy behind you can notice you've left already.
Mrs. Hall says your first name again. You stop in your tracks, not missing how your fellow student sends you an angry look as he strides past to leave—crumpling the homework you did for him the night before to add to the effect. He must be telepathic, because you swear you can hear his voice without him even saying anything.
"You're dead."
Your feet shuffle towards the door, "can't talk, gonna be late—"
"I'll write you a pass."
"I have lunch next, though."
"No you don't." Mrs. Hall scoffs, shooting you an unamused look from over her rectangular glasses. "You think I don't know your schedule by now?"
You awkwardly shift your weight from one foot to the next, "worth a try."
"Sit," she gestures beside her.
You hesitate, almost arguing further, but you sigh instead. Getting lectured actually sounded much better than whatever hell waited for you out in the hallway the second you walked outside. You let your backpack fall from your shoulders as you drag it over with you to collapse into the chair beside your teacher's desk. Your eyes flicker up to where her frail hands card through some papers.
"You graduate in two months, dear." She reminds you, as if you haven't been scratching the tallied days into a spare notebook like you're on death row. "Your test scores are average but all the homework seems to be…lacking. If you even do it at all."
Average. A word that's been thrown around a lot regarding your name, which you intended to stick with. Average meant nobody would stick their nose in your business—that you could blend in with the crowd and avoid any and all weird glances and low whispers. You made the mistake of showing off once, to snap back at your dickhead classmate; only to end up doing his bidding for the rest of the semester.
You figure Mrs. Hall won't take very well to being told that the reason you aren't completing your homework is because you're too busy doing Ben Davis's under the threat that he won't smash your face against the lockers again. Broken noses are a special level of hell, but it still isn't as low as the torture that is highschool.
"Maybe I joined some sports," you quip sarcastically. "Don't have as much time as I used to."
She only deadpans at you.
You stare innocently back at her. If you play dumb enough, maybe she'll finally give up.
"I'm not attacking you. Just worried. If you need some extra time because—" she lowers her voice and the bracelets around her tiny wrist jingle as she waves it about, "---because of your family life, or anything…I'm willing to give it to you."
Your brow lowers, annoyance beginning to nip at your nerves as you sit up a little straighter.
Pity. You've long grown tired of it. You weren't some fragile orphan—no. You were an adult who, in two months, would finally be free from the clutches of your frustrated social worker and the slew of whatever excited, naive couples the system dumped you on. People have been tip-toeing around you your whole life, and it never fails to make your fists clench.
"My grades are average, you said," you say, stern—poking the score on one of your tests with a pointer finger. "I don't need help."
"I don't doubt you don't need help, sweetheart. But you're a smart kid. Really smart, if you put the effort in. I'm just saying if you ever need any extra—"
"I'm fine. If you really wanna help, you won't make me late to my next class."
Mrs. Hall seems to freeze, stunned at the bite her otherwise quiet student seems to bear. The clock ticks above your head, the rain pitters against the window outside and, for a moment, shame floods your senses; but it fades as the seconds pass and that concerned look on her face deepens.
You're the first to look away, picking up your pack and turning for the door. "See you tomorrow, Mrs. Hall."
"Wait."
You stop, tossing your head back with a sigh. "What?"
"Tie your shoes, sweetheart," she says, her voice kind as she turns away to tap your stack of tests on the desk. "You'll trip walking around like that."
You only frown and duck out the door.
The rest of the school day passes in a familiar haze. You space out throughout two of your classes, goof off for the rest, and get your shit handed to you the second school is out. Ben takes the time to lecture you as well after he levels you in one punch—and you sit rubbing your jaw, bored, as he goes on and on about how you did that shit on purpose and next time, you're fucking dead.
He needed a perfect score to pass the class. In a low moment of pain, you promised it to him despite the fact that your algebra skills had much to be desired. Still, with a little bit of extra effort—you managed to make it through most of the second semester without a black eye.
You're the one that always bleeds; but a part of you finds it funny how he always finds a way to talk himself into angry tears, storming off somewhere distant while kids scramble to get out of his way to avoid the same fate as you.
And, as always, you pick yourself up, wipe the blood from your face onto the sleeve of your jacket—and walk away.
Because that's all you can do.
The rain settles deep in your clothes as you make your way home, music loud in your earbuds. It's silent and gray, as it has been all week, and your thoughts are mere static as you drag your feet back to your front doorstep. Your bed is calling for you after such a shitty day and the bruise forming on your left eye is just making the blankets seem all the more welcoming.
You barely notice how your door is already unlocked when you enter.
Inside, the house is just as silent and empty as the rest of your street. Rain drips to the floor in a steady rhythm as you pad across the living room of the house, dropping your backpack to the floor. Muscle memory leads you to the bathroom—where things are, as usual, spotless.
You've seen plenty of bad homes and residencies during your time in the system. Most of them blurred together in a long string of things you wished to forget; either by the caretakers' fault or your own. This house, though, was high on your list of favorites. Your folks were never around, and if they were, they were asleep. When you weren't working; you usually had the house to yourself.
"Fuck," You breathe, prodding at the swelling flesh around your eye. You run some water over it and the irritation dulls slightly as dried blood turns the water pink. Excuses run rampant through your mind as you scramble for a way to explain the injury---because you're pretty sure they won't believe you if you said you tripped again.
That's when you catch movement from your doorway. Shuffling.
You whip around just as the movement disappears, and suddenly the quiet house turns eerily silent. Your eyes lock on the doorway as the sink continues to run and water continues to drip from your clothes.
Nothing.
You turn the sink off.
Your brow furrows, eyes locked on the cracked door of your bathroom as your hand grabs hold of the first weapon you can get your hands on—a shower curtain rod. One foot after the other, you peak around the corner.
Again, nothing.
Out of some itch of paranoia—or just completely on coincidence—you happen to turn your head to the wall next to you. Instead of an empty corridor like you expected, you're met with a face.
A face that immediately lunges at you the second your eyes widen.
You stumble to the side with a yell just for the individual to grab your arm, and the curtain rod falls to the floor with a clatter. You struggle as he yanks you to the side and around the corner and, before you have the chance to react, cold metal is pressed to your back.
"Don't fuckin' move," a voice hisses in your ear, and you stiffen.
You wheeze, struggling against his hold, "who–"
"Your gardian fucking angel," he sneers, shifting to clap a hand over your mouth. You thrash again—but it's useless. The gun presses painfully into your side. "I said don't move."
A thump echoes through the room, and suddenly you see why.
You fight to keep your breathing under control as you stay firm against your captor's geared chest, still as a statue. Your heart slams against your ribs and your ears as you listen to each heavy footstep against the floor, and your eyes widen whenever a second soldier creeps down your hallway. Standard camo and green clothes shuffling as he walks.
You catch the long muzzle of a rifle over the soldier's shoulder, and suddenly you find yourself leaning into the gun pressed into your back. The hand on your mouth tightens, silently shifting you away from the door.
The shifting of gear and the click of the rifle echo in the silent house as your nails dig into the skin of your captor's wrist. You watch a muscle in his stubbled jaw twitch near your face as the sound of your first name echoes through the hall, sing-song and taunting.
You squeeze your eyes shut.
Think. Think. Think.
“If y’know what’s best for ya’…” A thick Scottish accent taunts from down the hall as he nudges the curtain rod with his foot, causing it to scrape against the wood floors. “You’ll quit puttin’ up a fight and show yourself.”
You glance over to meet your captor’s gaze. A flicker of anger crosses his eyes, nose wrinkling into a scowl. He has a scar across his cheek.
Then, suddenly, he shifts, pulling you further away from the doorway. His grip on your shoulder is deathly tight as it digs into your clothes. He lifts his finger from the trigger of his gun only to bring it to his lips in a silent command to stay quiet, stay with me.
Panic burns bright and all-encompassing through your veins. For whatever reason—all your body will let you do is shake and listen.
He ducks around the corner, pulling you with him. You have to force your feet to move.
The Scottish soldier stops just at the end of the hall, hulking frame and what must be at least thirty pounds of gear making him a jarring sight against the flowered wallpaper of your foster home. He must have an earpiece of some kind; because you hear him whisper every so often as he sweeps the hallways.
"They're here," he mutters. "Little fuck's just good at hiding."
It's tiny and muffled, but in the deathly silence of the house you can make out two voices in his earpiece that reply to him. One female, the other male. You can't decipher what they say but their responses make him growl in frustration.
"C'mon, we don't got all day…"
Tense, your captor shoves you along to another room. He signals something down the hall, where you spot more movement in the house. More soldiers—these ones dressed in similar, dark garb to the man who still presses a gun to your side. They have bigger weapons, concealing helmets.
Startled, you trip over your shoelaces.
Your captor scrambles to grab you before you clatter to the floor. He curses just as the Scottish soldier whips around, gun pointed and ready.
There's a solid two seconds of complete silence. Your gaze meets with the Scott and his eyes widen. Then, he spots the other man with a gun pointed at you.
That's when all hell breaks loose.
You scramble to your feet and bolt. The Scott is the first to grab you, and he's met with teeth deep in his arm. He yells out as you kick free, gagging on the metallic substance that floods your mouth.
There's shouting. Movement. Gunfire lights up your house with noise and lights as you wipe your mouth, stumble, and fly down the stairs in a blind dash for your front door.
Instead, you run directly into something solid��Landing you flat on your ass. Again.
Panting, panicking, your eyes rake up dark figure; past two giant boots, a geared chest, and hands that clench a rifle in their grip to meet a masked face and bored eyes. You scramble backwards against the wall with a yelp. The sound of yelling, gunfire, and heavy footsteps flood the rest of the house as the masked man's eyes widen at you. You stare at each other; you, sizing him up and him, confused.
"Graves?!"
"Oh, for fuck's sake!"
"Commander! We lost the kid!"
"Does anyone have a visual??"
"L.T.!"
The skull-faced man finally leaps into action at the sound of what must be his rank—because he's suddenly moving faster than you can realize more soldiers are flooding around the corner. In a flurry of practiced movement, he grabs them.
You yell out as he knees one of the men and shoots the other. Blood splatters across the walls and your clothes. Then, he fires twice more at the soldier unconscious on the ground—and the house goes quiet other than your pounding heartbeat.
The towering man before you shifts, and the floorboards creak under his feet. He rolls his shoulders and let's out a breath as he stands, slowly, up to his full height. He turns, and the same blood that splatters across the walls runs in tiny rivulets across the skull of his mask. His voice thick and low when he speaks.
"You broken?"
Your shaking hands lower from your ears as your eyes then rake across the corpses at his feet, but it's no use. Through the ringing in your ears, your racing mind is unable to put together what he says for a few minutes. It's even more impossible to tear your eyes away from the blood splattered against the patterned wallpaper.
You swallow and shake your head.
"Good." Nonchalant, he lowers his gun and shouts down the hall.
"Johnny, you with me?"
"Over here, L.T.," grunts the Scottish voice from down the hall. "That little shit Graves—"
"Let 'em go. We'll deal with 'em later. We got what we needed."
Johnny curses in response, but mutters a begrudging "copy" as he saunters over—nursing the clear bite mark in his arm.
Then, the Lieutenant's eyes shift in your direction. His hand twitches, almost reaching out to you, and you pull your legs closer to your chest against the wall. Blood soaks your untied laces. You clamp a hand over your mouth as you will your breathing to settle. It doesn't.
He freezes. Then, to your relief, he turns away and presses a finger to his ear.
"Bravo 0-7 to Actual; five shadows have been compromised on the property. Looks like the Shadows got the word the same time we did. Could be others, too. Things got bloody, but…" The lieutenant's eyes meet yours again as he speaks. Through the bloodied skull mask, his gaze holds a calm resolve that's probably supposed to be comforting, but it only makes your skin prickle.
"...we got the kid."
It's quiet, but you can hear static before someone speaks on the other end of the communication device.
"Copy that, Bravo. We'll clean up the mess," A female voice replies. "Bring 'em home safe, boys."
"Roger that."
#kyle gaz garrick#simon ghost riley#john soap mactavish#john price#call of duty#call of duty fanfiction#call of duty x reader#call of duty reader insert#simon ghost riley x reader#kyle gaz garrick x reader#john price x reader#task force 141#task force 141 x reader
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HELLO HELLO, I am back! Do I come bearing updates on the many fics I left abandoned? No, but instead have an incomplete snippet from an AU I was writing where Darlin is raised by the Solaire clan that i lost motivation for but maybe will return to sometime; in this scene Sam meets a menace of a teenaged wolf and Vincent is plagued by his annoying little sibling, the aforementioned menace wolf:
The smell of blood awakens him- dangerous, jubilant, and so alive he forgets for a moment that he's dead. Fangs shoot out before he's even opened his eyes, eager to dig into flesh and cut into veins. Squeezing his eyes tight enough that staticky stars dance behind his eyelids, he wills them away. They ignore him, his feeble mental plea drowned out by urgent hunger. He hasn't eaten since that fucking dinner, hasn't sated this new hunger no matter how many bags of blood he's been brought, and his body is mutinying.
Accepting this defeat, Sam peels his eyes open, squinting into the dark room he's occupied for the past four days. The first thing he notices are the boots- big, black platform combat boots unceremoniously plunked on the bed near his shoulder. His eyes, immediately acclimating to the lack of light with an unnatural ease that disgusts him, follow the shape of the boots up to the face of their owner.
A kid sits in the chair by the bed, mashing buttons on a game device whose weak light illuminates the scowl on their face. Messy hair falls into their eyes, and they impatiently shake their head, temporarily exposing-
The pulse of their jugular vein beats like a hammer in Sam's chest, fangs aching, his entire body tense like a live wire, ready to pounce, and why why why the FUCK would they bring a defenseless child into this room-
"FUCK my fucking life!" The kid snaps, snarling at the game in their hands viciously enough that it cuts through the haze of hunger and panic clouding Sam's mind, and something instinctive makes the back of his neck tickle with the awareness of another predator in the room.
A wolf, he thinks, as the kid turns eyes too luminous to be human from their screen to his face, registering his consciousness despite the fact that he hasn't moved. But still, even a shifter is surely no match for the *thing* he is now-
"Oh. You're alive."
They sound unaffected by this revelation in a way that Sam feels distantly that he should be offended by.
"Sort of," he croaks, voice rusty from disuse and thirst. He can't quite force his eyes away from the place where their blood sings the loudest. "You should- you have to leave. It's dangerous-"
The kid snorts, slouching further in the chair. "No offense, but you really couldn't take me right now. You look like a melted candlestick."
Sam grits his teeth, fangs digging uncomfortably into his lower lip. He counts to ten. Even on a full stomach, without his entire body remaking itself on a cellular level, he isn't the most patient person in the world. "Listen-"
"So how long are you gonna keep up the hunger strike for?"
Sam wonders if he's already died, if this is hell and his eternal punishment is being continuously interrupted by a mouthy teenager. "What?"
"Like, you know you can't un-vampire yourself, right?"
"I am not trying-"
"They're not going to let you out until you have something to drink, you know. You'd be, like, the saddest and lamest public safety hazard ever, but still."
[Etc etc etc, 13 year old Darlin has no time or patience for silly little things like existential crises or moral codes and is kind of a dick about it, Vincent eventually comes to check on Sam]
[unfinished below, dialogue only]
"You brat! What did I tell you about coming in here? Sam, I'm so sorry-"
"Yeah, Sammy boy, sorry for existing in your presence, clearly you're super busy- OW- fucking- don't shush me-"
"Insensitive little- shouldn't you be doing your homework?"
"Shouldn't you be making out with a mannequin at the Hot Topic?"
"I'm telling William that you are harassing a convalescing man and being a truant from homeschooling, which by the way, should not be possible!"
"Aren't you, like, fifty? And still a tattletale, sad."
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Will there be toxic yuri in your AU? Because of that one post you made.
Also, what happened to the NPCs, like Princess Loolilalu, Gummigoo, Martha, etc.? Are they still here, somewhere? Or are they completely forgotten by time and abandoned by any life Caine gave them?
LOLOL yes there will be toxic yuri in abandonware as for your second question im honestly trying to figure out the woodworks of how the npcs would work i have a few options but just leads to more questions! i could a.) make em edgy and cool -- non self-aware npcs that work at first but ticking timebombs b.) make em' monstrosities completely because the code is unfinished or c.) totally not copy "thats not my neighbor" homework by making all the npcs self-aware attempt to copy the players and whatever else might happen from there
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Thank you for the tag @mothboypoison. This was indeed fun.
✨️Fanfic Writer Interview✨️
How many works do you have an ao3?
Seven. But most are longfics.
Your top 5 stories by kudos/likes:
Words are not the only things that matter
What's Truth But What We Say It Is - Pretty Woman Wesper
A Summer of (Not Quite) Love
A Little More Light Role Play - Real Life Wesper Fairytale
Still Small Hours - A Wesper Love Story
Do you respond to comments? Why or why not?
Yes. I love talking fanfic. It feeds my soul.
What's the fic you've written with the angstiest ending?
This will have to be relative as I am only interested in writing happy endings, but "A Summer of (Not Quite) Love" has the least clear-cut resolution.
What's the fic you've written with the happiest ending?
Pretty Woman.
Do you write crossovers?
Nope.
Do you write smut? If so, what kind?
Yes. And proudly. 71% of the time! And it is explicit, M/M smut since my current blorbos are men.
Have you ever had a fic stolen?
Nope.
Have you ever had a fic translated?
Nope.
Have you ever co-written a fic before?
No. Eeew. Writing is for me an "alone-time" activity. That is the primary basis of its appeal.
What's your all-time favourite ship?
Jesper Fahey/Wylan Van Eck from Six of Crows/Shadow and Bone
What's a WIP you want to finish but don't think you ever will?
I currently have two unfinished WIPs, but it was a moment of personal growth abandoning the first one, and I have no plans to finish it. It felt like homework. And this is supposed to be fun.
My current WIP, which in my mind, was going to be finished by the summer (LOL), is currently only halfway done. But I will finish it. However, life is taking over, and that happy end seems far, far away...
What are your writing strengths?
Dialogue and characters.
What are your writing weaknesses?
Titles (see above).
Writing as an omniscient narrator.
Time-transitions.
Fantastical elements.
Action scenes.
Anything light.
What are your thoughts on writing dialogue in other languages in a fic?
I would do it if it added to the story, e.g., the character (like the reader) doesn't understand what is being said so it adds to the feeling of being lost. However, when I read it in classic books (looking at you Jane Eyre!) it just bothers me. I guess the expectation is the reader would be cultured and educated and would understand it, but I am neither of these things so it just frustrates me. However, Six of Crows features many constructed languages so I do have fun adding in elements of that to my stories.
What is a fandom/ship you haven't written for yet but want to?
Not a lie, not a joke, but my brain is currently (against my will), developing a complex, queer-acceptance storyline, based on a pair of squirrels in my kid's bedtime book. So I guess... Spontaneous Cyril/Plan-Ahead Bruce
What's your favourite fic you have written?
Until recently I would have said Pretty Woman, but I re-read a chapter yesterday (for reasons) and WOW. It is super cringe. So I will provisionally say my current WIP, because though it may not be brilliant, only the prologue makes me sweaty with shame. But I have to follow through and finish it first.
Tagging @stormkpr @dreamtigress @avalonia320 if interested 😊
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Dahlia the 'Redeemed'/ Dahlia the Paranoid (Softlaunch)
(should i be studying? yes. will i? no. will i instead softlaunch one of my dol pc's and watch as it fades into the depths of this blog? you betcha.)
(art by @dol-dee) not pictured is Sayaka from madoka magica or cady heron/janis ian from mean girls or jennifer from rule of rose because i uh....ran out of space. whoops
You wake up.
The room is old. It stinks of rot and brine, as though the Forest Lake had grown legs and crawled in. Outside, the wind slams against the window pane, and red light streams in through the window. Looks like another blood moon.
The ground is littered. Your clothes lie in a pile next to the bed, along with some unfinished homework. No matter- you’ll finish it tomorrow in the library before class. And even if you don’t finish it, your grades are enough to tide you over. It’ll be fine.
A loud bang rings from outside. You look. A tree smacks against the window, and a tiny tremor ripples through the room. The framed photos on your desk shudder before settling back down.
You get up.
The red glow bathes the room in a hellish daze, and for a second everything looks unfamiliar. You know what everything is, logically: the plush teddy bear face down on your bed isn’t a drowned corpse, and the wallpaper is composed of vines, not tentacles. There is no knocking from the mirror, no red freshwater filling the room.
Your head itches. Your horns ache. You are forgetting something.
The scent of rot intensifies. A putrid scent, sinking into the nooks and crannies of the room. The tank by the window has misted over. You wipe your hand against the glass (when did you walk over here) and peer down to look inside (no turn back don’t-).
There is a rotting corpse inside. The slime begins to disintegrate before your eyes, the tentacles vanishing at the sides. And the smell-god the smell.
A wail rises from outside, above the sound of crashing wind and trees. You look outside the window. A pale figure stands outside, watching you.
Dahlia Tripti Rahman was not born in Dolville; no, she was born in a small flat in Oldham, to a runaway teen mother whose presence had become naught but a mystery in Dahlia's life. She was promptly abandoned by said mother to her grandparents-whose flat she'd been born in-and took off into the night, with nary even a singular look back.
Her childhood, from what little she remembered, was good. Fine. She had friends, who she played with, and family, who she loved. Her eyes set her apart-they were pink, bright pink, bordering on obscene, almost-but it was a minor thing. People thought she was cool. She was loved. Her grandparents didn't have a lot: her toys and clothes were hand me downs from other family members, she grew up in her mothers old, small room, and her fridge was rarely ever fully stocked.
Yet she was loved, and all was fine.
Then, came the move. When Dahlia was 7, the small family had sold their flat for a small, rundown house in dolville, domus street. When they moved, it was a mess, all old creaking wood and whispers and buzzing noises, lotus leaves. Dahlia was only allowed outside under adult supervision, and nothing more. It would only be later, however, that she realised why.
One night, Dahlia and her grandparents went out on a walk. It was late, and there was some tension hanging in the air. They went to the park, and walked around the fountain. Dahlia tried to grab some coins, her grandmother stopped her and-
She doesn't remember much about that night. Just a man, creeping up behind them, a stab and a scream, and next thing Dahlia knew her grandparents were dead and she was orphaned.
Dahlia had a huge family. But that family didn't live in Britain. They lived in Bangladesh, India, Germany, Sweden- no one to come and claim her, no way to get to them. Her mother had disappeared after she was born, and for all intents and purposes, Dahlia had no one. So off she went to Bailey's orphanage, and there she would stay.
She met another orphan, Robin, shortly after arriving. They took to each other fairly quickly- they were both new to the Orphanage, and Robin was perhaps the kindest person there in those early days. The other orphans thought of her as weird. She liked weird books, she had a weird smile, a strange laugh, and her eyes- her eyes were pink.
She was bullied, mercilessly and cruelly. She was the new girl, the strange girl, who didn't fit into the already cut throat nature of the orphanage youth, who was an obvious 'other'. Bottom of the pack- easy target, for orphans who were so adjusted to violence.
The days passed-well, they passed. Not good, not bad, but somewhere in between. Bailey was strict, and kept the orphans under lock and key, rarely ever letting them leave unless it was with one of the caretakers. Dahlia though- her curiosity was too strong, and she'd find ways again and again to run off to the world beyond the Orphanage, if only to be immediately taken back.
Dahlia would grow up as a curious child, wanting to explore every nook and cranny of the orphanage, yet also extremely paranoid, convinced the boogeyman was out to get her. She both cowered behind her curtain, convinced that the world was out to get her, but also pressed her face against the window, eager at any glimpse of the outside world she could get. She was a bright girl, and good at sniffing out liars. You could barely get away with anything with Dahlia, and she was a bit of a snitch (only to orphans she didn't like though. Everyone else was fine.)
Dahlia turned 18 the day before school started. She was- well, she was excited. She didn't hate the orphanage- no, she liked it. She'd managed to tamper down on her 'weirdness' and ended up making friends with many of the orphans, being a bit of a protective figure for them. She'd assist Robin in caring for the younger orphans, and grew up settling fights and disagreements. But she was so ready to just leave to straighten her wings and be allowed to go outside the Orphanage without supervision. But of course, even though she'd still look for places to live, she'd stay at the Orphanage until Uni! Bailey wouldn't mind, would she?
Oh well, Bailey didn't mind at all. In fact, it didn't seem like Bailey wanted her to leave at all…which was how Dahlia ended up, bewildered and confused, somehow having to pay off a debt she didn't know she had. She, the second upon leaving the orphanage, was assaulted, and while she managed to fight them off, realised her worst fears had been confirmed. She still had to go to school, but kept to herself in those early days, only ever talking to Robin, and then going straight to work as an Office intern. She didn't- well, she didn't think that Bailey would do something truly bad to them (even though she very obviously had a criminal background) but still…better safe than sorry?
Dahlia hated the school. Well, still hates. Filled with pieces of shit, filthy vile monsters, who couldn't give half a shit about others. The teachers- with the exception fo two- annoyed her. High and mighty fucks. Her classmates were horrid little shits, who bullied and tormented her any chance they could. And what was up with that weird guy who kept staring at her in between classes? And that one girl she ran into, who thought she owned her…ugh.
There was another normal person in the school though, besides her and Robin. A boy named Sydney who, while being incredibly religious and spacey eyed (and undeniably rather judgy) was the most normal person at the school, and Dahlia, by some miracle of nature, managed to befriend him.
Dahlia excelled in her classes. She, despite her old reservations, wormed her way into becoming the favorites of her teachers, even working with Winter on the weekends at the museum. Sure, most of her classmates thought she was a freak and stayed away from her, but Dahlia preferred it that way. She didn't need the approval of future rapists and mass murderers. Sure, maybe she wanted to sit in a crowded lunch table for once instead of sitting with Robin in a hallway or eating it with Sydney in the library but. It could be worse, right?
The debt was climbing ever higher, until it was no longer 100 euros or 150 euros but then 200, three hundred, and soon a thousand. Dahlia had been jumping from job to job, from being a shitty housekeeper to working at the cafe to working at the dog pound, but she never seemed to be able to make enough money. And after taking on Robin's debt, she was strapped for cash. So, she opened up a side business and began growing plants. Gave her some cash, but not enough. So then…she turned to stealing. And she was fucking good at it. Stripping at Briar's was dangerous, scared her- but gave her a rush all the same. And the money was good.
Soon, she stopped going in to work and began rotating between four different avenues- she'd treasure hunt on the weekends, and then the week after she'd sell the valuables to Winter and help with the exhibits. After school, she stripped and fucked at Briar's, carefully climbing her way until she could do private shows and take private clients. She'd work on her plants before school, and stole at any chance she could.
There was something…odd about the town. Something strange lurking in every corner, and Dahlia became obsessed with trying to uncover what could be behind it all. She ran across every nook and cranny of the criminal underworld trying to fit together the pieces- why did Quinn take the ivory necklace away from the museum? Who was that strange cult in the forest, or chanting away in the park? What was up with the Temple's secrecy, and how were the elites in town connected? And who was that shadowy figure following her around, attacking her every bloodmoon…
Eventually, Dahlia's dallying caught up with her. She stole one too many things, freed too may people from the pillory- she was sent to prison for months, and there Dahlia went through one of the worst periods of her life. She had to learn how to be manipulative, how to lie as though her life depended on it, how to 'play nice'. She sucked up to her fellow inmates and the gaurds, until she managed to fulfill Wren's deal and caused a mutiny in the prison, escaping. Now, Dahlia keeps her head low, and eyes to the ground. She joined the temple, has high grace, and has kept her virginity intact…just don't ask her why she and Sydney go into the temple prayer room every friday.
She's 'redeemed', so to speak, desperate to not end up in prison again. She does legitimate jobs- works for Winter at the museum, and takes to her job as a High Grace Nun with gusto. She's gone back to working in the cafe. She's redeemed…surely.
(...)
Anyways, this is her backstory (not including actual PC's she's interacted with, that would make this a whole lot more complicated.) during her actual PC launch i'll talk a little bit more about her personality, her 'quest' to save the town, all that good stuff. for now, have her backstory-very long, apologies- and a character inspo board.
Post edited putting the character inspo up top!
#pc#pcverse#dahlia the redeemed/paranoid#degrees of lewdity#dol#pc intro post#pc post#dolgl#dol pc#softlaunch#degrees of lewdity pc#writing#dahlithought
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Do you have any other fic recs for your poison tree fans 🙏 it's dire out here
Anon, I KNOW. There are very few HoTD fics that I unabashedly like, and even fewer long form political ones.
But there’s some I can recommend.
I recently blitzed through Dragonskin by Missybee303 and it’s one of the few Aemond/OC fics I’ve actually really enjoyed. The premise seemed just a tad far fetched to me at the start but it completely earns it by the end. Jeyne, a farrier’s daughter and secret skinchanger in King’s Landing, encounters Aemond after Vhagar’s saddle breaks, and this changed the course of their lives and the Dance. The author clearly did their homework, and this is one of the few Dance fics that I’ve seen actually tackle the politics and emotions of the Dance based on the barebones F&B gives us, and it does it with grace and style. I loved loved loved the side characters the author built in (special shout out to Jeyne’s dad, Denys, who stole my heart and the show.) and how organically they meshed into canon. This the only long form Dance fic I can pretty unabashedly recommend, especially if you are interested in world building and wider ensembles. (It even avoids the over competent Aemond syndrome trap that so many show fics stumble into.) My one gripe is there is A Lot of smut, to the point that I was like “enough! Get back to the story!” But I know that will be a positive to many people, hahah. It’s almost done so you don’t have to worry about it being abandoned and it’s very long and satisfying.
I’m keeping an eye on Scorched Earth by 0Junebug0 which is a Rhaenyra’s daughter OC/Aemond fic. But wait!! Before you run away at this tired old premise, know that so far this has been primarily been a character study of the Team Black family dynamics, particularly how Rhaenyra would deal with a daughter and how being a Targaryen women is not all it’s cracked up to be. It’s only six (normal length) chapters at the moment but it updates frequently. As of the last chapter, Aemond has finally appeared on the scene, so I can’t speak to how the main pairing is going to play out, but I have high hopes. And the prose is genuinely very gorgeous and atmospheric, so if you are were drawn to “a poison tree” by the writing style, this might just hit the spot for you.
The oddball on this list is Salvation by Targresurgence, which is another Aemond/OC fic. Jeyne Hightower (wow, I really do believe in Jeyne supremacy in HoTD fics), the daughter of Ormund Hightower is sent to KL for Alicent to make her a match. Aemond decides that actually fuck all of that, his mom’s cousin deserves only the best (him) and shenanigans ensue. I like this fic, but it’s sometimes against my better judgement, but when it’s good, it’s good. I respect this fic primarily for the massive mommy issues it gives Aemond and Aegon II, and it’s attempts at worldbuilding that are a little hit or miss (but when it hits, it HITS). It also has one of my personal pet peeves in it, which is killing off Johanna or Elenda to make Jason or Borros into sexual threats to one of the female characters (why this is so popular, I do not know. Drives me bonkers) but that’s my nitpick. It IS a bit of a wonky fic in places, so fair warning on that, and prepare to suspend some disbelief. It is unfinished and hasn’t been updated in a little while, but it’s fanfic. Never give up hope.
If you are interested in more book canon and Alicent centric fics, I really like what we’ve gotten so far of The Heretical Education of Lady Alicent by @aifsaath. It’s part of a larger ongoing series, The Sky is Always Red Above Valyria, exploring various dynamics of book canon, with a heavy focus on Alicent, Aegon II, and Baela, but this one has to be my favourite. It’s also beautifully illustrated, so even though it’s only three chapters long at the moment, for sure check it out.
In the same breath, the joint work Our Father’s Clad in Red by @gwenllian-in-the-abbey and @aifsaath is a book canon Aegon II/Baela fic that explores the aftermath of the Dance and how House Targaryen is to rebuild in a world without dragons. If you like world building, psychological exploration, good prose, and gorgeous illustrations, this may just be the book canon fic for you.
A brief shoutout to signs amidst the starry mirth by xiaolongbaobei, because I know this one is very popular and gets recommended a lot (as it should). This is a fem!Aemond fic with very GRRM-esque writing and the most terrifying and well-thought out Daemon I think I’ve ever seen in a fic. I really love gender-bending fics that really think it through and this one just has a great prose style and is actually addressing the politics of the Dance.
Obligatory witchcraft in your lips by slaymond mention. This is Aemond/Sansa crack treated with deadly seriousness and somehow. It’s really really really good. Great writing style, on point characterization, I’m sure you’ve already seen this fic recommended somewhere.
…. I also kinda vibed with @charmtion’s Daemyra fics? I’m not a daemyra stan by any means, but I’ve loved charmtion since their Jonsa days, and I liked salt more than I thought I would. If you have an inkling of an inclination towards Daemyra as a pairing, check this out. They also have a Helaemond fic, thyme, if that’s more your speed. Charmtion has a very loose, vivid, dreamy style that I have just adored for ages, so I would not count these fics out at all.
And is it even an HoTD fic recommendation list without including the one and only See, What Happened Was… by the legendary @daylander1000? This Aemond/Rhaena fic asks the question “what if the Velaryons actually had plot and character relevance and also what if Aemond and Rhaena had the chance to be weird, slightly murderous children together?” One of my favorite depictions of Alicent and Criston to boot (especially since now Mine Was The Hand You Reached For by HaughtHightower appears to be deleted 😔). It’s not been updated in a while but the author is a very busy person and I’m very happy to let her take her time.
I’ve read a lot of HoTD fics by now and these are the ones that I’m like “other people should read these too actually.”
Oh! An addendum! If you are seriously looking for a long piece of fiction that deals with a succession crisis, you might want to read When Christ and His Saints Slept by Sharon Kay Penmen about the real history of the Anarchy, the civil war between Matilda and Stephen over the English crown that inspired the Dance of the Dragons in the first place. In this time of fandom drought, if you are a fan of “a poison tree,” you should seriously consider giving this book a read. It’s so good.
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Hello you!
I know I probably already posted this here or somewhere on my other platforms but I just wanna quickly rant about it here since I never got the chance to b4.
I made this in a celebration for last Halloween, but as any procrastinator I never got it done. Personally me, I still like looking at it even unfinished.
But I digress, I just wanna talk about what’s going on in the photo right now since I don’t usually give context for this type of shi.
This photo was actually supposed to come out with a small animation aswell, why? Because I over work myself XD. The small animation was going to show Mr.I walking around a abandoned costume store looking confused, supposedly looking around for something.
Then Spoiler and Riphook would suddenly barge in through a wall, it was supposed to be a accident with Spoilers thrusters where he didn’t know how to turn them off, hence why he broke through a wall in the first place.
Mr.I would turn and see them before opening a portal away from them, the brothers would then barge out through another wall out of the abandoned costume store where they would be flying in the air, covered in a random costume.
Spoilers thrusters still being on would make it so they would both fly in the air, then Mr.I comes back and is super confused of what’s going on, before realizing he’s up in the air.
ending it on the scene of all of them falling.
I don’t know how I thought I could’ve made a entire animation and fully rendered photo to go with it, while also juggling homework and other problems till Halloween.
That’s the joys of being an undiagnosed neurodivergent tween, anyways thanks for listening to my Ted talk. (And maybe reblog this to give your friends a jumpscare?? XD)
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Right well I've decided to start writing more lately so why not post these short stories
Story of 12.01 2025
Part 1
"OMG why is this so difficult!" I moan looking down at my homework. No matter how hard I try, it just doesn't make sense to me. I look at the poem, that my English teacher has cursed me with. I try to read it... well what I'm doing can't really be called reading, it's closer to looking at hieroglyphic writing and praying for it to make sense. Obviously this doesn't work and I rest my head on the blank piece of paper, where my analysis was supposed to be. I look out through my window and observe the night sky. The moon is pretty tonight, it reminds of the sleepless nights, that I used to spend with my mother.
Whenever I couldn't fall asleep my mom would bring me outside and we would look out to the stars and moon as she would tell me about her day. The stories were really boring, but I enjoyed spending time with my mom and faking falling asleep so that she would carry me back inside. I really miss those days. Now I'm too old for that, 17 to be exact, and my mom is barely ever home, due to her picking up a second job and more night shifts. My parents really love each other and after my dad's car crash, rendering him unable to work and forcing him bedridden, she had to be the sole income source for us. I run errands at home, to try and alleviate pressure from my mom, but she still has it rough.
I have completely abandoned hope, I have accepted that my homework will remain unfinished and I'll just take Mr. Owens snarky comments and humiliation. I dread going to school and as I lean back in my chair, I slowly begin getting drowsy. As I think of the boring day that will follow tomorrow
thud
I open my eyes and see a village. Everyone is panicking grabbing their belongings. I hear children crying, thing being thrown out of windows, people are scrambling for their lives and running from something, but what. I look around me. What could it be? What are people so afraid of?I can't find it. This fact causes me to panic and I begin to run around trying to find anything or anyone that will tell me what's going on.
Out of nowhere a boy, with a familiar face but his name escapes me, runs at me and hugs me so incredibly tight
"Silvia, you're alive. Thank God, I thought you were gone." He says with tears streaming down his face
"What?" I am so confused. Where are we? Who is he? How does he know me? Why should I be dead? Why are we running, better yet from what are we running? All these questions I want to ask, but I'm not given the chance to speak.
"Listen to me closely, you need to get as far away from here as possible. Start running and don't look back, I will find you someway, somehow, you just need to make it out of here alive. Got it?" He pushes me away and screams for me to run. I scream out "Wait!!", but I'm already swallowed by the crowd and he's gone. What the actual fuck was that?
I begin making my way through the crowd, reason remaining unknown, but I'm sure the boy had a reason. His face is so familiar, but I just can't remember his name. What is his name?
I make it out of the village and don't stop running. I'm surprisingly fast, but I don't have time to think about how I found the time to work out. I keep running, until I find a small pond and I look at my reflection. It's still me, but I'm covered in cuts and bruises, plus my clothes are covered in blood. I collapse...
and I wake up...what just happened?
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Fandom Homework
Idea by @razielim, I like the idea of sitting down and talking about the stuff I want to be working on! Mostly pretty rambly here, so I'll put it all beneath a cut:
It's all gonna be about the WIPs, baby! I think the thing that comes to mind most on 'boy I wish I could finish this' is actually the fallout AU I have for Assassin's Creed. ShaunDes, of course, but I think the ultimate plan was to try for OT3 with Clay on this one. I've never done it, but I get a lot of comments for that on my other fics and I think it would be interesting in this setting if I can make it work. I think the current plan for this one is more a sort of main 'how the group got together' vibe (all the moderns) and then snippets/side stories for some of their adventures. I do have an overall plot involving everyone figuring out who they are, secrets coming to light, etc. I just gotta get it all written is all.
Second is obviously to finish my in progress titanfall fic, which I usually just refer to as Weary, lol. While I've never once really felt pressured that updates are few and far between by comments on AO3, I sometimes regret posting it before it was finished. I never post WIPs as they're worked on because I am the slowest writer - once I get going, I can write pretty fast, it's just the getting started that trips me up. That, and i end up writing a lot of stuff that it turns out, it's not time for, or it's just not right for the story. I think I'm at like, over 15k words discarded for this fic overall, some of which has been repurposed/used already (just later than when it was originally written), but most of which has not. (Yet; I know at least two bits are just too early).
Third is a fic that is almost 10 years old and unfinished. It's only been posted up to chapter 10 on the assassin's creed kinkmeme, the last chapter of which was posted in 2016. It's almost complete, actually, sitting at just under 55.5k words, but I can't quite pin down the ending. Then it needs to be edited. Insert sad-cowboy emoji.
I'd really like to revisit my old DS9 stuff. I never published any of it on AO3 - in fact, I can't even remember if I've published any of it anywhere. It's some of the earliest stuff I've written, and it's pretty rough by my standards, but it's still something I'd like to get some time into and whip up into something readable at some point.
I want to learn how to draw transformers! I've wanted to for a while, but I recently watched Transformers One and it was gorgeous. There's a lot of different styles for the whole franchise, but I like that one a lot. That and Transformers Prime, which I haven't seen yet, lol. I'm a pretty recent fan, to be honest, but me and a friend have spent a lot of time making transformers OCs that I'd love to be able to draw just for fun. (It's the only reason I play Forza Horizon 5 at all, is to make the car forms for those that can be made in that game.)
I'd love to get works written for a few fandoms I've been into for a while, but never written for. Stuff like Dishonored, Legacy of Kain/Soul Reaver, Inception or even Dragon Age. Mostly based on vibes rather than concrete ideas (except for dishonored, which I have exactly one (1) idea that could be used for fic), but still. It's something I'd like to do.
Oh! I need to finish and edit the FFXV fic I have in progress! It could be considered complete enough, to be honest, but it feels incomplete to me for some reason. I wrote up to a certain point, then lost all steam. It's set post Episode Ignis alternate ending, a really, really cute and sweet fic.
I think one thing I'd like to do is maybe just post a collection on AO3 of my WIPs. I don't think of anything I've written as abandoned, even if it's been years since I looked at them, but I also do think some of it was pretty good! I don't know how readers feel about this, though.
I'd like to get more Deus Ex fic written, too. I had a few things perk my interested for kinktober but October was mostly a really shit month for me, so I got no writing done at all. I definitely don't mind using those prompts late or anything, but I still haven't got any creative juice for writing right now, so they're just sitting there, waiting for their time.
I've also had a few ideas that I think I might never write but maybe folks might be interested in hearing about or adopting themselves? Like prompts, maybe. Adoptable fic ideas. Mostly it's stuff I'd love to read but not research to write myself, but that feels a little selfish, lol. But I also just think they're fun to talk about and gush over even if they never actually get written.
I think this was nice to sit down and write out. I don't post very much about myself or my work, but I've enjoyed seeing people talk about things they'd like to get done or things they have in progress and thought I'd share. I'm wishing you all well and hoping you all have something creative you'd like to look forward to doing as well! <3
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art and procrastination
i want to do art. i miss doing art but now art feels like a privilege I'm denying myself.
i used to have so much time, or i didn't really think about if i did or not and i did art constantly. every idea was immediately in my sketchbook or on a canvas, good or not it was there. there was progress and my skill developed because i practiced constantly, i was happy and free and i could call myself an artist
now time feels like a resource, very limited and it's always running out. art has become a privilege only to be accessed when i have abundance of time.
and i have "free" time, leisure time, time when I'm not doing anything but that time is borrowed, borrowed from things i have to do, that i must do. school, homework, chores ect. and as a procrastinator i always have something to do, always something unfinished, always something i should be doing instead of resting.
i used to be an artist and now i looked at the dried paint on abandoned brushes, sketches on canvases, half empty sketchbooks, dusty pallets and feel like i don't deserve art because i can't afford the time for it.
the price of procrastination is not only inability to find time for art but actively degrading myself as an artist and my skill, for how long can i be to afraid to start painting before i forget how to? before all my paints dry up, turpentine evaporates, markers and brushes rot
i constantly think about the art i want to make, the ideas and inspirations haunt me and i ignore them till i forget and move on, not doing art and not doing what i have to, just miserably existing in this borrowed time, never paying the debt back
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💭
For the Fanfic Writer Ask Game :3
💭 What inspires you and your writing? (from this post)
ooooh tough one! thank you, i like the challenge of this question!
as i think back to my literal earliest writings at age 6, 8, 9 and into the teenage years and finally adulthood is when i really started writing.... there's a lot. at the core though, is emotion. and a desire i suppose to tell a story.
the first thing i can truly consider my own was a homework assignment at age 8 that my mom did not proofread before i handed it in. it received the highest grade and the teacher read it aloud to the class and asked me this very question: how did i do it? (you know... this may subconsciously be why i adore writing prompts. it was a single sentence prompt we were given to write from. heheh.)
anyway, i remember answering that i wrote what i saw. some of it was what i physically saw, and then some was imagined based on the actual scene. but i could see it in my mind's eye; i could see the story and feel the emotions surrounding it.
even though all i post is fanfiction, i did write some original stories here and there a long time ago. tiny things, like the school assignment. again they're all from a place of emotions i relate to... experiences i've had or that i want to have... that's part of the imagination piece. things i have read before in other stories, or imagine to be real based on things i've heard described, pictures i've seen...
so then we come to fanfiction. when it's character-driven as nearly all of my pieces are... and i'm thinking back here to my earliest fanfic writings (which are handwritten and unfinished lol oops) it was all in the end to tell something deeper of the soul... to grasp onto some depth of emotion that i know i myself crave.... or if not something i crave specifically, just seeking to feel...
that description is rather reminding me of what i hear people say about drug addictions. seeking the next high, you know? and you gotta go deeper each time or something, to find the satisfaction. i suppose there's an element of that in there as well. writing is a bit of transparency in that...i guess i'm seeking something i don't have. usually it's a depth of relationship, a seeking to be known and to know another. up until i wrote drakken/shego fanfic i really did not write romance at all. i was always going after the platonic soulmate vibe. sometimes that depth of knowing can get lost in a romance vibe i think?
but anyway... yes... what inspires me? a craving for more. i write for that emotional depth. that next high. but also the adventure... the seeking of something beyond the walls of....existence. oh to be able to just say... let's go explore that cave in the east that has its own weather system! let's go explore the amazon! the sahara! let's drift on a gondola in the canals of venice on a moonlit night! let's look down on the earth from a plane at 35000 feet and see what God and man have wrought!
man idk if that answers this well enough. i guess also unanswered questions? in fanfic, for characters. like, what happened to adam cartwright after he moved away and how did it impact each family member? what happened after the end of quantum leap?? is h.m. murdock truly insane? why did spock really leave starfleet? what else motivates sonic the hedgehog? why did shego abandon heroism and become a villain? will dr. drakken become a good guy post-canon or will he remain in evil?? what truly happened between stein and spirit to break up their partnership yet cause them to pick up right where they left off fifteen years later???
it's always...missing pieces, and always connected to emotion... yeah again, idk if this answers the question well enough. but my gosh you've got me buzzing. maybe this will kickstart my writing drive again cuz i let it go dormant to play sims 24/7 for a month.
thank you friend, for the ask! ^^
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Happy friendly Friday, Cal!
This is related to your Jack-as-caretaker-protector ramblings. In 13x20 Unfinished Business, we get this little nugget from a very green, overconfident Jack and Mary about protecting people.
MARY: I don't know how we'll keep everybody safe. On Jack-- that weighs on him. These are HIS people. Then--
Interestingly, not too long after this, Jack comes to a very Cas-like conclusion. Once the refugees are safe with Sam, Dean, and Cas and on their way to the rift, Jack puts on his little backpack and tries to sneak away to confront AU Michael on his own.
///
There's also this line from 13x20 that speaks to Jack's drive to keep the group safe. (He's learning a lot of this from Mary! She's his vizier and guidepost when it comes to learning how to fight for others.) Although Jack is a mirror to Sam's impatience in 13x21 Beat the Devil, his focus is still very much on the idea of safety, even if his way of going about it is foolish and arrogant.
JACK: I'll keep us safe. I promise.
///
Anyway, I think there's an obvious callback both to what Sam says about Dean in 13x02 re:protecting people and what Dean says to Death in 15x18:
13x02 The Rising Son:
JACK: Why would he be afraid? SAM: Because Dean feels like it’s his job to protect everyone.
15x18 Despair:
DEAN: It's over. Call it off. Stop killing my people! BILLIE: (panting with effort and pain) I didn't hurt your friends. DEAN: What? BILLIE: (laughs) You're in the wrong place, Dean.
Also, in the beginning of 15x18, we got this:
JACK: (crying) God, The Empty, Billie... Everyone's so mad at us, and I don't have my powers. There's nothing I can do to protect us. Castiel looks away, nodding. He knows Jack is right. JACK: I'm scared, Cas. CAS: I know. Me, too.
///
But back to season 13. There's Mary, who feels so drawn to helping the people in 13x22 Exodus that she wants to stay in the AU world! I think Jack definitely inherited her value system a little bit, too.
MARY: I'm not going back...I fought beside these people. I respect them. I respect their cause. You can’t expect me to just abandon them.
///
Lastly, I think we've talked a little bit about the Dark!Kaia and Jack parallel, but I think of Kaia's line in 14x09 The Spear to Dean and Cas (who are both obvious, well-established family protectors).
DARK KAIA: You have people you feel bound to protect-- to save. So do I.
///
(Text Attributions// Supernatural scripts here via @spnscripthunt. Transcripts are located here via SPNWiki. Visit their Tumblr to donate.)
///
Anyhoo, the question! I know that the main characters rotate with who's battening down to protect large groups versus who's committing to protecting small, close-knit family units, but I do think these lines speak to some of Jack's inner drives to protect everyone. This strong protector-drive is why he overreacts to the poor gas station worker and nearly chokes him to death after Maggie is murdered.
I feel like Jack tries to embody Dean's batten-down-the-hatches caretaking model, "everyone work together to keep everyone safe," and Cas's lone wolf protector model, "go out there on your own if you have to in order to keep threats away." I'm not leaving Sam out, but although Jack is shown to be very observant and good at thinking on his feet when it comes to casework, when he's backed into a corner, he doesn't seem to naturally reach for Sam's problem-solving mode the same way he does the other two. Sam's model is to be rigorously academic and consult the lore to an obsessive degree. Sam wants to be the man with the (sometimes balls-to-the-wall-insane) plan.
I think that's why in Ouroboros, Dean-Cas-Jack hilariously bail on research to go eat in a diner, and they leave the fussy details to Sam and Rowena. I think characters like Patience Turner and even Harper Sayles would probably hunker with Sam and Rowena and (as Cas so dryly puts it in Ouroboros) "their many, many books."
But I think Jack prefers to do his "book reading and hunting homework" ahead of time, not so much during. During the case, he seems like he prefers to be hands-on: he studiously assess the situation in front of him. Examples: noticing Athena's boyfriend in a photo, checking out Harper's apartment in a hands-on manner, noticing details about the cursed girl and the witch, etc.
:-)
hi shal!!! ooh, this is a juicy one! you never disappoint 🫶🫶
I think Jack’s need to overprotect is, shockingly, rooted in his own self fear, and a product of the many complexes sam and dean accidentally gave him—this one, particularly, is the savior complex sam instilled with his 13x02 line “We need to protect you, but we might also need to protect others from you.” It’s a confusing and upsetting dichotomy to process, and to me it echoes back to Sam’s demon blood arc when he felt that saving as many people as he could on various cases would keep him good; if you can find a way to be The Savior, then you can avoid becoming The Monster. and of course, after Sam and Jack’s subsequent falters into becoming The Monster in their own respective arcs, they strive to be The Savior again as a way to amend for being The Monster. It’s a continuation of their shared complex (another vicious cog in the abuse machine), and it only continues further and further with every falter; every act of monstrousness has to be amended with an act of saving, whether that’s to save your own soul or to apologize or both.
It’s also a good addition to the idea that Jack attaches their sense of identity into fulfilling roles and purposes; they don’t want to be what they think they truly are, they’re scared to death of who they are and everybody else hates him for it anyways, so he might as well just be what everyone wants and soak up the affection–even if it’s conditional (not to mention the added bonus of further distancing himself from Lucifer in the process). That brings me back to Sam and his many complexes.
// I don’t mean to give Sam so much flack for his parental shortcomings, but at the same time I don’t think he’s given enough flack for them, so viva la vida, baby! Sam sucks at being a dad too!
This time, it’s the can-opener complex: the one where having a purpose (opening a rift to save Mary) and being useful (digging up graves) are the grounds for basic respect and humanity, rather than them already being inherent to Jack as a living person. Ergo, Jack feels that he has to be useful to be considered “good” or loved, and that coincides perfectly with his savior complex, because now he has a role to play and a purpose to justify him existing! And yet again, this is made even worse with Jack’s personal failings and Acts Of Monstrousness, especially the ones done while he’s soulless. By this point in time, he’s literally a guilt-stricken post-psychotic fully jaded shell of a half-human, completely traumatized and utterly despaired over the sheer destruction he continuously wrought despite his intentions, and the capacity for violence he’s always held as an innate part of what makes him a monster / like Lucifer.
While still fighting to be useful as a bomb, Jack has completely lost faith in the idea that he can be Good or a Savior anymore—even though his S15 sacrifice was outwardly meant to save the world, it was really just an act of suicide and amendment for his monstrousness. Even their final purpose as a literal living weapon is just the begrudging acceptance of his true nature; he’s a monster, a weapon, something that will forever hurt and destroy the world around him as is innate to him. So, why not make some scrap of good on himself and just direct the blast towards someone who deserves it?
#that’s all I got sowwy :3#it’s 1:36a#and I’m sleepy sooooo#ciao ciao#ily shallow :3333#jack kline#spn#spn meta#holdthypeace.txt
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Fanfic writing asks:
15, 23, 25, 36, 37, 43, 44, 48
80: have you ever written any fic or one-shot +18/smutty?
15: whats your favorite time to write?
A: When I should be doing something else, or when I'm in the middle of doing something else (usually I'll get inspiration in the middle of homework, or in the middle of dinner when I'm watching a show)
23: Is starting at the beginning, middle, or end easiest? hardest?
A: I like starting in the middle because that's typically where my idea happens. Sometimes that becomes the beginning. The hardest part is the beginning, honestly. Because if my idea is in the middle, I have no idea how to get to that point without it seeming unnatural.
25: Favorite part of the writing process?
A: Sharing with my betas and rewriting it completely with the guidance and with my own fresh eyes. I don't like editing-- I can get the grammer check on Word to do that for me. I rewrite. Because I have the whole thing down, I just need to make it Better.
36: Fic you're proudest of?
A: Currently, it's the only fic I've posted on AO3. It's a Harry Potter fic called Rising of a Wizard Suffragette. I;m most proud of it because I had the confidence to post it and the confidence I wouldn't abandon it.
37: What do you have the hardest time writing?
A: Yandere and viceral gore. I wrote some paragraphs that I was going to use for a Yandere!Gloxinia x Sage thing, and it was great and believable and honestly (not bragging) good quality compared to what I see as "my best work." But reading it again when I had to rewrite/edit was so difficult because I felt so uncomfortable.
43: A trope you want to use but havent?
A: HANAHAKI DISEASE OMG i love the idea of hanahaki disease and it would be PERFECT for what I'm imagining but i just havent the time!
44: Favorite genre to write?
A: Long-fic romance with a lot of trauma (usually family centered trauma), I like writing families, for example, SageXinia and their kids.
48: Who's your favorite character to write for?
A: depends on the fandom! My favorite oc to write for atm is Percy from BSD, but for canon characters I like writing for Remus Lupin, Sammy Lawrence, Gloxinia, Kunikida Doppo.
80: Have you written any smut?
A: yeah, but it's unfinished and I'm not sure if I wanna post it.
#ask response#nanatsu no taizai#fanfic ask#writing#fanfiction#fanfic writer#fanfic#fanfic writing#tumblr ask#hanahaki#harry potter fic#gloxinia nnt#sammy lawrence
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and the sun, too, will go down
-
[AO3]
There was a reason why you shouldn’t hex the mistletoe that kept appearing above your head. Unfortunately, Toast didn’t get that memo. [Toast/Sykkuno; Hogwarts AU; published 2021-12-18; word count: 30,921; unfinished/abandoned work]
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It was that time of the year again, when they were in the middle of the most grueling moment of their curriculum, as well as the time when easily excitable teenagers in their puberties waited patiently for a mistletoe to appear above their crush’s head so they could have a justification of kissing them stupid.
Toast wasn’t particularly interested in it; whether in having the mistletoe hanging above him like a particularly garish fashion statement, or in participating in the barbaric tradition of tackling someone and snogging them in the public eye. He would rather wrestle with his Arithmancy homework, thank you very much. There were a lot of people he would like to kiss, simply because they were attractive—physical, intelligence, and personality wise—but he’d rather do it on his own terms rather than relying onto something so inherently idiotic like the fucking mistletoes. Also, he didn’t appreciate people suddenly trying to kiss him for the heck of it, alright.
See, the thing with those mistletoes was just that it was completely random in nature. Sometimes it’d disappear if you just kissed someone, anyone. Other times, you had to kiss the exact person you currently had smushy, flowery, gooey feelings for—which also inadvertently worked to expose yourself to the person you were crushing on. That was embarrassing on so many levels, and he’d rather deprive himself from the experience altogether.
Another reason why Toast disliked the mistletoe with every single fiber of his magic, was because it was completely, wholeheartedly illogical. Who the fuck created this magic manifestation to follow around teenagers, urging them to kiss in school ground? Must have been some desperately virgin fellow or something. It was illogical and embarrassing, as well as inconsiderate. There were people who didn’t swing that way, to the way of romance; there were people who were uncomfortable with intimate touches; there were people with debilitating social anxiety; and there were also people who weren’t completely sure yet of their feelings. That mistletoe wouldn’t do them any good.
And it certainly wouldn’t do people like him any good either—people who were too impatient and miffed by this childish, horrendous form of magic that they just reacted violently to it. The way that he was going to do as soon as he was out of Professor Potter’s Defense and Dark Magic class.
Professor Potter, for his part, just laughed it off and cheekily teased him about him finally straying into the path of romance.
“Kiss a girl or two, or guys if you swing that way,” Professor Potter said, every last bit of youth lining his face so clearly that Toast was reminded how young their teacher actually was. He wasn’t even thirty yet, and it made him shudder at times at how Professor Potter was a war veteran at only eighteen back then. That was at once impressive and incredibly heartbreaking. “Relax and enjoy it. It won’t go away anytime soon, anyway.”
“I’ll bombarda it to pieces,” he said plainly, flicking an irritated glance at the sphere of green and malicious intent floating a few centimeters above his head.
“I wouldn’t advise it,” Professor Potter said, shrugging lightly as he corrected Toast’s grip on his wand. “Someone tried it last year and McGonagall had to deal with it personally to resolve it. Suffice to say, it won’t be a pleasant experience.”
Toast frowned in annoyance. Well, it wouldn’t be a pleasant experience either having this stupid garnish floating about wherever he went. He kept his thoughts to himself, however. He just nodded to his teacher and hexed Michael viciously as a form of practice. This mistletoe would find its end very, very soon. Whoever had done that last year was probably an idiot and hadn’t done it right. He was different. Toast was aware of his capabilities, and he was confident that he could dispel this pesky magic once and for all.
-
“Ooh,” Peter whistled. “Someone’s gonna get kisseeed today. I can do the honor of the first kiss, if you want.”
“You can kiss my ass,” Toast said, and derived a vindictive satisfaction when Peter yelped after he sent a stinging hex. “What the fuck are you doing here, anyway? Your table is over there.”
“Come on,” the older boy whined. “Where’s your spirit of unity? House segregation is so old-fashioned, man. Thought we left that a decade ago.”
“I’m saying that I don’t want to see your ugly face around here,” he responded flatly. “Spit it out, you never eat with us until lately.”
Peter still had the decency to look embarrassed at least. “Yeah, Sykkuno got a new piercing.”
Toast stared. Then stared some more, and then longer, until even Peter, who was absolutely shameless and unabashed in everything he did, squirmed at his seat next to Hafu. “You came here, under the guise of House unity, to ogle at Slytherin’s flower boy.”
“I don’t ogle!” Peter denied. “I’m just admiring the view! He’s nice to look at! Real pretty and all!”
“So he’s just a piece of meat to you,” Toast decided, and laughed when Peter groaned. It was always fun messing around with Peter; he never took offense at almost anything people threw at him. Though he was pretty terrifying when he was mad. But maybe that was just Hufflepuff’s thing—they all were so fluffy and nice and warm until you wore down the kindness barrier and a literal monster came out. A badger still had its claws, after all.
“When are you gonna blast the shit outta your garnish?” Michael asked, looking inappropriately excited at the prospect. He was probably looking forward to it more than Toast himself. Michael embraced all kinds of knowledge—even one born from violence and malice. It was this exact quality that made the Sorting Hat put him in Ravenclaw even before it touched the crown of Michael’s head.
“Soon enough,” he replied. He took some pastries into his plate, thinking about how much he could stuff into his mouth before he had to run for Ancient Runes.
“You’re gonna blast the mistletoe?” Hafu asked, eyebrows climbing high into her hairline. “That’s not gonna end well, at all. Though it can be an entertainment. I can’t wait to see how you’re gonna make an absolute circus out of yourself.”
“First of all,” he said, pointing his pumpkin pie at her in accusation, “put some faith in me. I didn’t pave my way onto becoming the smartest wizard of our year by being an idiot. Second of all, why the fuck am I even friends with you all? All of you are horrible.”
“Because we can stand your bullshit, that’s why,” Hafu replied, unfazed with the sprinkles of pastry flying in her direction. “And you can always count on us to be there when you embarrass yourself. That should count for something.”
“Horrible,” Toast repeated, and chewed on his pie. He listened to Michael’s tangent with half an ear about possibilities of messing with such old magic, the chances of Toast not being able to destroy it at all, and what kind of consequences that he would derive if he did. He ignored the increasingly unpleasant possibilities that his friends discussed with such gusto, as if he weren’t there and was merely a subject of an experiment that they were very interested in seeing how it’d fail. Right after he got rid of this mistletoe, he was going to get rid of them too.
“Ask him out if you’re that interested in him,” Hafu said to Peter. “It’s almost sad seeing you mooning after him for so long.”
“Nah, I’m just here to stare creepily at him,” Peter said, no trace of guilt on his face. “Besides, I’d be killed in less than three seconds by his friends if I ever did.”
“Edison literally asked him for a threesome, twice, and he’s still alive,” Toast pointed out. It was public knowledge. Edison was another utterly shameless bastard that was unfortunately within Toast’s circle of friends. Was this the price of his ambition, his thirst for knowledge? Absolute bad luck in choosing the right kind of companions?
“Good point,” Peter nodded, looking like he had been enlightened. “I’ll ask him out and pray that his boyfriend won’t just avada’d me on school grounds.”
“He has a boyfriend?” Hafu asked, suddenly interested for some reason. “I didn’t know that. I thought he’s still on that spiel of how ‘people are not interested in me’ bullshit.”
“You didn’t know he has a boyfriend?” Peter asked back, looking exaggeratingly scandalized.
“Shut up,” the girl replied, flicking Peter’s forehead with long fingers. “Who is it?”
Peter scowled at her, rubbing at his sore forehead. Toast could sympathize; Hafu was unexpectedly strong despite her stature, and she was a sadistic bitch who never held back in physical fights. “It’s our Head Boy. Lovely couple, aren’t they? Sometimes, my eyes hurt from looking at how pretty they are. Like, they are probably gonna get married after they graduate and have pretty, lethal kids together.”
Hafu’s eyes widened. “No way!” she whispered, grinning bright and filled with nothing but unholy glee. Toast scooted further away from her because that grin spelled nothing but trouble. “They got back together?”
“Yeah—wait, what?” Peter swiveled to look at her, finally stopped ogling at the direction of the Slytherin’s table. “They were together? Why didn’t I know of this?” he demanded.
“Well, it wasn’t really known, except for the Prefects,” she said. “They got together after, you know, the whole mistletoe fiasco.”
“Huh,” Peter said, “make sense.”
Toast listened in silence at their exchange. Hafu wasn’t usually interested in gossips, but Sykkuno was just one of the most popular kids at Hogwarts, and nearly everyone was so thirsty for any drop of information about him. He was a seventh-year Slytherin with a pretty face, gentle and compassionate attitude, and awkwardness that could probably encompass the whole Quidditch pitch. He was just painfully shy that it hurt to witness it sometimes.
At first glance, it was mind-boggling how the Sorting Hat had decided to put him in Slytherin at all. He was exactly the kind of person that would be eaten whole by the serpents. But he wasn’t a mere pretty boy, and he wasn’t as courteous as he seemed. Toast knew this from experience.
There were always rumors about Sykkuno and his group of friends, and most of them ranged from mundane gossip to outrageous claims. Though he was mostly known through his reputation of being a friendly, nice guy, Sykkuno strangely had so many records of being in detention. Most people thought that it was only because he was following his friends along with their mischief. But Toast had literally seen Sykkuno going out of Professor Malfoy’s private quarter with empty vials grasped on pale, long fingers, with a glint of mischief in his soft-slanted eyes. He had been surprised to see Toast there, but he just smiled as if he was meant to be there all along and nothing out of sorts was happening. Professor Potter had the best time of his life laughing his ass off when Professor Malfoy showed up to the Great Hall with pink hair that refused to be flattened no matter how many times he spelled it.
It had been hilarious, and it was only because Professor Potter was so adept at pacifying the Malfoy patriarch that saved Sykkuno’s ass from being expelled faster than he could apparate to Albania. Sykkuno didn’t just get along with whatever prank his friends were scheming; he actively participated in them, even pioneered some of them and Toast could barely wrap his head around the fact that everyone still thought that this boy was some flowery, gentle, soft sunshine that they had to protect. Yeah, as if.
As an ambitious Ravenclaw hell-bent on getting perfect scores on all of his subjects, Toast was well aware about the rank in Hogwarts throughout all years. Hafu was following closely behind him for the highest score in their House, with Edison in close margin with her. For the general rank, however, it had always been Sykkuno and Charlie. Toast had known Charlie personally; he was a laid-back, quick-witted, and hilariously lethargic boy from Ravenclaw with a mind so painfully intelligent that it sparked envy in every Ravenclaw students when they saw just how easily he comprehended the lessons.
Sykkuno was a different kind of breed. Toast was in his sixth-year and therefore had never seen himself how the boy was in class. But Charlie and Sykkuno played chess sometimes, and Toast would hear him telling Edison just how much of a pain in the ass Sykkuno was. He comprehended things differently from other people, made hilariously stupid and awkward analogies, an absolute troll whenever he was supposed to be in a serious situation, and was terrifyingly competent when he actually tried.
“He’s playing with you,” Toast heard Charlie say one day. “He knows he can conquer you in everything, but he’s not gonna let you know about it, and plays you like a killer toying with his prey.”
He thought that it was such an exaggeration, until he saw Miyoung come back from Professor Potter’s class trembling and wide-eyed. They had been lounging on the courtyard—Toast, Rae, Michael, and Lily. They were in different years and Houses, but Toast got roped into the circle of friends because Michael was dating Lily, and Lily just had a knack of bringing everyone together where she wanted them to be. Hufflepuffs could be scary in their single-mindedness of initiating friendships.
It was a sunny day outside, and they were laughing about that one time Peter tripped in front of Professor McGonagall and, in a moment of panic, just flirted with her to alleviate his embarrassment. Suffice to say it didn’t end well. The jovial ambiance was shattered when Edison and Leslie came over with Miyoung sandwiched between them, looking like she was about to throw up her breakfast this morning. Immediately, they were alert and alarmed.
“What happened?” Lily asked worriedly, checking over the shaking girl with careful hands.
Edison smiled wryly. “She dueled Sykkuno.”
It was a simple statement that didn’t make sense whatsoever to Toast’s ears. But Rae just reacted with an eye roll as she patted Miyoung’s back consolingly.
“Professor Potter never learned that Sykkuno shouldn’t be partnered with anyone, ever,” she said with a sigh.
“He’s- he’s a psychopath,” Miyoung said, fear and shock written all over her face. “He just played me around like some sort of sick murderer.”
“He won’t actually kill you, but yeah, pretty much,” Rae said, and it pricked at Toast’s mind when she continued, “my duels with him just consisted of him baiting me and prolonging the duel until he’s satisfied. If he’s not one of my close friends, I’d be long since planning his demise. Actually—scratch that. I’m going to plan for his untimely demise anyway.”
Rae was famous throughout Hogwarts for her bright, fiery personality and tenacity in everything that she did. She was also one of the best duelists in seventh-year simply because she had a large magic reservation and was able to endure hours of fighting if she wanted. Her spellworks were always explosive, intense, and lined with violence whenever she was on the offense—and she was always on the offense. In duels, she rarely ever bothered with defense as she was quick enough to dodge and could just run around the arena throwing spell after spell until her opponent was exhausted and could no longer keep up. In short, she was powerful.
So to hear her speaking about Sykkuno like that was actually kinda terrifying, because—just how the heck Sykkuno dueled, exactly, that he was able to reduce Miyoung close to tears and had Rae admitting that she was used to be baited and being toyed with by the Slytherin boy in duels?
“His spellworks are always precise, and he’s very aware of his surroundings,” Leslie said when Toast asked. “He’s good at reading his opponents, and has near impeccable control of his magic in deciding on how much force he should put behind a spell. But he’s, uh, how do I say it—he’s got a nasty habit of pretending to not take the fight seriously, and plays psychological warfare on his opponents. That’s what makes him scary, you know. And fucked up.”
Toast was kind of surprised, but not really that much. He had seen how far Sykkuno was willing to push just to get back at a teacher, disregarding multiple rules and looking all innocent while doing it. He wasn’t just some doe-eyed pretty boy, was he? He was most possibly a nasty piece of shit wrapped up in the most stunning cover. Those people that had thought of Sykkuno as a fragile, delicate flower petal in a dewy morning, they were laughably, ironically misguided. Sykkuno could wipe the floor with their asses, and he probably would smile so sweetly while doing so, too.
“Leslie owes me five galleons,” Hafu said smugly.
“You made a bet about his love life?” Peter asked incredulously. “Why didn’t you invite me in? Toast is right, you’re a horrible friend.”
Hafu laughed, and shoved at Peter’s arm playfully. “Sorry, Pete. It’s only amongst Prefects, because, you know, Ray being the Head Boy and all.”
“How many times do you think they’ve used the Prefect’s bathroom to have hot, steamy sex?” Peter asked, and Toast nearly choked on his treacle tart.
“There’s a running bet for that, too,” Hafu answered, and Toast quickly tuned out the conversation for the sake of keeping his sanity intact. He did not need to know about the excruciating details of Sykkuno’s and his boyfriend’s sex life.
“I’m outta here,” he said, gulping the last of his drink before snatching his bag from the seat.
“Good luck with evading the kisses coming your way!” Peter called out, loudly.
Toast flipped him off, and started walking to the doors. He shuddered a little. He felt like there were eyes staring at the back of his head, intensely. But when he turned his head, it was to the sight of Sykkuno’s eyes leaving his figure as he slowly swiveled to laugh at something his friend said. Huh, he blinked. That was weird, but also expected. People had been staring at him, his mistletoe to be exact. But then again, Toast and Sykkuno had never talked to each other and definitely wasn’t in the same circle of friends throughout their years in Hogwarts.
Whatever. Maybe that was just his imagination. It didn’t matter. He still had Advance Runes to attend, and half the school to trek.
-
Toast didn’t get a chance to destroy the annoying mistletoe throughout the day. His schedule was full on Thursday, and he cursed his greed in taking a lot of classes for his N.E.W.T. Whatever, he could do it later. Fast, preferably, because Peter was right.
While Toast had known that he had somewhat of a reputation due to his intelligence and magical prowess, he had never thought that his popularity would get him a lot of people that seemed to be attracted enough to him to try to kiss him. Sure, he had jokes multiple times with Yvonne about getting a lot of hot girls through his popularity, but seeing it with his own eyes was somewhat baffling. Toast knew that he could be attractive, and though he wasn’t the most handsome guy out there, there would be people who were interested in his intelligence and personality alone. Toast had had his years of doubting his own self, as well as mulling over his low self-esteem regarding his appearance. But he had grown since then, and he knew perfectly who he was, knew his worth
Still, when he uncomfortably dodged a sudden kiss from a Gryffindor girl that he recognized from their Herbology class together, he was still quite surprised that people would want to actually kiss him, and were brave enough to try in front of others. That was fucking weird, and something that he wouldn’t be able to do it himself.
He had another three attempts from two Ravenclaw girls, and a Hufflepuff boy. Sure, they were all attractive in their own rights, but Toast wouldn’t just stay there and let himself be kissed while people were watching. He had gone out with people before and wasn’t afraid of showing affection in front of people. But he wasn’t going to just sit and do nothing when they tried to make him an entertainment. They were curious, he got that. But they could take that curiosity and shove it up their asses, because he wasn’t going to let this stupid mistletoe be their shot of bravery. If they weren’t brave enough to talk and woe him personally, then they weren’t worth his time.
He liked confident and competent people. He wanted someone in his caliber, that could discuss things with him and would be open to any kind of knowledge and debate. He wanted someone who knew who they were and knew what they wanted. Everything aside from that was just an additional bonus. Sure, it was hypocritical of him if he said that appearance didn’t matter. But even the prettiest of them all wouldn’t interest him if they turned out to be such a dolt.
By the time he went to the Great Hall for dinner, he was nearly fuming with irritation. People were amazingly bold when they thought that they could seize the chance. It was something interesting to discuss, but wasn’t that pleasant to experience, honestly. He couldn’t count how many strangers he had evaded when they tried to kiss him, and then leaving him with laughter and a shrug. They were just curious and it infuriated him. He didn’t even know these people. They tried to kiss him just because he had this goddamned mistletoe and then suddenly he was free for all. What a headache.
When he sat down, there was that sense of someone watching him again. He had people staring at him throughout the day, but it wasn’t as familiarly intense as this one. When he turned his head, as expected, it was Sykkuno who was staring at him. The boy blinked once, and then went back to the conversation with his friends as if nothing happened. Just like that day outside of Professor Malfoy’s private quarter. Toast gritted his teeth. What, did the pretty boy want to kiss him, too? Curious about whether he could make the mistletoe disappear from Toast’s head? Well, he could eat shit, because Toast ain’t letting him.
“What got your panties so twisted?” Michael asked.
“I’m gonna find the Room of Requirement after this so I can fiendfyre the fuck outta this mistletoe,” he growled out.
“Woah,” Edison said, both hands in front of his chest in a placating gesture. “Calm down. It’s not that bad.”
“I don’t appreciate strangers randomly trying to kiss me out of curiosity,” Toast said, loud enough for the table to hear him. He saw that some of the students looked down in embarrassment and viciously thought, good.
“It’s not going to disappear unless you kiss someone, you know?” Leslie piped up.
Toast scowled. “Or if I destroy it. Which I will. I just can’t find the time yet.”
“You’re so hilariously offended by the mistletoe, that it’s almost funny of it’s not so sad,” Hafu sighed. “Just kiss someone and be done with it, Toast. You’re not gonna like the consequences of tampering with it.”
“No,” he said vehemently. “I’m not gonna do anything for this bullshit. I’m gonna get rid of it, end of discussion.”
“Just remember that I’ve warned you,” Hafu shrugged. “But if you’re so intent on complicating this, then be my guest.”
He didn’t understand why his friends were so sure that he was gonna fuck it up. It was literally just leaves that floated above his head annoyingly. What kind of consequences would he suffer from burning it to bits, exactly?
Well, whatever the consequences were, it surely would be better than having to endure the stare and dodging people coming at him; better than having to be subjected by Sykkuno’s heavy stare that he could already feel again on the back of his skull like a brand.
-
The mistletoe stayed until Sunday, and the problems it brought persisted as well. Toast punched Peter on his throat when he tried to kiss him at lunch, and felt absolutely no guilt when his friend whined about Toast being a sadistic bastard. He got some girls giggling as he walked past them, and he resolutely ignored the glances they threw at him. He was used to it by now after nearly four days of the same thing. He got used to a lot of things that people did because of the mistletoe, annoyingly. The only thing that he couldn’t get used to was Sykkuno’s stare.
The boy had never tried anything, never spoken to him, and never stopped looking at him as if he couldn’t decide whether to kiss or curse Toast to hell and back. What the fuck was that all about, anyway? They didn’t even know each other personally, and everything Toast knew about Sykkuno aside from his personal experience—which only counted to one incident—was from people around him. They weren’t friends, they weren’t anything. So why in the world would he keep staring at Toast?
This was irritating and confusing, and Toast didn’t like being confused. He liked knowing every variable of any situation so he could plan and make his decision accordingly. What decision could he make about a certain Slytherin boy staring at him, when he couldn’t even be sure of his intention, and didn’t quite know what to do even if he did? Nothing. Absolutely nothing, and it irked him to no end.
Charlie was right, as he usually was—Sykkuno was a pain in the ass.
He had foregone the visit to Hogsmeade in favor of dealing with his very green, very persistent problem. He wanted to stock up on his sweets and his school supplies, but Yvonne could take care of that as he already asked her. It was high time for him to get rid of this headache inducing magic floating above his head.
Honestly, while he had read and known about the Room of Requirement, and knew about the method to summon it, he still didn’t know whether he would actually find it. He had walked back and forth for nearly twenty minutes in front of the wall across the tapestry of Barnabas the Barmy on the seventh floor. He still found nothing. No door, no ideal room for him to commence his plan accordingly. Dejected, he went down to the courtyard instead. Maybe he should check if the Quidditch pitch was empty. The place was certainly big enough to contain the risk of magic he was about to perform. There was a doubt in his mind that his plan would backfire, because his friends were right about one thing. The magic he was planning to tamper with was old, and it had always been there in Hogwarts. What if something really happened? Should he just try to kiss anyone until it disappeared?
He frowned. No, he wasn’t going to touch that particular route with a ten foot pole. He should just go near Hagrid’s hut since people rarely came there anyway. If all failed, he could just run screaming profanities into the Forbidden Forest and live there forever. But then, he could risk running into Hagrid himself, and while Toast was fond of the half-giant, he wasn’t in the mood to hear him prattle about magical creatures and eat his teeth-shattering cookies.
With a decision in mind, Toast went down to the girl’s lavatory on the second floor, where Moaning Myrtle was probably crying over the tragedy of how peaceful school life was now that Professor Potter and Tom Riddle were no longer in a magical, biblically proportioned catfight. He could ignore her; she was afraid of him because he terrorized her with questions in his third year, and the bathroom was already in such a devastating state that if he were to destroy it even more from his attempts, then no one would be the wiser.
When he got there, Myrtle shrieked in a high-pitched tone and immediately plunged herself into one of the toilets, splashing water everywhere. Toast smirked; yeah, that was never going to be not funny. He was essentially alone now, though. So he went to the rows of cracked mirrors to better locate the mistletoe above his head, and pointed his wand at it. He tried simple spells first, but when those proved to be worthless, he started every hex he could safely conduct in school grounds.
Maybe it was due to him getting sprayed by his own magic through the spells and hexes, or maybe he was just getting irritated, but the more he tried, the more he felt like he was tingling all over. It felt like there was electricity that coursed through him, and it was an entirely different feeling from his magic. But Toast, already determined and impossibly too stubborn for his own good, kept going because fuck if he was going to withstand this any longer.
At his wit’s end, tired and aching from conjuring spell after spell, and beginning to think that this was futile, he glared at the mistletoe and mustered every hatred he felt to channel onto his magic as he growled out, “bombard maxima!”
If someone were to ask him, he wouldn’t know how to answer. Because not even a millisecond after he finished the incantation, he was thrown back several feet from where he stood, and hit his head on the damp floor pretty hard. He faintly heard the explosion of the mirrors and the sinks that lined the walls, and a weirdly familiar shout of, “Oh, Circe!”
It all happened in a blur; one moment he was standing in front of the mirrors, and the next he was laying on the floor, staring at the gloomy ceilings with a nasty headache that made him nearly throw up. He got up with difficulty, still in a daze and shock of what had just happened. He supposed he shouldn’t be so surprised, as this was within the realm of possibility that could happen. But still, he didn’t quite think that he would be this mad about a piece of garnish… that was still floating above his head, looking slightly burnt and disheveled but fine nonetheless.
Toast stared at it, dumbstruck. What the fuck was this thing made of? All of the sinks and the mirrors were destroyed, part of the walls had small craters on them, and there were scorch marks everywhere. Toast himself looked like he had just gotten back from a fucking war or something with how scuffed he was.
Just when he was about to curse the mistletoe to hell and back, someone else beat him to it.
“What in the Merlin is wrong with you?” someone shouted, and Toast swiveled on his heels, to be faced with Sykkuno, who was rubbing the back of his head with a sharp glare directed at Toast. The tails of his robes were soaking wet, and there was a bruise on one of his cheeks.
“Why the fuck are you here?” Toast shot back, unwilling to admit that he was surprised because he didn’t notice Sykkuno’s presence, and embarrassed because he was caught looking as if he had just gone down through a chimney, along with the mistletoe floating lazily above him. “Were you following me, huh, stalker?”
“W-what?” Sykkuno sputtered, looking offended and confused at the same time. “I was sleeping here!”
Toast’s stare turned flat and accusing. “You came to an abandoned lavatory, to sleep, when you know you can do it in your own dormitory, or just literally anywhere with a comfortable enough surface. But no, you chose here to sleep, of all places.”
The Slytherin boy stuttered out his justification, but his words jumbled together because he was blushing too hard to form them properly. In the end, he just settled with, “Well, you came here to destroy the place! You’re lucky I put wards already, otherwise McGonagall is gonna come down to bombarda your remaining school year into oblivion.”
“Excuse you,” Toast snapped, irritated and so tired already for the day. He didn’t know why, but Sykkuno’s presence just made everything worse. Maybe it was because Toast was unnerved by his indecipherable stares these days, or maybe because he was just uncomfortable being caught in his failure. “I’m not trying to destroy this place, I’m trying to destroy this piece of shit,” he said, pointing to the mistletoe with his wand.
He had expected the older boy to laugh, or to scoff mockingly at him. What he got instead was a look full of panic as Sykkuno stepped forward to where Toast was standing. Toast unconsciously took a step back. His skin was still tingling from magic and that weird electricity he had felt before was stronger than ever now. He was hypersensitive to everything, and he could feel Sykkuno’s magic around him; a monstrous presence that encompassed the whole lavatory to its smallest crevice. It also didn’t help that Sykkuno was just a little bit taller than Toast, now that they were standing so close.
Sykkuno stood on his tiptoe a little bit to inspect the mistletoe, and sighed in relief when he stepped back on his heels. “Oh, thank God it’s not completely destroyed.”
Toast’s eyes snapped up at him. “What do you mean, thank God? It’s not destroyed, and I have to endure going around school with this horrendous shit on top of my head!”
“It’s not meant to be destroyed!” Sykkuno said, frowning a little, and looking pale all of the sudden. “Trust me, you wouldn’t want to deal with the consequences. Just kiss some people, and you should be fine.”
Toast narrowed his eyes, stomping forward to jab a finger on Sykkuno’s chest. “Listen, flower boy,” he started, voice scathing and terrible. “I don’t give a fuck about what you think, and I don’t appreciate you giving me advices while not taking into account about my personal feelings about this. I don’t want to kiss anyone, and I certainly don’t want anyone to just suddenly come barging at me to snog the shit outta me just because they think I’m some sort of free entertainment solely because I have a stupid fucking garnish on top of my head!”
He could feel his magic flaring uncontrollably from his burst of anger, and felt a vindictive satisfaction when he saw Sykkuno’s eyes widen in fear. Good, that was what he deserved for talking shit about things he didn’t understand.
The boy stepped away from Toast’s finger, looking panicked. “Stop touching me! Your magic is unstable!”
“Because I’m pissed off!” Toast snapped back, and kept stepping forward as Sykkuno backed away from him. He didn’t know what hit him, but there was just a sense of peace in pushing Sykkuno’s buttons like this, to see him looking so flustered and suddenly small in front of Toast. Maybe Peter was right; he was turning into a sadistic bastard.
“You don’t know what you’re doing!” Sykkuno hissed, even as his back hit the door and he brought up both of his hands in front of his chest.
“I know what I’m doing,” Toast said confidently, despite his appearance and the fact that he looked worse than the mistletoe itself. “I’m going to continue destroying this dumb leaves, and you are going to shut the hell up.”
He grabbed at Sykkuno’s wrist, and was about to throw him out of the door so he could continue his experiment in peace, when the course of electricity increased its voltage and wrapped around them both. Toast cried out in pain, echoed by Sykkuno as it coursed through them, making every nerve alight and vulnerable. It was unlike anything he had ever felt in his life—even when he was hexed and jinxed for the first time, even when he fell from his broom on second-year, even when he first found his wand at Ollivander’s.
This magic was alien, uncomfortably warm, and it zinged through all of his joints, through his lungs until he was breathless and had to lean forward to catch himself from falling. Sykkuno seemed to suffer the same pain, though it looked as if he got it worse. Because he was pale as a ghost, and slid down from the door to kneel at Toast’s feet from how hard he was trembling. His wrist, that was still grasped tightly in Toast’s hand, hung limply in the air.
“What the fuck was that?” he gasped out, closing his eyes from dizziness and a shudder that wracked his body.
There was no answer for a moment, and Toast looked down to see that Sykkuno’s eyes were shut tightly in pain, tears forming on the corner and clumping on his lashes. Toast’s heart dropped to his gut; he might not know Sykkuno well, but he couldn’t just leave the boy when he was clearly in so much pain. And yet, it wasn’t just that. There was- there was something else; something that twisted in his chest and tripled down the guilt and worry. He immediately knelt down to cradle Sykkuno’s face, turning it slightly to assess the damage.
“Dude,” he called out. “Sykkuno, are you okay?”
Sykkuno opened his eyes, and for a moment Toast was left stunned at how pretty he actually was. No wonder Peter was willing to be teased and taunted about going to Ravenclaw’s table just to ogle at him. Objectively, he knew that Sykkuno was attractive; he had eyes and he had seen the boy around Hogwarts. He also knew that, though he wasn’t exactly attracted to the guy, many others shared the same thought as him because Sykkuno couldn’t go anywhere without people eyeballing him from head to toe.
But right here, slumped in front of Toast with a bruise high on his cheekbones, hair in disarray, tears glistening in his eyes, he looked absolutely breathtaking. Toast suddenly, strangely, had the urge to make him cry. He looked so pretty with tears in his soft-slanted, brown eyes.
He blinked, startled with his own thoughts. Where the hell did that came from?
“That,” Sykkuno said with difficulty, teeth gritted through the pain, “is the exact consequences that I told you about.”
“What?” he said, dumbfounded.
The older boy sighed. “I told you, you shouldn’t tamper with that thing. This is what happened when you tried to destroy it. It just blasts back whatever you throw at it, and makes the binding of its command worse—much worse. I know, I’ve tried it before.”
Toast’s head connected the dots in an instant. “Wait, you’re the dumbass that Professor Potter meant? The one who tried to destroy the mistletoe last year?”
Sykkuno’s face immediately flushed in embarrassment. “Hey! Speak for yourself, you did the same thing too!”
He retraced what he had just garnered from what Sykkuno had told him. In hindsight, he shouldn’t have been so confident about something he wasn’t completely sure of. So, okay, the essence of experiment was ultimately ‘fuck around and find out’, but he wasn’t entirely prepared for the consequences of failure. The binding of the command would be stronger, Sykkuno said. That… didn’t sound good, at all.
“What happened?” he asked, peering at the Slytherin boy's face. “What did you do to stop it?” Sykkuno looked uncomfortable for a moment, squirming in Toast’s grasp as if he was trying to escape. Toast narrowed his eyes and gripped the wrist tighter. “Tell me.”
As if a switch had been flipped, Sykkuno started talking. He looked pained and shocked by his own willingness. “I destroyed the whole thing. But instead of solving my problem, the remnants of the mistletoe just hung above my head, and I was in pain almost all the time. The same kind of pain we’ve just experienced. Madam Pomfrey and Professor McGonagall tried to help, but ultimately I had to do the binding of the mistletoe so it’d go away. Unfortunately, I wasn’t prepared for further consequences.”
“Which is?” Toast prompted, getting impatient and antsy now. He did not like where this was going.
Sykkuno was positively flushed red all over his face, even down to his neck. Toast was, understandably, in fear. “I had to kiss,” Sykkuno started, slow and weak in their ears, “a lot. Until the mistletoe was restored, and it could be gone. It was not the amount of kisses I could handle, and judging by your reaction to having perfectly normal mistletoe beforehand, neither could you.”
Toast’s heart dropped down to his stomach, and further away into the yawning abyss. That was not the kind of consequences he was ready for. Not at all. Sykkuno must have seen the panic and horrified look on his face, because he tried to smile reassuringly at him. Which only partially worked because he was still cringing from pain. Did it affect him more than it did Toast?
“Hey,” he said, voice gentle and soothing, the way he usually talked to other people. “It’s okay. At least yours isn’t completely destroyed like mine. The consequences might not be as grave. I’m sure Madam Pomfrey and Professor McGonagall can help, too. They’ve dealt with it before, after all.”
“Did they contact your parents when it happened?” he asked, suddenly feeling ill and nervous. It wasn’t that his parents were extremely strict or anything, he just had never troubled them with school and he intended to keep it that way.
“Yeah, they did,” Sykkuno said. “It was kind of serious, so they told my Mom and Dad about it.”
“Oh, fuck no,” Toast groaned out. “No. Absolutely not. I can’t go to McGonagall! My father is gonna be worried sick about some stupid mistletoe and it’s not gonna be good for his current health.”
Sykkuno blinked, then nodded. “Okay,” he said, “we’re not gonna tell McGonagall. But, let’s go to Professor Potter, at least. He’s not a blabbermouth, and he helped me too last year in determining what the binding required of me. You’ll need that.”
Toast thought about it. He’d prefer dealing with this alone, but he had heard himself what kind of horrendous bullshit Sykkuno had to go through. The faster he could be done with this motherfucking mistletoe, the better it would be. He nodded at Sykkuno, and went to get up.
The moment that he let go of the boy, however, Sykkuno cried out in sheer anguish and Toast dropped down again to check over him. There was that electricity current again, tingling at his fingertips. “What happened? Where are you hurting?”
“Everywhere,” Sykkuno said, close to a whimper. “I’m okay, I’m okay. It’s still manageable. Just- just surprising is all. Let’s- let’s just go.”
He looked at the boy warily, but they had spent too long in the lavatory and they still needed to find Professor Potter. Preferably before the rest of the kids went back from Hogsmeade. So they exited the bathroom, with Sykkuno stumbling along with Toast on his side. He was beginning to get restless too, for some reason. The electricity started to sting, and he knew for sure that it wasn’t his magic, because he had calmed down more or less now. He should ask Professor Potter about it, too.
They found the young man in the corridor near the greenhouse. As soon as he saw the state his students were in, he immediately went over, a small frown on his face.
“What happened?” he asked.
Toast smiled sheepishly. “Do you remember that time you told me not to bombarda the mistletoe? Yeah… about that…”
Professor Potter sighed, rubbing his face with his palm. “Not again,” he said despairingly. “Why’s Sykkuno here also? Did he try to help you destroy the mistletoe? I thought if anything, experience should tell you how much trouble it causes.”
“No,” Toast said. He didn’t know why he didn’t let Sykkuno explain it himself. Maybe it was because he was in pain, but there was just a sudden defensiveness in Toast hearing Professor Potter accusing the Slytherin boy. “He was just caught in the crossfire. He was the one who told me to seek you out, actually. I can’t go to McGonagall about this, I can’t tell my parents. Besides, the mistletoe is just grazed a little. There shouldn’t be too much problem, I think.”
“You think,” Professor Potter said, rolling his eyes. Toast suddenly thought that if he were to wear a uniform, he’d look just like his students. This man looked too young to be twenty-eight. “Okay, I get it. Let’s go to my office.”
While they walked across the corridor to Professor Potter’s office, Sykkuno stumbled in his step. He grasped at Toast’s arm to keep himself upright. Professor Potter turned to look at him, his frown deepening.
“That doesn’t look right,” he said. “There’s something wrong with his magic. It’s not… entirely his own. I think I know what’s happening. Come inside.”
As soon as they were seated, Sykkuno let out a gasp, and Toast just moved before his mind could comprehend what he was doing. He wrapped an arm around Sykkuno, drawing him closer on the couch and patted his back until his breathing slowed down. Professor Potter was already pulling out his wand, waving it around them without uttering a single incantation. It would intrigue Toast, and he would ask more about what exactly he was doing if he weren’t so distracted by the state Sykkuno was in.
“What spell did you use?” the man asked.
“Bombarda maxima,” Toast answered promptly. “It destroyed half the lavatory—” he cut himself off, eyes widening when he realized that he still hadn’t repaired the broken bathroom, “—but the mistletoe is only a little bit singed.”
“At least you’re not as bad as Sykkuno,” Professor Potter said, chuckling a little. “What happened after you tried it? Did you feel anything different?”
“I got thrown back,” Toast said. “I don’t really know very clearly, but there’s just a current of electricity that coursed through me at that time. I thought it was from my magic, because it felt the same at first. But—”
“It wasn’t and you’re still feeling that until now,” Professor Potter finished for him. “Feels a little itchy on your skin, doesn’t it?”
Toast blinked. “Yeah,” he said suspiciously. “Where is this going?”
“Did you have any contact with Sykkuno throughout it all?”
“No, I didn’t—” he stopped, rethought about it, and nodded slowly. “I grabbed at his wrist.”
Professor Potter nodded. “Sykkuno?” he called out softly. When the boy finally lifted his head from Toast’s shoulder, he looked exhausted. The man smiled at him. “Did you feel the same thing? Multiplied by tenfold?”
Sykkuno nodded. “It’s different from what I felt last year. This one feels like I’m being pulled apart, and it won’t go away unless I follow what it wants.”
“Let’s try something,” the man said, straightening himself up. “Walk over there, Toast.”
He was confused by the command, but he stood up nonetheless after depositing Sykkuno’s head on the couch gently. That was weird; he remembered feeling so pissed at the boy for staring at him these past few days, and from their recent argument in the lavatory. Was he really that worried about him because he inadvertently caused the pain? Probably.
He walked to where Professor Potter had pointed. But the more he walked, the more he felt restless, and the more Sykkuno’s pained whimper was heard. By the end of it, Toast was squirming where he stood, and Sykkuno was gasping as he clenched the cushion in pale, long fingers. Professor Potter waved his hand on the seemingly empty space between them, and sighed in exasperation.
“Come back here,” he said, and Toast went as fast as he could to Sykkuno’s side, because he was itching and uncomfortable and Sykkuno looked like he was five seconds away from passing out. He quickly took the boy into his arms once more until the itch faded away and Sykkuno was a little less pale than he was a few moments ago. “Is this normal behavior for you two?” the man asked, though it sounded like he already knew the answer to it.
“No,” Toast answered nonetheless. “I don’t understand either why I- I—”
Professor Potter took pity on him and nodded instead. “It’s a different binding than the one Sykkuno had last year. Yours is less severe in physical requirements, but more complicated in a magical sense, which also means that it’s going to affect you physically unless you fulfill the binding. Your magic is now connected to the mistletoe, and to Sykkuno as well. He’s bound to the mistletoe, too. A part of your magic got into him because you touched him when your binding with the mistletoe was still unstable.”
Toast didn’t know how many times it was going to happen today, but the sensation of his heart falling to his gut in one fell swoop was never going to stop making him sick and breathless with anxiety. “What does it mean?” he asked, fearing the answer.
“It means that Sykkuno is bound to you, and will likely continue to be so until you fulfill the binding of the mistletoe.”
“Yeah, but what does it want?” He couldn’t imagine himself having to kiss hundreds of people before the mistletoe was satisfied, and they both were free from discomfort and pain. Even the thought made him shudder. Because it wouldn’t be on his own accord, wouldn’t be out of his own desire. He didn’t like having his own freedom in choosing the person and the kind of physical affection he wanted to give to them stripped away.
“Hell if I know, kiddo,” the professor shrugged. “I’m not the one feeling it. You gotta follow what it wants, simply from feeling through your own magic. You’ll know when it’s enough and the binding is free. For now, I don’t think either of you need to go to the hospital wing. Try to have prolonged contact with each other to alleviate the pain, and to prepare you for when you have to be apart. Do remember that if this got worse, we still need to tell McGonagall about it. Okay?”
Toast nodded, but the explanation didn’t bring ease to his mind in the slightest. They left Professor Potter’s office with the reminder to report to him if anything happened, and to immediately go to Madam Pomfrey should the pain become too excruciating to bear.
“Hey,” he said to Sykkuno, carefully gauging his reaction. He wasn’t as pale as before, and the trembling had subsided. Prolonged contact, Professor Potter said. Toast was suddenly nervous at the prospect of having to touch Sykkuno all the time just so the electric feeling wouldn’t bother him anymore. Not only because they were basically strangers, and that he was reminded that Sykkuno had a boyfriend, but also because of how dependent the act sounded like. He had gone through six years at Hogwarts and achieved the place where he stood through his own efforts. He didn’t like to think that he had to rely on something for basic comfort. “We still need to fix the lavatory.”
Sykkuno let out a sigh, but nodded. “Okay,” he said. “We still need to test the bond, too. How far we can stay away from each other, and for how long it’ll need for us to touch until we’re okay to be parted.”
“That’s so fucked up,” Toast said. A flash of hurt suddenly lined Sykkuno’s face and Toast felt a clench on his chest. He rectified his statement immediately. “The mistletoe. I’ve always hated how it’s basically just forcing people to do what it wants, without concern for the beholder’s feelings and thoughts. Sorry, that you gotta be stuck with me until this is over.”
There was a quirk of smile on Sykkuno’s lips at his apology. The clenching eased down, then. Toast blinked at it in confusion. It seemed that not only were they physically affected, it might roach into the territory of their emotions, too. He could already tell that this was going to end up in a mess.
“Well, it was my own fault too for not being careful,” the older boy shrugged lightly. “Also for sleeping in the lavatory. I’ve learned my lesson; I’ll find somewhere else to sleep.”
Toast laughed. It was surprisingly endearing, this weird habit of choosing to sleep in a bathroom. “There are a lot more comfortable places to sleep. Why did you choose to sleep there, anyway?”
“People won’t bother me there,” Sykkuno said, sighing. “It gets tiring when you have to reciprocate to mindless pleasantries all the time. Besides, Moaning Myrtle is a nice company. Sure, he keeps asking me to die so I can keep her company, but other than that, she’s alright. She told me so much about the Chamber of Secrets.”
Toast nearly stumbled over his own feet. “She told you about that? I can’t believe it. I tried asking her for years and she’s terrified of me now!”
There was a tinkling laughter heard from next to him, and the clench on Toast’s chest disappeared completely. Huh. So it was connected to Sykkuno’s emotional wellbeing. Well, that suck. Because Toast knew his sharp mouth would hurt the other boy sooner or later.
“You’re really single-minded when you want to know something, huh?” he said softly. “I can attest to that.”
He rubbed at his wrist, where Toast’s handprint was a red mark around pale skin. He shot the older boy with a sheepish look, but didn’t say anything about the matter. He couldn’t exactly say that it wasn’t just for the information. He had wanted to hurt Sykkuno enough to see him cry again. That was a fucking weird thought, and no matter how much they were operating under the influence of the bond, Toast was still not ready for the reaction he would get from his honesty.
He held Sykkuno throughout their way to the second floor, and by the time they re-entered the mess in the bathroom, Sykkuno was able to stand up straight without Toast’s assistance. There was a flutter of feelings when Sykkuno stepped away from his arms. He was suddenly missing the contact, and berated himself for succumbing so easily to the fucking salad above his head.
They were able to stand separately now, quickly waving their wands over to repair the damage of Toast’s foolish mistake. Moaning Myrtle was floating around from a safe distance; it was clear that she wanted to talk to Sykkuno, but Toast’s presence deterred her from approaching closer. He grinned as pieces of broken mirror flew over to where they were supposed to be. Regardless of the information he couldn’t get from her, it could never stop being so funny that she was more afraid of him than him of her.
As soon as they were done, Toast gestured to the door, and Sykkuno waved cheerily at Myrtle before they left. She giggled creepily and swooned over before jumping into one of the sinks. That girl was weird, even for a ghost’s standard.
They ended up at the seventh floor, where Sykkuno only needed to walk back and forth a few times before a wooden door with vines lining its handle appeared on the previously empty wall. Toast swallowed down the irritation he felt as they entered the Room of Requirement. Did everything in Hogwarts favor this guy or something?
The room was transformed into an endless forest with a crystal clear lake near the door. The flowers bloomed as they stepped inside, the door swinging close behind them gently. Toast had never entered this place in his years at Hogwarts, and he had heard that the room followed the subconsciousness of the person who summoned it. He wondered what would happen if he were to meet this room when he was about to destroy the dried leaves floating above his head.
Sykkuno wade through the water with ease in his steps, turning his head when he realized that Toast was too busy staring at every detail of the room instead of following him. He couldn’t help it; there were a lot of things that piqued his interest. Was this how it felt to be in Sykkuno’s palace of mind? A place where greens grew lush and the storm on the horizon seemed so far away and too close at the same time.
“Come on,” Sykkuno said, tilting his head to the bed that suddenly appeared in the middle of the lake.
Toast was mesmerized by the view and the intricacy of magic inside this place. He wanted to bombard Sykkuno with questions, but they had more pressing matters at hand. So he stepped forward into the lake, and shuddered at the sudden cold that greeted his skin underneath the cuff of his pants. They felt so amazingly real instead of something conjured by magic. No matter how far they went into the lake, the water somehow never reached past his ankle. When they reached the bed, Sykkuno flicked his wrist in the direction of their wet shoes and pants, and Toast felt warmth enveloping him. His pants and shoes were already dried by the time they had lay down on the bed, leaning their backs against the headboard.
“You can do wandless magic?” he asked, peering at Sykkuno in curiosity.
“A little,” Sykkuno said, flushing a little because Toast was pressing a little too close to him.
Toast didn’t know from what hole Sykkuno just crawled out of, but this boy was both so oblivious and insane to not realize that wandless magic was difficult enough on its own, and it would need a long time to learn even the simplest of spells because of how wizards and witches nowadays were so used to having wands as a medium. Toast had heard that gods in the wizarding world were more of something that could be touched, could be summoned instead of merely metaphysical. Whoever that God was, he just wanted to talk because, clearly, it has some goddamned favorites.
“Right,” he said, refraining himself from asking more about the wandless magic because he knew he wouldn’t stop once he started. “Let’s get right into it. What should we do about this, and how can we fit into our schedules if we’re dependent on each other’s presence? Is it exclusively requiring touches, or is it more about proximity? Also, why are you more affected physically than I am?”
Sykkuno blinked a few times, short lashes resting softly on his cheeks when he closed his lids. For some reason, Toast wanted to touch them. While it was a weird thing to think of, it was even weirder when a thought suddenly appeared in his head, that Sykkuno might even shed tears a little bit because Toast knew how uncomfortable it was to have something pressing on his lashes. He frowned at himself; what was it with him and his desire to make Sykkuno cry?
“Are you always like this in classes?” the Slytherin asked. “Doesn’t matter. I personally think that it’s more of proximity. We’re not touching now, but I don’t feel uncomfortable or painful just yet. I think touches just helped in soothing the bond, especially after we’re physically separated. I’m affected more than you because the mistletoe is yours, and you’re more in control of the bond since I’m more of a third party to it. I don’t know yet about our schedules.”
Toast mulled over it for a bit. “We should take Professor Potter’s advice in prolonged touches. It’ll help satiate the bond, and will work as stocking up on the need for contact while we’re away. So far, I think simple touches will help. We should touch at least an hour or two before we go to bed, and before we go to classes. If anything happened in between, we can take the time before classes to touch again. I’ll need your schedules, and I’ll give you mine after this.”
Sykkuno nodded, a soft little smile on his lips. “You’re so thorough with everything,” he said. “Not that it’s a bad thing, of course. It’s just surprising because almost everyone around me operates on momentum, and never really thinks things through. Otherwise, we won’t be in so many detentions.”
Toast threw him a smirk. “Yes, be amazed at my planning skills.”
“Except for when you planned to destroy the mistletoe,” Sykkuno pointed out without an ounce of guilt. “That’s just stupid.”
“Must you rain on my parade right now, man?” Toast scowled.
“I’m just being honest,” Sykkuno shrugged guilelessly.
Toast rolled his eyes so hard he almost thought it’d get stuck on the back of his head. Sykkuno’s way of expressing his honesty was both innocent and tactless. It was a weird combination for someone who seemed to be so polite all the time. “Yeah, sure,” he drawled. “Are there any urges that you feel all of the sudden because of the bond?
He had wanted to make sure that it wasn’t one-sided, and that he wasn’t the only one affected by the demands of the bond. He watched curiously as Sykkuno’s cheeks reddened slightly as he looked away from Toast for a moment.
“What is it?” Toast asked, scooting closer, reaching with a finger at Sykkuno’s jaw so he could look at him properly. He watched as a slight shudder ran through Sykkuno’s body. He thought that, perhaps, he could know what kind of urges that the boy felt. But he wanted to hear it directly from his mouth.
“—touch you,” Sykkuno mumbled.
“What?” Toast asked, pressing closer and felt the electricity in his veins again when they were connected from shoulders to their legs. “Speak clearer. I wouldn’t know what you want unless you tell me, clearly.”
Sykkuno hesitated, then heaved a deep breath. “I want to touch you,” he said, still in a low voice, but at least Toast could hear him now. The boy looked mortified by his admission, but he figured that it was out in the open air anyway. “I want to touch you, all the time. And sometimes it’s painful when you’re away.”
Toast had expected it, given how Sykkuno's body just relaxed when he was within range, when he wrapped his arms around the older boy. But there was something else in Sykkuno's voice, in the same indecipherable look that Toast could recognize clearly now. He still didn’t know what it was, but he wasn’t about to push him further. It brought a surprising satisfaction, each time Sykkuno obeyed his command. But ultimately, they were still strangers who just happened to be bonded, and Toast should know his limit.
“Me too,” he said, and smiled a little when he saw the stark relief on Sykkuno's face. “Though I think it’s much more manageable than yours.” He contemplated on telling Sykkuno about other urges that he felt—things that neither of them might be ready for. It would be better to come out clean, but Toast felt like he had given in too much to the mistletoe. He could keep them for himself, and exercised self-control instead. But he could allow one more thing, at least. “My part of the bond is particularly satisfied when you do what I told you.”
Sykkuno blinked, looking unsure. “You like it when I’m under your control?”
“Why must you word it that way?” Toast groaned. “Now I sound like some sort of weird pervert getting off on your restriction.”
“I’m not the one who said it,” Sykkuno said easily, laughing a little. “But if that’s what you feel, there’s a chance that the bond recognizes me as yours. So we have to test its compatibility when I’m around people. We can’t go around without knowing the repercussions of that.”
There was a weird feeling that zinged through him when Sykkuno referred to himself as Toast’s. This was more problematic than he thought. Toast had never been a particularly possessive partner, but he was possessive of the things he owned. And if the bond made that feeling extend to Sykkuno as well… Well, then, they would have another problem on their hands.
“Hopefully, it won’t come to me being all apeshit when you touch your boyfriend,” Toast said, and was taken aback by the pure shock in Sykkuno's face. Was that a wrong thing to say?
“W-what boyfriend?” Sykkuno asked.
“Ray?” Toast said, unsure of himself now. He remembered that even Hafu was surprised about the news. Was that not meant to be publicly known? But they had gone out previously, right? He shook his head internally, and said, “You know, the Head Boy? Peter said that he’s your boyfriend.”
“Please don’t just trust everything people said about me,” Sykkuno pleaded miserably. “And he’s not…my boyfriend. Uh, not exactly.”
Toast wanted to inquire further, but Sykkuno was already trying to squirm away from him. He put the issue on the back of his mind for further dissection. He still didn’t care about gossip, but his mind was already set on knowing about Sykkuno at this moment. “Yeah, sure,” he said, nodding along. “How can we explain this to your not-boyfriend, then?”
“He’ll understand,” Sykkuno said quickly, intent on changing the subject as soon as possible. Toast let him, just because it was kinda fun seeing the boy fumble like this. It was on brand for his reputation, but Toast remembered Sykkuno as the person who knew exactly what he was doing, confident in his misdeeds, and was competent enough in his field to not only be a good duelist, but also one of the top students in the academic department. “So… I guess we just stay here for a few hours until we have to go back to our dorms?”
Well, that was less than ideal, and Toast still had several homeworks to finish. But since he had no better idea, he just nodded. “Let’s try testing the range of proximity first. I don’t think it’ll be too far since you seemed to be in pain even when I was only a few feet away, but we ought to try.”
“Oh,” Sykkuno said, “no, I think it’ll be further than that. I was still accommodating the bond when it first happened, so the pain was much more prominent than now. Let me just—“ he closed his eyes for a moment, and Toast watched in fascination as the lake underneath the bed morphed into a concrete floor; the forest rapidly changing into a room that resembled the Defense and Dark Magic dueling arena. The storm stayed in the cloudy ceilings, for some reason. He itched to ask the reason for that.
Toast let go of Sykkuno's face, and carefully stepped down from the bed. He threw Sykkuno a look, and got a nod in response. He started walking away, counting his steps all the way and gauging at Sykkuno's reaction every few feet. On ten feet, there was nothing, and Toast felt nothing either. At twenty, he felt an itch and Sykkuno was frowning deeply. At thirty, forty, fifty, the itch burned brighter and Sykkuno was squirming on the bed.
He walked further, and the room seemed to stretch along with him. The further he went, the more he felt uncomfortable and restless. There were beads of sweat on his temple, and he started to shake as he took his steps. At some point, his knees nearly buckled under him, and Sykkuno had clenched the sheets so tight; his face was pale, biting his lip so hard it turned white. Toast trudged on, gritting his teeth and clamped down on his discomfort. When he could no longer walk from how much he was trembling. Sykkuno was so far away from him now, but the shake on his form was discernible even from a distance. Toast could hear the soft cries he uttered, as if he was there himself, next to Sykkuno.
“T-Toast,” he heard the boy calling out. “Toast—come back, please.”
He hurried to the bed, running despite how aching his legs were. As soon as he was on the bed, Sykkuno collapsed on him, boneless and trembling like a newborn fawn. Toast wrapped his arms around the boy, feeling the itch and intense discomfort he felt gradually fading away the longer they stayed in that position. He brushed Sykkuno's hair gently, whispering soothing words as he clenched at the front of Toast’s shirt. He felt the fabric around his collar getting damp, but he didn’t feel the satisfaction of knowing that Sykkuno was crying. It had to be done by him directly; otherwise he would just feel shitty like he was feeling right now.
“Okay,” Sykkuno said after he had calmed down enough. “We know that it’s at least far enough. Still don’t know whether we’ll be able to go to our classes or dorms separately, though.”
“Let’s just stay like this for a while,” Toast said. “I have an idea we can try after we rest.”
Sykkuno peered up at him, and Toast was once again overwhelmed with the urge to push those short lashes with the tips of his fingers. He felt the small shiver from Sykkuno, and promptly realized that they were connected in that regard, too. Well, ain’t that just dandy. Now, Sykkuno could potentially know every single time Toast had an appropriate thought about him. He resolutely decided to never, ever tell him about these specific urges. Let the Slytherin boy be puzzled all he wanted.
Toast scooted further on the bed, and lay down, carefully taking Sykkuno with him. It felt nice, honestly. Sykkuno was taller and heavier than Toast’s usual preferred partners, but he was a nice, warm weight on his chest. His hair was soft, and smelled kinda nice, though it also had that damp smell that Toast gathered must be from his time spent in the dungeon that the Slytherins called their common room.
“I still have tons of homework,” he said out loud, because while the silence was nice, it was getting kinda awkward. Toast wasn’t used to having human contacts like this, especially with strangers. He wasn’t an overly affectionate person, and though he had always tried to fulfill the physical needs of his partners, it wasn’t like this. They just unintentionally got caught in the disaster of this goddamn stale garnish.
“Me too,” Sykkuno murmured from his chest. “Maybe we should do our homework in the meantime.”
“This is the seventh floor,” he said slowly, as if Sykkuno was a particularly stupid child. “My dorm is on the third floor. Yours is in the fucking basement, Sykkuno.”
The boy lifted his head, a sliver of irritation in his soft-slanted eyes. That was perhaps closer to the image of Sykkuno that Toast had in his mind. “We can summon it, Toast,” he said, just as slow and mocking, “we have magic, if you haven’t noticed.”
Toast should feel irritated, but he was grinning lightly instead. He enjoyed trading banters with people who could get back at him just as good instead of getting offended or crying from his sharp words. “There are wards preventing that, if you haven’t noticed.”
“That’s why you learn how to get around the wards,” Sykkuno said easily, and maybe it was easy for him. Toast certainly wouldn’t be surprised. He got up to sit, and concentrated on a spot on the bed, as if willing the homework to appear, and it did. “I told you,” the boy said smugly. “I don’t know how to summon yours, though. I’m not familiar with Ravenclaw’s dorm, and I don’t know where your homework is located.”
“It’s fine,” Toast said, waving his hand away. “Just give me some parchment and a quill. I know what I need to write, anyway.”
There was a soft smile on Sykkuno's lips that Toast didn’t want to look closely, because it made the electricity crackle under his skin, and the clench around his chest was back with a different feeling that he wasn’t too comfortable about. “Of course, you do,” the older boy said, and handed Toast the parchment and quill.
They got off from the bed when Toast said that it’ll be too difficult because there was no flat surface to write on. He transfigured the bed into a low table instead, and Sykkuno conjured two pillows for them to sit on. When he remembered that they still had to touch to charge up the bond, so they could test it out later, he considered holding hands, but it’d hinder Sykkuno and neither of them was left-handed. Sykkuno made that decision by hitching a leg up on Toast’s, tangling them together.
He could feel the slight hitch in his breath, and Sykkuno was resolutely staring at his homework as if he was trying to burn it with his eyes. But the bond was sighing in contentment, and so Toast shut his mouth and started working on the essay for his Creatures class instead.
He tried to focus, he did. But Sykkuno couldn’t stop moving even when he was absorbed in his homework and books. His legs kept shaking, and it was annoying and distracting. The slide of the underside of his thigh on top of Toast’s made him feel—something. He didn’t know what that thing was, but he finally relented and grasped tightly on Sykkuno's thigh.
“Stop moving,” he groused out, “you’re distracting me.”
Sykkuno froze, and didn’t reply. But there was the telltale flush on his cheeks and neck, this time going so far even to the tips of his ears. Toast watched him, and clenched harder on the thigh experimentally. The reaction was instant; Sykkuno's fingers faltered on his writing, and he dropped his head low, a soft whimper spilled out of his lips.
Toast hastily let go, because fuck that wasn’t what he expected and it made him squirm in embarrassment. The something that he felt previously was now coming back, stronger than before. The room was suddenly stifling, and he determinedly ignored how he felt like he was on the edge of something he couldn’t go back from.
“Just- just continue your homework,” he said finally, and Sykkuno nodded wordlessly.
It was back to awkwardness initially, and the Slytherin boy was stiff as a board as he sifted through his book. Toast sighed, because he could feel the tension, and it was starting to get to him, too. So he put his hand back on Sykkuno's thigh, and patted it softly as he wrote his essay. It seemed to be the right thing to do, because he gradually felt the tension dissipating from Sykkuno, and the room itself.
When they were done, Sykkuno turned to him. “Let’s try again, to try the distance. We’ve touched long enough now, I think.”
Toast nodded and got up. Their theory was proven true; because Toast could go farther than he did before. At the end of it, he was still aching and restless, but at least they knew that the distance could be solved with prolonged touches. He was beginning to think that it was all there was to it—touches. The mistletoe might not tell him to kiss a hundred people, but it took it a step further. He—no, the both of them were dependent on the touch from each other until this was over, and it was a whole new brand of torture.
Because they didn’t even know each other, for fuck’s sake. He couldn’t imagine just how awkward they would be when the bond demanded something even more outrageous from them. Toast was already having outrageous urges even now. Not to mention when this was all over. He supposed it didn’t really matter when it ended, since they weren’t friends anyway. They would go their separate ways, so they just had to endure it for the time being.
By the time they felt like they had done enough practice, Toast was about ready to jump into his bed. He was exhausted, a mess of conflicted feelings, and fucking hungry. Sykkuno was even worse off than him because he felt the bond more than Toast did. He transfigured the table back to the bed after Sykkuno sent back his homework, and they lay back on it to ease the bond that they had stretched taut.
Then, Toast remembered how shitty his friends were and how much rumors that would spread if he just casually grabbed at Sykkuno's thigh out of nowhere. They had never been seen in one scene, and Toast had enough on his plate with his loaded courses. He didn’t have time to deal with incessant questioning and stares from the student body.
“No one can know about this,” he said to Sykkuno. “My friends will definitely give me shits, and your fans will rip me a new one if they saw me touching you.”
“What fans?” Sykkuno asked back. “Never mind, I don’t want to know. Our friends will be bound to know, though. This is kind of hard to hide.”
Toast sighed. “Okay, just our friends, then.”
Sykkuno looked at him, contemplating. To Toast, especially after he had seen Sykkuno's face up-close, the boy had looked incredibly young—younger than his supposed age, anyway. He looked just about fitting to be a fifth-year. But at this moment, when his gaze was sharp and a tiny frown crowned his face, he looked older, colder for some reason. Was this how he looked in a duel? Or would there be a crazed glint on his eyes like Miyoung had accused of?
“Do you think it’ll be too suspicious if we eat at the same table?” he asked. “I’ll bring my friends. Ray knows Hafu and Leslie, I know Edison. They’re also friends with Poki. I think I can bring Blau, too. The focus won’t necessarily be on us, and we get to touch before we go to our dorms.”
“That’s neat, and doable,” Toast nodded. He recognized Blau as that fifth-year Hufflepuff kid that followed Sykkuno and his group around. If Blau was there, then it was guaranteed that Peter would squeeze his way in since one of his House-mates would be at the Ravenclaw table. Still, it was a steep price to pay. They would be separated for a few hours until the morning, after all. “In the morning, let’s meet up somewhere before we start the day. I don’t think just sitting next to each other will be enough to keep us upright throughout the classes.”
“There’s a hidden passage behind a mirror on the fourth floor,” Sykkuno said. “We can meet there.”
Toast eyed him suspiciously. “How do you know that?”
“We stole the Marauder’s Map from Filch’s office in our third-year,” the older boy said, shrugging lightly though there was an embarrassment on his face. Toast didn’t understand how someone who could be so confident was intent on being flustered by the simplest of things. Sykkuno was a walking contradiction that made his head spin.
“By we, you mean…”
“Uh, Tony, Ray, Blau, and I,” Sykkuno answered.
“You roped a first year on your mischief?” Toast asked, in disbelief but also on the verge of laughing. “You’re a terrible example.”
“So I’ve been told,” Sykkuno smiled.
There was something fond in his smile, that morphed his face into something so delicate, almost frail to the touch. Toast had reached out his fingers before he realized it, tracing Sykkuno's temple, down to his jaw, and held it steadily. Sykkuno, to his credit, didn’t ask about it; he just leaned into Toast’s touch as if it was the most natural thing in the world. It was both alarming and gratifying.
“Let’s stay for a while, before we head back for dinner,” Toast whispered, not sure why he felt the need to lower his voice. But there was something about the moment that made it felt solemn, almost intimate.
Sykkuno nodded, and leaned his head on Toast’s shoulder as they lay on the bed. Toast pulled him closer by the waist, and closed his eyes after spelling a quick alarm to wake them up later. They had done this previously when they first arrived at the Room of Requirements, but this felt different despite the mere hours of difference. Neither of them said anything, and soon, they were lulled to sleep by the distant sounds of the storm on the edge of Sykkuno's subconsciousness.
-
Hafu stared, then stared some more.
“Not that I’m not happy to talk to you guys over dinner, but what the hell are you doing here?” she asked the group of Slytherins that had suddenly invaded the Ravenclaw table. After the Second Wizarding War, there were efforts to lessen segregation between the Houses. Everyone generally stuck to their own tables, but they were allowed to sit anywhere they wanted without having to fear prejudiced eyes.
“A change of scenery will bring us good in this trying time of having N.E.W.T just around the corner, don’t you think?” Poki replied smoothly. There wasn’t even a twitch of nervousness in her voice, and Toast was reminded why she was highly sought out by employers even before she graduated. Poki was one of top students in Hogwarts, academically wise and as a duelist. She knew her subjects well, had considerable magical prowess, and was a perfect example of how a socialite should act. She would do well mingling with purebloods in the political scene. Toast had heard her express her opinion of being seen merely from her physical attractiveness alone, and said that she didn’t actually mind. People could see her however she wanted, and it wouldn’t change the fact that she was brilliant, competent, ruthless, and absolutely beautiful. The best part? She knew it, and she wasn’t afraid of showing it. Toast respected her determination and just how viciously efficient she could be in achieving her goals.
Hafu smiled, though her eyes twitched in suspicion. “Of course,” she said graciously, and proceeded to talk about the upcoming exams for the seventh-year.
Toast was seated next to Sykkuno, and he was immensely glad he was in the habit of always wearing his robes, because it served well in concealing Sykkuno's leg hitched over his. They couldn’t very well hold hands right here. Ray was sitting next to Sykkuno and he shot Toast an understanding look. So Sykkuno had told him, then. Probably the whole entourage as well.
Tony and Blau were seated in the Ravenclaw table as well, drawing attention from the students unused with this addition. Despite his complaint about Sykkuno being a pain in his ass, Charlie had gravitated to where the group was and currently held Sykkuno in a conversation about the credibility of Gamp’s Law of Elemental Transfiguration, and how much of the laws could be stretched within limits with magic if they were crafty enough. Edison was on his side, quipping occasionally with horrendous flirting aimed at Sykkuno. Leslie was rolling her eyes endlessly at her boyfriend’s antics.
They didn’t talk throughout dinner, and Toast could feel his friends’ stare boring at the side of his head. He wasn’t exactly friendly with strangers, but he wasn’t the type to be this silent either. He ignored them and focused on his food instead. He had told Sykkuno to go first into the Great Hall, before he followed at a slower pace to avoid suspicion. The boy had gone to the Slytherin table for a while, before they joined the Ravenclaws.
It wasn’t that he couldn’t, or didn’t, want to talk. He just didn’t know whether he was trained enough to refrain from reaching out to touch the side of Sykkuno's jaw, or neck, or clench the thigh on top of his. Sykkuno's legs had started shaking again, and it might just be another one of his habits that Toast had to get used to. He couldn’t exactly be all flustered and bothered by it when it was about to be a norm for him to feel.
“—what do you think, Toast?” Charlie asked, startling Toast out of his thoughts.
He looked up from his chicken, and blinked. He only followed the conversation with half an ear. Instinctively, he looked at Sykkuno since he was lost about the subject at hand. The boy smiled and explained how they were talking about summoning live stocks or animals that later on could be processed into food. In the end, Toast didn’t have to answer the question, because Sykkuno just went into tangent about the possibility of it being able to be done, versus the possibility that the magic would cancel out when it was consumed since it would contradict the Elemental Law.
He only realized that they were getting closer and closer, when he felt Sykkuno's leg hitch up near his crotch. Any closer and Sykkuno would basically be in his lap at this point. Toast’s hand had migrated to rub the thigh in a soothing motion when he wasn’t paying attention. Sykkuno's voice was lowered considerably, as if he just subconsciously shifted the conversation from public to private, just for the two of them.
In the end, they were snapped out of it when Poki suddenly intervened. “Sykkuno, have you done your Runes homework?” she asked, blinking innocently at her classmate amidst the staring that the two received.
Toast cleared his throat a little as he reluctantly scooted away from Sykkuno. He didn’t know whether it was the bond, or because he genuinely enjoyed the conversation. Sykkuno's arguments were sound and interesting to pick apart, and for a brief moment Toast wondered why he wasn’t in Ravenclaw instead. He could ask about it later; Sykkuno for sure would answer him, and Toast could always make him answer if he didn’t.
He paused at the thought. That… wasn’t good, at all. While he had the faintest suspicion that Sykkuno was more dependent on him than the other way around in this bond, it didn’t mean that he had to go around and abuse that power over the other boy. He swallowed around the pumpkin juice, and heaved a deep breath.
“No,” Sykkuno said, sounding lost and awkward. “I haven’t.”
“Shall we go back and finish it?” Poki asked, though she was already standing up, along with the other Slytherins. Blau was so busy with his dinner that he only muttered half-muffled answers at the goodbyes his friends said to him.
“I’ll see you later,” Sykkuno whispered quickly, and Toast nodded, squeezing the thigh in his grasp once before letting go.
He watched the group go, feeling the smallest flare of irritation when Ray’s hand slipped around Sykkuno's waist as they walked away. He took a note of it. At the very least it wasn’t full blown discomfort at seeing someone else touching what the bond had recognized as his. No matter how understanding Ray was, and how Sykkuno said that they weren’t exactly involved with each other, Toast was still a little bit uncomfortable with being possessive over someone that belonged to another.
“Okay, out with it,” Hafu said as soon as the Slytherins were out of the Great Hall. “What the hell was that?”
“That, was Sykkuno preferring to talk to me because I’m an incredible conversation partner,” Toast said with a raise of his eyebrow, trying to play it cool even when he had started to feel the itch under his skin the further away Sykkuno was from him.
“Bullshit,” Michael said cheerily. “You two look like you were seconds away from snogging right then and there.”
“Maybe if you bother fixing that attitude, you can be as charming as I evidently am,” Toast shot back, and gulped the remaining of his drink. “I’m beat,” he said, and was surprisingly honest about it. He was exhausted after hours spent testing the bond. “I’m going first.”
“Running away is futile, Toast!” Hafu called after him, and Toast ignored her as he made his way back to the third floor.
When he was out of the Great Hall and was about to get to the Changing Staircase, however, someone snagged at his collar and pulled him behind a pillar. Toast suddenly found himself being surrounded by seventh-year Slytherins who all stared at him with various degrees of contemplation. In the end, Sykkuno came through them and smiled shyly. He wasn’t as shy in grabbing Toast’s hand to lead him a few steps away from the group, casting several illusion charms around them and sighing in relief when Toast’s arms were wrapped around him.
“We’re in public,” Toast said, though he wasn’t in a hurry to let go either.
“No one will pay any attention to us,” Sykkuno replied, burying his face on Toast’s neck. “This isn’t going to be a restful night for either of us, is it?”
Toast swallowed, and put greater pressure on the small of Sykkuno's back so they’d be more entwined than they already were. “No, I think not.”
There was a dejected sigh. “Why don’t you just sleep at our dorm? I’m sure we can smuggle you in.”
“Careful,” Toast teased, “your criminal side is showing.”
“It’s called being resourceful,” came the quip and Toast grinned against the skin of Sykkuno's neck. He liked this version of Sykkuno better than what he had heard so far. They had only been bonded for one day, but knowing someone personally made them real, made them into an actual person rather than just an exaggeration of a persona that people perceived in their own minds.
He didn’t know how long they spent just holding each other, but it must have been long enough because Poki whistled at them once to signify that their time was up. There were footsteps heard around the corridor, and Toast knew that most students must have left the Great Hall already. He slowly detangled himself from the older boy, feeling lethargic at the thought of leaving him for the night. But they had to, and it wasn’t like they wouldn’t meet again in the morning.
“Meet me on the fourth floor tomorrow at six,” Sykkuno whispered, before striding to where his group of friends was standing.
Toast hurried to the Changing Staircase before his friends caught him loitering around the corridor and accusing him of things that might be closer to the truth than what they thought. Sleep didn’t come easily to him that night.
-
Toast woke up feeling restless and was about ready to jump out of his skin. He casted a tempus charm, and saw that it wasn’t even six yet. Still, he got up and went to the shower to cool down his heated skin. Even his pajamas felt so restricting. He was ready with his uniform and school bag when he went down to the common room. Unfortunately, he met Michael there; sleep deprived and maniacally scratching over several sentences on his parchment. There were books scattered around him, and Toast very carefully tried to walk around without disturbing him. Michael could be very focused and single-minded when he was like this. There could be a literal explosion behind him and he wouldn’t give a shit.
As soon as the door was closed behind him, Toast ran as fast as he could to the fourth floor, trying to remember which mirror Sykkuno was talking about. As it turned out, he didn’t have to guess, because he could see a lone figure walking in circles from afar. It was still too dark to see, but something in his gut told him that it was exactly the person he was looking for.
When he had stepped closer, it was as if the bond immediately recognized Sykkuno and the urge to hold him suddenly became nearly unbearable. The Slytherin boy seemed to feel it, too, if not worse. Because he just nodded wordlessly at Toast, lip white from how hard he bit at it, and flicked his wrist towards the mirror, which swung open to reveal a narrow passage behind.
“Let’s go,” Sykkuno said, voice tight and small.
Toast followed him through the passageway, until they reached a room big enough to hold a meeting for a large group. No sooner than they were inside, Sykkuno turned around and barreled into him until Toast’s back knocked against the wall. He groaned a little from the contact and the surprise because man, Sykkuno might be taller than Toast but he looked slender and delicate because of his persona and his face. He didn’t expect the boy to pack this much strength.
It really didn’t matter, however, because Sykkuno was within his range of touch, and Toast’s arms snaked around his waist without thinking. He breathed in the scent of soap and a whiff of subtle perfume. Something eased in his chest, the bond that had been stretched so thin with distance and time now snapping back to mend itself. He closed his eyes, enjoying the weight and warmth of the boy in his arms.
When he slowly slid down the walls—because Sykkuno was absolutely boneless now and refused to take responsibility for his own weight—and was securely seated on the floor, Sykkuno climbed onto his lap and settled there as if they had done this a thousand times. There was a part in Toast’s mind that marveled at how stressed out Sykkuno must have been, for him to be this brazen in initiating contact. He remembered how the boy flushed red all over when Toast was close enough for them to share a breath yesterday. And yet, here he was; legs on each side of Toast’s hips, arms slung around his neck as he worked through the shudder that wracked his body.
“It was so bad,” Sykkuno whispered shakily. “My friends tried to help, but I just—I just want you.”
Toast’s heartbeat stuttered. He knew it was just the bond speaking for Sykkuno, but the way he said it made Toast a little bit lightheaded; soft and breathy, almost desperate as he whispered it into the shell of the younger boy’s ear. No matter how mature, how determined, how aware Toast was of his own self and his surroundings, he was, ultimately, still a bumbling teenager. This kind of thing was bound to wreck shits up in his mind.
“You have me now,” he finally decided to say. It was safer than any other option his touch-driven mind would be able to conjure. Sykkuno nodded, and curled closer in Toast’s lap.
If someone told him a few days earlier that he would be here, going out early in the morning just to have a secret meet-up with the flower boy from Slytherin just so they could touch each other, he’d probably think the person was in need to be sent to St. Mungo’s psychiatric ward. But the way the itch under his skin had vanished, the way Sykkuno was no longer shaking the more they touched, the way that the bond sung in their veins at their closeness—they were all too real, and Toast was forced to see it for the first time all over again.
This bond had dictated them to touch, to take intimacy from each other exclusively until it was satiated. It didn’t just affect them physically, but emotionally and mentally as well. They were linked from head to toe, even down to their magic. Toast had seen the mistletoe that was still hanging above his head on the mirror this morning, and it was still as singed and disheveled as yesterday. He gathered that it would take quite a while before it was restored, and would be gone completely.
“Hey,” he asked in the comfortable silence that had enveloped the room. Sykkuno sleepily hummed back a reply, and Toast nearly forgot what he wanted to say because the way the older boy patted his head was really comforting. Sykkuno's hand was large, with long, dainty fingers in contrast with strong looking forearms. They felt good patting and brushing through his hair. He heaved a deep breath to clear his mind. “How long did it take you to restore the mistletoe?”
“Around three months,” Sykkuno answered, voice muffled by Toast’s collar. “And then one more week for it to be gone.”
Toast inhaled another breath, and let it out in a shaky exhale. Three months. They had been at it for only one day and it already felt this bad. As if sensing his thoughts, Sykkuno lifted his head and smiled gently at him.
“Yours is only slightly burnt, remember?” he said softly, voice caressing Toast’s lungs in a way he couldn’t explain. “It’ll take less time. And you’re already compliant enough to fulfill its binding so far. You can get through this—we can.”
“I—yeah, alright,” Toast nodded hesitantly, a rare moment of his vulnerability being laid bare in front of this stranger. He rarely ever stumbled in his steps, always sure of his decision. And if his decision turned out to be the wrong one, he was always prepared to deal with it. This was too confusing and scary, because he knew nothing about it and the full repercussions of his actions. Not to mention that it involved another person, and it was honestly more than what Toast could usually handle. He didn’t like inconveniencing people, didn’t like being helped if he could do it himself, didn’t like the feeling of owing people something. But it wasn’t like they had any other option in this matter. He was forced to follow through the binding until the end.
He just prayed that whenever that end was, they would still be able to get out of it with their sanity intact.
They sat there, wrapped in each other, until Toast’s leg cramped up. Sykkuno grumbled as he got off of Toast’s lap and sat next to him instead. A quick tempus told them that it was already seven in the morning. They had been here for more than an hour; no wonder Toast’s ass was starting to get numb from holding their weight together.
“Hey,” Sykkuno nudged his arm. “You asked me yesterday if there are urges I feel because of the bond. What about you?”
Toast tried his best not to look guilty. Yesterday was bad enough, with his fantasy of making Sykkuno cry. But last night, when they weren’t within range of each other, multiple thoughts had crossed his mind with an increasing level of inappropriateness. It would be understandable if he thought of fucking Sykkuno, since this bond required touches most of all. But no, of course not. When had things ever been easy for Toast?
Instead, he had to grip the sheets tightly and gritted his teeth to refrain himself from making stupid decision such as going down to the dungeon to meet Sykkuno; to sink his teeth into his skin, pressing bruises into his wrists, yanking his head back and gripping tight until there were tears clumping in his eyes. He didn’t know whether it was purely the bond, or it was just searching through his mind and pulling at the strings that had marked Toast’s decidedly sadistic tendencies, and multiplied them tenfold.
He swallowed, and tried to regulate his breathing. He must have taken too long to answer, because Sykkuno was peering at him through his bangs, his short lashes resting momentarily against his cheeks when he blinked. Toast felt like he was backed into the corner, his fingers clenching on his robes to prevent himself from pushing against those lashes like he had wanted to do since yesterday.
“What are you not telling me?” Sykkuno inquired, and he sounded saccharine sweet, an allure for the unaware prey to get lost into as he tore them apart. Toast might have more control over the bond, but he felt very much like he was standing at the maw of a beast, for some reason. “Toast?”
There were fingers skating over his thigh, the warmth leaning against his side, and Sykkuno's gaze was pinning him on his place. There was no place to run. This might be the reason why he was placed in Slytherin rather than any other Houses. Toast had always possessed a strong will, and that had carried him throughout the years. And yet that will was crumbling at the seams with each second spent with Sykkuno getting closer and closer still; like a serpent slowly constricting around Toast’s heart until he unceremoniously broke under the unstoppable force.
“I want to hurt you,” Toast said in a rushed breath.
Sykkuno stopped, blinked for a few moments, then said, “Come again?”
Toast scowled. He really was going to make Toast spell it out loud for him, wasn’t he?
“I want to hurt you,” he repeated. “Not… like, as in beating you or seriously injuring you. Just- just enough to make you cry.”
He was mortified by the truth he had just uttered, wishing desperately for the ground to open up and send him straight to the Chamber of Secrets. There might be some spare Basilisk that could kill Toast on the spot. He was counting on it. Because Sykkuno, the bastard, instead of scrambling off and getting the fuck outta there screaming, just blinked some more before he laughed.
“Are you sure it’s the bond, and not just because you’re some kind of closeted sadist?” the older boy asked between his hiccupping breaths. His laughter, weirdly enough, sounded like a chicken clucking. Or a fox, Toast really couldn’t tell.
“Don’t tease me, you prat,” he grumbled out, slapping at Sykkuno's arm hard enough until the boy was forced to scoot away a little. “Fuck if I know. I just feel it, alright? Blame the fucking expired salad.”
“Alright, alright,” Sykkuno said, lifting both of his hands in surrender. “Okay, that’s manageable. I can cry for you. I mean, you put up with my incessant need of touching, so this is the least I can do.”
Toast looked up at him, eyeing him with a hefty amount of distrust. “You’re willing to do it?”
“As long as you’re not breaking my bones, or crucio me, then I should be fine,” Sykkuno said, shrugging lightly. “What do you have in mind?”
He squirmed again. He wasn’t comfortable letting everything out, despite basically having a blanket permission handed to him on a silver platter. But this was part of his need, his part of the bond. They both needed touches, but he knew that Sykkuno needed it more than him. If they wanted to survive this out, they had to work together in fulfilling each of their shares of the bond. So he took a deep breath, and prepared himself mentally for what he was about to divulge.
“Can I touch your lashes?” he asked, and Sykkuno smiled wryly, eyes slightly narrowing at the request.
“You really know where to strike to make it uncomfortable, huh?” he said, but scooted back to Toast’s lap nonetheless. “I wore glasses before I got my eyes fixed. I know how it feels to have something pressing against my lashes.”
“I know,” Toast said, drawing Sykkuno in closer with a hold on his waist. “That’s why I can’t stop thinking about it.”
“I’m not surprised,” Sykkuno said.
“What do you mean by that?” Toast asked suspiciously. He contemplated on making Sykkuno close his eyes, but that would defeat the purpose altogether. The older boy seemed to know this, because he kept his eyes unblinking for Toast.
“Nothing,” he whispered. “Just make me cry, Toast.”
“Only because you asked nicely,” Toast drawled, and pressed the tip of his forefinger lightly against the short lashes framing Sykkuno's soft-slanted eyes. At the first touch, the boy jerked in his lap, so Toast gave him time to compose himself. He settled back, with hands gripping each side of Toast’s shoulder. So he continued; alternating between brushing the lashes gently and pushing at them until Sykkuno squirmed in discomfort.
The more he pressed, the more Sykkuno's body involuntarily tried to break away from him. Toast grasped his hips with his free hand, unabashed in the way he grounded his thumb on the dip of Sykkuno's hipbone until he let out a small gasp. This was part of it, too. Anywhere he could inflict moderate, controlled pain on this boy, it made the bond hummed in satisfaction. He thought that for something that was supposed to be fun and fleeting, the mistletoe sure had some questionable intent.
The lashes felt soft under his touch, and there was slight resistance when Toast pushed them close to the waterline. It was those pushes that made Sykkuno's breath coming out unsteady, the hands on Toast’s shoulders gripping relentlessly. This was—fun, unexpectedly. There wasn’t guilt or embarrassment. There was just a feeling of contentment, and the first taste of elation when Sykkuno's eyes started to water from the miniscule pain. Toast knew it wasn’t about the pain as much as it was the itch that consumed him whole, urging him to get away from the source of discomfort, from Toast. But exactly because it came from him, Sykkuno couldn’t just break away easily. This was a cycle that Toast intended to use for his own benefits, no matter how immoral it might sound like.
When he had enough, the bond satisfied with his act of cruelty, he pulled back his fingers and Sykkuno immediately let out a relieved sigh. He dropped his head onto Toast’s shoulder, and Toast let go of his hips to rub at his back soothingly.
“That—felt really weird,” he said. “I felt like there were ants crawling inside my blood veins.”
“I can imagine,” Toast said, at ease and utterly relaxed after he was able to let out one of his urges. “Good thing it’s just a one time curiosity.”
“There are better ways to make me cry,” Sykkuno said, almost pleading. “Please don’t try that one on me again.”
Toast wanted to tease him, to remind the boy of what he said, that he could handle anything within limitation. But Sykkuno had been willing to put up with his weird request, so he just nodded reassuringly. “I won’t,” he said. “Don’t worry.”
He swayed their bodies slightly, basking in the closeness before they had to head to the Great Hall.
“Is this going to be a regular thing?” Peter asked later on to the Slytherin entourage that had once again seated themselves in the Ravenclaw table. “Because if it is, I’m taking dibs on the seat in front of Sykkuno. I need the front seat to witness his beauty.”
Sykkuno laughed awkwardly, and unconsciously leaned into Toast to shield himself from Peter’s shamelessness. The day had gone on uneventfully, though they had to sneak out a few times to the bathroom to replenish the touches before they went back to classes. They had traded their schedules, and Toast had given Sykkuno a coin that had been spelled to warm itself whenever it was caressed seven times. He learned it from reading the history of the Second Wizarding War, and the process of the Light side battling the opposition. It was simple enough for him to replicate, and had proven useful to signal each other whenever they felt too strung tight with the absence of proximity.
“Curb your inner hoe,” Michael advised.
“We all should embrace who we are, Michael,” Peter replied in less than a heartbeat, and went back to stare at Sykkuno's rapidly reddening face. “So, Sykkuno, what brought you here instead of lounging like a king on the Slytherin table?”
Toast could feel it, somehow, that Sykkuno was about to say Toast’s name in automatic response. But Ray beat him to it, thankfully.
“House unity is very important to further integrate ourselves in presenting a solid front,” he said diplomatically, and Toast wondered if everyone in Slytherin was just specifically trained to be able to talk like that.
“Sure,” Peter replied cheerily. “It’s not like I can’t see Toast’s hand rubbing Sykkuno's leg down there or anything.”
Toast froze mid-chew, and Sykkuno's hand was suspended in mid-air, the piece of meat flopping sadly from the spoon as it upended. They were very, very lucky that Sykkuno had forethought of casting muffliato around them to prevent students from other tables overhearing their conversation. He didn’t know how effective it was when it came to the students at the table itself, but they were practically surrounded by Sykkuno's and Toast’s friends. It really shouldn’t matter, but these people were the ones that brought him the most headache.
“We, uh,” Sykkuno stammered, and Toast clenched his hand on his thigh to shut him up. Sykkuno could be smooth and lethal when he wanted to be, but he was an absolute imbecile in a public setting.
“Hey, I’m not judging,” Peter said reassuringly. “If you and Ray want to include Toast in a three-way relationship, then it’s completely within your right.”
“We’re not—“ Sykkuno tried again, and Toast could hear Ray’s sigh from Sykkuno's other side.
“You’re having a threesome and didn’t invite me?” Edison joined in, looking appalled and disappointed. “Sykkuno, I thought we had something special between us.”
“Can all of you just shut your damn mouth?” Toast snapped at them. “I’m trying to eat.”
“While groping Sykkuno,” Peter added unnecessarily. “Understood.”
“I’m disowning you all,” he muttered under his breath. It was also his fault, now that he thought about it. He wasn’t aware that his robes didn’t completely conceal his hand movement, though it did conceal the clear view of Sykkuno's leg nestled between Toast’s.
He could already feel the questions coming his way once they were in Ravenclaw’s common room, and he did not look forward to it. Maybe he should take up on Sykkuno's offer of sleeping in the Slytherin’s dorm. The kids definitely didn’t kick a fuss over this matter. Toast was so ready to switch his allegiance right this second.
Sykkuno's entourage snagged him again by the end of dinner, and Toast whispered into his ears as they held each other. “Should I just tell my friends?” he asked. “We’re really shitty at this.”
“True,” Sykkuno said, crowding Toast close until he had to lean against the pillar to support them both. “Tell them if you want. But it’ll be more fun to keep them guessing, no? We’re suffering enough; we should get some entertainment out of this.”
“You and your Slytherin mouth,” Toast said with a small laugh. “Maybe I will. They’re pesky. They deserve me withholding information. Besides, I can’t imagine how much Hafu will have a field day if she knew it’s because I tried to do exactly what she warned me not to.”
“Yeah,” Sykkuno nodded. “Protect your ego, Toast.”
Toast swatted at him, and the boy just laughed. They stayed a little bit longer, before Toast reluctantly let go, and pushed Sykkuno towards his friends. “Go,” he said. “We’ll meet in the morning, probably before six.”
He watched them go with a weird sensation residing deep in his gut. So, his friends definitely had suspected something was off. They didn’t know the complete truth yet, and thought that he was instead involved in some kind of polyamory relationship with Sykkuno and Ray—which… wasn’t exactly wrong, but so far off the truth it was almost funny.
He didn’t know what kind of relationship Ray and Sykkuno had, and didn’t understand the boundaries of it if Ray was able to withstand his kinda-partner going around touching a junior, and being emotionally dependent on another guy. But he knew what kind of relationship he and Sykkuno had. It was something built merely on the physical sense, with additional magic thrown here and there. When it was all over, they wouldn’t cross paths anymore. He was reluctant to tell his friends this because they’d ask again when Sykkuno and he weren’t involved with each other anymore.
Maybe part of it was his pride, in not wanting to be told ‘I told you so’ by his friends. But a bigger part of it was because he knew how much they would read into it. His friends might be shitty and fucking weird, but they did care about him. Though it wouldn’t make them leave him, he could imagine the disappointment on their faces if they found out that Toast didn’t trust them enough to tell them the truth. So for now, he had to make do with their assumption of him being a part of a- a threesome, Jesus Fuck, with Ray and Sykkuno.
It was better than admitting that touching Sykkuno actually felt nice, and he could hold a conversation with Toast in the way that he liked, and that he had never felt satisfaction as much as he had felt when Sykkuno obeyed his command. It was just part of the binding. He didn’t know who he was trying to reassure here, honestly.
Toast sighed as he walked towards the Changing Staircase. Two days, and he was already tangled deeper than he had initially planned to.
-
The next few days went on in the same fashion. Waking up at ass o’clock to have a secret rendezvous on the fourth floor, meeting up between classes to have a hug or two, eating dinner pressed close next to each other, parrying Toast’s friends’ increasingly inappropriate quips about his supposed relationship with Ray and Sykkuno, holding back his distracting thoughts of biting Sykkuno's neck each time he sat in Toast’s lap. All in all, it went better than they had expected.
Professor Potter had asked about them, and Toast tried his best to explain it without disclosing the more embarrassing nature of his urges. There seemed to be no changes in the mistletoe, but Toast could have sworn that it was less singed than before. It meant that it was working! It wasn’t for naught, and there had to be an end to this.
Sykkuno welcomed this news with a gentle smile on his tired face. There was something else that Toast couldn’t quite read, but he chalked it up to the boy being exhausted from his study. He was a seventh-year, after all. He had a more demanding curriculum that Toast did, with every advanced class he took. On their day off, they usually lounged in the Room of Requirement, lying on the bed doing their assignments and reviewing materials. Toast found out that Sykkuno was really thorough in his study, and ambitious as fuck in keeping his top student status.
He helped Toast in his study, too. He made very weird, very awkward metaphors and analogies to explain things, but miraculously, they worked. He explained in a way that was easier to understand compared to their teachers, without taking away the most important aspects from a subject. There was a reason why he could stand toe-to-toe with Charlie academically, after all. He lacked the absolute discipline that Toast had, and seemed to have an erratic pattern of thinking compared to the organized thoughts inside Toast’s head. It kinda made him into a wildcard; someone who couldn’t exactly be put into one category, one characteristic of a certain House. Sykkuno was both predictable and full of surprises; a book that opened by itself with ink that kept disappearing from the pages.
“You know,” Toast said one day. It had been more than a week since it all started. “Since the bond affects you more than me, what do you do when we’re apart? You mentioned that your friends tried to help.”
Sykkuno looked hesitant for a moment. Toast refrained himself from wording his words into a command. He would give the boy time to compose his words. “Yeah, it’s… they- they—uh. I explained to them the nature of the bond, so they touched me to alleviate the discomfort. It helps, to a certain extent. But it’s not—it won’t settle unless it’s you.”
Toast had expected it, but there was still a clench around his lungs at the thought of someone else touching Sykkuno. He knew that it was part of his share of the bond, but when he imagined Sykkuno sitting in someone else’s lap, leaning against their shoulders, patting their head gently, it just made the clench worse. He knew—he knew that he wasn’t supposed to ask this, that it wouldn’t end well for either of them, but he couldn’t help himself.
“And Ray?” he asked, heaving a deep breath because the clench was nearly unbearable now.
Sykkuno didn’t answer, looking away from Toast with skin flushed from cheeks to neck. There was something else, something different that he felt. It was new, and familiar at the same time; the slight flare that simmered lowly in his gut, the smoke slowly filling his lungs and restricting his breath. He recognized this feeling, but it was foreign in this bond.
He wasn’t used to feeling jealousy over someone that he didn’t love, a relationship that wasn’t real.
“He… he helps, too,” Sykkuno said slowly, as if gauging Toast’s reaction to it. “Slightly more than anyone else, given that we- we—you know. I guess since my magic is familiar with him, it doesn’t completely reject his touch.”
“Because you’re used to it,” Toast deduced correctly, judging by the way Sykkuno's eyes shifted to anywhere but him. He was a fucking terrible liar when he was cornered.
Toast had observed him, sometimes, when he had nothing to do while they were tangled with each other while doing their own business in the Room of Requirement, when Sykkuno went past him on the corridors, when he saw the boy talking to people. He had impeccable control of his facial muscles, could cover his slip-up in a heartbeat, and continued on as if nothing happened. He was a natural in navigating the landmines of social interaction.
And yet, with Toast, he was nothing but a bumbling, stuttering mess of flusters and hesitant honesty. There was a certain kind of satisfaction, in knowing that he was one of the few that could reduce Sykkuno into this. But it was overshadowed by the growing sense of jealousy that had filled his lungs completely. Toast didn’t like it one bit. It was weird, and he shouldn’t have felt that. But it was there anyway, and he didn’t know how to make it go away.
He thought that not only this bond awakened his sadistic tendencies, it also made him into a masochist. Because instead of dropping the subject, he just trudged on. “Last year, when the same thing happened to you, did he help, too?”
Sykkuno narrowed his eyes on him. “You’re way too good at this game, Toast,” he said, but he sighed in resignation and nodded. “Yeah.”
“You didn’t kiss a lot of people,” Toast continued. “You just kissed one person, a lot.”
“No,” Sykkuno said, leaning back on the pillows and abandoning his homework completely now that he wasn’t able to focus anymore. “I did kiss several people before Ray and I came to… an arrangement.”
“Did you date him afterwards?”
“Okay,” Sykkuno said, throwing a suspicious glance at him. “That’s way too creepy. Where did you know all this?”
“Logic,” Toast replied promptly. “And because Peter and Hafu can’t shut their mouths to save their lives. I heard from her that you two were dating previously.”
“I—yeah. It was… kind of weird, because most of my emotions were exaggerated by the mistletoe. We broke up a few months after that,” the older boy said, the words coming out easier now that it was out in the open. “He’s really nice. But our relationship wasn’t exactly built in a conventional way.”
“So, you wanted to try again, properly, this time,” Toast concluded. “But our bond got in the way.”
Sykkuno looked up at the grey clouds in lieu of the ceiling. The storm was still brewing on the edge of the endless forest. He sighed softly and sat up close to Toast. “No,” he said. “I told you, we’re not in a relationship. We’re just… uh—“
“Fucking?” Toast asked.
Sykkuno smiled a little at the crude word, and nodded. “Yeah,” he said. “Rebounding, more likely. He just broke up with his girlfriend a month ago, and I like someone that I know I can’t have. Ergo, we chose to comfort each other.”
“That’s both sad and a testament to your friendship,” Toast commented. The flare of his jealousy eased down a little after Sykkuno's explanation, but it gave another pinch at the admission that the older boy liked someone else; liked them enough to make him desperate for a rebound.
“Yeah, well,” Sykkuno shrugged. “I do like him. It just never seemed to be the right time to have a relationship with him. Besides, I didn’t know you care about things like this.”
“I don’t,” Toast said, now it was his turn to look away. “It’s just the bond.”
“The bond,” Sykkuno repeated, and for some reason, he sounded somber. “Of course.”
The rest of the day was spent in silence; even when they had finished their tasks, and lay in each other’s arms. It pricked at Toast, because he felt like there was something he should know, should be aware of. But he kept his mouth shut. He had divulged himself enough. He wasn’t willing to ask more questions and potentially made this more complicated than it already was. This was for the best, he told himself.
It kinda sounded like a weak lie.
-
“So,” Rae started, and Toast could smell her bullshit from miles away. “Heard you’re Sykkuno's boyfriend now.”
“Heard you’re a disastrous troublemaker that recently set a part of the library on fire,” Toast replied flatly from his seat. “But you didn’t see me confronting you about it.”
“That’s an accident!” Rae denied vehemently.
“Yeah,” he said, “so are Sykkuno and I.”
Rae blinked in confusion. Toast sighed and pointed to his sad excuse of a door decoration. She was the first person that he had ever told about their current problem. She widened her eyes when she noticed the singed mistletoe.
“What did you do?” she asked, casting a privacy charm around them immediately. Good, at least she was aware that this was a sensitive issue.
“Tried to destroy it,” he shrugged. “Got myself accidentally bonded with Sykkuno instead. The case of ill timing, honestly.”
“Is that why you two have been spending a lot of time with each other recently?” she said. “I heard from other kids that some of them saw you two sneaking into the bathroom together between classes.”
Toast paused. “Huh,” he said, dumbfounded. He had made sure that no one was around, but it turned out that some still escaped his notice. They had to be more careful the next time around. If it still mattered. They literally ate next to each other every night. Sure, the benches were always packed full of students, but no one were sitting quite as close as the two of them. Not even Sykkuno and Ray themselves.
“I actually thought Sykkuno has finally graduated from his ‘I’m going to be single all my life’ phase,” Rae said, settling for a lighthearted joke.
“Well, he wasn’t actually single all his life,” Toast replied, sullenly remembering what Sykkuno had said. Technically, Ray and he were still in some kind of relationship right now. And the Slytherin had admitted that he did like Ray, that it was only a matter of timing. There was a possibility that once this fickle bond was done with, when Ray had moved on from his heartache, they would actually pursue a proper relationship, together.
Toast knew, God fuck he was tired of saying it, it was just the bond. But it didn’t help the pang of jealousy, the clench around his lungs.
“What, Ray?” the Gryffindor girl asked, then laughed. “Psh, yeah, as if. They’ve dated before, sure. But it’s not like Sykkuno has ever moved on from y—“ she stopped, as if only realizing what she had said. Her laughter turned nervous. “Anyway, yeah. Glad to know the actual story. I’m gonna leave you to it. Bye!”
She left hurriedly, and Toast narrowed his eyes at her hasty retreat. There was something she was hiding, and it was something hidden from him specifically. Toast knew how to keep secrets, and Rae had never doubted that. Toast had heard multiple secrets from people he even didn’t know about from her. They had been friends since Toast was in his third-year; they shared common interest in some areas, and complemented each other in things they differed in.
The reason why he told her without hesitation, was because Rae wasn’t exactly right in the head either, the same case with his friends. But whereas his friends would accept everything he was willing to share with them after a godly amount of poking and prodding, Rae would just accept it without questions. Maybe a little teasing here and there, but there was that. Rae had a big family of multiple creatures and lineage; she had seen more than what her friends had, and wasn’t easily bothered by the weirdest things. It was just a part of her life.
Honestly, if she wanted to keep that secret from him, so be it. He wasn’t about to make her uncomfortable by hounding down the truth. But it concerned Sykkuno, and right now, Sykkuno was most probably the only person Toast gave a single fuck about, even if it was because they were magically bonded.
Which, he had to think about, honestly. This was affecting him more than he thought. Sure, wanting to touch Sykkuno, to mark him or to make him cry was acceptable enough after some conditioning. But the feelings were another thing entirely. Toast was the kind of person who was slow to fall, and even slower to feel attached to. It was scary, to have foreign feelings that weren’t even his, but he felt so acutely inside his chest.
He feared that someday, it would muddle his mind; trapped him in a confusion of which one was his genuine feeling and which was the influence of the bond. He had to exercise control of himself, because it seemed that Sykkuno had it under control. He didn't seem to be particularly confused about his feelings, and knew exactly what he wanted from Toast. He had never seemed to be so conflicted about his emotions, even if he did seem to be embarrassed and flustered a lot, along with those emotions that Toast couldn’t discern. But he could always conceal them afterwards, so Toast thought that it was something that he wasn’t privy to.
It was… what? Almost three weeks already? Time had gone by without him realizing. It had been so impossible to get through a day at first, but they surprisingly handled it rather well, compared to their disastrous expectation.
Honestly, Sykkuno wasn’t that bad of a companion. Aside from the bond that pulled him so strongly towards the boy, he was actually quite decent to be around. He was witty and sarcastic at times, could take Toast’s sharp words without much problem, able to participate in the mind games Toast aimed at his friends for the heck of it, was a brilliant discussion partner despite his weird analogies, and was the sort of person who just rolled with the punches so effortlessly easy that it was almost irritating. He accepted Toast’s rigid nature, never hesitated in calling out his bullshits, and could follow Toast’s train of thoughts faster than anyone had ever done. Sometimes, he didn’t know whether it was the bond, or whether Sykkuno could actually attune to him that easily.
Toast was irritated by Sykkuno's gentle, soft-spoken nature, mostly because he was fully aware of what the boy was capable of. It was exactly like Charlie said: he was toying with people around him to either terrorize them or to get what he wanted. In most cases, he did it to implant a certain kind of image that protected his real nature, dispensing half-truths like some kind of rewards that would end up just confusing people even more. Toast had no problem intimidating people, but Sykkuno was a different breed entirely. People were dancing on his palm, to his tune, and they weren’t aware of it in the slightest.
But Toast also liked that Sykkuno could be so unabashedly himself when he was around Toast; saying the most outrageous things with the calmest face, planning atrocious pranks with the delight of a kid in Honeydukes, confident and shy and cruel all in the same breath. It was refreshing, and something that Toast had never expected he would feel towards the Slytherin boy.
He looked up at the garnish above his head, noticing that the leaves on one side were no longer singed. The progress was slow, despite how much they had touched each other on a daily basis. He didn’t understand what the hell it wanted them to do anymore. He couldn’t imagine going on like this for three whole months straight, or even longer. Not only that it would drive him crazy, it would force him to evaluate his feelings, too, in fear that he would got it mixed up the way Sykkuno had with Ray.
He sighed, and closed his eyes, leaning back against the bench. Sykkuno was still in his Arithmancy class, probably destroying people’s hopes and dreams with how he owned the subject completely. He remembered how Sykkuno had told him that he liked the subject because it reminded him of statistics, just with magic. The practice of predicting and calculating the numbers to see the future was almost akin to predicting the stock market, he said. Toast had found out that Sykkuno was a half-blood that day. He honestly wouldn’t have thought about that, with how proper Sykkuno behaved around people, and how good he was in navigating a political discussion about the wizarding world. It was a trademark of a pureblood, and Toast had thought he was a pureblood on his rebellious phase of causing troubles, and chasing after the thrill of a well-made prank; playing people between his dainty fingers as a practice for when he plunged headfirst into the elite pureblood society.
He had asked Toast about what he wanted to do in the future, with greater intensity and curiosity than Toast had expected.
“A curse-breaker,” Toast said, because he had thought about it for a long time. “But if I fail, I think I’ll head back to teaching, or working for the Ministry for some office position. Maybe after I travelled for some time. I want to see a different part of the magical society before I settle down.”
“I want to open a flower shop in Diagon Alley,” Sykkuno had said, a smile pulling prettily on his lips. Toast stared at it unconsciously. “I like plants, though I like their existence more than I’m particularly interested in being involved with them. I’m not as dedicated as Professor Longbottom. I can work in the Ministry, probably, as my parents have expected of me. But eh, maybe after the flower shop. Just like you and your travelling.”
Toast had smiled at him, feeling something warm in his chest as they shared their dreams with each other. It had felt so mundane; some wishful thinking. But it felt nice nonetheless.
“You don’t want to travel the world?” Toast remembered asking, playing with the hair on Sykkuno's nape.
“I want to,” the boy answered. “But I don’t think my father will let me. He’s thoroughly convinced that I won’t be back, that I’ll keep chasing after something impossible instead of settling down. I like a calm life, honestly. But I don’t want to settle for a droning, boring life either. My older sister is a lawyer, and my little sister is pursuing muggle education to be a businesswoman. They have what they want in mind, and I’m the only one who doesn’t really know what to look for in life.”
“You already have it, though,” Toast said, looking down at Sykkuno through his lashes. “You know what you want. It really doesn’t matter whether it aligns with what your parents want, because you’re going to be the one who’s living your life.”
Sykkuno looked up to meet his stare, and smiled; gentle, pretty, full of wonder. “Thank you, Toast,” he said. “It’s going to be difficult. But I’m trying to enjoy my life as much as possible.”
“Is that the reason for all those troubles you caused for the Professors and Filch?”
Sykkuno laughed, weird and endearing. “Pretty much.”
It had been one of the good days where Toast wasn’t so confused about the bond. It was only a few days ago, but it felt so long now that his mind was muddled with possibilities and grim ends. He closed his book, and shoved it inside his bag. He should go see Professor Potter while he waited for Sykkuno.
“Hmm,” the young man said, looking at something Toast couldn’t quite see. He tapped some part of the air with the tip of his wand, and frowned. Toast gulped down his nervousness, and waited for the diagnosis. “You said that the progress is slow, despite the amount of touch. It could be because while you’re going in the right direction, you’re not fulfilling the bind completely.”
“What more could it possibly want?” Toast groused out, tired and was about ready for another round of bombarda. This fucking garnish was starting to test his patience. “We did what it urged us to do; we touched for more than five hours each day. And after two weeks, only some part of the leaves healed.”
“Have you considered that you’re not completely honest in your urges?” Professor Potter asked, raising an eyebrow. His green, green eyes bore into Toast’s with a knowing look. Despite his stature, the man cut an imposing figure with his unnatural green eyes and the Elder wand gripped loosely on one hand. “You’re fulfilling the bond, but it’s more of forty to fifty percent of it, instead of a hundred.”
“Jesus fuck,” Toast groaned out loud, unable to control his mouth in the face of his frustration. “I can’t just go around and tell Sykkuno what I actually want!”
“You kinda have to,” Professor Potter shrugged, tapping his wand a few times at several points before putting it back in its holster. “Besides, the bond works both ways. If it feels like it’s not completely fulfilled, then there's a high chance that Sykkuno isn’t completely honest with you either.”
Toast stared, dumbfounded. Sykkuno had been holding back? Toast thought that he was already bold enough in expressing what he wanted, with every touch he initiated. Professor Potter laughed unabashedly at the look on Toast’s face, and ushered him out of the office.
“You gotta give it your all if you don’t want to be trapped in this bond forever,” he said. “Besides, it’ll only get complicated if you let it drag on for too long, considering Sykkuno's feelings.”
He turned at that. “What feelings?”
“That’s for you to discover,” Professor Potter said with a gleeful smile, a mischievous look in his verdant eyes. Toast completely forgot that this man was friends with the legendary pranksters of Hogwarts, Fred and George Weasley, and was the son and god-son of their predecessor—the Marauders. Of course he would also be a mischievous little shit, regardless of his age and wisdom. And of course he would be close enough to a student that had continued that legacy like Sykkuno, enough to be privy of his secrets and feelings.
Toast felt like basically everyone knew something that he didn’t at this point. He left the office feeling more confused and lost than he was before.
-
Be more honest.
Toast looked at Sykkuno's sleeping face, and sighed in defeat. He wouldn’t be able to do it, even if he tried. Honestly? Professor Potter was right. He was not honest with everything that he had wanted to do. Sure, once in a while he would give in to the urge of clenching at Sykkuno's wrists too tight, pushing at the jut of his hipbone hard enough to make him cry out, pressed him up against the wall until he was breathless, and Sykkuno would let him. And sure, sometimes Sykkuno was even bolder in his touch; asking to spoon Toast while they took a nap, asking to be carried around—which Toast had granted with difficulty because, fuck, they did have difference in muscle mass too, it seemed—wanting to be called pretty, tracing the lines of Toast’s face with his finger as he stared in marvel. As if he was seeing Toast for the first time, and he was mesmerized by it.
But it didn’t change the face that the more this went on, the more Toast just wanted—wanted to heave Sykkuno up against the wall and feel his legs wrapping around his waist, wanted to bite down on his neck hard enough to leave indents of his teeth, wanted to see Sykkuno kneeling down at his feet just for the sake of it, wanted to see bruises littering Sykkuno's skin for everyone to see, wanted Sykkuno to go around Hogwarts wearing something that Toast owned to show everyone to whom he was currently bonded to.
He wanted to touch the curve of Sykkuno's lips, wanted to bite on the lobes of his ears and tug at his piercings, wanted to shove his fingers into the boy’s mouth and see him gagging on them, wanted to battle Sykkuno in a duel so everyone could see how vicious Sykkuno could be, wanted to push him down on the bed and held him there until he begged to be released. It wasn’t even something inherently sexual, and Toast had never once contemplated the carnal desires that would be unleashed with these typical touches. Sure, it kinda crossed his mind here and there. But it was overshadowed by the pure, unadulterated urge to just do these things for the sake of seeing Sykkuno reacting with his basic instincts, to see him drop that pretense of something good and gentle, and just be.
It had been nearly a month now. A week after his talk with Professor Potter, and he hadn’t been able to approach the subject with Sykkuno. It eluded him the chance of knowing what exactly the older boy had held back from him, his own honesty. But Toast wasn’t ready at all to bare everything for him, wasn’t ready to accept Sykkuno's complete desire in return.
This was so messed up, fucked up in the most complicated senses. He had just wanted to get rid of the mistletoe, so people could stop kissing him out of curiosity; so the stares and the giggles would stop. Instead, he got a bond and a slew of feelings that he wasn’t prepared for. Not to mention that Rae was right—Toast had overheard some people talking about Sykkuno and him. In conclusion, he just made everything worse when he came to the lavatory that day.
He was… afraid. That once he opened up, once he was honest about what the bond truly demanded of him, they would arrive at a point with no return. How would they be able to just go back as if nothing happened, when they had gone through all of that—if that would ever happen? Because it wouldn’t. Toast wouldn’t.
The mistletoe was healing still, albeit at a slower pace than slobber worms. But the progress was still there, it wasn’t for naught. He would wait it out. He just hoped that Sykkuno didn’t lose his patience yet in dealing with a problem that Toast had heaped onto their shoulders to bear.
-
Despite his resolution, Toast could feel that the bond, the fucking salad, could recognize his intent. Because he was slowly losing his iron grip on his control with each passing second. The urges weren’t just mere passing thoughts now—they were deep-boned needs that made him breathless from want, made him even more restless than usual because of the static electricity that passed through him each time he thought of them.
Sykkuno probably could feel it too, because he was becoming needier than usual, would suddenly look at Toast as if he could sense what was going on inside his mind. He would look so confused afterwards, and he had tried to ask Toast if something happened, to which Toast would rebuff, every single time.
By the end of the first week after the first month, Toast was irritable, snappish, and looked murderous enough that students parted from his way every time he walked through the corridors. No one tried to kiss him anymore, thank fuck. His friends had ceased their teasing, and were worried about his state of mind instead. Rae had carefully tried to inquire him about it, but Toast snapped at her instead, and she had reared into the fight without blinking. They were about to throw hexes and jinxes at each other, before a Prefect, who happened to pass by at that time, held them back.
He still hadn’t talked to Rae, and the girl had glared at him each time they met in the corridors. She refused to sit at the Ravenclaw’s table when Toast was there. And that was just fine. Toast didn’t want to see her either.
He sighed. He knew that he was being irrational, that he was being childish. But he didn’t know how to control it either. He had thought of maybe contacting McGonagall about it, but he refused to make his parents worried. Out of every child in his family, he was the only one graced with magic. He was the youngest child, too, and so, his parents had been so worried about sending him off to a boarding school in a world that they didn’t understand about, but supportive of his pursue in education and his true lineage nonetheless. They had done a lot for him, and he didn’t want this one mistake of his made them restless and anxious because they were too far away to attend to him.
He had asked Professor Potter early on about other ways of severing the bond, and the man had recommended to him several books available in the library for it. But he did warn that it was better done by professionals to avoid making it worse, and Toast couldn’t do that either. He was stuck with the safest, most torturous option of waiting it out.
Today had started out just fine. They had met up on the fourth floor, got their fill of touches for the day, and went about their day as they usually did. That was, until they went out of Herbology class, and Toast saw Sykkuno huddled in an alcove with Ray; talking in hushed voices, pressed too close for two boys who hadn’t wanted to build a proper relationship with each other. They were too intimate, with Ray’s arms around Sykkuno, and one of Sykkuno's leg hitched on top of the Head Boy’s thigh. It was painfully familiar with how the boy was with Toast, and it made something in him snap.
The corridor to the greenhouse was usually empty this time of the day, and the alcove had been partially hidden by the pillars anyway. Toast had been aware of it simply because his senses had been attuned to Sykkuno, to his whereabouts and his emotions. He ignored Michael calling for him as he strode to the alcove, wand at the ready and mind so clouded with something so foreign, something so ugly. He almost didn’t recognize his magic, himself, but he trudged on despite everything.
As if sensing his presence, Sykkuno's head snapped up; eyes widening at the murderous look on Toast’s face, the wand poised at his hand to hex someone to hell and back. He immediately stood up, shielding a confused Ray from sight. It just made Toast’s blood boil more in anger.
“Toast,” Sykkuno said lowly. “Lower your wand.”
He didn’t heed the warning written so clearly in Sykkuno's voice, pressing the tip of his wand to the boy’s neck instead. The Slytherin boy stood his ground, eyes hard and dangerous. Toast was suddenly reminded that despite the way Sykkuno was soft and pliant under his touch, he was still a formidable wizard in his own regards. He could very well blast Toast away from him even without his wand. But he was too far gone in the tangle of anger and the repressed desires of his bond.
“What were you doing with him?” Toast said, silent and light and belying of the magic that was ready to lash out underneath his epidermis. “Thought you’re not together, huh, Sykkuno? Thought you only need me, want me? Is that a lie? You don’t necessarily need my touch, do you? Anyone willing and you’re gonna be hanging on their arms.”
Sykkuno's eyes narrowed further. By this time, Ray had stood up from the alcove, and was trying to push Sykkuno back. Toast glared at him, and the Head Boy glared back with such coldness that was almost foreign on his gentle face. He brusquely pushed away the wand pressing at Sykkuno's neck, pointing his wand at Toast instead.
“This isn’t the time for this discussion, Toast,” Sykkuno said firmly. “Nor this is the place. Let’s go somewhere else.”
“I’m not going anywhere with you until you explain this properly to me,” he said, stubbornly staying where he was.
“There’s nothing to explain! We were just talking!” Sykkuno hissed heatedly. He pushed Ray back, exchanging a look with the boy until the Head Boy sighed in resignation and pocketed back his wand. He threw one last wary glance at the two of them before making to leave. Or at least, he tried to.
Toast aimed his wand at Ray, an incantation at the tip of his tongue, before he felt his wand was forcefully taken away by a flick of Sykkuno's wrist. When he turned to face the older boy, Sykkuno looked livid. Toast felt his magic suddenly surrounded himself in defense, recognizing a bigger threat.
“Go,” Sykkuno said to Ray. The Head Boy pursed his lips. This was, technically, something he should take care about. But then again, he knew what was actually happening between them. He could do nothing when it went far deeper than a small fight. “We’ll be fine, go.”
Ray reluctantly went away, and Toast immediately crowded closer to Sykkuno. The Slytherin boy calmly took a hold of Toast’s hand, putting his wand on the open palm.
“Bathroom,” Sykkuno said simply, and took Toast’s other hand in his before bodily dragging him away from the corridor.
Toast heard the murmurs behind him, and Ray’s soothing voice calming down the confused Ravenclaws students. He couldn’t really focus on it, however; his nerves were strung tight, and the anger wasn't backing down from his lungs. He gripped the hand in his until Sykkuno winced. But the older boy just walked forward without stopping, and Toast was forced to follow him because Sykkuno was relentless in his strength when he wasn’t so needy and pliant.
There were four students in the bathroom when they got there, and Sykkuno glared at them so coldly that they scattered away without even being asked to. They were most likely to be another seventh-year; intimate with Sykkuno's reputation, enough to know what he could do if they didn’t immediately surrender under his command. Sometimes Toast forgot that despite being known as the flower boy from Slytherin, Sykkuno was also feared due to his viciousness in duels. His magical prowess was known throughout the seventh-year, and some juniors who happened to witness or hear the rumors.
Sykkuno pulled out his wand to trace wards around them, before pushing Toast into a stall and locking it behind him. He pushed him harshly until Toast stumbled back and fell unceremoniously on top of the toilet. Despite his anger, Toast shuddered when he felt Sykkuno's magic crackle around them. It was the same way he had felt back at Myrtle’s bathroom; a monstrous presence, with sharp, ominous aura around it to match Sykkuno's livid mood.
“Don’t ever aim your wand at my friends, ever again,” Sykkuno said softly, lowly. Toast knew better than to think that it was something gentle, when there were very real threats of bodily pain lacing through every single syllable. “I might be bonded to you, but you have no control over my life. I’m allowed to be close to my friends, I’m allowed to be vulnerable enough to want reassurance and comfort from them, and you have no say in whatever the fuck I want to do.”
Toast wanted to lash out, to push back, to scream at Sykkuno's face. But the magic around him was too oppressive to fight back, and seeing Sykkuno this mad was slowly sobering his mind. He was horrified to realize that he had been pulled so easily towards the bidding of the bond, allowing it to cloud his judgment and rationality.
Sensing his suddenly downtrodden mood, the pressure of Sykkuno's magic lessened considerably. The boy sighed and looked at Toast. “What’s wrong?” he asked, gentler this time. “Tell me, Toast. We don’t want to resort to Legilimency, I think.”
“You would, huh,” Toast laughed blandly. Now that his mind was clear, he was just—tired. The anger had come up so fast; a whirlwind that took everything inside him in a storm and left a devastating exhaustion in his mind in the aftermath. “I don’t even know anymore.”
Sykkuno looked alarmed at his broken voice, kneeling down immediately at Toast’s feet, grasping at the younger boy’s knee. “Toast?” he asked again, very carefully. “Is it the bond? What does it—“
“Yes,” Toast snapped, the anger had never really left him, as it turned out. It was just hiding in plain sight; ready to pounce at the slightest opening. “Yes, it’s always about the bond. I’m losing my mind! I can’t stop being irritated, being an asshole to my friends, being a possessive prick, because I can’t think straight!”
Sykkuno was silent; his magic gentling into waves that felt like it was lapping at Toast’s feet. “Is there anything that I should know about? Anything you’re not telling me, completely.”
Toast laughed, high and nearly hysteric. “Speak for yourself,” he shot back viciously. “You’re hiding things from me, too, aren’t you? How am I supposed to know that what I feel will be accepted by you, when you don’t even trust me enough to be honest?”
The Slytherin looked down in guilt, and Toast wallowed in his own. That was just an excuse wasn’t it? He was just trying to find justification because he was confused, strung tight, and tired of feeling these urges without ever being able to let them out. He sighed, and cradled Sykkuno's face gently.
“I’m sorry,” he said. “I—that was just—I shouldn’t blame you for this. I’m just—afraid. I’m afraid of these urges, and I’m afraid that they will scare you away. Make things more awkward than it already is. Make this more difficult.”
Because it was difficult. It was difficult to have these thoughts for someone that had suddenly come into Toast’s life, and had broken down his walls due to their circumstances. But it was also the reason why he kept them to himself instead of coming clean. This was just a stupid bond, that came from a magic that shouldn’t even dwell in something as mundane as freaking mistletoe, of all things. It shouldn’t have required him to be this vulnerable in expressing his feelings. It shouldn’t have required them to be this tangled within each other.
Sykkuno got up slowly, and Toast’s arms easily settled on the small of his back when he sat in Toast’s lap. This was familiar, this was also scary. Toast was so used to everything Sykkuno did with him that it was just jarring to see him doing that with someone else. “Tell me from the start,” he said, holding Toast’s face in his palms securely so he couldn’t look away. “I won’t run away. I won’t judge you. I won’t be—Toast, I won’t ever be scared of you. I trust that you’ll take care of me, and you have, all this time. You can tell me, okay?”
He swallowed, and nodded weakly. The bond wasn’t equal from the start, and they both knew it. So this assent, it was all Toast, trusting Sykkuno with something else that didn’t involve the bond they shared. He looked into those brown eyes, soft and understanding and Toast really had let the bond get the better of him, hadn’t he?
“Professor Potter said that neither of us is completely honest about what we need, about our urges that the bond demands,” he started, holding their gaze because he had nowhere to run, and really, he had run enough from this. “I… never said to you how much it affects me because I don’t—I’m not sure how to bring it up, and I just think that you won’t be able to accept them. I still don’t know how to say it to you.”
“Then show me,” Sykkuno said, near a whisper. “And I’ll show what I need from you, too. If we can’t say it all at once, we can take one step at a time.”
Toast heaved a deep breath, and slowly put down Sykkuno's hands from his face. He toyed with the button of Sykkuno's uniform, licking his lips out of nervousness. “Can I bite your neck?” he asked, stomach in knots and feelings jumbled together in his lungs. There was still a lot that they had to talk about. But taking the first step of honesty was all they could do at this moment.
Sykkuno nodded, and let Toast unbutton his shirt, pulling off his tie to hang loosely around his collar. He slipped the shirt off one shoulder, and Toast caressed the expanse of bare skin under his fingers. He contemplated, before thumbing the juncture where the shoulder met the neck. “Can I bite you here?” he asked again, pressing lightly at the spot he meant.
When Toast looked up, he was suddenly dizzy by how pretty, pretty, pretty Sykkuno looked. His face was flushed, but his eyes were determined. He had always known it, but in this moment, that knowledge hooked his gut and pulled. Sykkuno was as nervous as he felt, and Toast remembered then that he wasn’t alone in this bond. It worked both ways; they both felt it, albeit differently. He was so wrapped up in his own turmoil that he had forgotten that maybe Sykkuno was afraid of the same thing, too.
He nosed around the skin, inhaling the scent of soap and musk, traces of sweat, and the same perfume Sykkuno had worn all the time. There were fingers caressing his nape, and it soothed him. He licked the skin a few times, enjoying the shudder that ran through the body in his arms. It was small bites at first, to ease him into it, before the bites got firmer, more insistent, longer to let go.
When he really sunk his teeth into the skin, trying to break through the barrier until he drew blood, Sykkuno was clenching his nape so hard that he could feel the nails breaking skin. In a way, it felt like they both were doing the same thing; marking each other deep within, deeper than the layer of skin, deeper than the bond. Toast kept his teeth there for a while, until his jaw ached and he had to let go. There was a taste of metallic tang across his tongue, and he lapped at the wounded skin as Sykkuno shuddered and trembled.
“That’s what I wanted,” Toast whispered, his voice hoarse. “One of them, anyway.”
There was an unexpected chuckle that came from the boy above him. “What a coincidence, because I wanted the same thing, too. Not necessarily the biting, just—I want you to put your mouth on me, put some mark on me.”
“Somewhere visible?” Toast asked, heart beating fast in its cage. “So people could see?”
Sykkuno looked at him through eyes glistening from tears of pain, through heaving deep breaths. “Yeah,” he said quietly. “How do you know?”
Toast mulled over it. He decided to settle with, “I think our urges are more connected than we thought.”
“It could be,” Sykkuno nodded, and caressed his face gently. “Is there anything else you want to say to me?”
Toast licked his lips, tasting Sykkuno's blood still on them. “The… jealousy, and possessiveness. They’re worse now. My mind got so confused because you’re with Ray, and we—we weren’t anything, Sykkuno. I don’t know how to handle those feelings when you’re not even mine to begin with.”
“I told you that we’re not together,” Sykkuno sighed. “Just because I slept with him doesn’t automatically mean we’re in a relationship. Each of us is just rebounding from our respective heartache, and we’re comfortable because we know it won’t change anything in our friendship. Doesn’t mean I don’t love him with all my heart; he’s my friend first and foremost. I was serious when I told you to never aim your wand at him again.”
Toast felt irritated at being ordered around and called out on his bouts of anger. But he acknowledged that it was his fault for letting it get this bad in the first place. “I’ll apologize to him later,” he promised. “I don’t think I can handle you touching anyone at this point, however.”
“That’s fine, too,” Sykkuno smiled. “I’m yours right now. Don’t think too much about it, just let the bond take what it wants, otherwise it’ll end up badly for the both of us.”
He swallowed with difficulty, remembering every single one of his urges. “It wants a lot from you,” he said.
“I want a lot from you, too,” Sykkuno replied, and it was the way he said it; intimate and personal, as if he wasn’t exclusively talking about the bond, that let Toast finally give in to the thoughts inside his head, the electric needs in his veins.
He nodded his acknowledgment, and asked instead, “What were you talking about with Ray?”
“You,” the answer came promptly, without hesitation. “I can feel it too, you know? Your agitation. But you won’t tell me anything, and my end of the bond feels like you’re closing off, like you’re abandoning me. I should have calculated the possessiveness before I went and touched Ray like that, I’m sorry. But I just—Toast, there’s a reason why I need touches more than you, okay? It’s a form of reassurance for me, and my friends have always provided that to help me get through my emotions.”
He let out a soft exhale and caressed Sykkuno's back in a soothing manner. “I’m sorry, too. Professor Potter was right. I should have been more honest. We wouldn't be in this predicament if I didn’t hesitate so much in sharing my thoughts. It was scarier, in my mind—your rejection, that is.”
“I’m at fault, too,” Sykkuno said. “I understand your fear, I feel the same way. Can we just let this bond get its fill? I’m probably willing to get along with anything you want as long as you tell me beforehand.”
“That’ll require me to touch you in front of people,” Toast said, throat suddenly going dry at the thought of just crowding Sykkuno close in a corridor, where everyone could see.
“I never said I mind,” the Slytherin boy grinned, “you can do it. But help me get what I need too, okay?”
“Okay,” he nodded. “Anything.”
“Anything?” Sykkuno asked, voice lowering into a whisper. He caressed the side of Toast’s face; so softly, almost reverent. “Even if I want you to hold me down on the bed, touch me like you mean it?”
Toast swallowed, his stomach clenching in anticipation. There was a zing of electricity that went through his body. Their urges really were connected, because Toast had been thinking of the same thing for a while, now. There was a heat, simmering lowly, waiting for the spark to set the fire ablaze. He breathed slowly, and nodded.
“Anything,” he said, and meant it.
“Okay,” Sykkuno smiled, and tilted his head to the side, exposing more of his neck. His fingers travelled to a patch of unmarred skin. “Bite here,” he said, and his finger moved again, “and here.”
Toast’s heart was hammering in his ribs, but he drew Sykkuno in without words, closing his lips over the skin that Sykkuno had pointed at. He licked and sucked on the smooth expanse of skin, biting hard enough to elicit a whimper out of the boy’s mouth, and soothe the sting with his tongue. He did the same thing to another spot, and when he pulled away, Sykkuno's eyes were glazed, lips bitten-red. Toast kind of wanted to bite them, too.
His pants felt uncomfortably tight, and Sykkuno prevented him from looking down with two fingers on Toast’s jaw. By the look on his face, Toast knew he wasn’t the only one who felt it. “You’re—“
“Don’t bother,” Sykkuno whispered, nosing around his jaw. Toast closed his eyes, clenching tight on slender hips. “You still have a class after this, and we can always talk about it later.”
He nodded, because Sykkuno was right. Not to mention that this would overstep so many of their boundaries. They were both teenagers, and it was given that they reacted like this with such intimate touch. But they didn’t have enough time, and he was promised that they would talk about this when they were within a private environment.
He leaned his head back when Sykkuno's lips kissed the way down from his jaw to his neck, kitten-licks on the skin before he sucked on the skin lightly. He nipped hard enough to leave a mark, but it wasn’t as brutal nor would it bruise as brightly as the ones Toast had left on his neck.
“Professor McGonagall won’t appreciate you coming late to class with hickeys all over your neck,” Sykkuno said as an explanation. “You can hide this one easily.”
With that, he shimmied off Toast’s lap and pulled him upright. Their breaths were still irregular, and the tightness in Toast’s pants was slow to dissipate. But he felt less strung tight, less irritable. He felt like the knot in his stomach that had been bothering him for a week had loosened, leaving him free to think and breathe properly.
Sykkuno hugged him close, and Toast buried his face on the boy’s chase as his hair was patted gently. “It’s okay, Toast,” he whispered. “It’s going to be okay. We’ll get through this. Just remember to tell me if you need anything, okay? You don’t have to go through this alone. I’ll be there for you.”
He nodded, overwhelmed with the warmth in his chest, and pulled Sykkuno in closer. They were only one year apart, but at this moment, Toast felt so young; fragile and unsure. His fingers held onto Sykkuno's robes, letting the boy whisper soothing reassurance into his ears. He was reluctant to let go, but he knew that he had to run now if he wanted to catch the Transfiguration class.
“Go now,” Sykkuno said with a soft smile, unlocking the stall and gently pushing him out of it. “I’ll see you later at dinner.”
Toast shot him a grateful smile, and walked out of the bathroom; steps heavy and heart so light in its relief.
-
Toast didn’t say anything as he dropped three packages of chocolate frog onto Rae’s lap, and then walked away as if nothing happened. They had fought often enough for them to know the meaning of things went unsaid, to know how each other apologized.
“You’re still an asshole, Toast!” Rae called out, but there were traces of laughter in her voice. They knew that Toast would apologize properly later on, after he got his thoughts sorted out and Rae got her temper under control.
Approaching Ray was more difficult, because Toast didn’t want to deal with his entourage. Still, he approached the boy when Toast saw him near the library with Poki. Ray eyed him suspiciously, but he stayed nonetheless. That was a good sign at least.
“I’m sorry, about earlier,” Toast said, the words almost stuck in his throat. Personally, he knew that it was his fault. But his bond was pissed off at Ray for touching Sykkuno. “And for threatening you like that.”
“That’s alright,” Ray said, though he was slow to nod. “Have you made up with Sykkuno?”
“I did,” he said, uncomfortable now that the conversation had strayed somewhere else.
“Evidently,” Poki interjected, smiling smugly. “Seeing that he’s almost floating everywhere. I see that he also left a souvenir on you.”
Toast’s hand immediately went to the mark low on his collar. It wasn’t supposed to be seen, and he realized he had been trapped by the girl when she laughed her ass off. Madam Pince shot them a scathing look, and Poki toned down her giggle into mere whispers. Toast glared at her half-heartedly, and she rolled her eyes.
“Come on,” she teased, elbowing him on the side. “You’re so lucky you got away with it, and left some love bites on him to boot. Circe, Toast, that one bite on his shoulder is nasty.”
He stuttered. “You saw that?”
“No,” she admitted. “But there was blood on his shirt and he got hickeys. So I assumed, and I assumed correctly, it seems. You two are different breeds of fucked-up. Not even Ray was as bad as this.”
“He likes it,” Ray shrugged, and Toast commiserated because it was true. Sykkuno had asked for it, too, and he did seem enthusiastic in welcoming Toast’s harsher urges. Maybe that guy was secretly a masochist. They fit so well, didn’t they?
“Where is he?” Toast asked, because they were usually together. He hadn’t seen Sykkuno since this afternoon in the bathroom.
“Mooning over you in our common room,” Poki answered. “You should visit sometimes, he’ll lose his mind. I bet the other kids will glare at you all the time for touching him.”
“No thanks,” Toast refused quickly. “I’m good with the Room of Requirement.”
Poki’s eyes widened. “So that’s where you guys have been off to! Tell me, have you guys fucked yet?”
Toast spluttered. “What? No! What the hell?”
Poki and Ray exchanged an exasperated look, which didn’t really make sense to Toast. What were they exasperated about anyway? Why was it that everyone seemed to be holding back a knowledge that concerned him, and yet not outrightly being told to him? The hell was going on? Poki patted him on the shoulder as Ray shot him a pitying look.
“You’re too oblivious, do you know that?” she said gently. It made Toast shudder in fear, for some reason.
“You guys are freaking me out,” he said honestly.
The girl laughed and patted him a few times more before going back to the books she had on her hands. “Good,” she said. “That’s all we Slytherins really do, honestly. Freak people out until they’re uncomfortable. We derive immense satisfaction from it. You would know, intimately, considering that you’re with Sykkuno.”
“That’s enough teasing, I think,” Ray said, though he looked like he was holding back his laughter. “Let him go, Poki.”
She did with reluctance, evidently eager to tease him more. Toast waved at them awkwardly and dashed out of the library as fast as he could, because, man, Slytherins were weird.
-
Toast was feeling torn. On one hand, he was glad that he could come out clean with Sykkuno, and their conversation earlier today had brought a peace of mind after a week of turmoil. But on the other hand, it also brought him a lot more headache.
Toast sighed as his friends stared at the way Sykkuno just shamelessly draped his leg over Toast’s, no longer covered beneath his robes; at the way the Slytherin boy leaned his head over Toast’s shoulders and stole food from his plate.
“You literally can get your own food,” Toast said to him tiredly, but he let Sykkuno take his meat pie nonetheless. “Why are you here, just to be a menace?”
“You like it when I’m a menace,” Sykkuno replied without looking up from his food—Toast’s food. “You hate it when I’m all flowery and soft. So, you don’t get to complain.”
Toast moved his plate away from the boy, and Sykkuno snatched his hand faster than he could anticipate, and bit his finger, hard. “Ow! Motherfucker! The fuck are you doing?”
“Biting your finger,” the boy said easily, and took back Toast’s plate so he could stab at a piece of meat. “It’s only fair, don’t you think? I let you bite me, I get to bite you back.”
Michael choked on his drink, and Hafu hid a laugh on Peter’s shoulder. Sykkuno just smiled, saccharine sweet, when Toast gave him a nasty glare. Edison looked excited and fond, for some reason. Leslie surreptitiously exchanged some galleons with Celine.
“This is exciting, don’t you think, babe?” Edison said.
“Very,” Leslie nodded with the satisfaction of someone who had just earned three galleons on an illegal bet. Toast narrowed his eyes at them and conjured an image of hexing them to pieces.
It was slightly embarrassing, because Toast could feel the stare from other tables. But it was relieving as well, because he didn’t have to hide it when he wanted to hold Sykkuno's hand, or rub his thigh, or touch the mark that had bloomed into a purple bruise on his neck. Hafu shot him a knowing look, and Toast ignored her. He also ignored Michael’s inappropriate remarks about them being disgustingly touchy. If only he knew.
Toast didn’t hesitate in pushing Sykkuno against one of the pillars after dinner, kissing his neck softly and biting another mark on the other side of it. In-between sucking the skin and holding back a groan because Sykkuno was clenching his arms harder and harder, he heard the boy say, “Come back with me tonight. We don’t have to wait until the morning to meet.”
And he sounded so persuasive, so convincing, so needy that Toast nearly agreed to it right then and there. He laughed against the patch of skin and pressed Sykkuno harder against the pillar. “I don’t think your housemates will appreciate the amount of PDA we’ll show.”
“They can deal with it,” Sykkuno whispered, slipping his fingers into Toast’s hair and scratching lightly on his scalp. “I’m sure you can always parry their teasing and mockery, and I can always hex them if you don’t like it.”
“There isn’t an ounce of compassion in that pretty head of yours, is there?” Toast raised an eyebrow, and Sykkuno only grinned at him. “No, I suppose not. You really are a Slytherin, through and through.”
“Is that a yes?” the boy pushed, knowing he could, and Toast would allow him. He knew Toast too well within the short amount of time they had spent with each other, and now that they were determined to be honest, he really didn’t hold back his horses. He played Toast the way he played those fools, only softer, more genuine. As if Toast was the only one who mattered.
“That’s a yes for another trip to the fourth floor,” Toast answered. It was the first time they would ever spend time after dinner. Usually it was them going back to their respective dorms, or loitering around in the Great Hall for an excuse of more time to touch and be close to each other. Older students didn’t exactly have a bedtime, but they were expected to be back before the nine pm curfew. He could manage, he thought. It wasn’t even seven yet.
Now that Toast and Sykkuno weren’t so intent on hiding what they had, the Slytherin entourage no longer waited for him after dinner while they watched for passersby as the two took one last chance of touching before going back. They still sat at the Ravenclaw’s table, and were likely to continue since Sykkuno would be there as well.
It was just as well, because Toast could immediately pull Sykkuno to the Changing Staircase without having to awkwardly explain where they were heading to them. As he had suspected, the stairs waited for Sykkuno and only moved after they both hopped onto it.
“This castle has favorites,” Toast complained. “I can’t count how many times I almost tripped because of these motherfuckers.”
“Don’t say that,” Sykkuno chided. “You’re going to hurt their feelings.”
“Feelings,” Toast repeated flatly, then sighed. Yeah, of course this castle favored Sykkuno if he treated it as a living thing. In some ways, it was sentient with so much magic concentrating in one place. But Toast could hold grudges excellently, so he just glared at the stairs and nearly tripped when the step suddenly turned flat underneath him.
Sykkuno laughed at him fumbling, but that laughter soon turned into a soft moan when they were inside the hidden room on the fourth floor, as Toast heaved him against the wall and he wrapped his legs around Toast’s waist.
As it turned out, Sykkuno was a lying bastard, because distracted as he was when Toast unbuttoned his shirt, he flicked his wrist lightly and urged Toast to walk back until he stumbled on a bed that wasn’t there before. A little, my ass, Toast thought. The day when he would bombard Sykkuno with questions about his wandless magic was coming nearer and nearer, and he wouldn’t stop until the boy was properly traumatized the way Myrtle was after Toast was done with her.
He shifted them both to push Sykkuno on the bed, pulling off his tie completely and raising both of his hands above his head. He pulled back a little to look at him. “Okay?”
“Yes,” came the gasped out reply, and Toast kissed his temple, down to his cheek as he tied the wrists together. He made sure that the knot was tight enough so Sykkuno couldn’t budge, but not too tight to restrict blood circulation.
“What do you need?” Toast asked, a whisper of reverence, mind hazy from touch and the bond singing in his veins. He thought that maybe it wasn’t just the bond; maybe it was also the way Sykkuno's eyes were pinning him in place, dark and full of want. Maybe it was also the way Toast had never felt this exhilarated in the presence of someone else, had never been this pliant and accommodating of anyone.
“You,” Sykkuno answered, simple and full of conviction. “Everything that you’re willing to give to me.”
Toast groaned. His body felt like it was burning, the electricity biting at his skin in full force. He needed, he wanted. And Sykkuno was willing to accept everything. He didn’t think he had ever been this dizzy, this breathless even when they barely did anything. Toast traced the lines of his face, smiling when Sykkuno closed his eyes, breath shallow and hot. His fingers stopped at lips slick with saliva, indents of teeth clear as day. He tapped at them softly, and Sykkuno obediently opened up, and Toast felt a pulse in his gut. His chest felt like it was constricting, more and more as Sykkuno took his fingers into his mouth, sucking on them hard enough to make Toast shudder, tongue laving and teasing the ridges of his fingers.
He looked—fuck, he looked so damn good like that. Toast dropped his head to broad shoulders, kissing the exposed skin as he rolled his hips experimentally. It felt as if he was being shocked with a high voltage, and Sykkuno could feel it too, because he just whined. And fuck if that thing didn’t do a thousand different things to the knot in Toast’s stomach.
The bond was expanding, fusing with both of their magic, enveloping them both in a link that seemed to vibrate in every point of connection. Toast felt desperation climbing into his lungs as he rutted down against Sykkuno's hips, thrusting his fingers the way his hips were moving, reveling in the faint choking sound coming from the boy. The Slytherin boy was straining against the tie around his wrists, muscles moving as he struggled to touch. It was a beautiful thing to see.
The harder Toast nipped at his skin, the harder Sykkuno sucked on his fingers. He was breathing hard, and it faltered completely when he looked up and saw that Sykkuno was flushed red, eyes hazy with desires, looking so delicate and unapologetically beautiful as he cried. He couldn’t help the weak flutter in his heart. Swallowing down words he wanted to say, keeping them under his tongue, Toast slipped in the third finger and fumbled to slip a hand under Sykkuno's waist to pull him closer, closer still.
He heard muffled, faint words from Sykkuno, and propped his hand next to his head to hear it properly. He pulled out his fingers from his mouth, entranced by the plush lips under his fingertips and the string of saliva connecting them to Sykkuno's lolled out tongue. “What is it?” he asked, gently, kissing the corner of Sykkuno's mouth.
“Please,” Sykkuno begged, and Toast lost all air in his lungs.
He gripped the underside of Sykkuno's thighs, pulling them flush together, and rutted down harder, harder, until the boy cried out. It really was a juvenile thing; dry humping in their uniform pants, in risk of staining them with cum. But in this moment, it was all they could think about—it was deliciously desperate, the friction too much and barely enough, the fire under their skin molding and seeking each other. It was everything, it wasn’t enough, it was perfect.
He was faintly aware of the soft, keening sound that came from his own mouth; the groans and pleads pouring endlessly from Sykkuno's throat. The tears were hot against Toast’s skin as he pressed their face together, and finally, finally, closed his lips over Sykkuno's in a searing, harsh kiss.
Toast had kissed people before, and he didn’t doubt that Sykkuno was better at it than him considering his history. But right now, with their hips moving frantically, with Sykkuno bound and crying prettily, with Toast feeling like he was about to lose his mind, this kiss was entirely different and much, much better than anything he had ever felt. It was hot and soft, it was wet and messy, it was harsh and demanding, and Toast could never get enough of the way their lips and tongues tangled together.
When Sykkuno's legs wrapped around his waist, hips undulating in a movement that made Toast’s head spin, he reached out to push down Sykkuno's wrists to the bed, straining his further. He liked hearing the choked off cries, the way Sykkuno struggled but ultimately letting it happen, liking it too. Because Toast knew by now that Sykkuno was stronger than him, magically and physically. But he let it, wanted Toast to hold him down, take him however he desired. It was both terrifying and the best feeling he had ever had in his entire life.
“Toast—“ Sykkuno called out, breath stuttering as he broke away from the kiss. “I’m- I’m close. Please, please—“
“Ssh,” Toast gently whispered, kissing him softly. “I got you. It’s okay, just let go.”
So Sykkuno did, body a long sinewy line as he let out a broken cry, a botched version of Toast’s name on his lips as his fingers found purchased on Toast’s. He shuddered through his release, whispering in a language Toast didn’t understand, one that he swallowed into his lungs as he kissed Sykkuno again and again. It was addicting, the taste of him on his tongue, the warmth of his mouth, the softness of his lips, the sharpness of his cries. Toast could get lost in this sensation for a long time.
Sykkuno was out of breath by the time he came down from the high, smiling against Toast’s lips. “Let me go,” he said.
Toast pulled away slightly to untie him, and yelped in surprise when their position was suddenly reversed. Sykkuno pecked him lightly, before starting a march of kisses on shells of his ears, to his jaw, down to his neck to nip bruises that matched the ones on his own skin, down to Toast’s navel, and mouthed at the erection still straining obscenely in his pants.
He swallowed back the whimper as Sykkuno's hands came up to unzip his pants, gripping the sheets when he saw the marks of the tie on those wrists. There was just something about seeing his marks on this boy, to see the proof of what Toast was allowed to do upon his body, the control he was given over Sykkuno. He let out a relieved sigh when his cock was pulled out of the confining space of his boxers, but it soon turned into a high keen when Sykkuno swallowed him without preamble.
If it had been utterly good with his fingers inside Sykkuno's mouth, it was absolutely amazing to feel that warmth around his cock, enveloping him in a tight heat as the boy moved his head with expertise that made Toast slightly jealous over those people Sykkuno had practiced on. Still, he didn’t really have the time nor higher thinking capacity to mull over it, because everything dissolved into pleasure when Sykkuno hollowed his cheeks, swallowing around the head of Toast’s cock, and Jesus fuck, Circe’s tits, that was fucking good.
He was so close beforehand, when they were rutting against each other, when he saw the look of utter bliss on Sykkuno's face as he came. But when Toast struggled to prop himself up, to see the older boy properly, he had to bite harshly on his lip at the sight of Sykkuno's lips stretched over his cock, the short lashes that rested over his cheeks as he closed his eyes, the shine of his spit on his lips, on Toast’s cock and pubic hair. This should have been illegal, and Toast briefly wondered just why they didn’t do this sooner.
Because it was absolutely, terrifyingly wonderful; to feel the touch, the warmth, the knowledge that it was Sykkuno with him, the electricity that powered through him and fused with his magic, the crackle of Sykkuno's monstrous, encompassing magic around them. Toast gave in to another one of his urges, reaching over to yank Sykkuno's head back, and gripped his hair tight as he jerked his cock with another hand, and grunted low in his throat as he came, painting that delicate, pretty face in ropes of cum.
If he wasn’t so spent, he might be hard again at the sight of Sykkuno opening his eyes slowly, thumb swiping on a clump of cum on his cheek and sucking on it. He gulped down another wave of arousal, his spent cock twitching valiantly because this boy was fucking impossible. He stroked Sykkuno's hair gently, laughing a little in disbelief.
“You look pretty like that,” he said honestly. It wasn’t the bond, wasn’t his urges; it was just Toast telling him what he thought.
“I know,” Sykkuno smirked, and pulled out his wand to spell a cleaning charm on them both. Toast was a little saddened to see his face free of cum, but it allowed them to kiss without having to worry about the semen sticking everywhere. He tucked Toast’s dick back into his pants, and lay on top of him, heaving out something sounded like a pleased sigh.
Toast patted his back as Sykkuno played with his tie, staring at the ceiling and wondering how long they had spent here. It didn’t really matter however. He felt light and comfortable, and pretty damn good, actually. “So,” he started, because he felt like they had to talk about it, had to acknowledge the crossing of boundaries between them. It was pretty funny how they kept it pretty tame for a whole month, before immediately going into… this. “That was…”
“That,” Sykkuno agreed, and laughed along with Toast.
This was fucking stupid, but he didn’t think that it was bad. It satiated the bond, they felt good, and they were honest about what they wanted from each other. He was surprised it took them this long when they turned out to be this compatible in… nearly everything, now that he thought about it.
-
#video blogging rpf#shiki writes#from ao3#toastkkuno#disguisedtoast#sykkuno#harry potter au#discontinued work
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