#i know some certain people are fuming and even the thought of it is satisfying lol

[lapelduide]

Oh it feels good to be on the right side of the history

I'm so happy Nicola and Luke are getting the recognition and success they deserve especially after the hate they had to endure for two years.

[thestorycomesalive]

And I Would Do it Again

George Weasley x Reader

Summary: When you stick up for George in front of your whole Defense Against the Dark Arts class, Professor Umbridge has a certain consequence in mind for you.

Angst and Fluff, Hurt/Comfort.

TW: Mentions of Blood

****

“Eh hem, Mr. Weasley,” hummed a trilling voice from behind the tall red head next to you.

“Professor?” George raised an eyebrow to the pink clad woman behind him, wondering what in the world the small, angry lady could possibly want. Afterall, he hadn’t done anything wrong. And he knew better than to test her at this point. Or at least he knew his limits. Ron had told him of the tragic events that took place in Harry’s detention. Ever since then, he and his twin brother had gotten quieter and cleverer about pulling their tricks around school. Of course, they hadn’t stopped altogether. George wouldn’t be George without his pranks. But George knew he couldn’t get detention. Not out of a kindness for himself, but rather for your sake. He knew you’d worry too much.

But this time, he hadn’t done anything to provoke Professor Umbridge. He racked his brain for a moment, but he couldn’t think of one thing that would call her attention to him.

“You have received a generous amount of our class time today to complete your writing assignment, and while even Ms. L/N next to you has come up with a few paragraphs, you seem to have nearly nothing on your page. Care to explain what you’ve been up to all of this time?” The woman teetered to the front of your table, peering down at George.

He gave her a look of disbelief. “Well, it is not for lack of trying. I just have a hard time learning on paper. And you don’t let us use our wands,” he pointed out.

She giggled a single, ugly giggle. “Mr. Weasley… I can’t say I’m surprised. Afterall, I have come to expect less than from you. You shouldn’t need your wand to learn. Perhaps it is time for you to accept the fact that your own stupidity is to blame for your shortcomings. I really do my very best, but some students are just purely unteachable.” She hummed the last part to herself, shaking her head.

Your eyes shot up to her instantly. You had been watching her for some time, but in this instance, your eyes had been on the boy next to you, offering looks of kindness and sympathy without words. But now you were angry. Practically fuming. “Excuse me,” you muttered sharply, grabbing her attention with a whip of her head. “That is not, in any way, fair or warranted. George is one of the smartest people I know.” Your eyes were shooting darts at her as a piercing, condescending smile crept up to her ears.

“Ms. L/N. Talking out of turn will not be tolerated in my classroom. Especially not when it is used to talk back to your superiors,” she huffed.

You felt the smallest sensation of George’s pinky finger entwining with yours, as he tried to simmer down some of the anger, he knew was bubbling within you. You sighed and decided to leave the subject, having said your piece.

“You shall not question my knowledge and wisdom in any sense. If I say he is stupid, he is stupid, and if I say you are a flying Niffler, well then, you must be a flying Niffler. Do you understand, young lady?” she grinned, clearly having been satisfied with what she thought was winning the argument. You feel the heat and anger rising even higher than before at the mention of the sweet boy next to you. And then you finally realized what it is she was asking of you. She was asking you to agree with her cruel assumption about your George in front of the whole class. She cocks an eyebrow in the air with a wild smirk on her face. The rage pools over as you finally let it escape your mouth.

“No. I do not. I do not understand how you can call someone so bright and creative stupid, simply because you lack the skills and empathy to teach them what you would like them to know. Or because their knowledge simply extends beyond concepts that you can understand. You might not agree with me, Professor, but not everyone is like you. Not everyone wants to sit in a dark room and just pretend to learn for the rest of their lives. You want to give me detention, Professor? Fine. But I will not stand by while you abuse really great wizards, let alone, the ones that I love.” You cock your eyebrows back at her, knowing she has you right where she wants you. You don’t have a care in the world as the steam almost rises from your ears. It is now you notice that George’s hand had moved from your pinky to your wrist, gently trying to stop you from making the decision you had just made, his eyes pleading with yours with a gentle sadness and slight shock. However, for the briefest moment, you thought you could make out the tiniest glimpse of pride pass his eyes at the same time.

“Detention, Ms. L/N. I will not have anyone tell me how to teach in my classroom or question my abilities and judgement as a witch. Let alone someone so new to magic, as yourself.” She smiled smugly as she returned to the front of the classroom continuing her lesson immediately, not giving George or you a chance to respond to her. It was this act that left George hunting her down with a glare that could kill for the rest of the class, hand still in yours.

****

George spent every moment away from you that day, skipping his classes, trying in every way to get himself detention with Umbridge as well. However, every attempt ended with a quiet humph and scolding from her filled with cruel and nasty words. It was clear that even though she dreadfully wanted to, she was not going to give in and give George the detention he so desperately desired. She knew his punishment would be far more effective if she let you suffer and put him in a position where he would not be able to do anything about it whatsoever. It was the only time that he had the freedom to do nearly anything he wanted at Hogwarts, to break almost any rule he wanted to break, and get away with it. The painful irony is, he hated every second of it.

*****

Your detention arrived quickly that night when the corridors of the castles quieted. You had spent all day since your class with Umbridge quiet by George’s side. On the moments that you would be separated, you would go find a place in the Gryffindor Common Room to sit and wait for him to return from his classes or what you thought must be prank trials with Fred. But you weren’t worried about your detention like most people probably assumed you had been. Hell, you probably should’ve been. No. You were furious. Furious at Umbridge for targeting George, furious at her for backing you into a corner until you couldn’t take it anymore, furious at her for hurting Harry, furious at her for getting away with all of the terrible things she has done… furious.

When darkness befell the Common Room, only George, Fred, Lee, and you remained. You hadn’t told Harry or anyone else about your detention. You didn’t want him to worry. However, Fred and Lee, of course, had known of your soon-to-be punishment, considering they had been in the class when you received it. When you left the classroom, George pulled you into his side protectively and Lee had given you proud pat on the shoulder. With an exaggerated wink, Fred had run up and exclaimed, “Blimey, that was amazing, L/N! Nice craftsmanship, excellent execution.” Fred had tried to wipe some of the anger from your face throughout the day with a few, “don’t mess with that one, she’s fiery” and “Oi, Lee, careful. Catch yourself even looking at ol’ Georgie too long, and you might have to answer to that one,” with a point in your direction. These usually earned a genuine, soft smile from you as you chuckled to yourself. Freddie was the one person in the world who could make any person laugh no matter the circumstances. George would blush, and if he saw you laughing, he would also laugh to himself at the mention of the last joke from Fred. Part of you wondered if he may have enjoyed feeling your protectiveness over him. And you didn’t mind. You liked that he liked it. Even now.

But as the four of you sat late in the quiet Common Room, you felt the jokes wash away as George twiddled with his fingers, your head on his chest. You could tell he was feeling worried and helpless as you waited for your time to leave for detention. When that time came, you gave them a gentle smile and said, “Alright, I’m off. I’ll see you guys in the morning. Don’t go worrying about me too much.” You gave Fred and Lee a wink and kissed the top of George’s head.

As if on instinct, George grabbed your hand, pleading with his face, as if he were trying to keep you from going. But he knew that if you did not show up tonight, it would only earn you an even bigger punishment with the nasty, pink-shoed woman later. You took his hand and held it to your cheek as you gave him a little smile and whispered, “I love you. Goodnight.” And off you went, George watching your back as you left.

*****

As you creaked through the half open door of Umbridge’s office, you heard her squeal in delight. She toned out, “Do come in, Ms. L/N.”

You walked in without a word, eyes piercing through the small woman as she continued. “I do hope tonight will serve you nicely. You will be writing lines for me, dear.” You nodded your head, eyes still shooting at the Professor. This is what you had expected to hear from her. “Take a seat. There is a quill and parchment already for you at the desk there.”

 You took a seat at the desk she pointed to as she tutted. “Hmm… What lesson is to be learned tonight, do you think?” You, of course, didn’t answer. “There are many lessons I believe you could benefit from learning, Ms. L/N, but I have chosen to be generous to you, for reasons unbeknownst to me. I believe the lines, ‘I will learn my place and be respectful to my superiors’, will do just fine.”

 Your mouth dropped. You were expecting to write lines, and you knew the pain that would come with that, but you had not expected the number of words she would give you to write to be so extensive. You only prayed that the number of lines she would have you complete would be less, to even out your sentence to compare to the stories you had heard from others, including Harry. You dared to ask. “How many- “

“One hundred,” she interrupted without hesitation.

You nodded, eyes still a bit wide from shock. You assumed that you had really struck a nerve with your defiance towards Umbridge. Afterall, why else would your sentence be nearly double that of any other student you have heard from so far? You figured that you also were being used as punishment towards those you loved as well. Those who have also unmeaningly struck a nerve of Umbridge’s too: Harry and George. But you wouldn’t be used as bait. No, you quite refused to be used as such.

As you dared to hover the dry quill over the paper, you prepared yourself for the pain that would inevitably begin once you touched them down to meet. And when it did, the pain was one hundred times more unbearable than you had even begun to imagine, just like the number of lines you were to complete.

By the time you had arrived halfway through your assignment, blood was dripping down your fingertips, drenching your parchment along with the tears crawling down your face. Finally, soft whimpers that you had tried to hold back for so long, began to escape.

 The clock ticking echoed in your ears, taunting your brain with the idea of freedom. After what felt like an eternity, you had finished the lines, and you were a both dry and wet bloodied mess. You sat up from your seat and handed the now quiet professor your scarlet stained parchment full of scratches reading, “I will learn my place and be respectful to my superiors”, front and back.

“May I leave now?” you uttered.

She simply nodded with a conniving grin plastered on her face as she watched you walk out the door.

*****

You held your breath until you arrived back past the portrait into the Gryffindor Common Room, not wanting that evil woman to hear you cry. When you stepped into the room, you pressed your back to the cold wall next to you and grabbed your wrist, blood flow never-ending, and finally let the tears and sobs escape you, as your back fell down the wall. You were so blinded by the pain that you didn’t even notice there was someone in the room with you. They ran up from the couch, over to your place by the wall, and sat right next to you, pulling you into their lap. From the moment you discovered the figure, your brain and your heart knew it would be your George. Part of you had a feeling he wouldn’t sleep until you were back, and you didn’t want him to see you like this. You fought your brain which told you that you were allowing yourself to be the live weapon that Umbridge wanted you to be. You just hadn’t expected the pain to be so much. You hadn’t expected that you would collapse right in front of George. You so desperately wanted to be strong. To stay strong for him. For yourself. But, oh merlin, did it hurt.

His big arms wrapped around your shoulders and brought his hand to pull your bloodied one into his line of sight. His breathing hitched and he felt his blood run to his cheeks and his ears as his other hand clenched into a fist. He was seeing red at the extra bloodied hand you fostered, much worse than he had ever seen, even on Harry. But the rage he felt was nothing compared to the crunch of his heart splitting in two as your cries of pain reached his ears. He didn’t know what to do, he felt so helpless, just as he had all day, but a million times worse.

“Darling, I know. I’m so sorry. I’m- I’m so sorry. Please. Please, I have to wrap this. You have to let me wrap this,” he struggled, pleading with you.

Your head heard his words, and it told you to move, to stop crying, to say something. But your skin was on fire, and the roar of the flames outspoke the language of your brain trying to reason with your body. You were able to lean your head into his shoulder, as you tried to compose yourself as best as you could, but the best you could do was quiet your sobs ever so slightly, as any and all words fell silent in the back of your throat. Your tears soaked through his shirt and coated his upper arm that still held you. He began to take his arms and pull himself up, untangling himself from you. He moved to sit on his knees in front of you, eyes searching for yours as he tilted your chin up to look at him.

“My love. Please. I need to wrap your hand. Can I bring you to the couch?” he asked, peering through your eyes for an answer.

You slightly nodded your head, barely noticeable. But George, he saw it. He always saw it. He could read you better than anyone in the world. The moment he saw your head move, he scooped his arm under your bent legs and placed his other one across your back and under your arms. You turned your head into his shoulder as he gently move to place you on the couch, your back pressed to the arm of the chair. You pulled your knees up on the couch, moving your heels to touch your bottom. Splayed out across the table in front of you were bandages and a wrap for your hand. As the tears began finding themselves more and more scarce at the hope of relief, the smaller of the words at the back of your throat began to find their way out.

“Georgie?” you asked, coming out in a high-pitched whimper.

His deep, worrying eyes looked to you, hands finding your cheeks. He followed your eyes to the table and the equipment laying on it. An embarrassed blush came to his cheeks as his brows furrowed. Supplies. It was pathetic, he thought. He should’ve been the one being punished. But instead, it was you and there was absolutely nothing he could do except for find some simple supplies. Unable to even think about sleeping, he had snuck his way over to Madame Pomfrey in the medical wing as soon as you had exited the Common Room. He asked her for some supplies and after more than a lot of convincing that everything was okay and that he wasn’t up to anything that would get her in trouble, she suspiciously obliged. He knew you would refuse to see her anyways, not wanting to take up her time. And deep down, he too knew that there was not much she would be able to do for you, no matter how much he begged. Afterall, this was a punishment enacted by Umbridge herself, and no matter how much she wanted to, Pomfrey could not disregard the rules set in place by the self-proclaimed headmaster and inquisitor.

He turns back to you quickly trying to cover the look of shame and guilt on his face.

“I’m sorry… I’m so sorry,” his voice breaks, tears of his own forming.

You could see him fighting with his own mind over something that you were sure would split your heart right down the middle.

“George?” you squeaked out once more.

“I’m so sorry…It’s my fault. I was behind in class. It should’ve been me. Not you. I should’ve protected you, I-,” he finally lets it all come rushing out.

You cut him off by placing your good hand on his cheek, giving him a difficult and very broken smile. Your voice comes out raspy from the sobs you had forced down but determined now, as soon as you hear the pain in George's own voice. “No. This decision was mine, George. All mine…” you give the faintest of laughs, almost in disbelief. “And yet, I can’t find the mind to regret it… I would do it again… and again.”

He leaned into your touch, eyes wincing as you revealed to him that you would take this punishment and this pain for him once again.

“Look at me?” you whispered.

He brought his eyes up to meet yours. Your voice was a little bit clearer now, although wavering ever so slightly.

“My decision. Please do not take that away from me, Georgie. It was my decision to make, and I am so glad that I did. You are so smart. You know that, right?” You looked up at him from under your eyelashes through the now silent and mild tears that streamed down your face.

He shook his head. He couldn’t bring himself to even begin to describe himself as smart. If that were true, he thought, he would’ve found a way to be there with you. If that were true, you wouldn’t have been there at all. He couldn’t understand, how through all of the terror and pain, you were the one to comfort him. He simply began to unwrap the bandages from their place on the table and started to wrap them tightly around your hand to stop the blood from dripping any longer, a lot of it starting to dry already. When he was finished, you took your good hand and placed it on his cheek once again. You pulled him into a sweet, soft, salty kiss.

“Smart. Clever. Kind. Brave. Gentle,” you muttered these words in his ear as you rested your head on his shoulder, and he once again pulled you into his lap, this time, towards him.

“The strongest girl I know, so beautiful, so loving…,” he muttered back, caressing your hair, trailing off into magical, sweet nothings that mean quite everything to both of you.

“I love you, Georgie,” you whisper.

“I love you, darling,” he says.

“Will you stay with me tonight?” you ask the beautiful, ginger boy that you love so dearly.

“I will always stay with you, my love,” he says as he begins to lift your body from the couch to carry to your dorm. There the two of you find comfort in each other’s embrace, finally drifting off into a deep sleep.

[bonny-kookoo]

Bonny we love everything you do! If you are up to, what about IT girl has a date and jk open a live coincidently on the same day and time so she cannot go

(Ps: Her date is an asshole and jk knows it)

You guys have really made me wanna write this... Warnings for Jungkook's internal dirty thoughts haha

First part: here

There's no fucking way he will let you go on a date with someone like sangwook. Absolutely not.

You're way too nice to say no to the guy, and he himself knows that the staff member has a certain way with words, knows how to get his way. But Jungkook has also heard the horror stories of the guy getting girls drunk until they're barely conscious, just so he can have his way with them- and he won't just sit here and let that happen to you of all people.

Not if he can do anything about it.

Jungkook and you had honestly had a great time when you eventually came over to eat the re-heated instant noodles together. He learned some stuff about you, about your interest, about who you are apart from just your job. You share a lot more interests with him than initially thought, both of you having a love for gaming and good food. And he especially enjoyed how natural you were, treating him like a normal person, not like the idol he is.

Maybe that's why he just can't let you go now.

He'd heard of the date from Sangwook himself- he'd been chatting with another female staff about you, and how he'll 'find out' if you're 'as innocent' as you apparently act. It made Jungkook feel like throwing up, a guy like that potentially filling you up with alcohol just to eat you like prey- he can't let that happen.

You've told him how you seek love, romance, excitement and something almost childish.

Exactly what he wants, too.

So he goes live, the only way he knows he will keep you there, well aware that you take your job (hopefully) too seriously to go on a date instead. He doesn't know how close you are with him yet- maybe it's a lost cause, maybe Sangwook had been the reason you'd been so hesitant with jungkook in the first place-

But he has to try.

"Hm, hello." He greets the fans, but more so you who he hopes is watching on the other side. "Its quite sudden, isn't it?" He chuckles, holding onto the iced wine in the glass mug in front of him. "Looks like a date? Ah, yes it does, doesn't it?" He grins, acting all shy.

And there it is. An angry smiley- several, even.

It makes him chuckle as he reads the comments and imagines you fuming in your home, but he can take the heat coming his way if he at least prevents that horrible date from happening. Have you already started to get ready? He wonders what you might look like all dolled up. In a short dress maybe, one that hugs your curves just right, with simple delicate straps holding it up over your shoulders. He knows you need no fancy designer shit.

He'd rip it off of you either way.

"Army.." he hums, referring to the fans, but hoping that you get the message most of all. "If you go on dates, late- you be careful, right?" He says, taking a sip of his iced wine, before setting the mug down, and rolling up the sleeves of his shirt. There's another round of emojis flooding in, and he can't help but laugh.

He continues this game for almost an hour, making sure that your date was not happening, before he ends the live.

And not even half an hour later, you're in his apartment, fuming, angry, upset. But you're there, and not with him, so Jungkook can't help but be satisfied.

Especially at the sight of you in a strapless denim-dress. Short, but long enough to cover you comfortably. The fabric stretches a bit over your curves, tits looking so good but a little uncomfortable. He would just have to pull down a little, just a tiny bit, and they'd spill out, he's sure of it. He can't see bra straps.

Are you not wearing one? Interesting.

You're pushing him lightly. "You asshole!" You yell at him. "You knew I had a date! You knew it!" You complain, and he nods, a simple smile on his face, and it only angers you more. "Stop laughing!" You demand, but he just raises his hands as if to show you he's no threat, but you just reach out to push him again-

But instead he pulls your wrists towards him, wraps his arms around you, completely catching you off guard as he holds you close, trying hard to ignore your body's warmth against his.

"I'm glad you didn't go." He says, and it sounds surprisingly serious. "I was worried you might." He tells you, and you hate how good he looks, how good he smells.

"Cause you wouldn't have someone to play around with?" You mumble still angry, and he chuckles.

"I'm not playing with you." He denies, swaying you both from side to side a little. "I really am not." He says as if to make sure his point gets to you.

"And yet you still ruined my date.." you complain.

"Sangwook isn't worth your time." He shakes his head.

"Oh but you are?" You scoff. He chuckles. Again.

"I mean, you're here, are you not?" He states.

You are. And you're not sure why you're here, why you didn't at least change, why you don't want to leave just yet.

"To tell you to stop trying to ruin my love life." You snap back in defense, and he laughs.

"Then stop trying to ruin mine." He says back, making you freeze in his arms before you both detach a little. "I thought we were good? Why did you agree to that date?" He wonders, and you shrug, crossing your arms.

"He asked... nicely, you know?" You say, looking at the floor.

"And you couldn't say no." He sighs. "Because you're too nice yourself." He scolds softly.

"I just.. wanted to, you know, talk to someone. Be social. Spend my evening with something else than animal crossing and icecream.." you try and justify yourself, and Jungkook suddenly opens his arms wide, shaking his head before he hits his chest.

"Am I not right here?" He complains. "Am I just an illusion or something?"

"..no?" You wonder, and he tilts his head in irritation for a moment.

"Then why am I not an option for you?" He asks, a little agitated. "I thought we were fine last time you were here. We had a really good time, talked, fuck I thought we were going somewhere!" He complains.

"I'm just.. scared." You say, and he runs a hand over his face.

"I know." He nods. "Lets just- okay. Do you want to try this?" He asks, motioning between you and him. "Yes or no."

"I don't know-" you start, but he shakes his head.

"Not an answer, try again." He tells you, crossing his arms.

"Jungkook what if we get caught-" You start again, but he denies it again.

"Yes or no. It's pretty easy." He says.

"What's your answer?" You ask, and he throws his head back in agony. "Okay, yeah- yes? But-"

"Good, great, fuck!" He barks out to no one, before he holds your face in his palms. "Just trust me. Please." He begs, eyes sparkling in both the light of the candle on his kitchen table, and the neon colored laser points traveling all around his walls from his moodlight.

"What do you want from me?" You ask, and he smiles.

"Your love." He answers, before he shrugs playfully. "And maybe the occasional fuck on the couch if I'm in the mood-" he starts, and you hit his chest at that, though you laugh.

"So you really do just want to screw me!" You whine, crossing your arms- unaware of how you're pushing up your cleavage.

"No, baby." He shakes his head, tongue running over his lip piercing. "I don't only want to fuck you." He answers.

"Though I won't say no if you're ever offering."

[palaceofpassion]

Ren asks Truth Or Dare to Ciel and when she picks Dare he makes her sit on Jaune's lap for the next three truth and dares.

Dare 1

Dare 2> Here

Ren thought for a moment, his turn having come up rather quickly, leaving him little time to think on a long dare.

"Alright."

Thankfully he hadn't needed to ponder long till he'd finally come up with something interesting.

"Ciel."

The astute girl turned her attention towards him, her expression unshifting even as certain doom dawned upon her.

"Yes?"

"Truth or Dare?"

The woman thought for a moment before deciding to be bold. "Dare."

Ren smirked, his eyes turning towards Pyrrha who gave him a honed gaze. Her eyes squinting to him as if she realized he was challenging her.

"I dare you, to sit atop Jaune's lap for the next three truth or dares."

There was silence, no one wanted to say anything, no one could say anything. It wasn't as if this was the lewdest thing that could have happened and most expected it to get worse before it got better. But to come from Ren? And so early?

"Ren you can't be-"

Jaune's attempt to stop his friend was cut off the moment he felt the weight up on his lap shift. His eyes widened as the smaller girl tucked herself beneath his chin.

"Dare complete."

Ciel brought her attention up to Jaune, "I can not allow you to sink your fangs into anyone else, while I'm here, I'll make sure your lust is concentrated on me."

He gawked, Pyrrha Gawked and then she glared at Ren, who ignored her. Even May gawked for a moment.

"I uh... what?"

He should have been used to Ciel's eccentrecies. He wasn't sure if she actually believed he was some kind of rampaging sexual monster, or if she was just fucking with him. But... none of that really mattered, especially with how soft her ass was, or how warm and squishy it was, it was only made worse as she shifted grinding herself against his growing member.

"Oh, I can feel your beastial spirit stirring already... you're already trying to violate me, even through our clothing. I can not let you go after all." It made things worse as she quite literally nuzzled into him, "If need be, you may use my body, as you please."

Jaune felt humiliated as several people, namely, Sun Yang, and Nora gave him knowing smiles.

Weiss however, looked at him with shock and horror. "That... that's improper! I... there is no way that he's... that it's... that! Arc can not be satisfying!"

Weiss hadn't meant to be insulting, it was just that she'd become too flustered to quickly.

Now Pyrrha was incised, ready to get after her, only for Ciel to chime in. "I can gaurantee you, Arc is far above average. I can already feel his vigor from just these few seconds."

She made sure everyone knew she was serious as she very visibly started to grind against him.

"Damn girl..." Emerald couldn't help it, "I guess the quiet ones are the ones we have to watch out for."

She whispered to Reese, who nodded along.

"Hell yeah, we starting to get horny now?!"

May half expected Pyrrha to be fuming, but instead she saw the sly smile on her face, a cold chill slowly running up her spine.

[starshipsofstarlord]

Hiya when u gave the time can you please a continuation of the luke from skins one where they were in Morocco and they are both back from Bristol now and they see eachother again and it’s a smut where they r high and kinda intense if that makes sense 😂 ❤️

What Happens in Morocco, Stays in Morocco

This is part two to this imagine, find it here

Pairing | Luke x reader

Summary | perhaps, you were wrong. Not everything stays in Morocco. It is a tradition for things to come back to bite you in the ass, more so when you have been forced to be clean, and kept away from any kind of drugs.

Warnings | use of drugs, addiction, smut, it’s bit dark so read at your own risk, this is a warning so please keep that in mind,

Quick link to my masterlist, if you’re interested in reading more of my crap 😬

An insatiable stirred within your gut, pelting you with reminders of what you had lost after Morocco. The love of your life had been departed from your shaking grip, the people that claimed to care about you forcing you to be sober off the high that it gave you. Drugs. It was your only desire, but you stayed strong as you walked back from college, even as you saw a dealer out of the corner of your eye, trading his special product with someone in your English class, that sat two seats to the right of you.

Licking your lips, you held onto the straps of your rucksack tighter, hoping that the weight of all the items within it would succumb you under the lenient pressure that it composed against your spine, pushing you into a lower station of dwelling, so that you would feel nothing, and the emptiness sure as hell would not be burdening you with satisfactory mockery.

At such a young age, you had found a friend, even if it be absorbed into a conversation through digestion or clouded fumes. And without its presence you were someone else, a stranger trudging hopelessly through the ambient streets of Bristol, lost and in need for a high. That holiday had been the end of you, your friends didn’t say it, but you were more than certain that they were thinking such a spectacle.

Whilst you were amped up on various chemicals that engorged your veins with images of new possibilities, you were far from a sullen composure; you were happy. You had no problem speaking to Nick’s brother, though everyone seemed to be wary of him, and listening to Grace talk about her various recitals, and the strictness that her father intended upon her. To everyone you had been a breath of fresh air, until that place that they called rehab.

In there they had starved you from the one thing that you had truly craved. Even the security guy wouldn’t trade a blowjob for a little picking of white powder, and it showed you how messed up their priorities were. Morocco, it had been an escape, something you were sure it never feel again, but you wanted to, so desperately.

“If it isn’t the wisp of the waters, in the flesh, and looking like she could use a pick me up.” A blonde male asked, he couldn’t have been much older than yourself. There were scrapes adorning his pale complexion, brandishing his cheek with what could only be seen as battle scars from a testosterone endorsed fight.

“I’m sorry, but who the fuck are you?” You roughly spoke, having no recollection of ever meeting this man in your life, though, half of your memory was boggled. Going cold turkey appeared to have had that affect on you, but a deep internal part of you was warning you to leave now, and conserve your own safety from whatever offer he was about to propose.

Sure, you’d have once done anything, but the possibility of danger preached louder when there was nothing numbing your blood stream, and dirtying the contents that ran through it. A small snicker fled from the boy’s mouth, revealing that he was much amused by your naivety. He tilted his head, observing you with a lick of his lips, plodding closer as you froze.

“We’ve met before.” He toyed inside his pockets, extracting a clear bag that contained a couple of vibrant yellow pills that had your heart beating promiscuously against the captivity of your ribcage. “In fact, we got to know each other very well darling, your manners weren’t so spectacular then either, though they sure were better. It appeared as though you rather enjoyed the attention and now you’re here, looking like an innocent doe under the flare of headlights.”

“I don’t do that kinda stuff any more.” But you wanted to. It didn’t matter what prospects spewed out of your mouth in the form of conjunctive excuses, it was more than clear that you were aggressively attracted to the small spheres that had caught your attention fast. “I’d find the next girl to corrupt, because I’m clean and intend to stay that way.” Did you?

“You’re already corrupted, there’s no point in dismissing this, because it is what you want. But you’re denying urself from the simple luxuries of life, all because ripple; family, friends, think its better for you. They want you to be healthy, though that entails you perceiving though life as someone that you aren’t.” He sighed, rolling his shoulders slightly as his eyes bore around your sullen demeanour, recognising every trace that your body showed of restraining itself. “I’m Luke. And you, you are y/n, aren’t you? I’m sure I heard your friends call you that on holiday.”

Gulping, you realised that this must have been the boy that fucked with Frankie’s head, and made one of your group disappear, all whilst Grace was away, and in intensive care. As soon as it all clicked, you felt overwhelmed. There was nothing that you could do against him, he had already broken everything around you, whether that was his intent or not. Without thinking at all, you snatched the self made packet out of the clasp of his fingers, emptying the contents into your palm, throwing them into your mouth.

“Good girl.” It felt like a taunt, he was messing with you, you knew that. But it wasn’t his fault that you were messed up; all that was on you. “Don’t you want some water with that, it might make it wash down easier?” To answer him, you swallowed the pills dry cocking a brow at him as he pulled out another clear sachet of impulsive medications, taking it himself before you could whisk it away and endure further affects yourself.

Luke, feeling the tingle himself, pulled you down the alley that he was occupying, pressing your numbed back against the wall, his mouth running along your cheek as you felt swarmed with various desires. A part of you wanted to push him away, and beat him until he could no longer walk, but the other wanted nothing more than to feel his toxic skin dragging along yours, increasing the high that was spurring around your lungs until you felt like you could no longer breathe.

Your hands were uncertain of where they were supposed to be, and thus they roamed around his thin arms, grasping at his shoulders as his face sunk into the crook of your neck, his hands daring below your skirt, and feeling you up over your panties. Every touch he presented upon your burning flesh induced sparks to collapse in your mind, displaying through each of your appendages. “Fuck me, or I’ll find someone else to a better job.” You snarled at him, growling as he chuckled at your desperation.

“Now I recognise you, instead of that good girl facade.” He nipped at your neck, dropping his preppy slacks as he grasped his cock, thrusting your panties to the side so that he could penetrate your cunt, a cry abandoned your throat, echoing around the nearby streets. Your walls convulsed around him as you felt full and completely satisfied with the sensation. The memories of him flooded back into your mind as you pictured Morocco. He had stalked over towards you as though you were his prey, and it seemed that he had continued to hunt you down.

The thought was kinda hot, and thus you clenched your teeth, succumbing to an orgasm around him, whimpering as he slipped himself out, jerking his length so that he spilled his seed over your legs. “I have more of the good stuff back home, you fancy coming over?” Hazily you nodded, as his wobbling hand grasped your face, smashing his poisonous lips upon yours, suffocating all the good that you had been laboured into, making you swim in the darkness of his pupils as the two of you wobbled away from the scene, his cum still painted upon your legs as the two of you slowly headed towards his flat.

[lyallblacklupin]

It’s not Black!

Wolfstar: Fluff/Domestic

Sirius has a big charity event to attend at his work, and is allowed to bring a date. He doesn’t have to think because he already have a certain someone sitting at his apartment, also known to be his fiancé. However, the fiancé is super self-conscious about his appearance for the upcoming event. Sirius buys him a suit he is not satisfied with, and it there is a very authentic reason to it. If authenticity includes the color of the suit, then yes.

“But I bought this for you!”

“But this is for you!”

“No its not!”

“I mean of course—but it’s not for me!”

“Moony!” Sirius glares at Remus, fuming like an angry puppy, “I bought this suit for my formally known fiancé so that he could wear this to this upcoming charity event where I am to bring him as my date. Is that clear now? Oh and for the record, my fiancé is you, i hope you know what.”

Remus throws his hands in the air as his  gesture of annoyance, and falls on the couch nearby with his hands now holding his face.

“I mean why is it so difficult for you to understand what I’m trying to say?” He mumbles, his hands still covering his precious face.

Sirius feels heat rise to his cheeks, feeling mortified at the other’s question.

“What!? I always understand what you try to say, but right now you’re not even trying a little bit!”

“Why do I have to try?” Remus groans, “It’s your job to decipher my vague comments.”

Sirius is getting impatient because of his lover’s rude and pointless arguments, and also he can’t see Remus’ facial expressions at least which is driving him crazy. He takes a deep breath, and stayed silent for moment. He was gradually trying to make sense. Why Remus doesn’t think this suit is for him? Because he doesn’t want to wear it. Why he doesn’t want to wear it? Because he doesn’t want to go to the event.

“Okay, you mean you don’t want to go to the event with me. It’s fine, but you can always tell me you know,” He is slightly hurt because Remus doesn’t have any good reason for him to not go, but he is concerned why he didn’t say it to his face, “I’ll try to get back early tonight—but don’t wait up, okay?”

Sirius is turning back to go into their closet to hang the suit in the cupboard. Maybe I can return it tomorrow to the store. But before is out of their room, Remus catches him by his wrist, and Sirius struggles to fight his hurt expressions.

“Look at those puppy eyes,” Remus grins, stroking the other’s cheeks with the pad of his thumb. He leans in and kisses Sirius’ left eyelid, and then right.

Sirius was now heating up because of the fluttering in his stomach, which never stopped even after their five years of relationship. Sirius proposed him few months ago, and it feels like they are in a newly committed relationship all over again. It’s more than amazing.

“Who knew that the excellent student at Hogwarts, the most cunning marauder, and the ingenious employee of the year who by the way is getting promoted in few weeks, can be this stupid to make out my vague speech so, so horribly?”

Sirius just looks at him because it’s soothing. Remus is so beautiful to stare at, especially those amber eyes. He can stare at them forever.

“Why would you think that I’m trying not to go at that party of yours? I mean I do undermine myself because you look way out of my league obviously, but going out where you let people know how much you adore me and find me special, makes so honored.”

Sirius doesn’t know what to say. Then what could be the logical explanation to this?

“Infact I’ve been feeling so conscious about myself ever since you’ve told me about this event—i don’t know what will look good on me.”

Now everything is making sense.

“You didn’t like the suit?” Sirius asks.

“Well—i did like it...” Remus is biting his lower lip, smiling sheepishly, “it’s just not for me...”

“Moony, you’re doing it again.”

“Yeah sorry! It’s just that—not a big concern but It’s black!”

Sirius blinks at him, confused.

“Say that again?”

“It’s Black!” Remus exclaims, absolutely anxious. Sirius was utterly perplexed. What the hell is Black? Me? Of course! But He knows I hate being called Black. That’s why I’m marrying you Mr Lupin!

“Me?” He tries.

“Ahhhh!!” Remus stomps his feet like a grumpy baby, “The suit! You dummy!”

“It’s not black!” Sirius retorts half heartedly because IT IS NOT BLACK!

“Yes! The suit. Is. Black! I can not be much clearer than that, Sirius! Otherwise, you love to argue with me and I’m not happy about it.”

“The suit. Is. NOT. Black! It’s Ebony!”

Thank Merlin! There is no retaliation because Remus Lupin is standing there in the middle of their bedroom, in his grey pyjamas, and tousled ash blonde hair, looking thoroughly dumbfounded. And not to mention, extremely cute!

“It’s not...” He says but trails off. Sirius has to keep himself from kissing him senseless.

“It is ebony, love. It looks black in these lightnings. Let me show you again.” He drops the suit hanger on their bed, and opens their curtains to let in some sunlight. And viola! Remus’ face is now relaxed as a certain inaudible ‘oh’ came out from his mouth. Sirius smiles at him.

“But let’s hear it what’s with your aversion to black color?” He asks him gently.

“It’s your color.” Remus says that under his breath but the other heard him already.

“Who say you can’t wear black?” Sirius has now slipped his hands into Remus’ waist, locking him in his embrace. Their faces were mere centimeters away from each other.

“You know how to pull it off, you know...”

“You think you can’t pull off black?” Sirius asks incredulously, and Remus doesn’t say anything, “Merlin, now that you brought that up, I’ve been dreaming about you since fourth year—That’s what like seven years ago—and in my ultimate fantasy I have always seen you wearing black!”

“You fantasied me wearing black?” Remus says as if he heard a joke.

“Yes! Because Black is sexy. I never bought you anything black because i never saw you wearing it ever! Like we’ve been living with each other for what? 11 years! And i thought you never like it. I honestly thought you had some aversion to it. But then turns out you have were in love with guy named Black who also wear black as his last name.

“You are sexy! Black is sexy! And oh—“ Sirius groans, “—oh you would look even sexier when you come in front of me wearing it. Oh Merlin, Lupin, let me get you a black suit.”

Remus looks scarlet. He was hiding his face again under his hands but this time Sirius could feel him grinning goofily. Sirius brings his hands up to wrap them around his wrists, and reveal his flustered face.

“Come on, show me your pretty face.”

“I’m not pretty.” Remus murmurs.

“Okay, you are not pretty. You are sexy. You are so beautiful, the most gorgeous, you—“ He finally pulls Remus’ hands away, and quickly grabs his face to pull him in a passionate kiss. He deepens the kiss and Remus feels so soft, and he feels like shrinking into Sirius’ body as his hands are swaddling him by his torso, his legs are coming up for Sirius to grab him up. And he did. Now Remus was completely wrapped around him. His head is buried into his shoulders. Sirius rocks him, kissing every part of his body he could reach his lips to.

“I love you.” Remus’ muffled voice comes from the shoulder which immediately melts Sirius’ heart.

“Oh, I love you too, my Moony. So that means you’re wearing black tonight? No ebony, no felony?”

Remus reappears from his arms to face him, smiling crookedly. His flushed cheeks illuminating his face.

“Whatever you choose, love.” He confirms.

“Oh, tonight is going to be the best night of my life!” Sirius spins them so hard that they fell on the bed, soaking in other’s warmth and laughter.

[seventfics]

Autumn Birds

Written for @witcher-rarepair-summer-bingo

Prompt: We fell in love, but your previous lover reappeared/returned Relationships: Eskel/Jaskier (w/ past!Geralt/Eskel and past!Geralt/Jaskier) Rating: T Content Warnings: None Summary: They’d met just as the leaves were turning yellow. 

Read on AO3

* * *

They’d met just as the leaves were turning yellow.

Jaskier had heard of a witcher staying in town and, as was his prerogative since his acquaintance with a certain White Wolf, he’d ventured to see what the man was all about. It was not so often one got to meet someone of their caste. Why not have a little courage to break the ice himself?

The whispers spoke of a witcher with a terribly scarred face. Two swords strapped over his back, their pommels shaped into wolf heads. The women said he had a voice like a dog’s growl, so grave that when he spoke, it made children cry.

He thought that last bit was rather mean, and followed the trail of curses into a grimy tavern where a fight was about to break out.

“You promised fifty.”

“The best I can do is half.”

Jaskier’s hand freezes on the door. Whatever he’s come to doesn’t look good. The witcher’s back is to him, his padded shoulders raised with tension. The village’s alderman paces in front of him, fuming over a contract’s fee. There’s a few antsy people in the crowd too. The anger written on their faces makes him nervous.

He’s seen how this ends a dozen times. It’s gotten his own arse kicked butting into the middle of a witcher’s bargaining, actually.

“Now, now, gentlemen,” Jaskier interjects boisterously from the doorframe anyway. “This is no mood for drink and cheer. Calm your spirits with a little of the former—”

The alderman grumbles under his breath about merry idiots meddling in what they shouldn’t. “Shut up, bard. This here’s serious business. And I’m not about to be robbed by a witcher’s ridiculous high prize.”

“It’s not ridiculous. The contract says fifty, and,” the witcher stops to lift the bloody stump of a water hag’s head, “it’s already done.”

“That contract was up weeks ago. The reward’s gone down. You’re lucky half’s on the table at all.”

The witcher grunts—a familiar sound to Jaskier’s ears which translates to wordless annoyance—and drops the head on the floor. “You’re lucky the hag didn’t move closer into the village in that time.”

“Is that a threat?”

At the rising outrage in his tone, Jaskier slips closer to stare at the alderman over the witcher’s swordless shoulder. “Ah, I believe the witcher means more of your people would have died, had he not taken care of the problem so promptly. The reward hardly sounds like an unreasonable amount. I could get twice as much on a profitable eve of singing. In fact,” he flips to the witcher, who does not yet deign to look back at his unforeseen defender, “I could turn this place around and earn us both a decent share in one night. I’m no fop on the job!”

It’s then that the witcher looks towards him, but the bard only manages a quick glimpse of an incredulous set of eyebrows before the alderman starts shouting.

“Get out! Both of you! Out of my town or I’ll have the dogs chase you out!”

They both take that as their leave, Jaskier with a bit more speed in his jog.

At the outskirts the witcher turns fully, and at the sight of his whole face Jaskier almost gasps out loud. A long scar runs through his cheek, from eyebrow to jaw, and over his lips. It puckers the skin all around it, disfiguring half of his face.

Whatever caused that scar must have hurt a lot.

The witcher shifts in place, quiet for a long second as Jaskier does his best to hide his nerves. “I’m sorry to have involved you.”

“Oh, please, don’t be. I involved myself. Jaskier’s the name, by the way,” he introduces himself, hand extended in greeting.

The witcher scratches the back of his head. His lips twist to one side, bashful. One of his teeth peeks through the scarred tissue over his mouth. “Uh. Eskel.” He takes the offered hand and shakes it.

It’s the firmest handshake Jaskier has ever received.

“Well, Eskel. Are you short on coin? Because so am I.”

The snort he gets is—soft. Not at all like the gruff from before, with the alderman.

“I’m not doing too bad, I’d say. Just currently fifty short of what I expected to have at the end of the day.”

"How about I help with that? I wasn't lying when I said I could earn both a decent share, given the right crowd."

It's the sunset hour, and the leaves were falling on top of them. Everything is gold. The sky, the trees. Eskel’s eyes when they blink at him and he breaks into a genuine laugh.

Jaskier knows he’s a romantic. His heart flutters every odd day over strangers with pretty smiles. He’s just never seen such a shy, sweet smile on someone with such an intimidating facade.

Making him smile again became a personal quest.

* * *

At the next town over, Eskel speaks to the alderman there. This one is more reasonable at least, and up front about the sort of beast that lurks in the northern farms. Which brings up a whole new conversation as Jaskier doesn’t part from Eskel’s side despite the obvious danger.

Eskel grunts and sits him down, not unlike the times Geralt tried—and failed—to convince him to stay put. Jaskier just blinks his pretty blue eyes and says, “and how will I write a song of your prowess in battle if I am not there to witness it?”

“This is a dangerous contract, bard. It would be best if you let me handle it alone.”

“Oh no. No, no, I’ve heard that before a dozen times.”

Eskel pauses at that. “What?”

“I am perfectly capable of staying out of your way.”

The wyvern they encounter says otherwise.

To be fair, he had done a good job of staying out of the witcher’s way for most of the fight. It is only when the beast slams its tail into Eskel’s side on a backswing that Jaskier shouts in worry from his hiding place and brings undue attention to himself.

Wind whips around him for a split second, scattering dust into his eyes. It takes a moment to wipe them clean so of course he doesn’t see the great shadow flying at him. Doesn't realize the immediate need to hide or flee for his life until a giant claw snatches him by the bunched fabric on his back.

Jaskier's stomach plummets as he soars up. The ground recedes. His clothes start to rip. This is it, he panic-screams in his mind, this is his final day. Either as monster food or a blood splatter on a rock, his time has come.

A severe overreaction, and his own mistake for not trusting in a witcher's skill. He doesn't realize it in all, what with all his flailing about, but Eskel fires a crossbow bolt perfectly at the wyvern’s eye.

The beast screeches terribly loud in his ears. It flaps its wings once, twice, before twisting midair and letting him go.

They both fall, but Eskel catches him.

By the silence that follows after an earth-shaking crunch, he knows the witcher's won. Victory is not immediately on his mind, though. The way his sight spins and the sun paints a halo behind Eskel's hair, Jaskier dumbly thinks, oh—I've quite literally fallen in love.

“See?” he says instead, breathless with terror at almost having died, “I’m perfectly fine.”

Eskel raises a thick brow at him. And he's smiling too, the bard thinks. Could just be the scar making it look like a lopsided smile, but he wants to believe that he's made the witcher smile again with his foolish sense of humor.

“Are you alright? The tail,” Jaskier frets once his vision settles. Some of these monsters have poisoned stingers on the end of their tails. Are wyverns one of them?

But Eskel waves him down before he can consider the worst. “Relax. I cast Quen in time.”

“That’s a, uh, magic shield, right?”

Surprise colors Eskel's features. So it seems he's right. A point of pride on Jaskier's belt for remembering witcher signs.

Getting proof of a contract well done takes the witcher a good minute to collect. Wyvern skin is tough. The head would normally satisfy as proof, but it's too heavy to be lugging around town. He will have to make do with the wing tips. Should they question him, the remains aren't going anywhere.

“Come on, bard. Time to get our day's work done. And after that, we're going west.”

“'We'?” Something about the proclamation has his heart beating fast.

“'Course. I'm not letting you out of my sight now.”

He makes a show of bowing dramatically. “I wouldn’t want to be elsewhere.”

* * *

“You’re a friend of Geralt’s.”

Jaskier looks up from his notes.

Traveling with someone is always interesting—with a witcher even more so. So far he's learned that Eskel has far more routines than Geralt ever did, like counting his coin at the end of every week, and making sure he has two of every potion ready.

Jaskier quirks a half-smile. “I am. How did you figure? I never said his name.”

“Your song.” He points to the scribbled mess on his lap. “Or, I guess your work in progress. I see an expression he uses a lot, that he learned from me.”

“Oh?”

Eskel sits by him and nods, as if finally understanding Jaskier’s odd ease partnering with a witcher, and starts the story of where the expression in his handwriting originated from.

It’s funny at first, imagining a much younger, somehow more foolish Geralt together with this huge, frightening man who is not frightening at all to talk to. Eskel speaks so softly, so tenderhearted about the old memory—two boys, witchers-to-be, practically joined at the hip, making crude jokes. So he reciprocates with a tale of where he comes from, as destiny deigned to put them in each other’s paths.

As it happens, a lot of their first stories aren’t even their own, but Geralt’s.

And Eskel has many more over his. He’s more than happy to share them over camp.

Some of it leaves Jaskier’s throat aching. This is someone who clearly cares about his big grumpy friend. It's someone he can understand.

Then Eskel claps a bare hand on his back, his thumb and forefinger a hot press just under his nape, and oh, he’s more than a little foolishly in love actually, as his head is emptied of all reason at the small touch.

“Am I to become your travel bard,” Jaskier quips with an airy giggle. “I’m excellent entertainment at parties.”

“Not for long. It’s almost winter. Soon I’ll have to head north to meet my brothers.”

His heart sinks. “Oh.”

Eskel squeezes his shoulder with careful strength. “You better keep out of trouble while I’m gone, you hear?”

“Of course. I don’t go looking for trouble.”

“No, trouble just finds you.”

Well, if ‘trouble’ is a scarred, smirking witcher, he sure hopes that to be true.

* * *

They meet again when the trees are just beginning to color with spring blooms.

There is also a griffin tearing through the town's cattle, but that’s besides the point. Easily dealt with. Which is good, seeing as Jaskier had been near the scene and probably next on the menu. No one had told him about the griffin, so really. He's just as surprised to find Eskel as he is about the beast.

“You alright, bard?”

“I am now.”

Matter resolved, Jaskier walks in step next to Eskel. The town opens before them, welcoming the witcher not with smiles, but grudging gratitude.

“You sure? Trouble didn’t come knocking while I was gone?”

“Only a man with a lover’s grudge come to kick my ass out of a wonderfully luxurious establishment. Didn’t even get to enjoy the hot bath I paid for, which is such a terrible waste of hot water.”

A deep hum comes out of the witcher. “A lover’s grudge?”

“Just a past dalliance that won’t forget me.”

Eskel stops and shifts on his feet, like he wants to say something but he doesn’t know how to start.

Oh, witchers and their awkward conversation skills.

“You know what, I’m starving. I think a good, hearty meal is owed between us. What do you say we go collect your reward and we break fast at the alderman’s recommendation?”

“We don’t have to get the coin right now. I could go for some food.”

“First tavern we see then. Come on.”

Right as he says it, he wraps his arm around Eskel’s, and maybe he’s just being too obvious, too hopeful, but Eskel doesn’t shrug him off. They make their way to a large and welcoming tavern, him talking his head off about the barn smell that permeates the whole town and ignoring the dark looks people give them down the street, as Eskel listens, not a word coming from his mouth. It worries Jaskier a minute that he’s becoming more annoyance than the teasing meddler he wants to be. But Eskel is just scratching his chin, looking down and letting Jaskier lead.

When it becomes clear that Eskel doesn’t have any rented lodgings yet, Jaskier offers his own. “I’m sure the innkeeper won’t mind us bunking if we pay for two, at the end of our stay.”

Eskel doesn't say no. He also doesn't say yes. It takes them finally being settled in a table of their own, full of fruits, cheese and bread, neither of them taking the first bite to eat, for Jaskier to nervously ask, “What is it?”

“Nothing,” comes the too-quick response.

“If I overstepped in some way, please tell me.”

“It’s nothing like that, I—uh.” Eskel shakes his head, his expression scrunched up unpleasantly.

“Whatever it is, I won’t be offended.”

He's already writing a million apologies in his head for any of his imagined offenses, that he's not quite prepared for what Eskel says instead.

“You are...different from what I expected.”

Jaskier blinks. “How so?”

“I don’t know. You’re just. Human. You’re normal.” He makes a point of gesturing at the table, the people keeping their distance. “I don’t get why you do all this for me.”

It's slow-creeping, but once the pieces align, Jaskier starts to understand what he means. That confusion, he’s known it with Geralt. Why do you stick with me? What does a witcher have to offer a human that isn’t the service of a silver sword? What does a human want with a mutant when there are plenty of other ordinary, uncomplicated folk in the world to have for company?

“Because you’re a good man,” he tells the witcher gently. “Because you saved my life and I want to repay you in kind. Most reasonably of all, because we’re friends, and friends take care of each other.”

Of course there’s more to it than that, but if a friend is all Eskel wants, then a friend he shall be.

The rumble of the tavern fills the air as Eskel stares at him a little wide-eyed. Jaskier gives him a slight smile. As a close, he pushes the platter of cheese forward with an encouraging, “now eat your fill, my friend.”

Once Eskel returns his smile, he thinks that, well, that everything will turn out alright.

And they’re happy eating their food when Geralt shows up for the griffin that’s already dead.

At his distinct silhouette, Eskel stands up. “White Wolf.”

“Eskel,” Geralt calls back gravely.

They clasp arms and pat each other’s shoulders in sync. It might not seem like much to outsiders, but what a rare sight to behold—two witchers, two mirrored grins on both their faces.

Eskel is the first to part from the hug with a chiding, “You didn’t come for winter.”

“I know. I had a lot going on. Saw your handiwork hooked to your horse’s saddle.” Then he looks down, and spots Eskel's table company. “Jaskier?”

“Geralt.”

Their held eye-contact feels longer than it is. Looking away, Jaskier half expects the whole tavern to be staring at them, but as it turns out, no one cares to pay the witchers and their odd bard any attention now that the monster's been dealt with. It's just him, imagining his heart hanging out of his sleeve for everyone to judge.

And maybe Eskel senses something's up between them, because he leaves them with the excuse to collect his coin.

“I haven’t seen you in a while,” Jaskier says after Geralt takes Eskel's abandoned seat. “Have you really been so busy that you couldn’t let your friends know you were alive?”

Geralt's silence is its own answer—a little shame, a little remorse. He remembers how Eskel had said that as time went on, Geralt just, lost touch. There had been something heavy in Eskel’s eyes when he said it, and Jaskier had felt it in his soul. Now he understands why. Him and Eskel, they'd both gone through the same impossible task of loving someone who doesn’t believe he can be loved.

By gods, he still loves Geralt, but Geralt's heart is a rusty cage, and neither of them can coax the old bird that lives in it anymore. Soft words and gentle promises have run their course.

“So,” the witcher starts, “you and Eskel? Didn't know you knew each other.”

“Maybe if you’d met either of us during winter you would have heard.” The phrasing's rough, but there's no resentment in his voice. He would have liked to know that Geralt had been safe in his wintering home, with Eskel.

“Yeah. I’m...surprised.” Jaskier raises his brow at him. Which just earns a quick shake of Geralt’s head. “He doesn’t make friends easily.”

“Neither do you, and yet look at us.”

“Look at us,” he echoes, staring at the empty plates.

“We missed a lot of opportunities together, didn’t we?” It doesn't make the truth any easier to swallow, but acknowledging the what-could-have-beens has always made him feel better afterward. Like closing a book, and getting ready to open a new one. He hopes Geralt knows that there's no bridges destroyed between them. Only those missed moments.

He still very much cares for Geralt, and he knows that Geralt does as well. They just have to come to terms with what's over—and what might come next.

“I won’t lie to you,” Jaskier adds more seriously. “I don’t want to miss any opportunities with him.”

The 'him' in question is unmistakable. Geralt nods. He looks down, one end of his mouth drawing up to dimple his cheek.

He says, like an olive branch offering, “His favorite flower is yarrow. Not because they’re pretty, but because they’re useful in the most surprising ways.”

* * * 

They spend the day catching up, all three of them, before Geralt is on the road again, taking his own path. Jaskier sees how it brightens Eskel’s spirits to have seen him off, and cheers up twofold. 

“I’ve known him practically my whole life,” Eskel tells him.

“I’ve known him half of mine.”

“So you understand.”

“That he’s a prat? Oh yes. Good at heart, backwards about verbalizing it. Cheeky when he wants to be. Oh by the way, here.”

From out of his little travel bag, Jaskier pulls a swathe of yarrows.

“Saw some at market street,” he explains, presenting them. “Thought you might find use in them for your potions.”

Eskel turns to him, his bright witcher eyes bouncing between him and the yarrows. Jaskier feels his heart climb up his throat, wondering what runs through Eskel's mind that makes him pause for so long.

Then Eskel takes them with one hand and with the other, he touches Jaskier’s face. It's big, warm, calloused against his skin. And sudden.

“‘Cheeky when he wants to be’, right?”

Jaskier stutters to say, “Well, yes, I mean, but this isn’t about him—”

He forgets how to speak after Eskel kisses him. It’s the lightest peck on the corner of his lips, so light that once he draws back, he wonders if he's not still dreaming back in their rented room.

“Thank you. I know just what to use them for.”

The yarrow gets tucked away with the other herbs in Eskel's saddlebag. A few glasses clink together as he moves things around so they don’t get crushed. And then, as Jaskier stands there, stupefied and slack-jawed, Eskel mounts his steed, a soot-black beauty that neighs softly at Jaskier’s face.

“Where are you headed for now?”

“Nowhere. Anywhere.” Wherever you’ll go, he thinks to himself. Wherever you'll have me.

Eskel grins wide at him, and it's the most beautiful sight, his smile, with all his teeth gleaming.

“That sounds like trouble.”

[canyouhearthelight]

The Miys, Ch. 134

Since I am queueing this chapter the same that I queued the last one, I just want to say:

If you have found my story in the last week, and liked it, thank you. It makes me smile when that happens.

If you shared my story with others, and they liked it, or even found a little bit of themselves in it, I’m very glad. Thank you for sharing something with your friends that they enjoyed.

As always, thank you to @the-raven-fae, @anotherusrname, @baelpenrose, and @charlylimph-blog for being my ports in all storms and the family everyone deserves to have.

Annnd the podcast. Don’t miss the podcast!  I don’t profit from it in any way, shape, or form, but the idea of a version of this story that is more accessible for people who would struggle to read it is something that should always be supported! 

A week later, I was wincing and out of breath when I reached my office for the day.  Tyche had enthusiastically agreed with Arthur’s suggestion, and after some tests from Maverick showed that I could apparently kick hard enough to break a grown man’s pelvis - although not without also breaking my foot - I had been expected to be in the gym for nearly two hours every day.  My legs hurt and my feet looked worse than the time I tried to learn ballet en pointe.  As if that wasn’t bad enough, I was also apparently very slow in reacting with my legs as a result of years learning to fight with, you know, my hands. Like a normal person.  This meant I was also wearing five pound weights on each ankle, all day, including when sparring.

So far, the only thing I had noticed was a demonstrably shorter patience and a reduction in how much I bounced my legs. Or sat comfortably.

I was so absorbed in my bad mood and how badly my legs hurt that I had already gotten coffee, greeted my mentees, and sat at my desk before I noticed something out of place.  As usual, Parvati and Hannah were across from each other at the table they typically sat at, but Parvati was standing and demonstrating something.

While using the table emitter, which they only ever used for my benefit.

Tilting my head in what probably looked like what Sparkle’s expression when she was denied a treat, I watched as Parvati picked up a vaguely pen-shaped object - it really looked more like a sonic screwdriver than a writing implement - and started making neon pink lines of various widths, swirls to test the slant it would make, and using it at various speeds before closely considering the color of each line.

“What in the world is that?”

“Paint testers,” Hannah explained. “Charly dropped them off with Vati last night, along with the programming to simulate how they work so we could test them with an emitter and not a wall.”

“Paint?”

“For the Festival. Charly designed these for us to use instead of trying to get permission to use actual spray paint.  The fumes of spray paint are apparently very caustic to Noah.”

I shuddered. “Yeah, no spray paint, clearly.”

Apparently satisfied with the pink, Parvati keyed her datapad to clear the emitter and picked up a different pen.  This one was a beautiful lapis blue. “She’s quite brilliant,” she murmured as she tested the pen. “The pens work like an airbrush, but she took some inspiration from something Arthur Farro gifted her several years ago and ensured the pigment will only last three Ark-days.  It also only appears under certain lighting.”

“And it’s non-toxic, of course,” Hannah added with a smile. “Because, you know… Charly.”

I hesitated before asking the next question. “How non-toxic are we talking?”

To my utter horror, rather than respond, Parvati opened her mouth and used a different button on the pen to paint her entire tongue blue. “They’re edible.” She closed her mouth with a smile before her eyebrows shot up. “Oh! That one is pomegranate!”

Hannah furiously made notations on her datapad before looking back up at me. “Vati already tested them on canvas in her quarters, but we also wanted to make sure the simulation software works so that we don’t waste pigment trying to figure out the design elements.”

“We’re also rather curious about what flavor each one is,” Parvati admitted before swapping to a toxic-looking green. “This one is peach, I do remember that. The pink was popcorn.”

I shook my head. “Do you want people licking the walls? Because this is how you get people to lick the walls.” I walked over as I was speaking and idly picked up one that was labelled as Titan Black.

Hannah snatched it away quickly. “That one is scotch bonnet flavor. I found that out the hard way.”

“I get making them non-toxic, but why are they flavored?” Hannah arched an eyebrow at me and I held my hands up defensively. “Other than the obvious application. Why design flavored paint pens for the Food Festival murals?”

Parvati blanked the emitter again and swapped pens. “That is going to be part of the design and experience,” she started to explain. “We originally wanted them non-toxic in case of the non-zero event that Else tries to eat the paint off the walls.” I nodded since ‘non-zero’ was putting it lightly. “Then I had the idea to include the possibility of Else eating the mural into its design.  Rather than worry that Else will eat it, I am planning on it: I am going to create a piece that changes as the various colors are devoured.”

“Annnnnd how do you plan on controlling what order Else eats everything in?”

She waved to the row of pens on the table. “These are each in a flavor that we know Else likes. I am currently testing in my quarters what the order of preference is.”

As my mind started to catch up, I started nodding. “Your test swatches last night.”

“Precisely. I have them laying out in a grid, easily accessible to Else, and they are being monitored. We will take the recording and determine what the order of preference is from there.”

I shook my head with a huge grin. “That’s one hell of a performance art piece.”

Hannah straightened her posture in an imitation of Pravati’s normal ramrod-straight demeanor. “There is nothing more fitting for a celebration of how humanity persists in surviving, despite how transient and brief life can be, along with a clear showing of how we intend to welcome and embrace the differences between ourselves and those most different from us - even those who once nearly destroyed us but wished to make peace.”

“That’s frighteningly good,” Parvati praised nonchalantly as she squirted a fluorescent yellow into her mouth. “It makes no sense for that one to taste of something spicy.”

I took the pen and forced myself to spray it in my mouth. I perked up when it was actually very familiar and delicious. “It’s gochujang…” They both looked at me skeptically. “Apparently Else likes spicy food?”

“I’m starting to think this is how she flavors her popcorn,” Hannah murmured.

My head shook on that one. “No, all her popcorn is decidedly popcorn-flavored. The coloring is added while it is being made, along with the flavoring. Same thing with her ice-cream, and with the candy bars.”

“I agree,” Parvati added. “This pigment is quite wet, it would never work on something like popcorn.” Pausing in her testing, she turned to me. “She has made popcorn in your quarters before, did you notice how she colored it?”

I thought back to the movie night, fighting through how nostalgic and relaxing it made me feel. “It has to be a high-saturation powder.  Other than the actual oil she used to pop it, everything she put in was powdered.”

“But it was toffee popcorn,” Parvati argued. “I remember because it was such a lovely shade of purple.”

Hannah and I both glanced at each other before turning concerned looks to Parvati. I was the one who eventually spoke. “You make toffee popcorn by adding sugar and salt while it’s being popped, Vati. Both are powders.”

“And how am I supposed to know that?” she demanded with a scowl before picking up a pen.

I looked back at Hannah, who was as baffled as I was. “Vati? Do you cook?”

She scoffed. “Of course not. Xiomara is a brilliant cook, why would I give that up?”

“But you know how, right?” I prodded. “We always have cooking classes going on here.”

She decidedly ignored us.  I gaped at Hannah, who eventually crowed with laughter. “Oh my god! We found something Vati doesn’t know how to do!”

“Xio does make a wicked roti with veg curry,” I tried to defend her. If she was deflecting, Parvati clearly didn’t want to talk about it.

“And I can cook,” Parvati argued. “I can roast meat, and forage edible plants, and clean them both.”

“Works for me!” I chirped, trying to defuse the situation before Parvati actually got upset. “If you can cook enough to feed yourself in an apocalypse, I consider that a solid fundamental basis.”

Hannah finally took the hint. “Well, if you ever want to learn more, gods know you have plenty of friends who can teach you. Hell, Sophia taught Maverick to cook, and when they first met he had a very iffy relationship with the concept of food in general.”

That got me a look. “He had been through a lot, okay? You spend thirty years with everyone blaming your sensory issues with food on just ‘being picky’,” I used air quotes for emphasis, “and yeah, you start living on the three foods you like and a lot of vitamins and protein drinks.”

Parvati stopped in her tracks and slowly turned her head toward me before taking a seat. “How did someone who doesn’t even eat to live end up with two people who live to eat?”

I felt my face heat up, but managed to limit my reaction to a shrug. “If he said he didn’t like something, I took that at face value and didn’t make him eat it. If he never had it, I thought really hard about how similar it was to things he did or didn’t like, and offered it to him - or didn’t -  based on that.  I never took it as a challenge I needed to make him overcome, just as a challenge I needed to rise to.”

She considered this for a moment, glancing to Hannah who nodded in confirmation, before speaking. “This is why you cook.” It wasn’t a question. Parvati stated it as a fact.

And I confirmed it was, indeed, a fact. “One of the few things Huynh and I agree on is hospitality. I don’t want anyone to come to my table and feel they can’t eat.  It’s how I was raised.  There will be food they like, and plenty of it.”

I heard a popping noise from Hannah’s direction, and turned only to realize that it was her neck popping when she turned from Parvati to me.  Eyes wide, she was barely audible when she whispered, “That’s why the Food Festival is so important to you…”

It took several attempts and a lot of nodding to swallow the lump in my throat. “We were all scared, and all strangers in this insane reality that we weren’t even sure was actually real.  I thought - knew - it would ground us, and even start uniting us. If we could all see that arroz con pollo, paella, chicken biriyani, chicken etouffee weren’t all that different? What’s more familiar than chicken and rice, or fried puffs of dough, or pancakes?” I shook my head. “I remember my first day on the Ark. I was in a mess hall, and even with my sister and cat, I knew I was luckier than most but so lost.  I just - “ I gulped and fought back tears. “I wanted shepherd’s pie so bad it hurt my soul. And I tried and tried to get it from the food consoles, and it was never the right thing. I must’ve tried eight times. It was so frustrating!” I didn’t catch myself in time to keep from slamming my fist a couple times on the table. “I felt even more lost.  Someone came up to me and asked what I was doing.” 

I took a deep breath to banish the concept of Arantxa from my head. “And dragged me to Conor because she realized that what I was saying and what she was hearing weren’t the same thing.  That’s how I actually met him. And, bless his face, he knew exactly what I was asking for and got it for me if I promised to help him get French toast, of all things.”  The memory made me smile. “Believe it or not, that moment mattered more to me than even waking up on the Ark when I should have been dead. Just… the idea that this person who knew nothing about me except what I wanted for dinner, was able to fix that lost feeling.  I want everyone to have that.”

Parvati was staring at me like she was watching the most romantic story in the world, but at least Hannah nodded seriously. “Steak and ale pie. I always want that when I’m stressed.”

I snapped my fingers and pointed at her. “Exactly. And multiply that by every type of steak and ale pie anyone can possibly make on the Ark? I know I don’t have to convince you two to keep the Festival anymore, but yeah.  That’s why it matters so much to me.”

I turned to Parvati, who was drumming her fingers and looking down somewhat sheepishly. “Most cultures have a kind of curry, so I never really thought about it,” she admitted. “But it makes sense, from that perspective. I never thought about it.”

Reaching out to pat her hand, I gave her a serious look. “That doesn’t mean you have to learn to cook anything more than what you already know,” I assured her. “It’s my motivation. No one else’s. If you ever want to learn to make something you don’t know how to, I’ll be happy to teach you. If you never want to learn how to make anything you don’t know how to, I will be happy to cook for you. Just… don’t ask me to bake? That’s a Tyche thing.”

She groaned. “Those mini black forest donuts….”

“Exactly. Don’t ask me to make them, I’ll ruin them ten times out of ten,” I laughed.

“She should make donuts for the Festival,” Hannah suggested wistfully. “Do you think we could talk her into it?”

I held up my hands in surrender. “I’m not asking her to do it, so have fun.”

“But you’re her sister.”

“How the hell do you think I know not to ask?” I gave them both a flat stare that set them giggling. “Donuts for the family? Fine. Donuts for the whole entire Ark? Not touching it.”

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[pl-panda]

The vines that bind us - Chapter 7

Chapter 1 || Previous || Next

-----------

After double-checking with security, it turned out that Tim Drake did not show to work. She sighed. Looks like more work for her… Just like Nathalie said.

She started by greeting the two plants in Mr. Drake’s office. Both were incredibly satisfied with themselves that they earned bigger pots. They were also even happier to see her. Next, she took care of her new plants. The two on her desk she quickly took a liking to. They were cute. Only the large plant that now stood in the corner next to the vent was snarky and dared to make an inappropriate comment about one of the office plants. The hole in that leaf was caused by a bullet thank you very much. Mari quickly and clearly explained where it made mistakes. 

With that done, she got to the paperwork that was left on her desk. There were many things to be done before the lunch break.

----------

Chloe was giddy the whole day. She got a green light to deal with the Liar in any way she wished. So many plans. So many possible revenge options. So many lawsuits to be filled. But as she was walking to the cafeteria, a new, even more devious, plan formed in her head. She would need the help of a certain stuck-up brat, but if she got him to help, it would not only destroy Lila but utterly ruin her. She already had several ideas from her other schemes that could be adjusted. Oh, this would be glorious if only she found… there!

Damian Wayne was not having a good day. He was in fact having a really, really bad day. His father had forbidden him from bringing another sword to work until his previous one is returned. Given how efficient the GCPD is, he would be lucky to get it before thirty. He was the only one of his brothers to arrive at WE before lunch, which led to more irritation. He definitely hated the corporate gossip about one Marinette Dupain-Cheng. How she was awesome, how she was a 'bamf' (whatever that meant), or how much they adored her kind-but-still-no-nonsense attitude. She took his sword!

“Wayne.” An irritating voice came from behind. Damian was of course aware that someone was behind him but dismissed it as an employee doing something unrelated to him. 

“Bourgeoise. What the heck do you want from me?” He spat

“To show you something.” She pulled her phone from the pocket of her jacket. He quietly admired how she found female clothing with pockets that deep. At the same time, he kept frowning at her.

“I swear, if it’s…” He didn’t finish, because she pressed ‘play’ and the video started. The whole thing laster about seven minutes. With each passing moment, his frown deepened and by the end, Chloe wondered how can he see anything when his eyes narrowed to two tiny slits. 

“I. want. her. dead.” He seethed through the clenched teeth.

“Good. But we can’t kill her. Mari forbid it and I know your father isn’t exactly fond of killing.”

“Tt. What. do. you. want?” He pronounced each word clearly.

“Simple. Destroy her with her own words.” She pointed to the group where she was clutching to Adrien’s arm for her dear life. “Mari-bear is too moral to play with her lies like that. Us? We play to win.”

“Fine. But I want my sword back.”

“Clever boy. I knew you could break into an evidence room.” Chloe smiled. “They returned it cleaned of blood the same afternoon. Guess you were too late.” 

“Tt.”

“Fine. I will get your precious sword. But if you try to mess with Mari…”

“I got enough of it from my father.” He scowled.

“Good. Now, onto the plan.”

---------

Mari didn’t come to eat lunch with Chloe. She was perfectly aware that the girl would start one of their plans and wanted to have an alibi. Instead, she dived into the paperwork that had to be done as soon as possible. It was going on good and if she dealt with it before the day’s ended, she would have time to try searching for her mother in the evening. She even inquired with the City Hall about the ownership of their old apartment and the answer should be coming any moment now. 

She was broken out of her concentration by a scream of rage and frustration.

--------

A few moments earlier

Damian stalked toward the group of teens that were relaxing from their intern duties. He could clearly see the Liar clutching to Agreste boy like a leech. Perfect for their plan. 

The boy had to agree that what Blonde concocted was both deviously brilliant and brilliantly devious. A perfect opening play. He made sure that he looked flawless before suddenly ‘appearing’ behind Lila and Adrien. 

“How could you?” He asked in an emotionless voice. His face was showing only traces of sadness. Just like he would look if it was for real.

“Who are you?” She asked dismissively.

“Really Lila?” He asked, allowing a small amount of water to appear in his eyes. It was not like him to cry at all, but his mother taught him all useful ways of emotional manipulations and tears were all the way on top of that list. “After all these years, our relationship meant so little to you? I specifically got this trip so we could reunite and you are just… hanging off of some french model?” 

“Listen here you…” She was interrupted when Chloe stormed, her heels clicking loudly around the cafeteria. Conveniently, everyone removed themselves when they saw Damian stalking toward intern-bitch. Speaking to police two days in a row is not a pleasant experience.

“Wayne. What’s the mess here.”

“Tt. You were right. She is a harlot.”

“Wayne?” Alya asked with wide eyes.

“Yes. You have the questionable experience of meeting a pissed Damian Wayne. My poor cake…” She moaned.

“Would you let that go, woman!?” He asked. This time he had no need to play his emotions. Bourgeoise never forgave him and Drake that Cake incident and it grated on his nerves. He paid her back.

“It was my birthday!” She raised her hands up. “And you are all idiots. Lila kept telling you how great her relationship with Damian was. And yet she is hanging off of Adrien, sinking her claws into his arm. I think the English expression was… I swear I read a book about it. Something with red A…” She pressed a finger to her lips, acting like she was trying to remember. “Ah! Scarlet Woman.” She grinned. “That’s what you are, Lie-la. A scarlet woman using men to get what you want.” That was vicious even for Chloe. Adrien took the opportunity to push the fuming girl away and get back. He could admire the chaos that was about to happen very soon. 

To their surprise, Lila calmed herself and giggled. 

“ah! Silly Dami-boo! I’m sorry if I hurt your feelings. I thought we were always just friends. It must’ve been one big misunderstanding” 

The people around started to nod their heads, accepting what she said as plausible. Damian Wayne wouldn’t be the first to get the wrong idea. At least until their phones buzzed. Chloe was smirking.

“Misunderstanding? This declarations of love say something different though. I seem to remember there was even some talk about a ring.”

Lila checked her phone and her eyes went wide. There were messages that looked like from her. That witch even replicated her speech pattern. It was much better forgery than what she did with Maribrat.

“Lila?” Nino stared at her in disbelief.

“I’m disappointed. After all this time together.” Damian shook his head. He pulled a small bracelet off and tossed it at her. “Consider this a break-up.”

Chloe smiled. “So you are free now.” She asked him. Damian saw the predatory grin and felt a sudden need to run. But he knew that the witch was not yet destroyed. 

“Yes…” 

“What say I concede that the cake incident was entirely Drake’s fault. If you take me for a coffee after work?”

Damian gave a distraught Lila a look of hatred. Then, he turned back to Chloe. 

“I would like that. Does 4:30 pm works for you?”

“I should be free by then.” She smiled. “It’s a date.”

With that, she left with Damian toward the elevator. Lila had enough of it and stormed to the bathroom. Soon after that, a shriek of frustration filled the building. Since it sounded like the bratty intern, nobody cared enough. The class was not allowed to leave their posts, not that too many of them wanted to be near Lila at the moment. They had many things to think about.

Damian and Chloe sat in the Law department, both having a satisfied grin. It was totally worth it.

“Just to be clear. I still hate you.” He said to her. 

“Same here.”

“To the Liar’s fall.” They raised a cookie each and bit in. Most people that saw them had to check again because the Ice Prince was actually hanging around someone his age. 

--------

Mari managed to record the shriek and now used it as Lila’s ringtone. It was a nice mid-day surprise that brightened her day. It lasted all beautiful hour until Marleen White, the head of PR, started knocking on the elevator, demanding to see her. Given her state and that she didn’t even call, it was something urgent. Mari quickly let her in.

“We have a huge problem.” She tossed a folder full of pictures on her desk. There were prints of chat screens with various dates. The content was most troubling. 

“I assume someone leaked it to the press?” She shrugged. 

“How can you be calm? It’s a disaster!” 

“They are fake.” Mari shrugged again.

“Fake?”

“A. That’s not Lila’s number on any of her four mobile phones. B. I have no idea who made it, but they have no idea how Damian Wayne acts. It’s straight up the same bullshit she will be facing a lawsuit for once the Law Department gets through the tons of paperwork. And C. This is an American number. Lila had no way of getting it three years ago. Plus the timing is too perfect. She gets punishment from the company and then the scandal with her dating youngest Wayne gets out. Whoever made it settled on fast, not precise.” Mari circled things on the prints.

“So it’s all fake?”

“I suspect she wanted revenge on the company for the extra work I had her be assigned.” Mari grinned at the memory of the shriek. “Or, someone’s doing it in her name.” For a moment her thoughts wandered to Chloe. She would have to speak to her soon.

“We will deny it and post all of the details you highlighted. The tabloids might still latch on it.”

“To be honest, I think it will be better than being dragged through the mud for the deaths. Especially since there was no story attached. Personally, I can’t care less about celebrity romance.” She dismissed the concern. It pained her a bit to speak about the dead in such a dismissive manner, but through the day she slowly absorbed that it was not her fault. She couldn’t blame herself. That’s what Marinette would do. Marinette was left in Paris by the irritating classmates and had her luggage (full of Adrien’s cheese-stinking socks) sent to India or somewhere. 

“That’s… quite a good idea. I assume you will want this forwarded to the Law department to add to the lawsuit.” 

“No point. It’s fake and we have no proof who leaked it. I’m plenty certain we have nothing or that person would already be sitting in HR.”

“The IT is looking into it, but they have little hopes. It went through an external server that we can’t get access to legally. Whoever leaked it was smart enough to avoid easy detection.”

“Good. By the way, what about that statement?”

“I sent it to your email.”

“I see it. I will read it and send you eventual suggestions.” 

“Sure. It’s nice to have someone competent in place.”

“I thought Mr. Drake was quite a good CEO. He got this company from the hole back to the top?” She tried to remember what she knew about Wayne Enterprises and Wayne Tech

“Yeah, but he is… eccentric. And can disappear at weird times for hours only to then work through three days without sleep”

“Oh. And Sarah was unhelpful?” Mari winced, remembering her own runs when the deadlines approached and she realized she spent the whole week constantly fighting Akumas. 

“She was good with people, but…” 

“I get it.” Mari smiled. “Luckily, I have experience with babysitting.”

Both women cackled at that.

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

Once Marleen was gone, Mari quickly called Chloe’s phone. The girl picked up almost immediately. She was speaking to someone. 

“I hope I’m not interrupting your work?”

“Don’t worry Mari-bear. I was just speaking with my newest side-kick.”

“Tt. I’m not a sidekick!” A voice came from next to her. Mari tried to resist the urge to facepalm. Chloe tilted the phone to show a pouting Damian Wayne. 

“Shut up Sidekick. I’m the mastermind behind our plans.”

“And I pay for them with my image and sanity.” He replied. 

“Hush you! I will let you know that some people would kill for the opportunity.” 

“Tt. Right now I want to kill someone.” 

“Har har. So funny, are you?”

“As much as I enjoy watching you two flirt… Get a room.” Marigold joked, watching both of them blush red. Before either had a chance to attack her for implying anything, she continued. “Chloe. Did you per any chance fabricated and published texts between Damian and the Liar?”

“Wait! That bitch actually published it?”

Mari facepalmed. She could feel the headache coming. In the hindsight, maybe it would’ve been better to just fire Lila’s sorry ass, together with the rest of the bunch. She could easily have Adrien and Chloe hired on some less permanent deal. They could both do without school for a while.

“Tt. Now I will really need my blade. Please tell me that nobody believed it?” Damian asked, frowning. 

“You’re in luck. Madame White caught the wind of it quick enough. She will be making a swift statement that this is an attack on your person and the image of Waynes as a whole. Plus publishing a detailed analysis of why it couldn’t have been you.” Bluenette reassured him that his precious reputation would not take any great hits. Or not too great of a hit at least.

“Good. Jon wouldn’t let me live it down.” He sighed in relief.

“Now, Chlo. You know I love and support your deviousness, but please try and limit the civilian casualties of your future plans.”

“Fine. I can’t promise Lila’s retaliation to follow the same rules.” She huffed.

“Good. You’ve got any plans for the afternoon?”

“She is already otherwise occupied.” Damian quickly interceeded. He might not like the blonde much, but his honor demanded that if he actually invited her for a date, he did his best.

“I will leave you to your scheming then. Or whatever else you are doing” Mari quickly hanged up on the couple before they could scream at her. She saw a bit of blush enter both of their faces so she counted it as a win. 

---------

The rest of the day passed relatively quickly. Tim Drake did not show for work, so she had to handle the paperwork herself. She never imagined how much work went into organizing one press conference. Sarah did absolutely nothing about it before she quit. Her biggest problem was that she needed to have it happen outside of WE since several journalists expressed their concerns about security. Now she was being hard-pressed to find a separate convention center. Except that things were expensive and Finances were definitely not being helpful. She posted the task to one of their employees. He would send her the offers before the day was up, but there was a slight delay and she would have to wait until four. Mari decided that she can wait and have it done that day. 

She informed Chloe and their teacher that she had to stay in the office after hours and get it done so they wouldn’t worry. Then, she dived into making what felt like dozens of phone calls. Out of four serious offers, three would actually pass the standards set by Mr. Drake in the email he oh so graciously sent her in response to a question about the situation. It was six when she actually got done with the negotiations, but the satisfaction was immense. The final price was ten percent lower than what she initially aimed for, so she had more funds for other things. The guest list was also reviewed in the meantime and already sent back, so that was one more thing crossed out of the list. 

After being done, she bid farewell to the receptionist near the entrance and went to the Taxi she called before leaving. It was already waiting, which was a nice boon for the end of the day. Her next stop was not the hotel though. She gave the address in the seedier part of town. Her old address to be precise.

----------

“Are you sure Ma’am?” The taxi driver asked unconvinced. “I mean it’s not the safest part of town.”

“Don’t worry. I can take care of myself. Besides, my mother used to live here.” She gave him a bright smile. 

“If you say so…” He shrugged and stopped before a rundown building. Moss and ivy had already overgrown this place a long time ago, but the plants seemed… unhealthy. Like they were left to fend on their own for too long. It was not a good sign.

Hesitating for a moment, Mari entered the building. She was hesitant, even though technically her mother was the owner. The ground floor was empty if one ignored several dozen wild plants in various states of growth. Some were dried and dead, while some others were lush and domineering. It used to be well-kept and ordered inside the garden that she and her mother tended to. She would fix that after she found her mother. 

The second floor was not much better. The dust everywhere was indication enough that Pamela Isley moved out long ago. Probably even years. Mari walked around, reminiscing about her childhood. It was not what one would call ordinary, but she would never settle for it anyway. She loved learning about plants with her mother. The martial arts lessons with uncle Wilson when he had time. Science with uncle Victor or her mother. Even the math with uncle Floyd. And Allegra and Claude were there to keep her company. 

Slowly, she trailed to her mother’s room. She hoped to find something useful there. She definitely did not expect to have to block a giant mallet with blue and red stripes. Ducking under it, she delivered a quick kick before running to the stairs. Mari dashed downstairs and burst onto the street. The Taxi driver actually waited for her. He was a godsend at this moment. She quickly jumped inside and ordered him to go.

“So? Unwelcome guests?” he asked a bit more cheeky than she would’ve liked. 

“Yes. But apparently my mom didn’t live there is some time.” Mari answered in a bitter tone. 

“Shame. Hope you have better luck, next time lass.” They rode in silence for a moment. “Name’s Chas by the way. Chas Chandler.”

“Marinette.” She smiled at the man. “Thank you for waiting. I would’ve probably been in a worse situation if not for you.” Mari did not add that the worse situation was ordering the wild plants to defend her. She worked with the wild plants maybe twice before and they didn’t listen that well to orders. 

“Where to now?”

Mari gave him the name of the hotel. When they arrived, she paid him and gave him a rather generous tip for the work. It was already dark, but apparently Chloe was not yet here. The class was supposed to be visiting some local museum or whatever. It’s not like she cared. 

When Marigold entered her room, there was a large book sitting on her bed. Tikki immediately zoomed out of her pocket and toward it. she hovered over for a moment before she huffed. 

“Of course he would do that. He is an idiot though. I would be a much better teacher.”

“Who are you talking about?” Mari asked the small goddess.

“No one!” Kwami said quickly and in a bit higher tone. The bluenette could’ve sworn she saw Tikki get even redder than before. 

“Okay… And what’s that? Nothing dangerous I hope?”

“It’s… it’s a spellbook.” Tikki said after hesitating a bit.

“Like magic?”

“Yeah.”

“Who would leave me a spellbook without as much as a note?” Mari asked. She could see Tikki was conflicted.

“I can’t say.” She finally let go of air. “I made a promise that I would keep the secret.”

“Fine. You’re sure it’s safe?”

“Yeah, but Magic is dangerous. You should only do it with some supervision.” Tikki warned her.

“Good thing I have you then.” Marigold grinned. 

“Mari! You know I can’t exactly just…” Tikki paused. “You know what, it’s actually not a bad idea. I can teach you some simple stuff for the starters.” 

“Huh? I actually expected you to be against it.”

“I trust you to act responsibly. And as a Guardian, you probably should start learning magic anyway.”

“Let’s get started then. Please tell me I can curse Lie-la!”

-------

NEXT

[seihun]

i have never once been jealous of park chanyeol in my entire life

ϟ pairings and aus :: oh sehun x reader, college au, friends to lovers au, fluff

ϟ word count :: 2.3k

ϟ author’s note :: this is technically a part of a (now completed!) au i’ve been posting, but it can also be read as a stand-alone!! so, i hope you enjoy!! i’ll link things later, if necessary :) more notes at the end!!

Sehun hears you before he sees you, sending a panicked text to Junmyeon before you come crashing through the front door.

Except you don’t.

Sehun swears that he’s hearing your voice, though, loud and clear. He shoves his phone into his back pocket, ignoring the repeated notifications from his elders, and trudges towards the window.

Sure enough you’re there, alright, and that is your voice. Through the small hole he’s made in the curtain, he sees you opening the back door to a car, obviously searching for something inside. His eyebrows pinch together for a moment, unsure of what you’re looking for, or who’s car that is, but he’s not left wondering for long.

Because Chanyeol rounds the rear of the vehicle, playfully shoving you out of the way as he reaches into the backseat himself. He can hear the two of you talking, laughing, but he drowns out the words; too focused on watching the scene in front of him.

Chanyeol pulls out two white plastic bags, full of what appear to be containers of food, but that’s not what Sehun sees. He sees your bright-eyed look of affection, the cheek to cheek grin painted on your face as you take a bag from Chanyeol. He hands you another one, a grocery bag this time; the exchange is quick, but Sehun feels like he’s been watching for a lifetime.

Chanyeol must have said something funny, because he has you laughing again, gently nudging his hip with yours before giggling himself. You have him goodbye with your free hand, before turning to head for the stairs to the front door.

He rushes to close the curtains, almost trips over a pair of Baekhyun’s shoes on his way to open the door for you.

“Hey, there you are!” you greet him, shoving the door closed with your foot. Sehun smiles back, taking the bags of food from you while you take your shoes off, following him into the living room after.

It’s easy banter as you help him unpack all the food. You hand him the bubble tea, and excited, waiting grin on your face. It’s almost childlike, the way you glimmer up at him, waiting for him to take the first sip—like a kindergartner waiting for their parent to taste a cupcake they decorated.

It’s good, of course. It’s his favorite, and Sehun’s satisfied smile seems to be all the approval to you need.

“I got spaghetti, and ziti, and three types of garlic bread—and also carbonara. We probably won’t finish it, but if there was this deal going on and Chanyeol insisted we should buy as much to get the discount, and I figured Baekhyun would probably—”

“I think you should ask Chanyeol out.”

If Sehun surprised himself with the words that came out of your mouth, he surprised you ten times over. At least, so he thinks, judging by the way you completely freeze, wide eyed with an aluminum foil take-out container barely maintained in your loosening grip.

“You—what? Why would I ask out Chanyeol?” you question, blinking slowly and setting the container on the coffee table.

Sehun shrugs, preoccupying himself with opening the rest of the food. He’s careful to avoid eye-contact, lest tears threaten to spill from his own. “Chanyeol’s a good guy,” he says, words quiet, slow, deliberate, “And he seems to like you a lot.”

“I mean—yeah, Chanyeol’s great, but I, um, I don’t think he likes me like that, though.”

“He probably does,” Sehun pushes, “He has no reason not to.”

“Hun, where is this coming from?” you ask with a chuckle. You shove his shoulder playfully, forcing him to look up from twirling pasta around his fork.

He shrugs again, bringing your mood down a notch. “I just—I don’t know, I think you deserve to be happy and date someone if you want. And Chanyeol’s a good guy.”

He’s twiddling his thumbs, biting his lip: telltale signs he’s anxious or lying, or in this case, both. He notices his actions, but stops them too abruptly, insighting disbelief on your features in the form of crinkled eyebrows.

“What—I mean, does something give you the impression that I’m not happy now?”

“No!” Sehun’s tone is pitched and jumpy. Then quiet and somber, “I’m just saying, you know. If you like him, you should go for it.”

It’s silent for a while, too long for Sehun’s comfort, filled only with longing stares and curious eyes. He dares not say anything else, untrusting of the sound of his own voice and his ability to swallow his sorrow; forces himself to stuff food into his mouth as a distraction.

“Thank you for looking out for me.” You scoot over, sitting directly next to him on the couch before wrapping your arms around his torso. Sehun borderline chokes on his garlic bread. “You’re a good guy, too, Hun,” you add, head resting against his bicep, words eerily close to those Junmyeon was murmuring to him just hours ago.

Neither of you say anything for a moment more, Sehun trying his best will away the scratchy feeling in his throat. He closes his eyes briefly, and sighs. It’s not that he didn’t know it before, but the realization that he’d do anything for you crashes into him. It hurts just a much as it gives him a sense of relief.

He can’t hear the way your heart beats in your chest, can’t hear the whirlpool of thoughts threatening to overflow in your mind, but maybe it’s for the best.

“Well! Come on then,” you startle him, words breaking through the silence. You lean forward to reach for the food, “This pasta isn’t gonna eat itself!”

A few days later, Sehun sees you off to your study session with Chanyeol. Study-date is probably the more appropriate term. If you hadn’t texted Chanyeol at all over the weekend to say something, Sehun was sure you’d speak up today.

Because, like a self-inflicting fool, Sehun brought it up just before you opened the door to exit his car; and completed his act by sending you his best smile and most supportive words. After confirming you’d safely entered Chanyeol’s house, he proceeded to slam his forehead against the top of his steering wheel for approximately seventeen minutes straight, before driving himself to Junmyeon and Minseok to wallow in his emotions. As per usual.

“So, you told the girl you’re in love with to ask out some other guy, and now you’re upset that she might have gone and done just that,” Junmyeon ponders, looking down at his lap where Sehun attempts to bury his face into the pillow resting upon it.

Sehun groans, kicking his feet a little like a child. Minseok tuts at him from the loveseat, “When we said talk to her I thought it was clear that you were supposed to ask her out. Not encourage her to ask someone else out.”

Sehun continues moping, laying dramatically on his back, half of his limbs falling off of the small couch. Maybe encouraging you to ask out the guy he’s extremely jealous of wasn’t the brightest idea he’s had in terms of his goals to ask you out—but if you wanted to date Chanyeol, then so be it. Sehun wasn’t irrational enough to try and push the taller out of the picture due to spite.

“Part of me admires you, Sehunnie,” Junmyeon starts, tapping his fingers against the younger’s forehead, “But I can’t help but think that you’ve been reading this wrong.”

“You mean like he’s been reading everything wrong,” Minseok scoffs, “Sehun can’t tell when certain people are in love with him. No wonder he falsely assumes the opposite for others.”

“You’re extra sarcastic today,” Sehun grumbles. “It’s not appreciated.”

“Sorry I’m not team watch Sehun’s existential crisis unfold,” Minseok grins, “I told you the only way this is ever going to work is if you talk about your feelings.”

Sehun whines this time, flipping himself onto his stomach to resume burying his head into the pillow. The older boys laugh at him, Junmyeon doing his best to comfort his friend with pats on the back, but it makes Sehun feel like a patronized toddler.

“I need a drink,” the youngest mumbles soon after, pulling his face from the plush, “Or food. Or both.”

Lazily, he pushes himself from the couch, turning in the direction of the kitchen. The others follow suit—Junmyeon out of concern for both their liquor and food supply, and Minseok for purely entertainment purposes.

A curious knock on the door stops all three of the boys in their tracks. Junmyeon and Minseok weren’t expecting anyone else over—anyone who knocks that is. That ruled out the possibility of it being Baekhyun immediately, and with Yixing away visiting his parents, neither of them could rack their brains for an expected guest.

Still, it’s Minseok who makes his way towards the entrance, gingerly stepping up on his toes to look through the peep hole before opening the door with a knowing grin.

He’s greeted by your even smaller, fuming figure. Hands balled into fists with a kindergarten-esque scowl on your face.

“Where is he?” you demand, marching into their apartment before receiving an answer.

Minseok simply chuckles, letting you storm into the living area, and closing the door behind you. Shocked, both Sehun and Junmyeon are at a standstill. The older is equal parts confused and concerned, but Sehun is petrified.

You stop abruptly in front of him, and Sehun opens his mouth to start spewing apologies—for whatever it is that you’re upset about, he’s not sure, but he knows a few are due—but he doesn’t have the chance to, before you’re fisting his shirt in your hand, and pulling him down into a kiss.

If Sehun could describe the feeling of an out-of-body experience, it would be this. Kissing you, being kissed by you; something he’s imagined, dare he say dreamt of. Despite his eyes fluttering shut, it’s like he’s watching himself being kissed,unable to wrap his head around that fact that you stood in front of him, pulled him towards you, and kissed him.

He doesn’t have time to consider relishing in the moment, either. Because he hears Minseok and Junmyeon wooing in the background, loud and obnoxious, and because you pull away, parting your lips from his.

There’s a storm of emotions brewing in your eyes, a similar phenomenon happening in his own; but before he has the chance, to act, to say anything, your scrunch your nose, and jostle his shirt in your hold.

“You think you can just tell me to go ask out Chanyeol—which I didn’t by the way, because I’m not exactly keen on looking like a clown—and then come here and sob into Junmyeon’s lap?”

Sehun blinks. “Well, it’s not that—I—”

“You are the biggest idiot I know,” you say, “Who tells the person they like to go ask out someone else?”

“A fool!” Minseok hollers. Sehun doesn’t even have the clarity of mind to toss him a glare.

Flustered, cheeks a little red, and neck very warm, he sputters, “I thought you liked him!”

“Hun, I don’t get it,” you frown, untwisting your hand from his shirt in favor of running your palms along the length of his arm, “Why would you want to see me with Chanyeol if you like me?”

Sehun sighs before inhaling deeply. Slowly, he bends his arms to rest his hands on either of your shoulders, gently tugging you closer. He stares at you, eyes watery with a mix of emotions even he couldn’t hope to make out.

Carefully, his hands tread upwards, gently cupping your jaw in his hold and tilting your head upwards. “Because I love you.”

“Exactly,” the word leaves your mouth in exasperation. Sehun watches the confusion dance in your eyes. “It clearly made you upset, so why encourage it?”

“I already told you,” he says, a soft smile on his lips, “Because I love you.”

“I don’t—you’d make yourself sad because you love me?”

Minseok’s right about a lot of things—(as much as he hates to admit it)—so maybe, just maybe, saying what’s on his mind will end this once and for all. For better, or for worse.

So he sighs, then lets out a breathless chuckle, before stepping just a millimeter closer.  “I just want you to be happy. And if Chanyeol could have made you happy, I would bear the pain.”

He thinks you might cry, with the way your eyes grow cloudy. If you were going to, you do a good job at sweeping the tears away, offering him an ironic chuckle instead.

“I’m happy now, Sehun. You make me happy, idiot. I’m sorry, though, if I didn’t make that clear before. I should have just said it—and I was going to that day, but then you started talking about Chanyeol, so I figured you didn’t like me like that and—“

“I do,” he cuts you off quickly, thumb padding against your lower lip, “I love you.”

The tow of you just stand there, staring at each other, blissfully happy for a little bit, before Minseok reminds them you of his and Junmyeon’s presence.

“So, are you going to kiss her this time, or?” Minseok chimes in, the dirty grin on his face never left. From beside him, Junmyeon chuckles, eggs on the teasing to hide from the fact that he was ready to cry moments ago.

Sehun pulls you into him with a roll of his eyes, squeezing you into a hug. “Fuck off,” he mumbles, giving Minseok the finger behind your back.

The older chuckles, opting to further his embarrassment by snapping a picture. Junmyeon’s loud laughter permeates the living room, as he immediately receives the image. Sehun’s phone pings in his pocket and he groans, letting his chin rest atop your head—that means Baekhyun and Yixing have that picture too, which means Sehun’s life is over. Unfortunate, because he feels like it just began.

You pull away first, not before leaving a fleeting kiss against the fabric of Sehun’s shirt—and even so, the action makes him warm inside. He could get used to this.

“They’re never going to let me live this down,” he mumbles, peeking as the elders chuckle at something on Minseok’s phone. Sehun’s going to have to remove himself from every group he’s ever been in.

“Do you wanna get out of here,” you pull his attention back to you with a laugh, gently lacing your hands together, “Maybe get boba or something?”

And Sehun grins, squeezing your interwinted hands before dipping down to kiss the crown of your head, “Absolutely.”

He doesn’t even care to grab his jacket from the kitchen stool, opting to snag Junmyeon’s cardigan misshapenly strewn over the couch. With your hands tied, Sehun makes quick work of heading for the door, leaving his older friends chuckling at his tinted cheeks and hasty mannerisms.

He should have known trying to get out without one last jab would be borderline impossible.

“I hope boba is code for go home and make out!”

“Minseok!”

ϟ more author’s notes :: this is the first (and probably one of the very few) times i’ll ever formally write on this blog, mostly because it took me a year and day to even plan and begin to write this LOL i think i’ll stay in my lane and stick to fake texts and instagram posts, i’ve learned my lesson. ps: hope all you team sehun anons are happy—and if it wouldn’t have taken 5k more words of writing, i would have made her talk to chanyeol about it too just to create some drama :’)

[hidden-otaku-stuff]

Knowledge and Ambition

tw: Cursing, anxiety, insecurities, bullying/gossiping

Word count: 6.75k

Genre: Fluff, mild angst

Pairing: Ravenclaw Kuroo x Slytherin Female Reader

AN: It’s September 1st, aka the first day of school at Hogwarts! I’ve been procrastinating on this fic for like a month or so, so I forced myself to finish this at 3 AM LMAO.

The sound of turned pages stuttered by scratching quills clung to the darkness as flames flickered around the room. You kept blinking, eyes drying from how long you’ve been focused. A sigh, and you slumped against the back of the chair. You had been sitting in this dark corner for the past three hours, pouring over text after text as you tried to wrap your head around the contents. Another sigh left you as you re-read what you wrote, dipping your black quill into the blue ink to make corrections. “It’s almost curfew, wrap it up.” Madam Pince poked her head around the bookshelf, peering over her spectacles at the tower of books you had surrounding you. 

You pulled a note from your bag, standing up to give it to her. “I’m sorry Madam Pince, Professor Snape gave me permission to stay here past curfew.” She gingerly took the note from you, a scowl shadowing her face as she scrutinized it for legitimacy before turning on her heel with a huff to head back to her desk. Since you were already standing, you decided to stretch your legs and go look for that last text that should help push your claims about alternative ingredient usage and the degree of change to the potion. 

Snape had always liked you as a student, especially after third year. He had caught you switching out certain roots for other herbs which still ended up with perfect potions every time. Since then, you had to be honest with your professor. You wanted to impact the Potions community, whether as someone who created a new Potion or as someone who wrote the new standard textbook. You were fortunate enough that Snape preferred Slytherins, otherwise you might not have been afforded the same opportunity that he had granted. 

You sighed, (e/c) eyes scanning the shelves. Snape had recommended a very specific one. Its maroon binding caught your attention. With fingers reaching for it, they brushed against another hand. “Sorry!” You yanked your hand back, eyes following the hand up to the person. Looming over you was a familiar sight. Quidditch Captain, Prefect, and heart-throb of the school Kuroo Tetsurou stood over you. 

“Sorry, I should have paid more attention.” Kuroo pulled the book out, offering it to you. 

You shook your head, glancing back at your table. “It’s ok, you can use it.”

His hazel eyes followed yours, “are you sure? It must be important if you need this specifically amongst all the other ones.” 

You flushed, avoiding his eyes. “It’s not that important.” 

Kuroo’s finger dragged down the maroon binding. “I was just planning on doing some light reading.” He hands it to you, clearing his throat. “What are you working on?”

You offer him a small smile. “I’m working on a research paper.”

“On what?” He looked down at the book. “I’m assuming it’s something Potions-related.”

A soft giggle left you. “Yeah, I’m conducting research on alternative ingredients use in potions and the effects of using such alternatives.” Kuroo’s eyes widened. As he opened his mouth, Madam Pince hissed another demand for silence. A loud yawn overtook your features, eyes squeezing shut. Glancing at your watch, you clicked your tongue. “It’s getting late. I’ll probably finish whatever else I can in the common room.”  Kuroo frowned, he had just been about to ask if he could study with you. “Nice to meet you, Kuroo.” You scooped your books into your arms, cramming whatever would fit into your bag before sending him a wave. The maroon book felt heavy in his hands.  

****

“Are you looking at (Name)?” 

Kuroo flushed, whipping his head to face his best friend. Kenma just continued eating, not looking at Kuroo. “No.”

“Yes he is.” Yaku slid into the seat across from Kuroo.

“No I’m not!” 

“You’re blushing.” Kai sat across from the trio, smiling pleasantly at them. Akaashi sat beside him, flipping through one of his books as he ignored them. 

“Ok, maybe just a little bit.” Kuroo angrily stabbed a potato, chewing on it as he avoided his friends’ eyes. He couldn’t stop himself from peeking over at you every few seconds though. You were seated at the Slytherin table, throwing your head back in laughter as you teased your housemates. 

“Isn’t she known as the Cold Princess?” Akaashi inquired, still not looking up.

Kuroo glanced over at Akaashi then to the rest of the group when he heard them all agreeing. “‘Cold Princess’?”

“Yeah, heard she’s like super mean to everyone outside of her house.” Yaku commented, sipping his pumpkin juice. “Even some of her house-mates are scared of her.” 

Kuroo frowned, not seeing why they thought that. “She seemed pretty nice to me.” 

“Is that why you can’t keep your eyes off of her?”

“That’s besides the point.” Kuroo scowled, elbowing Akaashi. 

“Who knew we’d find a day where Kuroo Tetsurou would be smitten with a girl.” Yaku’s eyes sparkled with humour. “Let alone the Cold Princess herself.” Yaku and Kai laughed. 

“I’m not smitten!” Kuroo insisted. “She’s just...different.” 

“Didn’t think you’d go for a Slytherin though, Kuroo,” Kai remarked, eating some eggs.

Kuroo shrugged. “Y’know I don’t care about all those house rivalries outside of the Quidditch field.” 

Kenma snorted, “yeah cause all you care about is Quidditch.”

“And my education!” Kuroo argued. 

“How’d you meet her anyways?” 

He looked up to Kai. “I met her a few weeks ago in the library.” Kuroo pushed his food around on the plate, glancing between it and you. This time, you were patting a blonde male on the head. He didn’t recognize him, figuring that it was probably someone from your year. Was that your boyfriend? Kuroo wondered to himself. 

Kai hummed. “I see her in the library often. She always sits by herself.”

“Seriously?” Yaku glanced over at you. “I never see her.”

“She sits in the corner,” Kai replied. 

As the conversation changed to their homework, Kuroo blanked out. It had been a few weeks since that chance meeting between the two of you. He’d gone into the library most days since in an effort to talk to you, but he always found you buried in your books. Kuroo hated when people interrupted him in his readings, so he would just find a table where he could observe you - in the most nonchalant and least creepy way possible - to see if he could catch you before you left. Unfortunately, he hadn’t had much luck with that. He’d accidentally immerse himself in his own work, and by the time he took a break, you were either already gone or headed out the door. Hey, he was a Ravenclaw for a reason. Once he got into his reading, he was gone to the world. With a deep sigh, he resigned himself. If you guys were meant to be friends, it’ll happen. He should worry about his own work instead of a pretty Slytherin kouhai that he had only talked to for a few minutes.

****

“Miss (L.Name).” You look up at your professor’s voice.

“Yes, Professor Snape?” 

“Come to my desk at the end of class.” 

“Yes, sir.” Snape’s robes billowed as he turned, slinking back towards his desk. You turned back to your cauldron, waiting for your potion to change to orange. Carefully, you added powdered porcupine quills until your potion turned white. Today, Snape had your class brewing the Draught of Peace since it was one of the potions that would commonly come up during O.W.Ls. You sat back, stirring slightly before letting the potion simmer. It was a difficult potion only because getting it wrong would be dangerous. The wrong mix of ingredients, being heavy-handed with the porcupine quills or powdered moonstone could lead to irreversible sleep. The bell rang just as you added the 7 drops of hellebore. You observed your potion, satisfied. It had come out perfectly. Bottling two samples in a glass flask for Snape, you quickly cleaned up your cauldron and the area around it.

“Ugh, you’re so lucky (Name)!” 

You turned to your classmate, eyebrows furrowed. “And why’s that?” 

“You’re so gifted in potions.” Nishinoya, a Gryffindor in your class, glared at his potion. You stifled a laugh. His potion had somehow turned out an ugly chartreuse color. Even the fumes looked toxic as orange smoke billowed from it.

“What the hell did you do wrong this time, Nishi?” 

He threw his hands up in exasperation. “Fuck if I knew, to be honest.” He bottled it, wincing at the repulsive smell of his potion. 

You patted his back. “Well good luck with remedial potions.”

“Can’t you help me before it gets to that?” He whined. You and Nishinoya had been partnered in the third year of potions. Though you were typically more frosty, he had weaseled his way into your heart and became a close friend. Mostly by sheer persistence on his part. After all, who would willingly want to be friends with the Cold Princess of Slytherin? 

“You know I’m busy.” You dead-panned, waving your wand over the cauldrons so that the contents disappeared. Together, you and Nishinoya walked up to Snape’s desk. By now, the majority of your classmates had left. Snape glanced at your potions, his gaze sliding over to Nishinoya’s and his face contorted in disgust.

“Another T, Mr. Nishinoya.” Nishinoya’s cheeks flushed pink, grimacing. 

“I know, Professor.” His head hung low as he shuffled towards the door. “See you later, (Name).” 

You offered the Gryffindor a wave that he didn’t see before turning back to your professor. “You asked to see me, Professor?”

Snape cleared his throat. “Yes. As you know, I rarely offer remedial classes to students.” A sneer made its way on his face. “However, Professor Dumbledore has...implored me..to be kinder this term. So, I have offered remedial classes and tutoring for struggling students this semester. As one of the more competent potioneers in my classes, I would like to request your assistance as a tutor.”

“Me?” The door opened, his next class filing in. 

“That’s what I said, Miss (L.Name). Don’t make me take that back.” Snape’s eyes flashed dangerously as he began to put the flasks from your class away. “By taking on this task, I will be able to review the work you’ve assembled so far.” He cleared his throat, “and this would be a perfect opportunity for you to practice your teaching skills.” 

Your eyes sparkled. Being able to dabble in academia seemed like a perfect opportunity for you to figure out where you wanted your future to go. “Of course Professor. Thank you for the opportunity!” Snape gave you a stiff nod. 

“Now hurry up and get to class.” With a short bow, you spun on your heel to sprint out of the room. Your next class was Charms and you were most definitely going to be late if you didn’t hurry. Just as you reached the doorway, you collided into something tall and firm. 

You yelped, stumbling back only for arms to dart around and steady you. “Oh, it’s you!” You glanced up, recognising him. “Sorry, I’m in a rush!” With a blinding smile, you patted his arms before dashing out under his arms and down the corridor. 

“Get to your seat, Mr. Kuroo.” Kuroo’s head shot up, “and get that ridiculous look off of your face.” Pink crept up Kuroo’s face as he snapped his jaw shut, slinking towards his seat.

Snape began class, writing the instructions for the Potion for Dreamless Sleep onto the chalkboard. Yaku leaned over towards his housemate nudging him playfully, “you were staring again.” Pink turned to scarlet as Kuroo whipped around, shushing him. Yaku grinned, sitting back as he rewrote the instructions onto a piece of parchment. “She’s pretty.” Kuroo grunted in response, pulling out his ingredients. “Think she’s single?”

“Why are you so interested?” Kuroo snapped, glaring at the Keeper. “I thought you were scared of the Cold Princess.” Yaku just laughed, patting his back. 

“No reason, Kuroo. No reason at all.”      

****

“You’re late, Mr. Kuroo.”

“Sorry Professor,” Kuroo dipped his head. “Quidditch practice ran late today.”

Snape turned his nose, sneering. “Excuses do not belong in this classroom.” Snape turned on his heels, robes sweeping with the motion. “Hurry up then, or I will not grant you the extra credit.” Kuroo hurries into the classroom, glancing around at the dingy dungeon. He was glad that there were only eleven students. He froze, recognizing a familiar sight. Kuroo slips into the seat beside you, muttering a greeting to which you nodded in response. “With the exception of two students, you are all here because you have failed miserably to prove your worth in my class. However, this is your opportunity to redeem yourself.” Snape glowered at each and every one of the remedial students, sending chills down their spines. “Don’t squander it.” 

With that, he turned and walked to the blackboard, writing down the recipe for the Shrinking Potion. Placing the chalk down, he sends one final glare to the students before going to his desk. You step in front of the blackboard, smirking at the students. “This is a simple potion that any third-year should be able to do. Follow these instructions, and Kuroo and I will be walking around to provide you help should you need it.” More chills ran up the students’ back at your last words. It was obvious that you weren’t keen on helping them should they need it.

Kuroo pinched his nose, looking around the room. As he walked around, a tall grey-haired fourth-year Slytherin caught his attention. “Can you please help me, Kuroo?” He begged. 

“What seems to be the problem?”

The male winced as the potion billowed up green gas. “That,” he replied lamely. 

“You added the Shrivelfig too early,” Kuroo’s eyes widened, casting a charm to dispel the gas. “You’re going to have to start all over.”

“What?! I don’t want to,” he whined. The slamming of a book caused them both to flinch, both sets of eyes darting to Snape who glared at them. “Aren’t you a Ravenclaw? Help me fix this!” 

“You literally created poison gas,” Kuroo responded, pinching his nose.

Raising his wand to vanish the potion, a hand grabbed his wrist. “Lev, what did you do this time?” You pinched your nose with one hand as you stared at the potion.

“Something about Shrivelfig,” Lev muttered, crossing his arms. “I don’t see why I need to start over though!” 

Your face softened. “Look, Lev, this potion has become dangerous. Do you want to fail this class and potentially hurt your fellow classmates?” You glanced at Kuroo who pulled his arm away and tucked his wand back into his robe pocket. “If it wasn’t for Kuroo’s quick-thinking, the fumes would have overtaken the class and we would be in some serious danger.” You patted the male’s head. “Here, I’ll stay with you and make sure you do it right, ok? That way you don’t have to stay extra long.”

Lev perked up. “Okay! Thanks, (Name).” 

You grinned, before glancing back at Kuroo. “You can help the others now, Kuroo. Thank you for your quick-thinking.”

Heat crept up his neck as he shook his head. “It was nothing,” he replied dismissively. 

You raised an eyebrow but nodded. “Whatever you say.” You turned back to Lev, vanishing the potion. “Let’s get started then, shall we Lev?” Kuroo stood there for a few moments, watching with slight amazement as you carefully guided Lev through the procedures. You looked in your element as you sliced the caterpillars and showed the younger student the best way to peel Shrivelfig. Another student called for Kuroo’s attention, snapping him out of his stupor. As Kuroo proceeded to help the others, he couldn’t help but survey you in the corner of his eyes. Perhaps there was a softer side to the Cold Princess after all. 

****

Kuroo breathed a sigh of relief, stretching his shoulders. Due to the raging thunderstorm outside, he’d made the executive decision to cancel Quidditch classes. Exam season was coming up, and there was no reason to put his players’ health at risk if they could avoid it. Besides, they were doing pretty well this season. He walked up the stone stairs, following them to the library. As he entered, he couldn’t help the grimace that slid onto his face. It appeared that everyone thought to study today as the library was completely packed. He poked around, searching for an empty table only to find none. Kuroo sighed, contemplating whether or not he should go back to the dorms in order to study when he spotted you at your usual table. Luckily enough, nobody else had joined you at the table. 

Steeling his nerves, Kuroo began walking towards you. As he made his journey, he picked up some whispers as people threw dark looks in your direction. 

“Of course the Cold Princess would monetize an entire table.” A younger Ravenclaw scoffed.

“She threatened to hex me when I came too close,” a Hufflepuff whimpered. 

“Me too!” Another Hufflepuff whispered in response.

“She said that people ruin her concentration,” a Gryffindor sneered to his housemates.

Kuroo stopped by your table, waiting anxiously for you to acknowledge him. Your nose was firmly buried into your parchment, and after a few awkward minutes of waiting, it was obvious that you weren’t going to say anything. Clearing his throat, Kuroo said, “hi.” Internally, Kuroo was screaming. ‘Hi’? Is that really all he was going to say?

You jolted, looking up at him and blinking rapidly with weary eyes. “K-Kuroo?” You stammer, rubbing one of your eyes.

Kuroo adjusted his bag awkwardly. “Yeah.” He cleared his throat, gesturing to the other tables. “Everywhere else is full. Do you mind if I join you?”

You stare at him with sharp (e/c) eyes. Seconds dragged on, a cold sweat swept through his body and he was regretting every decision he had made since entering the library until you gave him a stiff nod. “Sure, I don’t see why not.”

Relief washed over him as he grinned. “Thank you so much, I promise I won’t be a bother.” You only gave him another stiff nod before you moved your books around to give him more space. Sliding into the chair beside you, Kuroo pulled out his Transfiguration homework.

The pair of you work in silence for an hour before you get up, stretching. Students flinched as you make your way down the shelves, burying themselves into their books or ducking behind empty aisles in order to avoid you. Just as quickly as you had gotten up, you had already plopped back into your seat. “Y’know, you’re a lot quieter than I expected,” you comment, flicking through the latest volumes you had pulled.

Kuroo glanced up, tilting his head. “What do you mean?”

Clearing your throat, your eyes met his. “I mean that for someone as popular as you are, you sure are quiet.” 

A red glow warmed his features. “I wouldn’t say that I’m popular.”

You raised an eyebrow. “Ya sure about that? Because I’m pretty sure being a Quidditch Captain, Prefect, and a top-ranking student are all qualities of popular students.” 

At your comment, he raised his eyebrows. “Didn’t know you paid so much attention to me, kitten,” he teased. 

You glowered at the nickname. “Don’t call me kitten.”

“Ok….kitten.” 

****

It became routine for you and Kuroo to meet at the library now. It was very rare that either of you missed a session. Your dark corner was brightened by his presence. Once the clock rang a certain hour, you were already moving the stacks of books to the side to make room for the rooster-head captain as he slunk in after Quidditch practice. He’d used to come directly after, only for you to yell at him to go to his dorm and shower, which would end up delaying him by twenty minutes. With that extra time, you’d sneak into the kitchen and snag some food for you both. 

Your quill scratched the parchment as you took down more notes from the text. The wooden chair besides you creaked, but your eyes remained on the book. “Hello, Kuroo.” You flipped a page, scanning the text for more information.

“Hey kitten.” The soft thump of his bag falling onto the ground had you looking up.

“You look tired,” you noted, surveying his face. Eye-bags darkened his face, not helped by the shadows of the flickering flames. “Maybe you should sleep early today.”

Kuroo shook his head. “No, I really have to finish this paper.” He pulled out his Transfiguration book.

“Do you have patrol later?” You chewed on your bottom lip, brows furrowed. Kuroo nodded glumly. “Alright, skip it.”

“I can’t just skip patrol,” Kuroo laughed, sipping at the pumpkin juice that you’d smuggle in.

“You can if someone takes it for you.” You looked back down at your books. “I’ll do your patrol for you.”

Kuroo choked, coughing. “W-what?” Madam Pince threw him a disgusted look as she hmph’d at her desk. “You can’t do that.” You shrugged, leaning forward to ruffle his hair. Kuroo let out a soft yelp. “What was that for?” 

You pulled back your hand, carefully examining the hair. “For the polyjuice potion.” A few months ago, you’d decided to try your hand at brewing polyjuice potion on a whim. You hadn’t had a chance to use it yet, so this was the perfect opportunity. 

“What?!” 

“Shh!” Madam Pince hissed, looking up over her books at you both. You folded the hair into a napkin, carefully tucking it into your robes.

Kuroo lowered his voice. “What do you mean polyjuice potion? Isn’t that against the rules?”

“Well it’s not exactly like I have a time-turner,” you rolled your eyes. “Nor am I a Metamorphmagus.”

“You don’t have to do that for me.” Kuroo surveyed you. For someone who was advertised as just another ‘big bad Slytherin’, you had such an incredibly soft side. 

You shrugged, pushing a sandwich in his direction. “Eat up.” You took a bite out of your own sandwich.

As you pulled your hand back, a warm weight dropped onto it. You swallowed, looking up. “Thank you.” His eyes sparkled. “I really appreciate you.”

Averting your eyes, your cheeks glowed. You hoped that the candle-light would hide it. “Just take care of yourself, rooster-head.” 

****

“I heard what happened.” 

You glanced up, grimacing. During potions, you had been helping Nishinoya only for his potion to explode everywhere. Snape ended up assigning him detention for the next month as well as remedial classes three times a week. You really weren’t sure how Nishinoya had fucked up his Wit-raising potion. But you’d walked away laughing, with admittedly terrible burns. You’d ended up teasing the boy saying that he needed to drink your wit-raising potion before he was allowed to speak to you again. 

“How are you doing?” Kuroo pressed. 

You let the utensils slip out of your fingers as you displayed your heavily bandaged hands up. “Miserable.” 

Kuroo’s eyes widened. “Madam Pomfrey couldn’t help?” You shook your head, frowning. There was still a residual stinging in your fingers. “Scoot over.”

“What?” 

“Only your hands are messed up, I’m sure you heard me just fine.” Kuroo waved his hands, forcing you aside. He took your seat, pulling your plate towards him.

“Kuroo, this is the Slytherin table, what the hell are you doing?” He shushed you, cutting up the meat on your plate. “Kuroo, I can take care of myself.” 

He fixed you with a hard stare, pushing the plate towards you. “Prove it then.” You glared at him, as you picked up the fork and knife. Pain coursed through your fingers but you simply bit your tongue, not wanting him to win. You focused on keeping your face blank, breathing deeper than you wanted. With sluggish movements, you sawed through the meat. Hazel eyes surveyed you, flicking between your hands and your face. 

“See?” You proclaimed, stabbing the meat and waving it in his face. He shrugged, holding his hands up.

“Whatever you say, Princess.” You glared at him, ice creeping through your heart. Eating it, you attempted to cut more meat only to drop the fork with a violent curse. It felt like someone had poured molten lava over your hands. Glaring at your fingers, you aggressively shoved the plate towards Kuroo who raised an eyebrow at you. “I thought you could do it yourself?”

“Help.” 

“I didn’t quite hear that, kitten.” 

You rolled your eyes at the pet-name. “Just help me, Kuroo.” 

“I didn’t hear the magic word,” he teased, pulling the plate towards himself.

“Please,” you muttered, tears pricking at your eyes. Kuroo paused, taking a moment to pat you on the head.

“Of course, silly. I’m always here to help you.” You offered him a small smile, before whispers from the Ravenclaw table caught your attention.

“What’s Kuroo doing with her?” 

“Doesn’t he know that she’s a cold-hearted bitch?” 

“He’s gonna get his heart broken.” 

“Bet you she’s going to curse him behind his back.” 

“Or poison him.” They snickered.

More tears welled up in your eyes. “Are you sure you want to do this?” You asked, turning your face away from him. 

The clinks of cutlery stopped. “Do what?”

“Help me.” 

A hand grasped your chin, tilting your face up. He leaned forward, warm breath humming against your ear. “Keep your chin up, Princess, your crown is falling,” he whispered before he pulled back, brushing your hair aside. Scarlet roses bloomed in your cheeks. Cold Princess echoed in your mind. Kuroo cleared his throat, turning back to the plate, hiding his own pink flush. “Besides, you saved my ass the other week. This is the least that I can do for you.” 

 You chewed on your lip. Of course. He was returning a favor. Just a favor. Nothing more, nothing less. 

**** 

“I won’t be here tomorrow.” You looked up from the Honeydukes chocolate that he had brought you, tilting your head. “I have to patrol early, so I won’t be able to make this.” He gestured to the table. Your tower of books had slowly diminished in size, only a small stack remained. In between your rolls of parchment and his own books was an abundance of candies. You’d miss the Hogsmeade trip earlier that day due to another remedial lesson with Lev. Kuroo leaned forward, wiping away a bit of chocolate from the corner of your mouth.

“Don’t do that.” You whipped your face away, hoping that the darkness would hide the crimson glow. You cleared your throat. “That’s fine. It’s not like you’re of any help, you always distract me.”

“So I guess I should take back all this candy then,” Kuroo teased, reaching for it. You snatched it up, pulling it close to your chest. Kuroo let out a disgustingly loud bark of laughter causing you to cringe. Madam Pince snarled in annoyance at you both. 

“Keep laughing like that and I’ll use a Silencing charm on you,” you threatened, tucking the chocolates away into your bag. 

Kuroo reclined in his chair, putting his hands behind his head. “You say that, but you know you like it.” 

“Keep telling yourself that if it helps you sleep at night, Kuroo.” 

The next day, you couldn’t stop fidgeting. It was...too quiet. Of course, being in a library meant that it should be quiet. But you couldn’t help but feel like something was missing. The bell chimed, and like clock-work, you began shifting your books to the side. Mid-motion, you froze, eyebrows creasing as you frowned. Why were you moving your stuff? It’s not like anyone was joining you tonight. You cursed silently. Of course you’d gotten used to him. You vaguely remembered a Muggle psychology term: mere exposure effect. The more you became familiar with something or were exposed to it, the more you’d have a preference for it. You violently slammed the books back to where they were, earning another reprimand from Madam Pince. Studying by yourself just became excruciatingly difficult.

Meanwhile, Kuroo was absent-mindedly flying down the corridors. His long legs allowed him to stride down the halls in a dozen steps or so, forcing his partner to sprint in order to keep up. “Jesus, Kuroo, what’s got you in a hurry?” Bokuto, the Hufflepuff Prefect, puffed. 

“Huh?” Kuroo paused, only to have Bokuto slam into his back. “Oh lord, I am so sorry Bokuto.” 

The Hufflepuff winced, prying himself off of Kuroo’s back, rubbing his nose. “It’s fine.” Kuroo continued down the hall, slower this time. “What’s got you all distracted?” Kuroo shrugged, opening one of the classrooms and looking around. He shut the door with a sigh, before rushing down the hall once more, the slower pace already forgotten. Bokuto scurried after him. “Or should I say, who is on your mind?” 

At this, Kuroo whirled around. “What do you mean?” 

Bokuto bellowed with laughter. “I heard that you were talking to someone, but I didn’t know it was this serious.”  

“Shut up.” The dark halls did nothing to save Kuroo as he stepped into a pool of moonlight. 

“Aw, you’re blushing!” Bokuto cackled, bending over as his rambunctious laughter echoed in the halls.

“Shut up!” 

Bokuto wiped a tear away from his eyes. “You really like this girl, don’t you?”  

Kuroo huffed, blowing his hair up. “Maybe.”

The Hufflepuff clapped a hand over his back. “I’m rooting for ya.” 

“I’ll need it,” Kuroo muttered. He pulled himself out of Bokuto’s grip. “C’mon, let’s just finish this patrol.” 

****

“Alright, I’m off.” You waved to your housemates, picking up your books as you left the Great Hall. 

“Make sure you come watch me play, sweetheart!” Atsumu shouted after you, waving eagerly. You rolled your eyes, ignoring him. You rarely ever went to Quidditch matches, let alone to support someone. That’s something you’d reserve for romantic partners, not house-mates. The few times you’d gone were because Snape offered extra points to everyone who attended. You shook your head, taking a deep breath. 

It was just any other Saturday morning and you would be headed back to your sanctuary: the library. A voice called out behind you, thundering footsteps following. You turned, stopping in the middle of the doorway. “Good morning, Kuroo.” You offered him a small smile that he returned.

“Hey (Name)!” He hugged you, pulling you into his chest; your heart pounded against your own. He’s never hugged you before. “Will you be going to the match later?” Kuroo released you and you took a few steps back. 

Holding up the book, you shook your head hoping that he didn’t see your flushed face. “No, Professor Snape gave me this book so I was going to work on it.”

“Aw that’s too bad, I was really hoping you’d come cheer for me.” Kuroo grinned before he draped a blue and bronze scarf around your neck. 

Your cheeks glowed like ripe apples, eyes wide. “Kuroo!” Your jaw dropped. 

“See you there!” With a cheeky smile, he waved running back towards his friends. 

An hour later, you found yourself walking down towards the Quidditch pitch. “Thought you didn’t go to Quidditch matches?” You crossed your arms, unamused. “And you’re wearing a Ravenclaw scarf? Talk about a traitor!” Osamu pinched your cheeks, tugging on it.

“Shut up, ‘Samu,” you scowled, shoving him away. “Are you finished yet?”

He shrugged. “Dunno why you even bothered to come.” He led you up the stands towards the Slytherin section. “Or why you’re sitting with us.”

“I’m a Slytherin!” You pouted, glaring at his back. Osamu just laughed.

“Yer still wearin’ a Ravenclaw scarf though. Don’t think I missed that display in the Great Hall.” He cackled as you slapped his back. “Didn’t know ya had a thing for the Captain.” 

You cleared your throat as you guys arrived at your destination. You greeted your house-mates, settling besides Osamu. “Why aren’t you playing, ‘Samu?” 

Osamu scowled, glaring at you. “Shaddup.” You chuckled, leaning back in your seat. Osamu was also on the team, but this year, the captain had decided to let more of the sixth and seventh years play. Atsumu was the only fifth-year on the team at the moment. You were grateful for the twins who had rapidly become your best friends since you’d started at Hogwarts. Both of them were ‘no-nonsense’ and didn’t care that you were plagued with nasty nicknames due to your ‘cold-hearted’ demeanor. 

“Ooh, look they’re starting.” As the match goes on, you can’t help but let your eyes trail the Ravenclaw captain. To say the least, you were impressed. He radiated a different energy from what he normally did during your late-night study sessions in the library. During those, he just seemed goofy and studious. But here, you could see the whole other side to him. The way he communicated with his team-mates, how happy he looked everytime one of their plays worked out, the satisfaction that seemed to completely fill him after he scored. He simply exuded a different type of confidence that you’ve never seen from him before. Your eyes widened with awe as he shuffled between the other Chasers, throwing the Quaffle to each other and thoroughly confusing the Slytherin chasers. As Kuroo scored, you couldn’t help the, “Whoooo, go Kuroo!” that escaped your lips.

Osamu jabbed you in the side, muttering, “traitor” but even that couldn’t wipe away the smile from your face. You were never interested in Quidditch, but maybe now you had a reason to be. 

The game quickly ended with Kenma snagging the Snitch out from Oikawa’s nose, leading to Atsumu flying towards the stands where you and Osamu were sitting. “Hey, ya made it sweetcheeks!” Atsumu cheered, hovering above your head in front of you. 

You cleared your throat. “Nice job out there, ‘Tsumu.” 

“I know right? I was definitely the star, wasn’t I?” He grinned. 

You pulled your cloak closer; it was getting late and cold. You desperately wanted to be back in the castle already. “If you were the real star, you would’ve won,” you shrugged. Osamu chuckled besides you as Atsumu squawked indignantly.  

“Oi, Atsumu!” Oikawa called, flying over. “C’mon, hit the showers. You can try to impress your girl later.” Oikawa patted your head, “hey there, (Name).”

“Hey Oikawa.” You offered him a small smile. “Sorry about the game. You did great out there though.”

“Thank you~!” He sang, flying lower so that he could pull you into a hug. You yelped at the sudden intrusion. “Lemme just have this moment of comfort,” he whined as you clawed at his arms in an attempt to struggle out of his grip. Defeated, you let the captain hang onto you, awkwardly patting his back. 

“You guys reek,” you muttered, looking away from the pair. “Go shower.”  

Finally escaping from the clingy twins and Oikawa, you let out a sigh of relief. You tugged your bag higher onto your shoulder as you made your way down the familiar path. Just as you were about to enter the library, a familiar voice called after you. Turning, your eyes widened. “Kuroo?” 

He slowed to a stop in front of you, winded slightly before he offered you a wide cheeky grin. “Hey there Princess!”

“What are you doing here, shouldn’t you be celebrating with your team?”

He shrugged, “I had to see my girl first.” 

Heat crawled up through your body. You cleared your throat. “Your girl?”

“Well yeah! Especially after how loudly you were cheering for me,” he teased. 

“And it’s Kuroo Tetsurou with the quaffle after a successful Sabryn steal from Miya Atsumu. He passes it to Sugawara Koushi, who passes it right back over Iwaizumi Hajime’s head. And Kuroo scores! Right through Matsukawa Issei’s finger-tips!” 

Kuroo did a loop, whooping before he soared beside Suga, giving the male a high-five. Mattsun grabbed the quaffle, putting it back into play. Kuroo smirked, darting off towards Atsumu who had the quaffle. They end up on the Ravenclaw side, with Iwaizumi attempting to score. Yaku successfully receives the ball, throwing it at Kuroo. “You’re playing better than ever today, Kuroo,” Yaku grins. “Better keep on impressing your girlfriend.” Kuroo scowled at the keeper. He hadn’t even seen you in the audience, who was to say that you were there at all?

Kuroo rolled his eyes, glancing over at Suga and Akaashi. Giving the males a curt nod, they enter the Hawkshead Attacking Formation. “Another Thimblerig Shuffle by the Ravenclaws! The Quaffle is bouncing around. Akaashi. Kuroo. Suga. Akaashi. Kuroo. And Kuroo takes the quaffle and scores once again! Slytherin does not look happy folks.” Loud cheers fill the stadium from the Ravenclaw, but as Kuroo flies back around the field, a lone cheer from the Slytherin section catches his attention. His head whips around, eyes widening at the sight. There you were, bundled up in his Ravenclaw scarf and actually cheering for him. Emotions flood his body, he hadn’t expected you to actually come or to actually wear his scarf. He couldn’t help the grin that slipped onto his face. Kuroo let out another loud whoop, before doing a heart-shaped loop in the air. A Bludger zoomed past him, drawing his attention back to the game. He’d have to deal with his emotions later. He had a game to win, and a girl to impress after all. 

You choked on air, averting your eyes. “Yeah well, you looked cool.” 

Kuroo grinned, “thanks kitten.”

You stared down at your book, fingers tracing the binding. “Anyways, your girl? I didn’t know you were serious.” 

It was his turn to avoid your eyes. “I mean! You were wearing my scarf,” he stammered. 

“You gave it to me,” you fired back, amusement flickering in your eyes as you observed him. Kuroo turns completely red at this, kicking at the stone floors awkwardly. You clear your throat, eyes softening. “Take me to Hogsmeade next weekend and we’ll talk about our relationship status then.” 

Relief floods his system as he eagerly nods. “I can make that happen.”

“Well good.” You smile, heading into the library only for Kuroo to follow you. “Again, don’t you have a party to get to?”

He shrugged, “rather spend time with you to be honest.” 

“Don’t let your team-mates hear you,” you grin as you guys make your way to your usual table. Kuroo just ruffled your hair, smiling as you both took a seat. After an hour or so of studying, you snapped your book shut. “Actually, let’s do something.”

He looked up at you, raising an eyebrow. “Like what?” 

You shrugged. “Find Hogwarts’ mysteries?”

Kuroo leaned back in his chair, a sly smile making its way onto his face. “Y’know, I hear there are some cursed chambers hidden in Hogwarts.”

“Breaking curses, treasure hunting? Sounds like my kind of date,” you smirk, packing your stuff away. Kuroo throws his head back in a boisterous laugh, only to be scolded by Madam Pince. You stood up, standing beside him before making your way out. “Y’know, you could have easily been a Slytherin,” you teased, bumping your hip into his as you held the textbooks to your chest. 

He smirked, slinging his arm over your shoulder as you both walked out of the library. “Why’s that?”

“You have more ambition than I do.” You shrugged his arm off of your shoulder. “You leave the library just as late as I do after coming here after your Quidditch practices and then heading straight to your Prefect duties. Hard-work goes hand-in-hand with ambition, Kuroo.” He plucked one of the books out of your hand. “Hey!”

“Well, Little Miss Slytherin, you could definitely have been a Ravenclaw.” Kuroo held the book over your head, flicking through the pages. “Your thirst for knowledge is never quite quenched.” 

You flush. “Well, a quest for knowledge is an ambitious one, isn’t it?”

He hummed, pulling the rest of your books out of your hands while ignoring your cries of protest. He tucks them into his right side, slipping his left hand into yours. “I guess us together makes the perfect Slytherin and Ravenclaw, doesn’t it?” Kuroo squeezed your hand, looking down at you. You grinned, giving him a light squeeze. Being together just felt right. He brought out your inner Ravenclaw, and you brought out his inner Slytherin. Knowledge and ambition went hand-in-hand, just like you and Kuroo.

[majesticbrownjawn]

Delicate

Violet reluctantly goes to a house party with her bestie. Meets Erik. Is subsequently turned out. 😩

————————————

"So you coming girl? It's gon be lots of niggas there."

"I'm good. I'm not tryna meet no niggas. I'm tryna meet a man."

Violet was thirty-three and far past the time for games. She was focused and didn't want a man to come and throw her off her game. That's what her 20s had been for and she'd left them behind almost four years ago.

"I need you to be my wingman though. Pleaseeeeee."

"Fine. I'll come, but I'm driving and just know I'm leaving yo ass when I'm ready to go."

Three hours later she was in her car listening to Siri giving her directions to the kickback.

"Girl, where the hell we going?"

"Uhhhhh..." Trina knew if she'd told Violet where the party was, she wouldn't have come. She loved her friend, but she could be uptight and snooty.

"Um, hello. I'm not talking to Siri's ass, Trina.

"Oakland," she squeaked.

"Trina!"

"I know. But I really wanted to come. This is Devante's best friend's party and I didn't want to go alone. I won't know anyone else there."

Trina was the opposite of Violet in that she was blinded by her desire for companionship. Most times she'd end up hurt or used, or both, only to make the same mistake with the next guy. Devante seemed to be a little better, but Violet hadn't met him yet, so she couldn't say for sure. Violet had a keen intuition and she rarely read people wrong. She was eager to see what Devante was all about.

Violet looked at the GPS and saw they only had about 10 minutes left on their ride. If they hadn't been so close, she would have turned back in the direction of her condo.

They pulled up to the home and compared to the others on the block, it looked out of place. It was, well, nice. No doubt an anomaly among the rest of what comes to mind of what people like Violet might think stereotypical Oakland looks like.

Violet groaned when she realized they'd have to park about a block down the street. Cars lined the area and she hoped the people who drove those cars weren't in the same place they were headed. It was a futile hope and as they got closer, the smell of ganja overwhelmed them. They were hit with another wave when they opened the door to the home.

"You're paying to get my hair washed, Trina!"

Violet was forced to yell in her friend's ear. Music was blaring from a wall of speakers to her right. It was artistic in a way. They resembled something she'd seen at a museum last summer in Brooklyn.

The pair weaved through the crowd of people. Some looked like Oakland natives, some looked like hipsters, others looked like something else entirely. It was just mid-afternoon but there were already people here and there passed out drunk.

A group of older men sat around playing spades and cracking jokes at each other. The sight was strange, down to the cheap fold away table. The house was immaculately decorated and the table just didn't fit in. Violet figured one of the men probably brought it with them. Maybe they lived just on the other side of this house on a block that looked more like the Oakland she saw on TV. She and Trina squeezed around the men to enter the kitchen, where they found Devante, but more importantly for Violet—drinks. She was already eager to leave and they'd just arrived. She meant what she said about leaving when she got fed up, but it wouldn't have been fair to tell her best friend she was ready to go now. Especially not after she saw the way Trina and Devante made heart eyes at each other.

"What up doe? I'm Devante." He extended his hand to her and she took it hesitantly.

The first thing she noticed was his strong accent. He was an Oakland native. Devante also wasn't yelling. The kitchen was far away enough from the speakers that one could have a conversation without risking losing their voice from screaming. They talked for about 20 minutes, but it was a one-sided dialogue that consisted of Violet asking him questions and him answering. He took her interrogation in stride, responding patiently and thoughtfully. At the end of it, she decided he was corny as fuck. But in a good way, kinda like Nick Cannon, but with a West Coast vibe. Her gut told her he was OK, for now. She wasn't interested in watching the two of them carry on like teenagers, so she made her way out of the kitchen and back out into the crowd.

She quickly regretted her decision as she was tossed about in the sea of people. She held her drink close to her chest, a strategy she hoped would save the Henny in her red Solo cup. Violet huffed as she finally made it to the front porch and glanced inside. There was a corner left and she scowled at it like that would magically refill it. She shotted the remaining liquid and licked what was left of the spillage from her index and middle fingers.

"Damn girl. That's how you feel?"

Violet nearly broke her neck moving her head in the direction of the voice. It came from across the porch. A shadowy figure stood just out of clear view, which was strange because it was still daylight outside. She hadn't noticed before, but the porch was of the wrap around variety and this person stood just as the porch took a turn for the other side of the house.

"Excuse me?" She was embarrassed that someone had seen her, but she'd be damned if she let one of these Oakland dudes shame her.

Shame.

Hmm.

The shadow man took a step forward and revealed himself to be quite interesting. She had a habit of looking at men she met from foot to head. She used to judge a man on his shoes first. She wasn't as shallow as she had once been, but the habit of doing it never went away. He wore a pair of those sock looking sneakers, gray joggers and a fitted long sleeve Henley tee. His thick muscular frame filled in everything beautifully.

To put it simply, he looked good.

"You ain't never been to the Town before, have you?" He took a few more steps into view and sat on an outdoor couch on the opposite side of the porch.

"What town?"

"Guess not," he scoffed.

She scrunched her brows confused and annoyed. She didn't like not knowing something. Was the Town a club? Maybe he thought he'd seen her there befo—

"Oakland. That's what we call Oakland."

Oh.

She watched him as he rolled his sleeves up casually, but there was anything casual about the way his forearms looked. Violet's intuition sensors started going haywire. The alarms in her head were about as loud as the music inside the house.

"Want more?" A sly half grin swept across his face as he tempted her, waving a nearly full fifth of Hennessy at her.

"You looked like you wanted more...the way you were licking those fingers a second ago."

She stared at him, fuming. Even more embarrassed now.

"C'mere."

She didn't want to, those alarms were still warning her to stay away from this man.

But Hennessy.

She took a deep breath as she rose and walked to him. The few steps felt like miles.

"Sit."

Violet plopped to the far end of the outdoor couch.

"Why you all the way over there? You scared?"

Yes.

She hadn't been close to a man this fine since—never, actually. He was the finest man she'd ever laid eyes on. She was certain of it now that she was up close. The realization made her nervous.

"What's your name babygirl?"

"I'm not your baby or a girl. Are you going to give me some or not?" She raised her empty cup to his face. Her attitude and entitlement was almost unattractive but it was something different than what he was used to. She intrigued him.

He grinned again, shifting closer to her.

"Yea, but first lick your fingers again for me."

Violet yelped at the request. She'd never been asked something so vulgar in such a forward manner, by a complete stranger. Had she not been in the hood and had this man not been so damn fine, she likely would have slapped him and got up to find her friend. She instead just stared at him appalled, offended and anxious.

He crept closer, as close as he could get, approaching her like a jaguar ready to pounce. The shadow man's arm rested behind her head on the back of the couch, the smell of him refusing to be ignored.

Mahogany.

Coconut.

Cedar.

The combination of sweetness and spice made blood rush through her veins like whitewater in a rapid. He leaned into her neck and her eyes fluttered at how close he was. She could feel the heat leaving his body.

"I don't like to repeat myself, babygirl." He rested his hand on the curve of her neck, his thumb rubbed back and forth across the length of her throat. He finally gave her a bit more breathing room, but his hand stayed put.

Violet was a deer in headlights. Completely struck by the situation. His boldness. His beauty. His dominance. And that she was fighting the fact she liked it. She glanced down at her own hand seriously contemplating doing it. Not for the Henny, but because she wanted to please him.

She looked back up at him.

"I-I dunno—"

And suddenly her fingers were in her mouth. He'd grabbed her hand while she was distracted trying to make a decision.

Violet's eyes widened and she let out a soft whimper as he guided her fingers in and out her mouth.

"That's right. Look at me. You got some pretty ass eyes." He spoke his words slowly and carefully, allowing her to see the slugs on his lower canines for the first time.

She cursed herself in her head as she now willingly sucked and licked on her fingers, giving him what he wanted.

After he was satisfied, he removed her fingers from her mouth and studied how wet and blush her lips were now. The thought of sliding his dick between them made him twitch.

"Open up." He tapped the bottle to her lips and gave her a shot's worth before pouring more in her cup. He got up and headed for the front door.

"Where are you going?" Her question sounded desperate. He heard it too, the smug look on his face was a clear indication of such.

"We going back inside. C'mon."

Violet sprung up like a weed. She was surprised to see his hand outstretched to her. She didn't want to take it so easily, but she knew the mass of people standing around on the other side of the door would likely separate them if she didn't. She held his hand and marveled at how warm it was. She felt this odd sense of comfort holding it.

Violet's gaze then became fixed on his arms and those scars. She moved her hand above his wrist and gently padded the first few rows on his forearm. The touch made him jerk his head back at her and the look he gave scared her enough to move her hand back to his and keep it there.

She noticed her and Shadow Man's walk was much easier than hers and Trina's. People seemed to move out of his way as he approached them. Some moved out of the way with a look of awe, it seemed. Or was it respect? Maybe even fear? His stride was smooth and confident as he parted the crowd like Moses and she wondered just what she was doing with him. What possessed her to follow him in here, holding his hand? What did he have planned for her?

She was relieved when they approached that table with the men playing cards. Maybe they were headed for the kitchen and Trina could talk some sense into her.

"Y'all old niggas still playing? Ain't it time for y'all to report back to the nursing home?" The table erupted in laughter. Violet even snickered to herself a bit. The Shadow Man had a sense of humor it seemed.

"If you don't get yo' mop head ass outta here, E," one of the old men replied.

Another gentleman threatened to 'whoop his ass' like they used to for wearing that size ‘smedium’ shirt.

"Watch ya mouf unc!" Shadow Man joked. Or was it E? The first man called him E. It should've mattered. She didn't plan on telling him her name anyway.

Violet was disappointed to see that her best friend wasn't in the kitchen. That meant she was on her own in trying to be rational about this situation.

"Why you looking like that?"

She raised a brow at him.

"All worried and shit." He pressed his thumb against the wrinkles between her brows. She was sure he didn't mean for it to be, but the action was calming. She shrugged at him and that seemed to be answer enough.

There were still a few people milling about in the kitchen, but it mostly cleared out when they entered the space. He seemed to know the few stragglers still there and it made her wonder just who he was.

"Who are you?"

He laughed at her question as he leaned on the counter across from her. He was taking too long to answer and her mind raced with the possibilities of who he might be.

"I don't like repeating myself either...E." She took a satisfied swig from her cup.

That'll teach him.

Shadow Man didn't seem to like it though. He quickly stepped to her and forced himself back into her space, clenching his jaws.

"You went to college, huh? Prolly grad school too." Not the response she expected but he was right, nevertheless.

"Yea. And?" She didn't feel as intimidated as she had before.

Had to be the Hennessy.

"You smart." She smiled at his compliment.

"Problem is," he continued, "You think you smarter than me and everybody else in here."

E was also a good read of people. He knew her type and she stuck out like a sore thumb here, but only because of her bougie ass disposition.

"You not though." He cupped her ass firmly.

"See, I know I'm smarter than yo uppity ass...Cuz I knew you'd like my hands on you like this."

He slapped her behind and the sting rang across the kitchen. The short, thin dress she wore did nothing to muffle the sound. She started to look around her to see if anyone was looking but he grabbed her chin, keeping her eyes and focus on him.

"And you weren't smart enough to stay away from me." Her heart pounded. He was telling her everything she knew already.

"Why should I stay away from you?"

"Exactly, babygirl."

What? That's wasn't an applicable answer to her question.

He was watching her lips again, but this time she noticed. His tight little eyelashes blinked slowly at her pout before traveling back up to her 'pretty ass eyes.'

"You wanna kiss me,” she whispered.

"That's a question or a statement?"

"You tell me, since you so smart, E." He slapped her ass again for her sarcastic remark. This time she didn't try to scan the room for a potential audience. She didn't seem to care.

His frame enveloped her, despite her being a good 5'8" and thickly. She rarely felt small but she did now and it was a complete turn on.

One hand on her ass and the other on her face was how he started the kiss. She started it with a gasp. His lips were velvety soft. Her eyes were open at first. She had to make sure he was really kissing her. When she saw his were closed, she followed suit and was thrust into a kiss unlike any kiss she'd had in her life. Who knew thug type niggas kissed like this? It was rough, yet gentle and hot all at the same time. He pulled away from her only after suckling her full lips and finishing their kiss with a surprisingly sweet final peck.

She was stuck there for a moment, eyes still closed and leaning towards him. Until she realized he was gone. She looked back out the kitchen, past the old man card table and saw his short, stiff, dreadlocked ponytail hovering just above the crowd. She darted out the kitchen after him.

She found the courage to muscle through the crowd, because this time she had good reason to. Her own height assisted in her effort to keep an eye on the tips of his locs. Where the fuck was he going? The fact that he'd abruptly left after their kiss made a swell of insecurity rise up in her, yet she continued following him.

Violet felt some relief when she saw him heading up a flight of stairs above her. She hurried to the base of the steps and took a deep breath. She didn't want to be here just an hour ago and now she was following the Shadow Man up the stairs in some stranger's house.

Those pesky sirens in her head were blaring now. She could barely hear her own thoughts.

When she saw him disappear into the darkness of the hallway upstairs, her feet involuntary took the first step, and the one after that, until she found herself at the top looking down into the sea of people below. She continued down the dark hall looking for him. There was a slightly ajar door at the end of it that had a light shining from underneath it.

She pushed the door open slowly. There were sketches and what looked like computer parts all over the room. She gave herself a tour of the room and assessed that whoever lived in this house was probably a genius or at least smart as hell.

Impressive.

She was intrigued to the point that she momentarily forgot about him. When she was done being nosy, she headed for the door, flipped the light off and simultaneously felt two hands around her throat. The strength of the person was terrifying. It had only been a few seconds and she already felt lightheaded. Violet's arms flailed around, trying to grasp the light switch. If she was going to die tonight, she would at least see her killer. They must have sensed her plan and pulled her closer to them.

Mahogany.

Coconut.

Cedar.

"E...," she croaked as her hand made contact with the forearm of her attacker. His raised skin gave him away. She felt relieved that she knew it was him, despite the fact that his grip hadn't loosened around her neck.

"Please...I'm gonna...pass out..." she tapped at his hand and he released her.

"The fuck you doing up here, babygirl?!"

[merryfortune]

Happiness.

Ship: Ryoken/Spectre

Fandom: Yu-Gi-Oh! VRAINS

Rating: T

Word Count: 2,293

Tags: Angst with a Happy Ending, Hurt/Comfort, Toxic Relationships, Healing, Past/Referenced Suicidal Thoughts

   Ryoken had been happier of late.

   That should not have been of Spectre’s concern, but it was. It was actually an entire root of anxiety for him.

   Spectre had noticed it once he was off bedrest, coming out of his coma after his duel with Ai. There was a peculiarity to Ryoken’s behaviour. Smiles that were just a little bit too carefree for someone who had so closely and almost lost it all. Spectre wanted to assume that it was because all the Ignis were finally eliminated but he was certain that it was something else.

   He recalled the ice cold fear that he felt in Ryoken’s arms very well. He was there when Spectre had woken up, with a start, like he had just come tumbling out of a nightmare but no. There had been nothingness, only an abyss. All there had been was a dream of darkness. The other Lieutenants concurred, their punishments were similar: just endless darkness per the coding of the Dark Ignis. 

   But even from that embrace, both celebratory and mournful, Spectre had sensed that there was something incredibly wrong. Or was at least going to be an aberration against what he considered normalcy. Ryoken’s strange happiness was absolutely the outcome of that precognition that Spectre had.

   He had so badly wanted to enjoy the hug from Ryoken but his own melancholy had ruined it. That’s what Spectre had scolded himself for at first. Ryoken was so overjoyed that Spectre was safe and awake and he had ruined it. All because he was groggy and afraid. Afraid of losing what he had known for the past ten years.

   What were the Knights of Hanoi to do, if their mission had been completed?

   Was he necessary to Ryoken? Or needed by Ryoken?

   Those were all questions that he had entertained for quite some time but never paid much attention as the answer twisted suicidally, after all. As Ryoken held Spectre, tears in his eyes, hugging him so tightly, Spectre would have preferred to have never woken up at all as he could have avoided all those questions from before that were now plaguing him worse than ever. 

   Fortunately, or perhaps unfortunately for Spectre, things weren’t quite so fragile as he feared. Things didn’t break quite so ceremoniously as Spectre had expected. It almost felt like a holiday or a vacation but at ‘home’, how things steered away from their norm but without ever parting into unknown depths or territories. They still ate together, did work together, but their work was more mundane than their previous forays into cyber criminality. It was more piecework to put a little bit of money in the bank from people who had no idea they were hiring the infamous Knights of Hanoi’s upper echelon.

   Yet it was this dullness and not quite peacefulness that made Spectre feel as though he were about to snap like a duressed rubber band. He repressed it, however. He did not want to - literally - rock the boat but it made him feel more like a ghost than usual. More of a shade than his usual self, some fainter mimicry of the person that he tried to be and no one noticed.

   Why did no one notice?

   He wished that Ryoken, at the very least, would notice that something was awry with him but Ryoken was happy now.

   Why was Ryoken so happy now?

   That question Spectre asked himself in his irritable despair shocked him. It wasn’t quite a revelation but it was an angle that he had not yet considered and mulled over in his olympian efforts to make himself feel worse whilst swaddling himself in the mantra that he was outwardly fine. It tied in well with his intuition that Ryoken was happy for reasons outside of the Knights of Hanoi’s mission having finally been fulfilled.

   The realisation that followed next rushed down on Spectre. He needed to know what had happened to Ryoken to make him so seemingly happy. It was vitally important, Spectre convinced himself and so, he did what he considered what he did best. He tried to find out and he was very good at finding out things.

  He didn’t like to proceed blindly, so he researched. He followed breadcrumbs and other trails where permissible but he was stalled out here. No matter how sly he acted, whether he was probing any of the Lieutenants or whether he trying to extract half-truths or the like from Ryoken.

   Ryoken cottoned on fairly quickly, actually. Quicker than Spectre had hoped but that’s what he loved about Ryoken. But even so, Spectre felt rejected by the cold wariness I. Ryoken’s eyes as he asked, “Why are you prying into the events after your stasis? The matter has been long since resolved. It is none of your concern.”

   And so, the rubber band that was Spectre snapped and he snapped back, “I know you are hiding something. I am sick of being left in the dark.”

   Spectre stunned himself with how he sneered. How he snarled. How he snapped. He had never snapped or raised his voice at Ryoken. Ever. Over anything. His heart quaked with adrenaline and guilt but if Spectre was going to take the rare offense and embrace his rage, he decided that he best go all in, no matter the consequence or heartbreak. His fist balled up by his side and his glare was unlike Ryoken had ever seen upon his face before.

   “I’m trying to protect you.” Ryoken sighed, a plea for Spectre to be reasonable and to relent was implicit to his exhale. To fall in line and be obedient per usual but no. It was time for the dog to bite it’s master.

   “And what, pray tell, might you be protecting me from?” Spectre asked, his voice was tight and terse.

   Ryoken’s face was pitiful, “From happiness.” 

   Happiness. That accursed word. It wasn’t the answer that Spectre had been expecting but he couldn’t say that he was surprised by it either. He had been taught from a very early age that happiness could be taken from him easily. Thus he ardently cherished and was grateful for whatever crumb that he could be given but he found it far more satisfying to be the vector that took happiness from others. It was only fair. Other children were happy, Spectre was not. It only made sense to him that other people were not allowed to be happy either. If anything, it was almost twistedly relieving to hear his decade long suspicion confirmed out loud. Even if it had to be by Ryoken.

   Spectre’s irate expression said it all and Ryoken’s continuation of his statement was self-flagellating.

   “My happiness, specifically. At least to start. I didn’t want you to have a bond with your Ignis lest I become second to it. When it was discovered that the best outcome for the Ignis was total elimination of all of them, I thought my selfishness noble.” Ryoken explained.

   Spectre snorted. Became even more defensive than before.

   “And I am still trying to protect you. I truly think this happiness would hurt you.” Ryoken said. “This happiness of mine you are so obsessed with because yes, you are excluded from it. Both purposefully and just by how the events of the Dark Ignis’s plan unfolded and occurred.”

   “Just tell me.” Spectre snarled. He was getting teary in his frustration now.

    His heart throbbed like it had been pierced as he recalled Earth’s death. Ryoken had salted that corpse well. He had done a very lousy job of trying to “protect” Spectre there with all the cruel things that he had said both in Spectre’s absence and his presence. Though if Ryoken was willing to guard this secret then perhaps he had learned from that incident. Perhaps Spectre should have cracked more during his duel with Lightning if his own nobility and loyalty was only going to peter out here.

   “I had a duel with Soulburner and it felt more ceremonial than anything else. Myself, Soulburner, and Playmaker… it truly felt as though the Lost Incident had been put behind us and that is an incredibly freeing feeling and-”

   “And not one I would understand, I take it?” Spectre interrupted Ryoken, sniveling. 

   Ryoken nodded sadly.

  Spectre fumed. He felt alone. His face was red now and he bit his lower lip, begging his eyes to stop those damnable tears.

  “I’m sorry-” Ryoken said, stepping forward, arms extended, for a hug.

  “Don’t.” Spectre snapped.

   With that, Spectre didn’t know what he might say next to his master but decided that was enough. He huffed, stepped aside, and made his retreat. He withdrew from the living room, letting Ryoken stand there, defeated and disappointed.

   Spectre headed for his room and locked himself inside it. He had no idea what he was going to do now. His nerves were too set afire to sleep and all his brain wanted to do was pick apart everything that he and Ryoken had argued about. The compromise, he supposed, was to sit and stare at the wall. So, that’s exactly what he did. He just let his thoughts bristle and blunder, not even tiring of the awful emotions that he heavied himself with.

   He wasn’t sure how long he sat at his desk for. Books that he had half attempted to read to take his mind off things strewn across it but he couldn’t make out the words in his anger and frustration. Then he heard a knock at the door.

   “Spectre?” Ryoken called out. “I don’t want to leave our conversation like that.” He sounded pathetic.

   “Go away.” Spectre told him, certain their fight would only escalate should they continue.

   There was silence. It irked Spectre. It meant that Ryoken wasn’t walking away and letting things be. Per usual, he wanted to be the hero, the savior, the martyr. The whatever it was that he thought was.

   A crackle of static disturbed the air. Spectre sighed. He supposed the intrusion to his room could be worse, Ryoken did have a master key assigned to his card, if he really wanted, he could open Spectre’s room and storm in. That crackle was Ryoken’s courtesy. Being a cruise ship, all the rooms were installed with speakers and radios. So, Spectre waited for an announcement meant solely for him in a state of irritation.

   “Subject Number Four…” Ryoken began.

   His voice cracked and Spectre knew he was holding back tears - or maybe he was afraid. Ryoken’s voice sounded distorted but purposefully so, like he was trying to make his voice sound higher, not to mention the echo as even whispering, Spectre could still hear him through the door. But it was how Ryoken had addressed him that disturbed him. Number Four. That was his label from the experiment; a number that suited him well, retroactively given his Ignis was the first to die and he, himself, was a ghost.

   “I think you’re doing great.” Ryoken said.

   Spectre sat excruciatingly still. He listened intently and somehow through the deafening sound of his heart racing in his chest. Was… was Ryoken…? A tear threatened to leak out the side of his eye. The imminent kindness was alien to Spectre as this was so familiar to how Ryoken conveyed his affection yet drastically different.

   “You are braver and stronger than you realise.” Ryoken said. “It takes a very unique individual to smile and even laugh in the face of danger, I admire that. So think of three things that make you happy and never let go.”

   Spectre got up and there was a hesitancy to his hand as he stood in front of the door. The passcode on his fingertips, reached out but not touching the plastic pad of the numbers just yet, and a lump in his throat. Even so, he spoke. He did as he was told. He thought of three things and he shared them with Ryoken.

   “One, my Mother.” Spectre said, a tremble to his voice. “Two, beautiful things.” He typed in the passcode and his sliding door opened. He grinned but it was a very wobbly and wet grin. “Three, you.”

   Ryoken smiled back and he was hugged by Spectre. Spectre buried his head in the crook of Ryoken’s neck and shoulders. Ryoken hugged him back.

   “I’m sorry.” Spectre mumbled.

   “I’m sorry, too.” Ryoken replied softly.

   “I was… jealous. And anxious. I let that control me and I said some awful things, truly, Ryoken-sama, I apologise from the bottom of my heart.” Spectre murmured as he pulled back from the hug but Ryoken didn’t let him go, at least held his hands.

   “I’m not entirely innocent either, I was being controlling and possessive.” Ryoken added. He shrugged, half-smiled. “The closure regarding the Lost Incident that we need is different, that’s… okay. I admire how unapologetic you are about your perspective and moving forward, I want to take inspiration from that in pursuit of my own happiness. So please, stay true to that as you pursue your happiness and healing. Even if we clash sometimes, and we will again as we pick up the pieces of what we need but that won’t change the fact that I care about you deeply. I love you, Spectre, and I don’t like fighting you.”

   Spectre nodded, trying to ignore how he sniffled. Ryoken let go of one of Spectre’s hands so he could paw at his face, trying to make himself look presentable in the aftermath of all this. He then hugged Ryoken again and whispered, “I understand, I promise, I love you, too.” 

   Ryoken smiled, gladdened, consoled and though Spectre’s embrace was the tightest possible squeeze on him, it, too, carried a very freeing feeling as well.

[aesthyuckic]

AVENOIR | l.dh - VIGINTI UNUS

Genre: High School AU (at beginning) ; Tarot Reader!Witch!Hyuck

Word Count: 4.4K

Warnings: (bold if in use) slow but with a purpose, belief contradictions, mentions of r*pe, blood, swearing, violence, mentions of abuse, mentions of death

Pairings: Lee Donghyuck (Haechan) x Reader (F)

VI OF CUPS: nostalgia, happy memories and reunion

The hallways of the police station were so bleak yet grime especially in the night. The sounds of crying came from a small middle aged woman filled the space along with the rings of the phone going off constantly and the people talking lowly and shuffling around. She had her head in her hands as she cried so loudly. Somehow it was quiet enough everyone passing by and around could hear it. They all walked by with concern, but of course, no of them stopped to help her or anything.

It had been a week or maybe two, she wasn’t sure it had felt like months to her, since her son had gone missing. A girl she had never known about went missing the same night. Though, with the lead of an elderly woman that lived twenty minutes away, the police started to be able to look for the car her son had taken that night. They searched everywhere in the area, even ran the license plate number through the system but the car had not been spotted anymore after that night. It was seen that he had taken the exit to a certain beach on a traffic light camera. In the same footage, they were able to see the girl who had gone missing sat in the passenger seat. They never left though... and so people began to search the beach and ultimately, the water too. She had just gotten the news they found some remains of her car in the rocky waters below a certain cliff, no bodies which were presumed to be washed out by the waves and currents.

She was a mess on the floor of the police station after they had just broke the news. A part of her knew they weren’t going to find him, at least not alive but she still hoped. It wasn’t any less heartbreaking to lose her child. They suspected it was a case much like Romeo and Juliet much before the search by the pictures of the girl they found and the boy’s bedroom as well as the diary notes found in the girl’s drawer about her and the boy...

Everything that night was lie... The party never happened, if it did it’s still not where he planned to go. The girl had just disappeared from her room the same evening with no the trace except for that woman and the cameras which were only pieces in the end. The elderly women said they told her they were on their way home from a concert. That was never the truth, though. The whole statement was a lie. They didn’t come from a concert, they came from the opposite direction even and they surely had no intent of going home that night...

Donghyuck’s mother was rather shocked to see how emotionaless the father of girl her son had run off with, was. He just seemed so calm while handling the news about their death, her death. He was alone with his wife and daughter both passing now. He was strange from what she saw of him but again, people did handle grief differently. The way he fumed at the thought alone of his daughter having a boyfriend and grumbled about it under his breath though... He was more mad at the seventeen year old boy rather than the thought of his missing daughter pronounced dead.

The lady’s ears rang as she looked up at him, her hand covering her mouth in an attempt to muffle her sobs. Some of the officers were nice enough to come help her off the floor which was shocking. She looked at him again once she was up and once again, there was no trace of emotion on his face. He was completely blank... She didn’t understand how he could avoid crying at the news of his daughter’s passing. Any parent for that matter, how could a parent not cry, out of anger or sadness, at the announcement of their child’s death when they’re the whole reason the child was alive to begin with?

He began to walk away as he was heading toward the door, ready to leave. Still, so calmly... She ran to catch up with him but by the time she did, he was outside in the cold night. While the grief was settling in, the denial only gave the woman so much strength to carry on. She touched his shoulder as a way to stop him and get his attention to which he violently shrugged off and turned around to glare at her after.

“What?!” It was a boardline yell that made even her flinch, so bitter and angry it was.

“How, how are you not crying over your own daughter? She asked so softly. “How do you not even seen sad about it... The fact that she’s dead and so is my son... you don’t even seem upset about it.”

A sinister, bitter smile came onto the man’s face, almost too fitting for him for comfort of any sort. He walked closer to her with it too which scared her.

“Trust me,” He said. “Cosimia would never kill herself. She’s too much of a coward to go through with it. She’s alive, somewhere, that much I know and she’s probably with your son too.”

Her jaw dropped in shock. She was so taken back by his words there was almost no other way to respond. He could see the speechlessness and shock in her glossy, sad eyes which seemed to satisfy him. He turned as he went to leave once again, his shoes making a certain sound on the wet pavement. She thought maybe the unexpected things he said were due to him being in the denial stage. That’s what she wanted to think, so she believed it. People handled grief differently, right?

“It’s no wonder,” She said, suddenly which stopped him. “It’s no wonder why they didn’t feel comfortable enough to tell us they were together... Seeing the way you’ve reacted tonight alone, I come to realize why they would feel that way. You don’t even seem to care that your daughter is gone forever and my son is, too... You seem angry at him when he’s not something you should be angry at and there’s so much more but I understand why they might’ve felt the need for a suicide pact. Cosimia wasn’t afraid of dying, she was afraid the pain would never go away. Perhaps... Haechan was like a light in the darkness for her but she knew you weren’t going to accept that much like you’re doing right now even! And perhaps, Haechan felt the need to stick with her to the end and that’s why they’re no longer here...”

“Or maybe, you truly know nothing. I knew my daughter, not you.” He said, so flatly and once again, bitter to the point that it hurt.

It was reasonable to think they were dead, everyone else did. He finally walked away which left the woman in the cold by herself as he disappeared into the darkness of the december evening. Her cold hands resided in her coat pockets in contrast to the hot tears that trickled down her flushed cheeks again as she hit by the fact that her son was gone in a sense. It was a gruesome way to start a winter for a mom alone but the rest of those grieving, the holidays so close too... The sleepy down now wept over the lost of two high schools, it broke hearts some more than others, of course, even those that didn’t know them grieved.

Their missing posters still covered poles and sides of old pay phones that no longer worked, all wrinkled and washed out by rain. It made them droop in a sad manner which contrasted from the smiles in the yearbook photos used. They’d be gone soon, eventually the rain would turn them up complete plup. The same pictures appeared one last time on these news that evening to announce they found the car from the night they ran off in the ocean below a cliff. The smiling pictures truly seemed like a lie then, but everything was a lie in the end really.

Memorials went up at the school as well as the beach the car was found at. Donghyuck’s obviously much bigger than the girl’s. Certain types of people came out at times like these. People acting like they knew her, when they knew of her and sure some people were genuine with their sad feelings of her being gone but too many weren’t. Truth be told, it made Donghyuck’s mother sad to see. While she did love to see how many people did care for her son and how much they did, it was sad to see Cosimia get barely anything. She was the opposite of the boy when it came to receiving love from others.

The mother remembered reading the girl’s journal a bit. She talked about what she experienced in detail at school from her peers, how alone she felt because of it. All because of her mannerisms when she just wanted help, to be known and loved. The part that left her with some good feelings was when the girl talked about her son and how they talked to each other out of chance. It was the only time she felt seen as something more than weird and creepy as he wanted to get to know her, even if it was out of curiosity and he wanted to help her, show her the love she never experienced. It was true, the boy was a kind soul and had such a big heart full of all kinds of love to give to others. It made her cry with a bitter smile, at least he was still making someone happy...

The rain faded in the grey sky. The scenery began to become familiar as they made their way down the 101. Cosimia sat on the couch as she stared out the window, too lost in everything that rushed by them. It had been a year since they had been here and the last time they were, they were still alive to everyone. It was bitter sweet in a sense to the boy but at the same time he wouldn’t anything else but to be with her like this. The life they lived now, together, was pleasant and not something he could’ve had otherwise.

Donghyuck stood in the kitchen, making coffee for the girl. He looked over at her as he grabbed the pot that had just finished. He saw her looking out the window with her legs pulled up to her chest. She rubbed her arms that sat on top of her knees with a barely audible sigh. The boy finished pouring the coffee and mixing in the sugar and milk in when he sat down across from her in the couch.

“I’m sorry we have to spend your birthday here.” He said, softly, as he handed her the mug.

“It’s not your fault, Hyuck.” She hummed, taking the mug gently from his hands. “Thank you by the way, but if anything it’s Ten’s fault.”

“Maybe...” He shrugged. “You know, I know this place doesn’t hold the best memories for you. You deserve nothing but to feel happy on your birthday, don’t you?”

“Maybe, but I’m fine and things will be fine. That chapter has closed so you don’t need to worry about me, okay?”

He nodded before she went back to looking out the window. The gray light and dry grass that painted the sky and ground could be seen in the reflection on her eyes. They were near the dried out pasture near the local mall which is where they set up whenever they made their rounds back here. He wondered many things that dull October today... One of the lasts too.

“What do you want for your birthday?” He asked. “I never had time to get you anything or figure it out...”

“Hmm,” She hummed. “I don’t know if you’d want or be able to give it to me.”

“Is too expensive or something?” He chuckled, lightly. “I can always ask everyone to chip in, I know they wouldn’t mind they love you, Cosi.”

“It doesn’t cost anything, money wise.”

“Then why wouldn’t I be able to give it to you?”

“Because... I’m not sure if you’d want to... I mean, I’ve wanted it for awhile and I think you’ve picked up on the fact too. We’ve been close a few times but it’s hasn’t happened.”

“What are talking about?”

“I’m talking about you kissing me. Do you... still like me anymore? I just don’t know... and you know, I want to. We live together and everything if it makes you uncomfortable-”

“Of course I still like you! I just haven’t been able to kiss you because your mom is always around. Fuck, it gets annoying and makes it so awkward especially when I can hear her telling me not to do it. I’ve wanted to kiss you for awhile... Just every time it’s started to happen your mom ruins it and ever since you’ve told me about what your dad did to you... I’m really scared.”

Her expression softened from the frustration she has display moments ago to his confession. His cheeks were hot and flushed as he looked down. She put her mug down on the table before moving closer to him and lifting his chin up so he’d look at her rather than the carpet.

“There’s a reason I want to kiss you, you know. I’m comfortable with and around you, Hyuck, isn’t that obvious?” She asked. “I told you all that because I wanted you to know a deeper, dark part of me. It wasn’t meant to scary you away from showing me affection or anything. There’s no reason to be scared, you’ve always respected my limits even if you didn’t get it. You’re the only person I’m this close to psychical. I trust you.”

“But I think about all those times-“ He started.

“It’s not your fault so don’t guilt yourself over it, okay?”

He just nodded, his cheeks in her hands at that point which was always so soothing and comforting to him. The expression he always had on when she did made her always smile to herself. He just looked so relaxed and angelic.

“So, you really want me to kiss you as a present?” He asked the girl.

“Only if you want to.” She replied.

“Of course I do!” He exclaimed. “I just might not hear the end of it from your mom but I’m kinda willing to risk that.”

“She can’t say anything if it’s a birthday gift, right?”

The two found themselves laughing at the conversation. A brief moment of silence fell over them as they looked at each other. It’s something the both of them wanted for some time, it was so obvious if you looked at their eyes and the way they looked at each other. It was one of those loving looks in couples that made you sick and in pain only because you envied not being able to share that with someone yourself... She wasn’t very good at reading people or being able to tell if they were lying to her anymore. She feared maybe he was lying to her about liking her and everything. It’s not like people hadn’t done it before. Though, when she looked into his soft, dark brown eyes she saw the way they held the light in a different way from usual. It was too clear he felt something so deeply for her.

“I’ve never kissed anyone before.” She blurted. “Romantically, that is. Although, I think that was obvious...”

He shrugged, “I don’t care, I haven’t either. If that makes you feel any better.”

He felt, somewhat pathetic about the fact too. Being eighteen, never having his first kiss or first love when people his age had already had those experiences or were experiencing them. He hated being called a late bloomer for it. He watched so many romantic movies and would want what the main characters had so badly, he wanted to have it so bad but he had never really liked anyone until her.

“I’m shocked.” She admitted. “So many people liked you and you were so popular... I assumed you were much more experienced with those things because you just seemed...”

“Like a flirt?” He questioned. “I got that a lot, it never meant anything for the most part. I never had true feelings for anyone but you, I thought something was wrong with me before. I never wanted to give those things away because it meant nothing when those things are meant to special with someone special. In my mind, anyway. I was always weird for that.”

“I never took you as such a romantic.” She mumbled. “It’s nice and really sweet... Your soul is purer than I thought. You weren’t weird, Hyuck, just different and there’s nothing wrong with that. It’s really heartwarming too.”

He smiled a bit at her words. Something was always able to reassure him and make him feel better about whatever it be. He noticed how her hand rested in his in that moment. It still managed to make his heart flutter whenever it happened as he rubbed his thumb over the back of her hand.

“So,” He broke the silence. “I’m assuming you’d like your kiss now?”

She chuckled a bit, “Again, only if you’re comfortable giving it to me.”

He looked over at the mother who stood over in the kitchen. She had been there the whole time, just for once was she silent. She sighed as she closed her eyes and shrugged about the whole thing.

“I’m not going to win over you guys. Go ahead, I’ll leave.” She rolled her eyes before she walked to the back.

Donghyuck looked at Cosimia again, “Are you sure?”

She nodded, “I’d only trust you.”

“So, like, right now, right?” He asked.

“Yes, Hyuck.”

It really was not like how all the movies and books he read described what a first kiss would be like. It was incredibly awkward and tense but in a good, exciting way somehow. He found himself leaning in as he brought his hand to her cheek to cup it gently. He could feel his cheeks start to burn as his heart started to beat so loud he could hear and feel it in his own ears. The tips of his ears also started to go red the closer he got her lips. It was clear he was nervous, while she was more anticipate but still nervous. They had no idea what they were doing exactly, nothing they had seen in movies or anything would help the awkwardness. There was so much pressure for it to be perfect when it was near impossible. Though, that was something shared with most of not all first kisses, they’re awkward because it’s new and unknown, maybe that’s why it was exciting.

It was gentle and sweet, even if it was a bit messy they couldn’t really help it and they’d get better eventually. The girl never thought she’d be in that position, she never expected to enjoy any type of intimacy with anyone, especially not a man. He treated her so delicately, took everything slowly. She sighed into the kiss as she went up to touch his hand that rested on her cheek. It was addicting in the way she just wanted more. Something about it was just so full of love it was overwhelming good.

It felt like heaven to the both of them, that’s what matter. Too lost in their own world together, they hadn’t notice the trailer stopped and also the familiar voices that were just outside laughing. It was abrupt when they were interrupted by their door being swung open by Xiaojun which sent them flying to different ends of the couch as they looked to what startled them. They found their friends outside the door, the guy with freshly dyed yellow hair at the front of it. Guessing by the shocked looks on their faces, they saw.

“Oh,” Xiaojun blushed. “We didn’t- Anyway we’re here.”

“We’ll be going now.” Jaehyun said as he grabbed the door handle. “You just... met us when y’all ready. Good morning and happy birthday by the way, Cosimia.”

He quickly shut the door, so nonchalantly. They could hear their voices outside as soon as the door shut as they started to walk away.

“I told you it was only a matter of time, did anyone listen to me? No!” Hendery huffed.

“I’m surpised it took so long, honestly.” Jaemin confessed. “Their feelings were so obvious and the tension between them was so thick.”

“Shut up, they can probably hear you guys.” Kun gritted.

“Good. Congrats!” Yangyang yelled.

“I suggest what Kun said.” Jeno hissed.

“Good for them though.”

The both of them were blushing now from their friends comments made outside. They looked at each other from across the couch before they broke out laughing to ease the air around them. They got ready for that morning as they did have to work that day. They shared one last kiss, that went on longer than it should because the both of them got too lost in the bliss of each other before they went outside to set up.

“Where are you going?” Cosimia asked as she saw the boy go the opposite way of where they were suppose to be going.

“I’m going to go ask Johnny something real quick.” He answered, walking backwards. “I’ll be right, I’ll met you at our spot.”

Donghyuck saw the way she would struggle with the tarot cards everyday. It was nice to help her out but he didn’t like seeing her so frustrated to the point she was ready to cry. Since she had lost her ability, she had to take over his old job while he had a new position. His missed his tarot cards too from time to time but he didn’t want to see her like that on her birthday. She was able to get the whole day off for his birthday, surely Johnny could give them at least a few hours.

He eventually found the man in his own trailer, working on something that morning. It took him a moment to notice the boy.

“What are you doing here?” Johnny questioned.

“I need to ask you for a favor.” The younger boy said. “It’s Cosimia’s birthday, you know that, right? I want us to have a few hours off at least. I really want to make this day special for her...”

The older seemed to smile at the way the boy got nervous about asking the question, “Just take the whole day. Don’t ask questions either and I won’t either, go. I’ll take care of things.”

He shoved the boy out of his trailer and shut the door behind him. It left the boy in shock but also happiness that his boss said yes. Though he wondered why he did it with no issue. The man did say but to ask questions... He shrugged to himself before going on his way to find the girl.

He saw Cosimia struggling to set up their booth on her own which made him smile to himself. She didn’t even notice him for a moment but when she did she sighed.

“Can I get some help?” She huffed.

He laughed as he walked over to her and took the pole out of her hand to dropped it on the ground, “Johnny said we can go.”

“But-“ She started.

“He said not to ask questions and that he’d take care of it. Let’s go!”

“What did you do though?”

“It’s your birthday... I just asked if I could take to to breakfast or something and he gave us the whole day off. Even if you don’t want to go eat, we get out of work and we can do anything we want.”

“Is this a date?”

“Only if you want it to be.”

“Okay then, let’s go.”

She smiled as she wrapped his arms around one of his before walking away together. It was something so small that made his heart flutter once again...

Meanwhile, in a drugstore only a few miles away from where they were, a black haired boy was picking out sodas and junk food, still in his pajamas. Mark yawned as he approached the counter with his items. He was half asleep standing there, barely able to keep his eyes open as he heard the beep of the scanner. He looked at counter to find a small laminated standee with flimsy free tickets made for small children. The circus was back in town he guessed, a little late though...

Out of sheer curiosity he picked up the standee just to look at it as the cashier was still ringing up his items. The sign always had a picture of all the people that worked there, it seemed to have gotten a bit bigger and also younger that year. He looked over the unfamiliar faces until he got to the bottom row. His eyes widen at the sight and suddenly he was very much awake. The sight of what looked like his dead best friend and the girl he had died with, sitting and smiling there. The boy even rubbed his eyes and slapped himself a bit to make sure it hadn’t been a mind game.

It had been almost a year, how was that even possible? He wondered... They were still there though when he looked back at the picture. Despite their hair color changing and their style a bit too, the resemblance was too spot on... It was freaky as well.

“Excuse me, do you know when the circus is coming here?” He asked the cashier.

“It says right there on the sign.” She scoffed as she put everything in the bag. “Also, the total is 24.76.”

“Sorry, sorry.” He apologized while he rummaged through his pockets for money and immediately going back to intensely looking at the sign after giving her the money.

The previous date was crossed out and had that day’s date on it. The girl slid the bag across the counter to the college student.

“Your change is in the bag.” She sighed before walking away before he could even thank her.

He just put down the standee, took the bag and left. He had to go today... He had to know...

[artsoupsoupart]

I don’t know if you’re doing prompts, but if you are.. Can you write a hicsqueak fic, please. A spell mishap of meddling young witches resulted in Cackle’s and Pentangle’s castles merging. Hecate and Pippa woke up on their now joint bed. Their wardrobe and chambers are merged too and it took them a whole week (maybe longer) to fix it and find the culprits. Thanks! Love your hicsqueak fics btw

It’s not exactly the prompt but I hope you enjoy it! Sorry it took so long, it’s been like 3 weeks but it kinda got out of hand lol! Also: I’m not not taking prompts, but I write slow so if anyone sends one, sorry if it takes a while to get it filled! 

Cacktangle’s Academy for Witchcraft and Wizardry 

AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27270871 

“Lights out, girls,” Hecate bellows as she glides down the corridors. Around her, doors shut closed and lights turn off as young witches clad in matching pajamas scurry into their rooms from their friends’. Each one bids her goodnight (some more confidently than others), something that didn’t use to happen, and she can’t quite pinpoint when it had started. Perhaps she had gone soft in the last few years. Not that she necessarily minds. Anymore.

She’s just about finished with her rounds when one Azura Moon slips out of her door and wraps her arms around Hecate’s middle. 

“Good night, Miss Hardbroom” the girl says as she smiles, as wide as she ever does. Hecate still freezes at the contact she should be used to after two years (especially because Azura takes every opportunity to hug her and for some reason she just can’t tell the girl to stop) but she does eventually return the embrace, tapping the tips of her fingers against the girl’s shoulder, silently noting not for the first time how much taller she’s gotten. 

Then she’s turning the perpetually exuberant witch away from her and to her room. “Good night, Azura. And do tell Miss Jones she has precisely three seconds to return to her own room.” 

Hecate doesn’t even get the opportunity to begin her countdown when the other girl pokes her head out of the room with a sigh. Azura simply continues to smile as she hugs her friend and they part ways for the night. When the door shuts behind Azura, Hecate stops and listens. With Isabella securely in her room in the Citrine hall, the castle seems quite enough. Even Mildred is tucked away in her room, though she’s not sleeping by any means. But Hecate won’t disturb the girl tonight. Not when she knows Mildred has been staying up later and later to research witching colleges (a fact that brings the older witch a bit of joy). Instead, Hecate transfers directly to her rooms for the night. 

She takes extra care getting ready for bed. Her shower is hotter and filled with lavender essence. The last few showers had been quick spells after long, tiresome days and they definitely weren’t as satisfying. She chooses a softer, silkier nightgown and takes her time moisturizing. By the time she settles at her vanity to call Pippa, Hecate is relaxed and pliable and she begins brushing out her dark locks. 

“Good evening, darling,” Pippa grins through the mirror when it connects. She’s already lying in bed, propped against her plethora of pillows. Her hair is slightly wavy from being freshly washed and it fans out against the pink silk, her face free of makeup and her freckles on full display. This is perhaps Hecate's favorite Pippa, relaxed and serene, unencumbered of being headmistress and modern magic activist. She’s delicate in a way that she can’t be during waking hours and Hecate feels a bit of pride at being one of few who has gotten to see her this way. 

"Evening, Pippa," Hecate smirks. "You look comfortable." 

The blonde snorts and launches into the events of her day. The tale is one filled with students who could stand to be more observant, mischievous fae friends, and strict council members. All things Pippa had had to deal with more or less by herself due to her deputy being otherwise preoccupied in securing more scholarships for next year. 

"But that's all in the past, Hiccup. I'm already better," the blonde breathes out. "Tell me about your day, darling." 

As Hecate recalls about her day, she notices the glassy, dreamy look that passes over Pippa’s eyes. That look that lets her know that while the blonde is definitely still listening, she’s daydreaming, most likely about her hair. Pippa has always been weird about Hecate’s hair. Smitten. That’s the look. Hecate now knows that she saw this look many, many times when they were teens and she’s been on the receiving end of the look more times that she can count since they’ve started dating, but it still makes her heart flutter. 

“I love brushing your hair,” Pippa mumbles. It’s as if she just let out a secret as tanned cheeks blush a brilliant red and the blonde looks away from the mirror. 

“Yes, I know you do,” Hecate says, as casually as she can manage. 

“I would do it every night if I could,” she says, referring to brushing. It only makes Hecate smile wider and she reminds her that while that would be fantastic, they have other responsibilities that prevent that. The petulant look on Pippa’s face is almost comical as she huffs and pouts. Hecate simply placates her that she’ll be able to do so when she visits, whenever time allows. The two go on to talk in soft hushed tones as Hecate herself settles into bed for the night, falling asleep together without ending their call. 

Meanwhile, back in the Ruby corridor, two very awake and very excited witches sit in front of their mirror, whispering away to their friend. 

“Come on, Izzy! Think of it! Addy is going to be at Pentangle’s most of the time. And we’re going to be here. Wouldn’t it be great if we could just open our wardrobe and boom? We’re there or she’s here.” 

The redhead purses her lips in thought. The Addy in questions has hope in her eyes as she holds up the spell they can do to essentially make a portal connecting the two rooms. It’s restricted use of magic but it would be nice to visit whenever they wanted. “Okay, fine! What do we do?” 

So, they set to work. Addy lists off the ingredients and directions while Azura mixes them together. Izzy then takes the combination of ingredients and crawls into the wardrobe. 

“We should put in a clause! That no other people here or at Pentangle’s can find the door.” 

“Especially, HB.” 

“Oh yeah, she’d go bats.” 

So, they add a few lines to the spell and with slightly shaky hands, Izzy closes her eyes and begins the spell. Her hands trace the back panel of the closet and then she knocks three times. All three girls wait and wait and wait, confused until the light pulls at the edge and a new door forms. 

“It worked! We did it!” Azura whisper-squeals before crawling through the new door.

Hecate wakes slowly as her alarm charm tings to life at 6 AM. With eyes still closed she lifts a hand to silence the charm, breathing deeply and stretching like a cat, back arched and limbs straight. And suddenly there is a set of arms and legs, warm and secure around her own body. Her eyes shoot open. She stiffens. She wants to panic immediately. A voice in her head that sounds suspiciously like a certain blonde tells her to Breathe, Hecate. Assess. Her gaze looks down to the hands now around her middle. Pink nails, tanned arms. Pippa? 

“Pippa?” She questions out loud, voice still raspy from sleep. And then she turns as gently as she can. It doesn’t stop her from startling the blonde, whose hazel eyes fly open as she lets out a high-pitched squeak. 

“Hiccup?!” The blonde puts a bit of space between them, chest heaving as she stares at her. “What are you doing in my bed?” 

“Your bed? Pippa, you are in my bedroom.” 

Pippa looks around, gathering her bearings, surprised that she is in fact not in her own bed, or even her own room. So many of her things, however, are perfectly placed. Her soft pink silk pillows differ greatly with Hecate’s deep burgundy duvet. Her creme bedside chair had made it to the room. Her favorite blanket and the plush donut Hecate won at the All Hallows’ Eve festival the year before sits on said chair. Her jewelry box and makeup reside on Hecate’s otherwise bare vanity. It’s as if she’s moved in overnight. 

“I don’t understand.” 

“Neither. Do. I.” Hecate’s brows are furrowed as she looks around. “But we’re going to find out.” 

With that, Hecate throws on her leather robe. She pauses briefly to hand Pippa one of her others, opening the wardrobe to find it clustered with bright sky blues and soft pinks. Light washed jeans that increase to pairs of black leather are neatly hung. There’s pumps and sneakers and flip flops in just about every color. It’s as if her wardrobe has been split right down the middle, the two sides now contrasting so vibrantly. One being a rainbow of color and the other darker and subdued. Hecate’s eyes almost bulge out of her head, but Pippa silently places a hand on her shoulder as she reaches for her own robe in the wardrobe. 

As a habit, Pippa slips her fingers between Hecate’s and all but drags her from the bedroom. The living space is even more spliced than the bedroom with the large windows from Pentangles’ front and center letting in the bit of sunlight that has already started to peak through the morning clouds. It stops them both in their tracks, but Hecate quickly recovers. They don’t have time to dwell on just how strange this is. They have to figure out what’s going on and fast. 

They twist and turn through the castle until they reach an equally distraught Ada, who is attempting to calm a fuming Miss Tapioca, whose kitchen is now cluttered with items from the other school and arranged differently. Hecate and Pippa cautiously approach when the familiar faced teachers arrive. Dimity rounds the corner with Abigail, Pentangle’s fitness witch. Peter and Christopher, the flying instructor and librarian, arrive with Theodore Daisy and Lavinia Crotchet, Cackle's new chanting instructor. Soon the entirety of both staffs are ushered into the Teacher’s lounge, which unsurprisingly has also been combined with the one at Pentangle’s. 

“Did anyone cast any renovation spells recently, any chants?” Ada asks when Hecate finally gets the room to quiet. 

All the teachers shake their heads in unison. 

"No, a staff member didn't do this.” Hecate says, eyes squinted in thought. “A student did. The magic, while definitely strong is highly simple and misguided." "Well then," Ada starts, "we need to find the stu-" 

An eruption of chatter and a knock at the office door stops the headmistress in her tracks. Hecate flicks her wrist to reveal Mildred with the rest of the sixth years behind her. Surely the other young witches are not far away. 

"Miss Cackle," Mildred stumbles inside, eyes wide and confused. "I woke up early because I just know we're going to have a pop quiz in advanced myths and legends, and I got out of bed and Melinda Merriweather from Pentangle's was in my room! And her things. Her bed, her posters, her clothing. Everything." 

"Mildred Hubble," Hecate begins. The girl starts to say something, but the witch holds up her hand. "All students are to report to the field. Pentangle's and Cackle's, organized by year and name." 

Mildred's mouth drops open, but she simply nods instead of rebutting. Perhaps she has learned something in her two years as head girl. Ever the lead, Mildred turns around and addresses her fellow classmates and the girls shuffle outside. It's loud and the lines will definitely not be neat, but Hecate has at least bought the two staffs a bit of time to devise a solution. 

"So, the whole school has been, what? Merged?" Pippa asks. 

"It would seem so." Hecate flexes her fingers in thought. "We'll have to do a thorough inspection, but with the amount of merging that seems to have happened it might take weeks to undo." 

Dimity, who had been watching the girls file out to the field, adds, "It could take months." 

The entire room stops. Eyes searching eyes for some type of hope that it doesn't take months to restore order. 

"Well," Ada tries to smile, "Let's hope that's not the case. Now, let’s quickly find a solution for today. Those students can’t stand outside forever.” 

It takes all of five minutes for the headmistresses and deputies to quickly form a plan. The students will be given a free day of no classes while the staff members catalogue the damage done, that is after they find the perpetrators. Then they’ll decide how to best proceed in educating their students. They are, after all, witching (and wizarding) academies first. 

With a plan for the witches and wizards, the teachers file outside after casting freshening spells and changing their clothes. Pippa and her deputy address the Pentangle’s students and let them in on the details of what’s happening. Hecate, though, immediately turns on her strict and scary facade (though she’s quite pleased at how well the girls have followed direction. She wants to praise them, but now is not the time). 

"Mildred Hubble?” She stands in front of the girl, brow raised. 

“It wasn’t me, Miss Hardbroom. I promise! I haven’t caused any trouble in months. Promise!” 

Hecate squints her eyes at the teenager. The deputy head scans the lines of girls, eyes blazing. Some cower, some look utterly bored. She turns to the next trio of suspicion. Beatrice, Sybil, and Clarice all shake their heads when her eyes land on them. No, not them. Hecate lifts her head, sniffing the wind as a lioness to her prey. Her feet lead her to where the third years have lined up. Head tilted; she walks the line. Walks and walks until she stops right in front of the exact girls, bending down slowly to meet them eye to eye. 

“Azura Moon and Isabella Jones.” 

“We’re sorry, Miss Hardbroom.” The young redhead blurts out immediately. For once, Azura, the perpetually cheerful girl, looks positively stricken with fear. “We didn’t mean to merge the booth schools. Just our doors. Like Narnia.” 

“We just wanted to see Addy.” Azura interjects. 

The girls talk in tandem, explaining their reasoning. Adelaide cautiously takes her place by the girls, with Pippa in tow. All the while Hecate grows more and more red, her back straightening to her tallest height. 

“Silence!” She hisses as her eyes blaze into the three very shocked, very scared third years. Had this been another time, perhaps a few years ago, Hecate thinks she would simply snap. Instead, she lets the steam shoot from her ears and lets out a stiff breath. Pippa’s doing. With clipped words and fire still in her eyes, she continues. “Azura Moon. Isabella Jones. And Adelaide Peppercorn. You three will have detention every day until this is fixed.” 

Azura opens her mouth to speak but thinks differently when Miss Hardbroom’s piercing cold eyes snap to her. “Get ready for the day. Breakfast will be served early, and every student must return to their newly merged room until Headmistress Cackle and Headmistress Pentangle formulate a solution. No student will be caught outside of their room without permission lest they want to join these three in detention.” 

And with that, the Cackle’s witches were dismissed, shuffling away with the softest whispers. Pippa then dismisses the Pentangle’s students, who follow the others inside. 

“Well, I suppose we should join the students for breakfast and then take inventory of the damage.” Ada says. 

Breakfast is.... a struggle to say the least, but they manage it well enough. Miss Tapioca and Miss Cassava have their spats resulting in a mix of a meal. There’s a mix of cold oats and bright fruits. None of the dishes match, which Miss Tapioca scowls at in disgust. The now enlarged Great Hall luckily added the necessary tables and even extended the teacher’s table to sit everyone, so they’re not strapped for space. The hall is buzzing with chatter as some of the young teens fawn over being with their friends, others over the wizards they’ll be sharing space with for the foreseeable future with. (A message will have to be sent out to the parents. There will definitely be quite a few upset families). Hecate has half a mind to punish everyone and make the students eat separately and in total silence but her own thoughts of how to separate the two schools overtake disciplining at the moment. 

After breakfast, the students are all sent to their rooms and the staff begins their inspection. Most of the classrooms are heavily bound together. The bedrooms too. The only rooms that can realistically be separated sooner rather than later surprisingly seem to be the storage rooms. Everything else will take at least a week, some more. Even some wards from Pentangle’s have replicated themselves at Cackle’s, making some of their own unstable. It’ll take well over a week to reverse those. 

The stress of the situation radiates off the blonde, but she gives Hecate no chance to comfort her, choosing instead to fully delve into the title of headmistress. But Hecate knows it’s clawing at her to see her school not be her school. Pippa and her deputy depart soon after a plan is made to begin the separation to check on the Pentangle’s location. In the meantime, Hecate busies herself with potions needed to fix the wards. 

Pippa rings about two hours later and to the untrained eye she looks reasonably and understandably stressed. But Hecate notices the red that rims her eyes, the way her mouth is down turned. There’s a brittleness to her voice. She knows Pippa won’t let it show (she never does) but the blonde is positively devastated.  

“At least the young wizards’ rooms aren’t combined with the girls. It’ll be easy to get them back to Pentangle’s when the time comes.” Pippa attempts to find some silver lining of this situation before she informs them that they’re headed back. The subtle wobble in her voice doesn’t go unnoticed to Hecate. Had she had the time, she’d call her privately, let her cry and rant and feel. Instead, she has three third years in detention to attend to. 

Azura, Isabella, and Adelaide arrive to the potions’ lab five minutes before Hecate. They’re seated at the cauldrons, with guilty faces. The dark witch materializes at her desk in the middle of the room, the palms of her hands planted on the spokes of her chair. 

“Open your witches’ code.” She speaks lowly. Knowing this punishment will last at least a week, she’ll start their disciplining simple enough. For every code they broke, the girls will write and rewrite and rewrite line after line until it’s memorized. Then she’ll figure some other punishment, perhaps a particularly challenging potion. Either way, she’s certain they’ll never use magic so recklessly again. 

When she returns to her rooms after detention and bedtime rounds, Hecate is both shocked and pleased to see Pippa already there. But her heart immediately breaks when she sees her sitting on the sofa, wrapped in a blanket, staring off into space as if she’s lost in thought. 

“Pippa?” 

The blonde turns to her, tears hanging just off the edge of her eyes. Though the room isn’t very large, Hecate transfers right to Pippa, pulling her against her chest. Pippa’s breath shudders. No tears fall, Pippa’s holding back the urge to fully sob. Hecate holds her tighter when she feels her press her nose to her neck, puffs of air hot against it. Pippa’s body shakes and shudders but she never lets the tears come, something worries Hecate immensely. 

“Pippa,” Hecate tries again. She receives a small shake of her head, so they sit there silently until Pippa mumbles that she’s ready to go to bed. 

The next morning Pippa is as bright as she can be, refusing to talk about the situation outside of what needs to be done. For the rest of the week, the two schools attempt to find some sort of common ground. For the most part, they can continue as they normally would. Some classes have been combined. Dimity and Abigail have a blast sharing exercises for the students while Lavinia and Pippa mesh together traditional and modern chants. Others are left as they were before, something that relieves a bit of Hecate’s stress as she doesn’t have to share her classroom or curriculum. They continue on and slowly, day by day, something gets undone and returned back to its proper place. 

...

Wednesday morning breakfast announcements the next week begin with a chiming of bells. Cackle’s is full of life in a way it has never been before. Students in purple vests file in next to witches in grey dresses, chatting a mile a minute even at the early hour as they pile oats and fruit into their bowls. The setup of the great hall is awkward and a bit too crowded, but surprisingly it’s been an easy adjustment. The easiest parts of Pentangle’s have been returned to their proper place. Spells and potions have been brewed for the corners. The two schools have only been joined for six days, but they’re working like a semi well-oiled machine. Each morning Ada or Pippa announce what part of the school has been returned and an estimate of their time remaining. It’s not much of one as they try to keep hope alive but not too high. Only a few of the students have been caught sneaking out to the wizards’ corridors and vice versa, joining Azura, Isabella and Adelaide in detention. 

Pippa is just finishing her announcements when someone from the crowd interjects, “But, Miss Pentangle, what about movie night?” 

“It was supposed to be this Friday,” another little wizard steps forward to say. 

“Oh,” Pippa starts, stumbling in surprise. “Well, I suppose we will just have to postpone the movie night until we return to Pentangle’s.” 

Every single wizard and witch from the modern academy groans in disappointment. It radiates throughout the room as the Cackles’ girls’ mouth “movie night?” at each other. 

“I know you all were looking forward to it, but good witches and wizards always look for the bright prospect in gloomy situations. A postponement is not a cancellation.” Pippa reminds them. That gets them nodding and some even try to convince their friends that it’s alright, but the atmosphere in the great hall is discontented and unhappy as students file off to classes for the day. 

Hecate transfers directly to the potions’ laboratory when breakfast ends, checking the supplies. Between practically doubling the amount of ingredients used in class for both schools and the amount necessary for the separation, each ingredient must be heavily inspected and accounted for. Her back is turned to the young first year witches who dutifully take their places at their cauldrons when she overhears one mention how unfortunate it is that Pentangle’s can’t have their movie night. Another agrees in a soft whisper. What causes her ears to perk is when one of her students mentions Pippa and how the headmistress seemed just as disappointed as her students. Normally, she wouldn’t give such gossip a second thought, but she can’t help but question how Pippa is feeling after having to console her more than once. 

And they’re right. Pippa has been off kilter since announcing the postponing of their school wide movie night. Hecate definitely remembers the blonde gushing about how fantastical it would be a few weeks ago. They had been on a mirror call and the blonde had gone on and on about popped corn and fizzy drinks and a movie or two projected outside, under the stars. 

Hecate enters Pippa’s office after detention, tapping on the open door. 

“Pippa, you need to rest.” 

Unbeknownst to many people, Pippa is a worrier. She’d like to be known as the put together, awe inspiring super witch many have made her out to be, but the truth is she stresses more than she would ever let on. She had worried herself sick when applying for Weirdsister’s. Every competition, every presentation, every speech she’s ever had to give has been rewritten, rehearsed, and regurgitated to perfection. Because she is Perfect Pippa and right now Perfect Pippa’s perfect academy is a jumbled mess.

“My school, Hiccup,” her eyes water just as they did the first night. This time, though, they streak down her face, the dam finally broken. 

The brunette kneels at Pippa’s feet, taking her hands in her own. “Your school isn’t a building, Pipsqueak. You know that.” 

The blonde nods, “I know.” 

“And you know you’re doing the best you can to still adequately provide for every student and faculty member.” She goes on to say. Pippa nods again. “It’s not just you who has to fix this and it’s not your fault.” 

Pippa sighs and presses a hand to a pale cheek. “Between waking up here and seeing Pentangle’s empty, like a dismembered puzzle and just having to figure things out I...” she trails off, a lump in her throat and tears welling up once more.

Hecate raises up to grab a few of the light pink tissues in the desk. She brushes away tears that threaten to drip down Pippa’s chin and hands the blonde a couple more. “It’s alright. You can’t let yourself take on all of the responsibility, Pippa.” 

Then she smiles. It’s watery and sad, but Pippa smiles and Hecate thinks perhaps it’s the first time she’s seen a true one in days. “When did you become the sensible one?” 

Hecate scoffs, “I always have been.” And with that, she presses the smallest and sweetest kiss to the hand that is still clutched in her own. The one against her cheek guides her forward for a real kiss. The dark witch finally convinces Pippa to leave her office, to return to their room and rest just a bit. They sit in silence, curled together on the couch before Hecate must take her leave to ensure every witch and wizard are in bed. 

During her nightly rounds, Hecate takes the stairs to the old but still familiar room in the tower. She silently greets the bats that hover outside before transferring into the room unannounced. 

“Mildred Hubble,” Hecate begins, startling the girl who had been studying. “I require your assistance. Report to the potions’ lab after classes tomorrow.” She raises her hand to transfer away but she pauses. “And do bring Miss Spellbody, Miss Hallow and Miss Foxglove.” Then she’s gone, leaving a stunned Mildred, mouth in a small “O”. 

The next afternoon, after classes have finished for the day, Mildred finds herself leading Maud, Ethel, and Felicity down the corridors of Cacktangle’s. She already feels her head throbbing after trying to convince a still skeptical Ethel that she wasn’t trying to play a prank on her. Though, she should get her back for the soap incident that may or may not have happened in the Pentangle’s pool a few days before. She puts it on her mental to-do list. (Just because they’re older and fight with each other less doesn’t mean they can’t play a few tricks every now and then). 

“And Miss Hardbroom didn’t tell you why she needed us,” Ethel asks — well, states — for the tenth time. 

“No, she just said to bring you,” she sighs, growing more and more frustrated with the blonde. 

“Weird. Miss Hardbroom always has a reason for whatever she wants,” Ethel mutters to herself. “Are you sure?” 

“Ethel! Why would I lie about Miss Hardbroom needing us?” Mildred tries her hardest not to shout as she pushes open the door to reveal a potions’ lab littered with small bags for popcorn and candy and sugary drinks. Isabella is cutting red and yellow card stock while Azura twines on little twist-ties around baggies filled with lollipops and bubble gum. In another corner, Adelaide is taking inventory of the beverages. Hecate is in the back of the lab, finger pointed as she checks off item after item on a piece of paper, and she looks up when she hears the girls gasp in shock. 

Without wasting a second, Hecate puts Felicity on movie duty, her maglet instantly unlocked as she tracks down the topmost popular movies and activities for the uninterested. Ethel, having just mastered a penmanship spell, is set to work on signs and labels. Maud and Mildred are sent to round up any and every spare blanket, comforter, and pillow for their guests. 

Detention (or extra tutoring as most consider it but would never let Hecate know) normally lasts an hour. When Hecate had gone to dismiss the girls, saying they’d rather help, she’s shocked that they refused and continued going on. They continue for another two hours until they’re finished. It’s a gesture she’s not sure she’s really received from anyone outside of Pippa, Ada and the Cackle’s staff, this extra voluntary assistance. Hecate definitely isn’t one to ask for help outright. So, they stay until it’s time to ready for bed. The potions’ teacher shuffles the girls, who are both exhausted and buzzing with excitement, off to their rooms. 

Hecate is just about to transfer away when Azura calls her name. The instant she turns, head high and brows raised in question, she’s enveloped in that familiar hug again. 

When the girl pulls away, she sports a sleepy smile after she yawns into her elbow. “It’s really cool of you to give the Pentangle's students their movie night.” She giggles at the pinched expression on Hecate’s face before skipping back into her room with a soft but cheery “Good night, Miss Hardbroom.” 

Breakfast on Friday morning is quiet, none of the Pentangle’s students are very talkative. They're all still upset of their postponed movie night. There had been talk that there would still be one as most were skeptical of Felicity and her inquiries the day before but since word hadn’t come from any of the teachers, the students shrugged it off as Felicity simply being an aspiring journalist. Had she not been so utterly exhausted the night before; Hecate would have told Pippa and they would have had an announcement at the ready. Instead, she had showered and brushed out her hair before slipping into the warmth of the bed that's only been increased by the presence of an extra body. She still has some last minute preparations to do before the first class begins (and to tell Ada -- something she had neglected to do in her haste) so instead she'll just have to announce the movie night at lunch. 

The time rolls around and she stands from the teacher's table and walks to the front, following slightly behind Ada. Pippa had been obviously confused when she had walked away with an almost ominous smile. Everyone grows silent and suddenly Hecate is transported to the countless amounts of times she had been forced to speak in front of her peers. Her palms sweat. The unnoticeable tendrils of hair that have fallen from her bun tickle at her neck. But like then, she looks out to the crowd and finds confused hazel eyes waiting for hers and she breathes easier. 

Ada starts with a sweet “Good morning, everyone” and then launches into a reminder that Pentangle’s magical maze is still off limits as it continues to change every hour instead of every Friday, making it very easy for any and everyone to get lost. She then turns to Hecate for their special announcement. 

She sniffs, tilting her head upward, “All students will be excused from their final periods in order to prepare for,” Hecate pauses for effect. “Special cinematic viewings of select entertainment beginning at 6 pm.” 

There’s chatter instantly which Hecate lets go on as she steps down from the stage and back over to the teachers’ table. 

“Hecate, did you?” Pippa starts to say. 

“I don’t know what you’re referring to.” 

“You did!” The blonde’s eyes brighten and glaze over slightly. She drops her voice. “That’s why you were working late last night. Oh, Hecate you didn’t have to.” 

With shoulders high and a smile, she tries not to let show, Hecate says “Yes, well...” 

There’s absolute hearts in Pippa’s eyes. She leans closer to Hecate who tries her hardest to keep a neutral expression when she says, “Remind me to kiss you silly later.”

The school vibrates with energy after lunch. While most of the Pentangles students are out for the day (Hecate still finds Pippa’s insistence of having four day weeks strange) the halls are cluttered, and excitement is in the air. Cackle’s has never had a movie night. Hecate can recall previous students mention is once or twice, but she’s sure she had always turned down the idea with a stern look and a hissing denial.

Now, however, she’s sitting on a blush pink plush quilt on the grass as the sun sets, behind over one hundred students, waiting for the blonde to return from the makeshift concessions. Pippa had known she’d want a bit of their privacy and picked a near perfect spot. The nearest students happen to be Mildred and company and even they are well out of earshot. Dimity and Abigail are to the other side, though they’re a bit less covered in shadows. 

There were supposed to be only two movies shown before curfew began, but Hecate had been convinced by more than one student and staff member for just one more. She folded. It’s not like she’d be watching it anyway. She had already sat through two supposed classics, one being about a group of teen witches dabbling in dark magic with no thought of the repercussions and thus reaping what they sow. When the second movie had ended she turned to a very comfortable Pippa, who had been laying against her side at the back of the audience and asked if she could transfer them. Now they’re taking the final stairs to the top of a quiet tower. 

“What will the students think?”  

Hecate rolls her eyes at the playful tone, “I am a very powerful witch, Pippa. The students wouldn’t dare say anything to me. They’d have to be worried for an entirely different reason.” 

“Oh? You would finally pretend to be the big, bad potions’ mistress you aspire to be?” 

They exit the door to the tower, high up with the stars when Hecate pulls Pippa to her, nose to nose. “I do not pretend. I am all that you say and more.” She takes Pippa’s breath away, who melts against her embrace. Pippa wouldn’t have even looked away had it not been for Hecate’s own urging her to look around. Red candles outline the group of fluffy pillows, a darker burgundy blanket and darker plush blankets are scattered around for when the wind gets to be too much. There’s wine and dessert and the twinkling stars in the night sky. Hecate twirls her hand and the soft melody of a timeless chant begins to play around them.

The couple settle against the pillows, making themselves comfortable. Hecate pulls Pippa close, one arm around her middle and the other resting on her thigh. They laugh together in hushed tones as to not give away their location. Pippa keeps her promise to kiss her girlfriend silly and Hecate almost, just almost, concedes to sleeping atop the tower for just one night Hiccup, please? They don’t, though she does let Pippa lean against her as she rests for a few precious minutes before transferring them to their shared room. ... One late afternoon, after almost three weeks of domesticated life, Hecate sits at the desk in her rooms, marking the last few fourth year quizzes feeling... different. She’s not as tired as she normally would be. She hasn’t even taken a wide awake potion in maybe a week even with the amount of magic she has expended in the separation process. Her mouth isn’t down turned in a frown at the missed questions and miscalculated math. She’s lighter, and her heart beats a little stronger, a little faster in time. Hecate realizes perhaps for the first time in a very long time that she’s more than content, she’s tranquil. 

Hecate is lost in this thought when Pippa breezes through the door with a smile and small skip, her ponytail swinging happily behind her. As always, Pippa greets a lounging Morgana and a stoic Artemis before she primly sits on Hecate’s lap in an attempt to not wrinkle her dress (though she is done for the day) with a greeting and a kiss, arms sliding around her neck. She nuzzles her nose against Hecate’s temple as the brunette returns her embrace and it’s the most natural thing Hecate thinks she’s ever done before. Because it’s become so normal. It’s second nature, like brewing a levitation potion. Pippa, not surprisingly being headmistress, works longer days than Hecate and while she has always greeted her in this manner, the hugs and kisses seem better, warmer, just right.  

She can’t have this forever, she knows. Pentangle’s is almost back to normal and then Pippa will be off again, and they’ll be distance lovers once more, meeting when they can. It tugs at Hecate’s heart that eventually she won’t wake to warm puffs of breath against her neck. That she won’t fall asleep to Pippa’s gentle snores. She won’t have to set out an extra mug for tea. The laundry will decrease, dishes too, and she’ll be left to her own devices. 

“Hecate, darling, are you alright?” Pippa voice pulls Hecate out of her thoughts. 

The brunette nods her head. “Just thinking.” 

Pippa hums softly, “About what?”  

Could she be completely and totally honest? Why not? It’s Pippa. She’s Pippa’s girlfriend (though she abhors the word) and who else could she be honest with.  

“I’ll miss this.” 

Pippa softens, holds her a little closer. She readjusts on Hecate’s lap, soft smile on her lips. “I’ll miss it too, darling. So, we should enjoy it while we can.” … Ada and Hecate had been sitting in the headmistress’s office the next day, chatting numbers over tea when there’s a knock at the door. Hecate stands and flicks the door open to reveal Adelaide, Azura, and Isabella with Mildred behind them. The older girl gently nudges them forward and when they give her an apprehensive look at Mildred, she just gives them a more confident one back. Hecate raises a questioning brow, noticing how the younger girls shift from foot to foot, fingers twirling around their sashes. 

Azura steels herself and turns to Ada and Hecate with her head high. “Izzy, Addy and I want to lead a project to properly sendoff everyone from Pentangle’s.” “And to apologize again for the mess we caused.” Isabella adds while Adelaide nods her head in agreement. 

Mildred steps in, “They’ve got a plan for music and food and decorations.” She pushes Adelaide forward. The younger girl shuffles to Ada and Hecate, waving her hand to produce a booklet of plans only three fourteen year olds could produce. 

She and Ada look over it. It’s not a horrible itinerary, some things will have to be changed and adjusted for practical reasons but for the most part it’s doable. Hecate has to stop herself from giving them too positive a reaction. They can’t know she’s proud. Not yet at least. 

“I think it’s a wonderful idea,” Miss Cackle sweetly smiles at them. The girls brighten instantly, looking to each other as if they had had their fingers crossed in hope. 

And thus, begins the preparation for a farewell dance. Like preparing for the movie night the previous week, Mildred, Maud, Ethel, and Felicity join Hecate and the girls during detention to assist. There’s decorations prepared and stored away, menus to give to Miss Tapioca and Miss Cassava, and posters and fliers to hang up though Felicity’s post on her blog will no doubt spread the news fast enough. (In fact, the girl had known about it before Mildred even asked if she wanted to help. Hecate still doesn’t know how she does it.) 

Instead of transferring to her room when she and the girls had finished, she finds herself tapping on Pippa’s still present and ever open office door. For some reason, Pippa’s office has been one of the most difficult places to return to Pentangles, coming second to the ever changing maze. The pink witch looks up above her equally pink reading glasses and instantly smiles. 

“I’ve almost finished this last page. I promise, darling.” 

Hecate takes her place in the chair across from the desk, a flippant hand waving away the promise. “No need to rush.” 

They exchange a brief gaze before Pippa silently returns to whatever paper she was reading. One minute passes. And then another. And then another. Hecate has to stop herself from tapping her foot as the minutes tick by. Her eyes study Pippa. The way her lip is caught between her teeth, her nose scrunched ever so slightly as if something doesn’t make sense. Earlier her hair had been pinned up into a low chignon bun at the nape of her neck. She must have taken it down when classes had ended as it’s now in a slightly higher ponytail. Her matching jacket hangs on the back of her chair. 

The brunette is still studying her when Pippa looks up and finally removes her glasses, fingers already pressed to the bridge of her nose. 

“There’ll be a farewell dance at the end of the week,” Hecate bluntly states. 

“Yes, I heard! It’s supposed to be a fabulous event, you know.” The lift in her voice lets Hecate know the woman’s being playful. 

The brunette hums as she leans forward, fingers tapping against the quartz paperweight on the desk. “Indeed, it is. Of course, as headmistress and deputy of our two academies we’ll be expected to attend.” 

“Hecate Hardbroom, are you asking me to be your date to the farewell dance?” Pippa bats her lashes and props her head against her hand, a silly but pleased smile playing on her lips. 

“I was attempting to be modest, Pippa. Perhaps some sly wizard got to you first” she jokingly says with a roll of her eyes but then looks expectantly at her. 

“And I would turn down each one for you.” Finally, the blonde stands from her desk, smile still perfectly in place as she reaches for Hecate with one hand and flicks the door closed and shut with the other. “I’m done here, transfer us, darling?” 

“With pleasure.” ... The night of the Farewell celebration, Hecate is a ball of nerves and she can’t really say why. Sure, Pentangle’s and Cackles have been perfectly separated. There’s spare rooms still in place for everyone to sleep in for the night but otherwise they’ll return to normalcy in the morning. She should be happy, and a part of her is. But another dreads the silence that will come when they’re officially two separate schools again. She doesn’t think Cackle’s should be coed but teaching young wizards had been a pleasure she hadn’t expected. The food might lose its flare. The halls will be less congested. There’ll be no Pippa. That really grates at her nerves as they silently ready to the sounds of Pippa’s modern chanting records. 

“Zip me?” Pippa asks, already turning her back to Hecate who silently slides the zipper up and up and up. 

“You look beautiful, Pippa.” 

The blonde smiles brilliantly as she puts the back on her earring, turning to Hecate. “As do you, darling.” At the risk of ruining both of their lipsticks, she presses a light kiss to her lips. “Now, let’s go before we’re late.” 

“We could just not go.” 

“Hecate,” Pippa almost scolds. 

The brunette rolls her eyes as she smirks. “Fine, fine.” And they take their leave, twisting and turning down corridors that no longer have large modern windows to the great hall. 

The room sparkles with warm yellow lights. Students are already dancing to whatever pumping beat is playing. Hecate immediately shifts into chaperone mode, finding a place on the wall that she can see the entirety of the room. Ada joins her for a moment while Pippa goes off to mingle with the students and staff, but for the most part she’s alone as she listens and watches, scanning the room for sneaky young witches and wizards. Azura, Adelaide, and Isabella stop to bring her cookies they know she won’t eat but are really hoping she does. She nibbles at one of the plainer ones as she spies Mildred on the dance floor, her movements still as clumsy as they had been years ago. 

The night goes on and some begin to take their leave when Hecate finally moves from her spot, transferring across the room. 

“Dance with me?” Hecate asks as she appears next to Pippa. The blonde doesn’t flinch like she used to when the brunette would unexpectedly transfer next to her, Hecate notices with a quirk of her lip. 

“I’ve been waiting all night for you to ask me that,” the blonde beams, hand reaching for Hecate’s before leading her out to the dance floor. 

A Hecate before would have never put herself on such display, a thought that is ridiculous to her now. She loves dancing, has always loved twirling and stepping around a dance floor, her dress flaring at her ankles. But for years she prevented herself from being the center of attention, hating the eyes on her. With Pippa, dancing is even better. She holds and is held closer, tighter. Their steps are synchronized to perfection. They’re cheek to cheek and the students and staff fade to the far distance of her mind leaving just her and her Pippa. 

“Marry me?” Hecate asks softly in Pippa’s ear. It’s not exactly how Hecate pictured she’d propose, without the roses and the low light and the ambiance. Perhaps she should have done it the week before when they were alone atop the tower. 

Pippa is speechless. Absolutely and fantastically speechless. But also, she isn’t. She has been waiting for this day since who knows when. She has been hoping that would happen sooner rather than later. Perhaps sooner rather than later meant well over thirty years. They’re standing still when she looks into Hecate’s eyes and she pulls them away. Away from young ears and the gazes that don’t even know the question asked. Pippa drags her away until they’re alone and she can breathe and make sure this is real. “You don’t think we’re moving too fast? I mean, we’ve only been together for-“ 

“One year, six months, two weeks, four days, five hours and,” Hecate takes the moment to open the time piece hanging from her neck. “Twenty six minutes.” Pippa, as stunned as ever, asks through a small chuckle, “Why do you know that?” 

The brunette shrugs as if everyone knows exactly when they made things official, fair skin deepening to a full blush. “I’d tell you the seconds but I’m sure I stopped breathing when you said yes the first time.” 

Pippa loses her own breath. Curse Hecate and her way with words. She doesn’t think she can breathe without this dark-haired, even darker eyed beauty. So, she kisses her. Pippa kisses Hecate until they are both gasping and out of breath. “Yes, yes I’ll marry you.” 

The brunette grins, beams. And they kiss. And something about this feels like a next step. Something about this feels final. Something about this feels right. Like forever.

[quillsandtypos]

The Plan of the Century

Words: 2.2k

Summary: anon requested a fic for one of my head cannons that Luke has gotten tickled once by his band mates and they swore to never do it again

Warnings: a LOT of tickling (like if you don't like it I wouldn't recommend reading this)

...........................................

"Alright boys you ready?" Reggie asked, still running on adrenaline fumes from the show.

"Yes!" Bobby cheered. He squatted down like he was ready to pounce.

Alex pushed his hair back. "Guys, are you sure this is a good idea?" he asked uncertainly.

"No, but we gotta do it man, I mean come on, doesn't he deserve it?" Bobby asked.

Alex took a deep breath in. "You're right, we have to do this." He got into a running position.

He paused there for a moment before realizing that both his band mates hadn't moved.

Alex turned around. "Aren't you guys supposed to go around back and from the side?" he asked.

"Oh, right, yep!" Reggie exclaimed, before running out the side door.

"Wait, I thought I was-" Bobby stopped mid sentence before yelling, "Nevermind!" and running off.

"Yeah, there's no way this could possibly go wrong," Alex remarked.

Soon enough Alex saw a stage light flash above him, which he knew was his cue. He sprinted into the back hallway that they had entered earlier that evening and as he turned the corner he came face to face with their target, none other than their fourth band mate, Luke.

Alex froze in his spot. "Hi Alex," Luke sang. Confused, but slightly amused at his friend's startled state.

"Yeah, hi," he managed to stumble out.

"Did you need something?" There was a hint of genuine concern in his voice that Alex was genuinely upset but he couldn't quite tell. Before he could get closer to him to ask him what was wrong, he saw Reggie running up behind him.

"This is for tickling us all the time!" Reggie yelled.

"Yeah I think you missed the point where you're not supposed to announce your attack," Luke sarcastically commented, before taking off into a run.

He slipped past Alex with minimal effort and headed up the nearest set of stairs.

He faintly heard Reggie yelling something but he was already quite a distance away. He paused once he went up a couple levels to what looked to be a dance studio. He peered around in the dark for any sign of his other band mates but saw no sign of them. He settled for the far left corner of the room and sat down.

He tried to listen to the sound of footsteps, and soon enough heard them.

He could tell that Bobby was at the front and Reggie and Alex were trailing him.

Then the footsteps on the stairs stopped. For a moment everything stood still until his bandmates stepped onto the dance floor that he was currently sitting on.

"Luuuuuuuke," Bobby sang out.

Luke resisted the urge to scoff, two could play at that game.

He scrunched himself in the corner as much as he could and pulled a pencil out of his pocket. As quickly as he could he threw it to the other side of the room.

Alex screamed, Bobby jumped five feet in the air, and Reggie fell to the ground.

It took every bit of Luke's composure not to start laughing at his friends.

"I'm out, good luck you two," Alex attempted to announce, but Reggie pulled him back.

"Uh-uh you agreed to this, you're staying with us," he insisted.

"Guys he has to be in this room if he threw that pencil," Bobby realized.

"Oh does anyone have a flashlight?" Reggie asked.

"Why would we have a flashlight? Some of us don't plan to be in a dark ass room where Luke could pop out at any minute," Alex ranted. He was a little bit stressed about the current situation, to say the least.

"Okay each of you guys go to a corner, he's gotta be in one of them," Bobby guessed.

Reggie and him started to move but Alex stayed put. "Have you guys never seen horror movies, this-" he pointed around, "is how people die."

"Relax it's just Luke. I mean, what could he possibly dOHOHO!" Reggie's sentence was stopped in his tracks by his panicked laughter.

"Yeah, what could he possibly do Reg?" Luke mocked, as he squeezed at his armpits.

"Let's get him Alex!" Bobby yelled across the room.

The two boys ran to where they heard Reggie's laughter. They couldn't really tell who was who, so they both piled on top of Reggie and Luke.

The four were a mess of flying limbs and Reggie's laugh was still somewhere in the mix.

Luke had unfortunately gotten pinned to the bottom of the stack, so even despite his strength over the three, he wasn't going anywhere.

Reggie was quick to notice this situation. “Bobby get his arms and Alex sit on his legs!” he instructed.

Luke attempted to crawl away but with three people scrambling over top of him it was proving to be nearly impossible.

Soon enough the two boys had a decent hold on him. But despite his exposed position, Luke was not giving up.

“You guys are so dead once I get out,” he calmly commented. His face showed no fear, but there was a slight smirk on his lips.

“Yeah, once you get out,” Bobby emphasized on the once.

Reggie’s hand was slowly descending towards Luke’s stomach but he just glared at Reggie’s face.

But as the hand touched his stomach he had to fight his facial muscles to continue not reacting.

Reggie was grinning from ear “Come on Luke, you know you want to laugh,” Reggie teased.

“No I don’t, asshole,” Luke rushed out to avoid laughing.

“Oh Reg try to claw at his stomach,” Alex suggested.

“Oh, good idea!”

The second his hand turned into a claw Luke quite literally screamed. Despite his low voice, he descended into high pitched giggles. But his adorable giggles greatly contradicted the words coming out of his mouth.

“Youhohou arhahare ahahall soho fuhucking dhehead!” he yelled.

“Oh my god his laugh is sooooo cute!” Almost cute enough for Reggie to forget what he was doing.

“Wait, try doing it faster,” Bobby advised. His eyes were alight with a proud fire that they had dethroned Luke.

As Reggie picked up his intensity and Luke let out an ear piercing screech. In fact, his laughter was more now screeching and yelling than laughter.

In the heat of his screaming Luke came up with an idea. He reached his arms back a little bit to squeeze at Bobby’s sides.

He screeched and flew back; which left only Alex on his legs. He quickly managed to push him off before going straight for Reggie.

“See I told you, you were dead,” he said proudly, and slightly out of breath.

He started tasering up and down his ribs, right in between his bones. As he was doing this, Bobby recovered from his tumble. He tried to come save Reggie but Luke saw him coming from the corner of his eye. One hand stayed on Reggie while the other squeezed Bobby’s nearest calf. He quickly tumbled to the ground right next to Reggie which made Luke’s job even easier. He moved so he could have one knee on each of their legs to hold them in place.

“Well what a problem you two have landed yourselves in.” Luke said with a fire both in his eyes and in his voice, that the two knew they had royally fucked up.

They exchanged a look of slight fear before turning back to face their impending doom.

“Ya know I think now would be a good time to practice playing my guitar.”

There were several protests and no’s, but they were of course ignored.

Luke harshly brushed his hands across their stomachs taking amusement in their very different reactions. Reggie was loudly giggling with his eyes squeezed back whereas Bobby was cackling and his eyes would go wide the closer Luke got to his waist.

After a few minutes of his ‘guitar practice’ Luke decided to practice some other things.

“I think my singing’s been getting better because I’ve learned how to use my air efficiently. But I guess there’s only one way I can really know.” He rolled both of their shirts up slightly and there was definitely a scream of ‘Luke no!’ which Bobby would deny he did till this day.

He kept one hand spidering on one person’s stomach as he blew raspberries on the other.

Reggie thought his soul was going to come out of his body when it came his turn. He wasn’t certain if it had anything to do with Luke’s ability to sing, but he knew it tickled like hell.

Reggie’s eyes squeezed even tighter, and he tried to curl in on himself; but Luke was there, so he couldn’t.

Both boys couldn’t handle the back and forth of spidering and raspberries. They were both screaming so loud and high pitched Luke was surprised no one had come in to make sure they were still all alive.

“So do you guys wanna tell me who is the best tickler, or do I need to keep demonstrating for you?” Luke smugly asked.

“Yoohohu!” Reggie immediately agreed.

“Mehehe!” Bobby replied. He evidently still had a little bit of fight in him.

What was that Bobby?” Luke asked. He now was repeatedly blowing raspberry after raspberry on his tummy, and after about 10, Bobby gave into defeat.

Luke smiled evilly, and started slowing his fingers. “And who’s never going to try to tickle me again?”

“Uhuhus!” they both yelled.

“I think, I might need to make sure.”

Before they could utter another cry of no, Luke was squeezing Bobby’s quads and was vibrating his hand into Reggie’s ribs. They were losing it, not only is Luke freakishly good at tickling but he was tickling each of their worst spots.

They both were screeching and belly laughing. Their bodies could no longer even bother to fight off Luke’s hands, they just laid there and took it. They laughed until their voices went hoarse.

“So who’s not going to try tickling me again?” Luke asked. He stopped his hands but kept them in the same place.

“Us, us definitely us!” they agreed.

Luke was satisfied with that answer and crawled off of them. He turned around him to see that Alex was nowhere to be seen; which made sense, since it had been several minutes.

Luke took off downstairs to where he assumed Alex was. He noticed Alex on the small balcony on the side of the stage. He quieted his steps as he raced down to the next floor. He ran across the back edge of where hours ago was filled with people. Luke quickly reached the steps to the balcony. He slowly and stealthily snuck up on them. Alex was perched on his toes looking for Luke, he unfortunately didn’t bother to look behind him.

“Gotcha!” he yelled as he grabbed Alex and pinned him to the ground.

“Wait, Luke! Wait, wait, wait, I didn’t even want to be a part of this plan,” Alex quickly spoke.

Luke arched his eyebrows. “Then why did you help Reggie?” He lightly placed his hand on his neck.

“What?” Alex asked, momentarily forgetting his earlier comment.

“Oh fuck.”

Luke chuckled slightly at his friend's response before lightly fluttering his fingers across Alex’s neck.

Alex quickly clamped down on Luke’s hands, though he knew that wouldn’t stop him.

“Uh oh Alex, now my fingers won’t be able to get out,” he teased with a mischievous look in his eyes.

“Shuhuhut ihihihit!” Alex groaned.

“Ooooooh bad choice of words bro.”

One hand stayed at his neck while the other harshly squeezed at his sides.

“AhahahAAHHA nooooo!” Alex yelled.

His laughter would jump up than back down as Luke constantly changed how much he squeezed his side.

Alex was quickly turning into a giggly mess at Luke’s revenge.

“So who’s the best tickler in sunset curve?” Luke asked innocently.

Alex loudly responded with a giggly ‘you!’.

“And who’s not going to try to tickle me ever again?”

“Meheheh!” Alex surrendered.

“Hold on I just gotta make sure.” He dipped his head down to blow raspberries on Alex’s stomach, still not letting up with his other hands.

Alex quickly went silent except for occasionally letting out a small snort. After five, Luke decided to let up on him.

They were shortly joined by a still red faced Reggie and Bobby. “You’re lucky, he went way harder on us,” Reggie said pointing to himself and Bobby.

Luke turned to them and swiftly walked up to them. They backed up equally fast, until their backs hit the wall. “But if you ever try it again, it will be ten times worse,” he threatened.

Bobby held his hands up in surrender. “Yep, got it,” Reggie said.

He turned again, “And Alex-” he started to say.

“Yep, got it, don’t have to worry about me, I swear,” Alex promised, with his hands up.

Luke grinned, “Alright boys, I’m starving, let’s go eat.”

And since that very day the boys have stayed true to their word, out of fear of Luke’s revenge.