#i will eat a broom if any of the pink stuff makes it back into my interior decor...

[caressthosecheekbones]

staring at all the cute, pink, hearts, romantic, lanaesque stuff on my dash and in my flat and. it's all still cute and i like looking looking at it.

but i don't want it in my house anymore.

[thdorkmagnet]

Spells, Fails, and Tails

Hey everyone! Happy Halloween!! For anyone who’s been wondering what I’ve been up to, this is it! I’ve literally been working on this off and on for months (among other things) and I was actually able to get it out in time for the holiday! So this is a Witch!Star and Cat!Marco AU based off art by the wonderfully talented @spatziline. She was one of my biggest inspirations for Star vs stuff and I couldn’t help myself but to make something based off her work! If you haven’t seen it please check it out! She has lots of other shows too and I’m sure you’re bound to find something you like on there other than Star vs. If you want to know what the characters look like in this AU please check out this, and this, and this, and this. I may also reblog them all on here so keep an eye out for that

But since this is my story I really went crazy and came up with a lot of ideas for this AU that I’m really excited to share with you all! Seriously I have so many XD

Disclaimer: Star vs and all its characters belong to Daron Nefcy and Disney. Witch!Star AU created by Spaztiline. All rights go to the respective owners

"Marco, have you seen my broom?" A sweet voice yelled through the lonely country cottage. The young blonde witch was on her knees, fishing underneath her bed for any signs of her magical flying device. 

"Did you check under your bed?" A voice called back, the only other occupant of the house. 

"Yes!" Star yelled back, before looking around her messy room. She didn't understand how she kept losing that. 

"Well I'm not surprised. When's the last time you cleaned your room?" 

Star frowned. Ok sure her room wasn't that clean (or at all) but she could still find her stuff.... usually. Ok so a bit of searching was usually involved but she still had a place for everything, even if that place was her floor. "My room is just fine as it is," Star argued, matter of factly.

"Really? Cause the mouse I caught in there the other day says otherwise."

Star gasped, her eyes widening with fear. "So that's where Herbert went!"

"Don't worry I just let him back outside," Marco reassured her but Star wasn't convinced given his track record. 

"Did you really?"

The silence from downstairs told Star all she needed to know.

"MARCO DIAZ!" Star screamed in anger.

"Look, Star. Why don't you just clean your room, so you can eat your breakfast before it gets too cold."

Star let out a dramatic sigh, making sure it was loud enough for Marco to hear her downstairs. "Finnnnee. But we are not done with this conversation." The blonde waved her finger in the air, pink magic forming around her fingertips as she moved it in some significant pattern. All around her, the objects in her room seemed to come to life, rising up off the floor and quickly hoping into their proper spot.

Soon her room was tidying itself, pink magic surrounding every object as they put themselves away. Star smiled as she watched her magic at work, finally she was able to do this spell without blowing up her room or creating a vortex that sucked all her stuff up into some pocket dimension.

Finally, Star lowered her hand and the spread of magic ceased, all the objects losing their glow as they became lifeless once again. The girl clapped her hands together while saying, "There, all done. That wasn't so bad."

But she frowned as she still couldn't see her broom anywhere even with her room all cleaned up. She put her hands on her hips, mumbling, "Well that's weird."

"Oh hey, Star," a voice said from her doorway and the blonde turned to see Marco looking around the room nodding in approval. His black cat ears stood up straight while his long tail curved behind him, letting Star know he was pleased about something. "Your room looks great. You did a good job." 

He gave her an encouraging smile and Star couldn't help but feel her chest fill up with pride... among other things.

"Yeah but I still didn't find my broom," the girl muttered sadly, turning her head, while also hiding her blush.

"Well, since you did such a good job with your room," Marco began, before pulling Star's magic broom out from behind his back. "You earned this."

Star gasped in disbelief, loudly exclaiming, "You had it this whole time!"  She quickly snatched it out of the boy's hands while sending him a chilling glare.

"Yeah, how else was I supposed to get you to clean your room," Marco replied casually.

Star’s mouth hung open, unable to believe Marco had tricked her so easily. She hadn't even suspected him of such fowl play and yet, the results spoke for themselves. She let out a loud groan of frustration, before exclaiming, "You are the worst familiar ever!"

"Well would the worst familiar ever make you breakfast," Marco asked, not looking the least bit torn up over his deception. Star grumbled something under her breath in reply.

"Come on, Miss Fussypants," Marco encouraged his pouting friend, heading for the stairs. "Your room had to be cleaned sometime and you can hate me all you want while we eat our breakfast."

Star watched Marco's retreating form before an idea of revenge popped into her head, smiling mischievously to herself. "Fine, but since I had to clean my room then you have to have a bath later."

Marco froze, his tail stood on end, puffing up in fear as he turned to her with an alarmed expression. "Wh-What?! Why would we n-need to do that," he stammered. He saw her mischievous smile and added, "Oh haha, good one, Star. Okay, fair enough, guess I deserved that."

Star didn't reply, instead she just started down the stairs. His lack of answers sent Marco into panic mode, nervously hovering behind her. "Y-You were just messing with me, right? Star? Star!" 

Star just smiled triumphantly to herself as she practically skipped down the steps, her revenge complete. 

Once she got downstairs,the smell from her freshly cooked breakfast wafted over to her, causing her to sniff the air greedily. "Mmm, yum, pancakes!" 

There was nothing better in the morning then a plate of Marco's pancakes and, unlike her parents, her familiar never judged her for eating a mountain of them in front of him. Her hungry, growling stomach and drooling mouth forced her to rush over to her seat, plopping down in it so hard she nearly knocked it and herself over, and grabbing the stack of 10 plus pancakes over to her side of the table. Her broom was propped against the table as she began pouring excessive amounts of syrup on her plate, while she licked her lips. 

Marco had grown used to Star's weird habits and so was unshaken by her hungry antics, taking his seat across from her where he had set aside a much more reasonable two pancakes in preparation for Star stealing the rest. When they had first moved in together, Marco often had to remake his own food because Star would end up snatching it away without thinking. He didn't complain, though, it's not like she meant to do it, she just didn't always think ahead. At least she was better than one of Marco's previous partners who only called him cat and made him eat on the floor.

Marco waited patiently until Star was finally done with the syrup, putting on a modest amount himself. He picked up the opened can he had purposely set next to his plate, carefully placing several tuna on top of his pancakes. He knew to most it was disgusting to put uncooked fish on… anything really, but his cat instincts had yet to find a dish it didn't enhance by adding it. 

He was about to take a bite of his breakfast when he glanced up and noticed Star shoveling spoonful after spoonful of sugar onto her plate, the pancakes now indistinguishable under the mountain of sugar she had covered them in. 

"Star, maybe you should slow down on the sugar," Marco casually mentioned, slowly cutting his pancakes into even slices. "I'm worried you're gonna have diabetes before lunch."

"It's finnnnneeee," Star said before shoveling an entire pancake into her mouth, sugar and all. 

Marco tried not to look disgusted but he did wait till she swallowed before taking a bite of his breakfast. "Don't you think you're going a little overboard?" 

Star looked down at her plate then back up at Marco. "No."

Marco sighed and leaned back in his chair. This was getting him nowhere. Star was not getting it. But if he let her make herself sick then he wouldn't be a very good familiar. It was kind of his job to protect his partner, even from her reckless eating habits. 

"Life's too short to sweat the small stuff, Marco," She continued, picking up another whole pancake, scattering sugar crystals all over the table. "You gotta live in the moment." Marco could feel a headache coming on. Maybe he should just let her have this one, it was too early to debate Star's flawed and naive mindset. That was until he heard her add, "Besides, I don't see what the big deal is? You put fish on your pancakes." Although she said it sincerely, Marco still felt the need to defend his eating habits.

There was no room to compare. Marco added one or two fish to his meal, not drowning it in so much sugar it was literally a risk to his health. Plus, he already had a good reason. "I'm part cat, Star," he reminded her, pointing at himself with his fork. He then turned it around so it was pointing accusingly towards his friend. "You, on the other hand, have no excuse."

"I have a perfectly good reason for why I do it," Star argued. 

Marco doubted that but he had to admit he was curious. Stupid cat genes, one of these days his curiosity was gonna get him killed. "And that is?" He questioned, raising a suspicious eyebrow as he waited for her response. 

Star grinned, happy to be validated as she explained, matter-of-factly, "Okay, so I'm a witch and witches gotta have magic right? So sugar turns into energy and energy turns into magic. So more sugar means more magic!" 

Marco was massaging his temple now with his fingertips. It was barely morning and he already had a terrible headache. "That's not how that works, Star," he muttered in defeat. 

"How do you know?" She asked, crossing her arms cutely in front of her chest.

"Ever heard of the magic sac gland. Y'know, the thing attached to your heart that gives you magic," Marco explained. 

Star gave him a sheepish look, her fingers tapping nervously on the table. "Oh yeah, forgot about that."

Marco's face softened when she started to just stare down sadly at her meal, completely disappointed. The cat familiar sighed, maybe he was being too harsh. Star was just too naive to see what she was doing to herself, he should have explained it to her instead of immediately jumping to a lecture. "Sorry for scolding you like that," Marco said sincerely. "I was just concerned you were gonna make yourself sick."

Star's sour expression slowly melted into a warm smile, her eyes glittering as she cooed, "Awwww Marco."

She reached across the table and gave his hand a small squeeze. "Okay, if it makes you feel better… I'll cut back on the sugar a little." It was clear Star wasn't the biggest fan of the idea, her face making a clear look of annoyance before switching back to her signature smile. 

Marco made sure to praise her with his expression, saying sweetly, "Thanks, Star, you're the best." 

The cat boy started to gather the sugar particles scattered across the table into his hands, saying, "Okay so if you'd just scrap some off the top, I'll get the rest."

"Got it," Star said, reaching for her broom, Marco still preoccupied with what he was doing to notice. "Luckily, I got just the spell," the young witch continued, her voice shaking from excitement. 

That got Marco's attention, his tail standing on end and his head turning so fast it gave him whiplash, his eyes immediately landing on the broom in Star's hands. "Star, no!" Marco screamed, diving across the table in an attempt to snatch it from her grip. 

But the blonde took a step back out of Marco's reach, saying in a smooth, confident tone, "Relax, I totally got it this time."

"We made a rule, no magic at the table," he reminded her, jumping over the table with ease, his cat-like reflexes giving him amazing agility. But before he could reach her, Star cast her spell, the magic bursting from the broom and quickly covering her breakfast. The two teens watched wide-eyed as slowly the mountain of sugar began to vanish from the plate. Star’s eyes lit up with joy, proclaiming excitedly, "See I knew it would work this time!"

Marco was impressed too. Maybe Star really did pull off the spell for once. But before he could comment, all of the sugar vanished from her plate, before the magic slowly ate away at the pancakes underneath. "No, no, no, stop!" Star gasped but could only watch with horror as the magic spread to Marco's plate, his pancakes and fish disappearing bit by bit. 

"No, my pancakes!" Marco screamed, gripping his hair in panic. 

Star tried to think quickly, before their breakfast was completely gone. "Uhh, maybe I can reverse it," She thought out loud, before focusing on doing just that. She closed her eyes and concentrated on restoring the food to her plate, feeling the magic in her body flow into the broom. Only, it was too much. The entire table was beginning to glow bright pink as the spell was overloaded. 

Marco saw this and reacted instantly. "Star, get down!" he screamed, slamming into Star and throwing both of them to the ground just as the food exploded, coating everything from ceiling to floor in a slick, syrupy mess. Everything but Star since Marco used his own body as a shield, the familiar crawling off of her groaning in disgust. “You okay?” he asked, glancing over at his partner in worry. 

“Yeah,” Star said with a nod, before rising to her feet, seeing the mess she had made of their house. She felt Marco giving her a scolding glare and turned to him with a sheepish expression. “Uhhh, oops,” she added with a small shrug. 

Marco looked around at their mess of a kitchen, sighing in annoyance. Great, just great. All Marco had wanted was a normal breakfast for once, but instead it had all blown up in his face, literally. Sure the mess wouldn’t be that hard to clean (he was used to that) but it would take hours to lick himself clean. “And this is why we don’t use magic at the table,” Marco reprimanded Star, trying to brush the food off of his clothes

“I know, I know,” the blonde grumbled sadly, her face the picture of guilt. “I just got too excited. I’m sorry.”

Marco’s face softened. He couldn’t stay mad at Star, after all, it wasn’t her fault her powers were so out of control. Star was a very unique witch, in that, she had more magic than normal witches were supposed to. Because of this, even the most basic spell was a challenge for Star. Try and shrink something and end up making an entire village the size of an ant. Try and move an apple from one side of the room to the other, end up with a giant apple tree jutting out of your roof. It didn't matter the spell, it took an intense amount of concentration, patience, and practice to get right. And Star was not very well known for any of these things. 

After an unfortunate incident, the Witches Council became aware of Star's unique magical aura and decided to intervene. They had decided it was best if Star was kept away from regular society, secluded from the world until she learned to tame the wild magic inside her. But since it wasn't safe for her to be alone she needed to have a familiar with her. 

Not surprisingly, no familiar was comfortable being within a hundred feet of her, so Marco had been the only one to volunteer. He had known what he was getting into with Star, knew the hard work that would be ahead of him, but it was her sweet, kind personality that had won him over and he was always eager to help her, even if it was a hassle for himself. Besides, she was still better than his other partners, he’d take her over them anytime. 

So despite his initial annoyance, he took in a deep breath and let those feelings pass. Star had made significant improvements with her powers but a few mess ups were to be expected. Besides, Star was worth a few messes, anyways. 

"It's not your fault, Star," Marco said, grabbing a wet towel and wiping off the table. "You were just trying to help. Sorry I snapped."

Star smiled at him, her eyes glittering with joy. "Do you want me to try and use magic to clean this mess up?" She asked nervously, her fingers fidgeting with her broom.

Marco shook his head, but made sure to keep a smile on his face. "Actually, I think it's best if I clean this up." The boy felt a smidge of guilt as Star's face fell, clearly disheartened. So, he quickly added, "But, uh, why don't you go and feed your parents and then we can try the spell again." 

Star visibly brightened at that, excitedly racing from the room, shouting, "Okay!" She snatched the jar of flies off a cabinet before bolting out the door, not leaving Marco any time to even think of changing his mind. The boy shook his head at his friend's crazy antics before looking around at the messy kitchen. He sighed, knowing he had no choice but to get the mop. He just hoped he didn't get too soaked cleaning up this time, it was almost as bad as an actual bath. Almost. 

…

Beside the little cottage Star and Marco called home, there was a small pond. It wasn't very deep, coming up no further than your ankles and its murky water was always a light green color, but all manners of animals had grown to call the pond home: alligators, snakes, all manners of bugs, and most all, frogs. Often there were so many frogs inhabiting the pond that their loud croaking could be heard from several miles away. But Star welcomed the frogs there, naming each one and making sure they were all well cared for, two in particular getting extra care and attention. And for good reason, too.

As Star approached the pond, she hid the jar behind her back, looking for the two frogs she had come to visit. She spotted them together on a large lily pad, looking up at her expectantly. "Hi mom, hi dad," she said, with a little sheepish wave. 

Her amphibian parents both let out little croaks in reply. Star smiled a bit halfheartedly, before asking awkwardly, "So, uh, how's the frog life been treating you?"

Her dad let out an enthusiastic croak, while her mom just seemed to give her a 'what-do-you-think' look. Even as a frog, Star would know that look anywhere.

"Good, good," Star said ignoring the look from her mom, which was soon greeted by a few angry croaks. 

Her mom was far from happy being stuck in that form but at least she was adjusting better than when Star had first turned them into frogs. Moon had been panicked and furious, scolding her daughter relentlessly in long, billowing croaks, which were sadly lost on Star's human ears, but she had soon lightened up. After all, it wasn't like Star had meant to curse her parents. She had just been practicing some spells and they got a little too close and boom her parents were amphibians. 

But according to the Witches Council, turning your parents into frogs entirely by accident was a punishable offense. Star had been in hot water when they found out and had been ready to strip her of her powers to prevent any more 'catastrophes' from happening, even though Star had told them all she really needed was some proper training, but noooo. Her only saving grace was that since Star had been the one to cast the spell, she was also the only one who could undo it. And since her mom was a very high-class witch, they couldn't afford to leave them as frogs.

Thus, Star's banishment had begun, her only way was undoing the stupid spell that had got her into this mess in the first place. So far, every attempt she had tried to undo her magic had ended in complete and total failure but Star was not giving up. She'd learn that spell and become a real witch even if it killed her! 

"Sooooo," Star continued, shifting a bit on her feet. "I know this isn't the most ideal situation..." Understatement, her mom seemed to say with her eyes. "But I got you a little something to cheer you up!"

This caught both of her parents' attention, the two waiting in anticipation for what their daughter brought them. Star quickly held up the jar, shaking it in excitement. "Some delicious flies!" River began hopping up and down, clearly overjoyed by his daughter's gift. Moon on the other hand was far from thrilled at the reveal, so Star decided to try and sweeten the deal a bit. "Imported flies," she added, wagging her eyebrows dramatically. 

Moon just stared back with a deadpan expression. 

Star, however, just popped the lid off the jar and poured her parents a small pile of flies each which her dad immediately began devouring greedily. Moon just stared at her meal in disgust. "Oh come on, mom. How do you know you don't like it if you haven't even tried it?" Star reasoned.

Moon reluctantly reached out for the food with her long tongue, ever so slowly pressing it up against one of the flies. She full body shuddered, pulling her tongue immediately back into her mouth and violently shoving the pile of insects as far away from her as possible. Star let out a long sigh, running her hand down her face, should’ve known it was a long shot. “Listen, mom, I know you don’t like being stuck as a frog but I’m trying my best to keep you happy,” she said, frowning in dismay. “Can’t you at least try and make the most of it, like dad.” Star gestured to her frog father, who was busy fighting off another frog who had gotten a little too close to his food pile. Moon gave her a look and Star groaned. “Okay, fine, maybe not just like dad but you could at least try! Look I know I messed up turning you into a frog but I’ve already said I’m sorry like a hundred times and I’m working hard to reverse it, so all I’m asking is you try and enjoy yourself instead of moping around and making me feel bad.” 

Moon’s face softened and she let out a small croak to her daughter, but Star didn’t understand her attempt at comfort, instead quickly distancing herself from her parents and the awful feelings associated with her mistake. “Look, I gotta go but I’ll check up on you guys later, okay.” Star quickly walked away from the small pond, wringing her hands nervously, ignoring the loud croaks trying to call her back. 

Moon lowered her head in shame, feeling awful for hurting her daughter without meaning to. She knew it wasn’t Star’s fault, it was her own for not taking her daughter’s condition seriously. If she had, maybe all of this could have been avoided, instead her daughter was close to losing her powers and her and her husband could only watch powerlessly as Star struggled to fix it on her own. At least she had that Marco boy. He seemed to have a good head on his shoulders.

Still, it was hard for Moon to do nothing when her daughter clearly needed her. Maybe she should try and make the most of her situation, if only for Star. The last thing her daughter needed was more worry and Moon was unintentionally causing that. Or maybe she was intentionally causing it. Maybe she was being bitter because of the hand she was dealt and taking it out on her daughter. Well no more, Moon swore. She would find a way to enjoy her situation even if it killed her. And luckily, she had a pretty good idea of what to try.

Star was half-way back to the cottage, lost deep in her depressing thoughts, when something flew over her head, startling her. She screamed and shot a blast of magic at it, which ended up lightly grazing the roof, sending a few panels of wood crashing to the ground. “Oops,” she whispered, hoping Marco wouldn’t notice. But then her attention was diverted as a big black crow flew right up to her face. She screamed again, jumping back and firing another spell, this one passing right through the bird, who shifted into a lifeless pile of goo, still hovering in the air. The spell on the other hand, left a giant hold in the side of Star’s house, followed by a loud yowl from what sounded like a cat. “Oh, come on!” the blonde cried out in frustration, before adding apologetically, “Sorry Marco.” 

The crow shifted back into a bird, holding a letter in its beak, just staring at Star with dead, beady eyes. Star smacked herself as she recognized the creature, gasping in surprise. “Oh right, witch’s mail, why do I always forget about that?” she wondered aloud. She held out her hand to the bird who spit the letter into her hand. “Thanks,” Star said with a bright grin. She frowned though as she looked back at the wall she had destroyed. “Don’t suppose you can fix my house before you go, huh?” The bird just stared back at her, unblinking. “Yeah, I didn't think so,” Star said with a roll of her eyes. 

The bird quickly flapped away, silently zipping away into the forest. “Stupid conjure bird,” Star grumbled under her breathe. She took another long look at the damage she had caused to her home.The hole was pretty large, easily able to fit five people through. Not one of her biggest but far from the smallest either. Looks like she still had a ways to go in limiting her magic.

As for the hole itself, it was easy enough to fix, like cleaning spells, Star had a ton of practice at repairing spells, mostly from cleaning up after her other spells. But she figured it could wait, so she ripped open the letter and quickly read it over.

Star gasped in disbelief, pulling the letter closer until it was an inch in front of her face, grinning ear to ear with excitement. She read over the words carefully, letting each one sink in, before throwing her hands up in the air, exclaiming, "Yes, finally, it came!"

At that moment, Marco stepped out of the cottage, wearing a fresh change of clothes. "Hey, Star," he greeted cheerfully before glancing at the hole in the wall. "Huh, usually they are a lot bigger," he observed casually. His attention returned to Star as he added, "Anyways, I'm all done cleaning up so if you want to try out that spell again we can- AAAA!" 

Without warning, Star grabbed the collar of Marco's shirt, dragging him in close, their faces almost meeting. Marco's cat ears flattened against his head in fright, his tail standing on end as he just stared at her cute face wide-eyed, too petrified to speak. "There's no time, we gotta go!" Star yelled impatiently.

Marco's eyebrows furrowed before he bat her hands away, smoothing out his clothes once more. "Go? Go where?" Marco asked. What had gotten Star so worked up?

"To town, duh," Star said as if the answer should be obvious. 

"But Star, you know we aren't allowed in town," Marco reminded her. Well actually, he was allowed but Star always insisted on tagging along.

"I know but I just got a message from Janna and the item I ordered finally came in her shop," Star explained, hopping up and down with joy.

Marco, however, only groaned and facepalmed the moment he heard the name of the sneakiest witch he ever met. "Oh no, not another one of those 'magical cheats''. They never work! That con artist is always just scamming us out of our money."

"Marco!" Star said in a scolding tone, covering her mouth with a hand. "I'm surprised at you! Janna is our friend, she would never do anything to hurt us!"

"The last time we were there she tried to turn me into a newt!" Marco hissed. 

"That was just her way of messing around," Star calmly defended.

"Then why did she keep trying to shove me into a cauldron!" Marco shouted, his eyes wide with fear as he relived every tortured second. "It was boiling, Star!" He squeaked, shuddering once in terror.

"Okay so maybe Janna doesn't have the best track record," Star admitted reluctantly. "But this time is different, I swear! This time…" Star struck a dramatic pose before proclaiming, "...this time I undo my parents' curse!"

"That's what you said last time." Marco crossed his arms, completely unconvinced.

"Well, this time I mean it," Star said in the same over dramatic tone.

Marco could see she was serious about this and desperately scanned his brain for a way to change her mind. "How about we don't waste our time and endanger our lives on some miracle cure that probably won't even work. How about we stay home where we aren't in danger of getting caught and having your magic taken away and just practice your spells. Look, I even made a chart to show how much magic to put in each of your spells!" He held up a paper for her to see.

Star tried not to grimace at the mention of one of Marco's boring charts, she just wasn't buying that a stupid piece of paper could fix her life, the item she ordered on the other hand definitely could. "C'mon Marco, can't we just try my idea first?" She begged, giving him a pouting look. "I promise if it doesn't work we'll do it your way."

Marco was powerless to resist those sparkling blue orbs, he was putty in her hands whenever she gave him that look and they both knew it. Marco tried to turn away but his eyes just couldn't part with hers, she was even hitting him with the quivering lip, which was just playing dirty in Marco's opinion. "Well, I guess it wouldn't… hurt," he said hesitantly. Dang. He lost the battle of wills. Stupid heart. 

"Yay!" Star screamed in victory, pumping her fists in the air. "Then let's get going," the blonde continued, sweeping a leg over the broom so she was half sitting on it. She looked over to her partner whose face had now gone pale. "C’mon, Marco. Turn into a cat so we can leave."

"Uhhhh actually, you can go without me," he muttered, slowly taking a few steps back towards the house.

“What? But we always go together,” Star said, confused.

Marco felt his face begin to sweat, he tried to think of some excuse to get him out of this. He couldn’t handle another broom ride with Star. His best friend always flew her broom as fast as it could physically go and was not respectful of broom flying laws, and couple that with Marco’s motion sickness and you got one heck of a bad time. “Yeah but I just ate and-” Marco tried weakly, rubbing at the back of his neck. 

“No, you didn't. I blew up our food, remember?”

“Well then, I need to eat something… because breakfast is the most important meal of the day and all that.” 

“No worries, I got some snooker bars in my pocket, we can eat on the way.”

Marco tried not to gag at the thought, his stomach churning at the idea of trying to fly and eat at the same time. “I don’t think my stomach can take that, Star,” the cat familiar admitted. 

Star realized what the problem was, letting out a long, drawn-out, “Oooooohhhh.” She nodded her head in understanding at last. “ Right motion sickness. Well don’t worry I’ll fly slow this time.”

Marco’s eyebrow arched in suspicion. Since when did Star agree to take anything slow, much less flying? “What, you don’t trust me?” Star asked, hands on hip, noticing his doubting look. 

“It’s not that I don’t trust you, Star. My stomach is just a little weary from last time… and all the times before that.” 

“Well tell your tummy that it’s perfectly safe and hop on,” Star said impatiently. 

Marco sighed, massaging his eyes with his palms, realizing there was no way out of this. “Fine,” he said sourly, before allowing the ‘shift’ to happen. That’s what familiars called their transformation process, it wasn’t so much like going from one thing to another, it was just shifting to another part of yourself. Marco was both human and cat, so all he was doing was let the cat part take over. His body shrank and he got down on all fours to help the process along, his vision became clearer, more focused, and he could now hear things happening from several miles away. His fur coat kept him warm and comfortable, much more than his clothes ever did but other than that, he was pretty much the same. He really didn’t see why humans always asked so many obnoxious questions about being able to ‘shift’. They changed too, just not as dramatically. 

Star immediately started to coo at him, saying in a baby tone, “Awwwww, you are so cute with your widdle paws.” 

“Star, do you have to do that everytime I transform?” Marco asked, his cheeks flushing in embarrassment, thankfully hidden by his black fur. 

“Whenever you stop being adorable as a little kitty then yes,” Star replied playfully. Marco felt his heart hammering against his chest and he tried to force it to slow. He couldn’t let himself get carried away, Star didn’t like him like that. Just because she talked like that around him, didn’t mean she liked him, Star thought everything was cute, she had found a price tag adorable once. 

So before his heart and head could disagree anymore, he pounced onto the back of the broom, digging his claws in just enough to keep himself from falling. “Alright, let’s just get this over with,” he said, trying to keep his voice from shaking as the broom lifted up off the ground. No matter how many times he rode on one of these things he never felt safe, he wished witches would add in a seatbelt feature to their brooms… or helmets… or full-body armor. 

“Okay, hang on!” Star exclaimed giddily. She leaned forward, ready to take off at full-speed when Marco gently reminded her, “Uh, Star, remember our agreement.”

“Oh right,” Star muttered bitterly. But then a new idea came to her and she said energetically. “Well just because we gotta take it slow doesn’t mean I can’t practice my tricks!” 

“What?! No, wait, no!”

“Whoooo, let’s do this!” 

“Star, no, please, don’t-”

Marco immediately regretted his decision as Star zipped away on her broom, moving at a slower pace than normal but fear still gripped tightly to Marco’s very being. The witch aimed her broom at the treetops and waited till the last second to pull straight up, clipping the top of one of the trunks and sending a huge pile of sticks and leaves raining down onto the unsuspecting wildlife. “Yeaaaahhhhh!” Star yelled, holding her arms out to her sides, enjoying the feeling of the cool breeze fluttering against her body. Star loved flying, it made her feel so free, all of the stress of her daily life would just melt away until there was nothing left but her and the open sky. She would stay up here forever if she could. 

“Both hands on the broom, Star!” Marco screamed, at this point he was holding onto the broom for dear life, his paws completely circled around it, every inch of fur standing on end.

“Relax, Marco, there’s nothing up here,” Star reassured him, but returned her hands to their correct position. 

“Except for birds!” Marco shouted. 

“Ooooo where?” she asked, looking around for some. She spotted a small swarm to her left. “Awww, they’re heading the same way as us! Maybe we should fly together!”

“No way, Star! Birds hate me! I’m a cat, remember?” 

“Oh, right, right, right,” Star said, remembering that little detail. “Well in that case, we’ll just let them do their own thing.”

“Thank you,” Marco breathed in relief.

A few minutes passed, the two teens just flying in silence, a short distance away from a flock of pigeons. The birds focused on their flying, unaware their skies were occupied by any other, when one happened to glance over and spot Marco. The pigeon instantly went into panic mode seeing a cat in the sky with them. This was impossible, cats couldn’t fly, that’s why birds stayed in the air so much, now there was nowhere that was safe for them. He had to do something to reclaim the skies before it was too late!

The bird squawked loudly, quickly alerting the other pigeons of the danger and the entire flock reacted accordingly. They flew over to Star and Marco,  swarming around the cat familiar and pecking him wildly as he cried out in discomfort. “Ow! Ow, hey stop! You’re gonna peck me to death!” 

Star tried to go to her friend’s aid, waving her arm at them in hopes of scaring them away. “No, no, bad birds! Leave my Marco alone! Shoo! Shoo!” 

“Star, look out!” Marco screamed in warning. 

The blonde turned back just in time to see that, in all the panic, Star’s broom had started angling downward and the two were about to crash into a tree. “Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaahhh!” Star and Marco both screamed as one, the blonde furiously pulling up on her broom, forcing them to lift. They just barely cleared it, the back of Star’s broom scraping the topmost branch. The birds weren’t so lucky. They had all been so distracted pecking their enemy to death, they hadn’t been aware of the approaching tree until it was too late. They each splatted up against the winding wood, an array of feathers scattering through the air from the collision. 

Star and Marco both breathed a sigh of relief, glad they were finally out of danger. “And that’s why I say to keep both hands on the broom,” the cat familiar said, breathing heavily. 

“Well, hey at least we lost those birds,” Star said encouragingly. 

That was before they heard a loud roar of ferocious cooing, the two slowly looking back to see a whole army of pigeons were flying right towards them and they looked mad. “Or not,” Star finished with a grimace.

“Speed up, Star!” Marco commanded but his friend hesitated.

“But what about-”

“There’s no time, you have my permission to do whatever it takes to keep those birds away from me!” Marco screamed, not even letting her get her thought out. The last thing he wanted was to be killed by a bunch of birds and he swore if he made it out of this he would never eat anything with feathers again. 

Star nodded, the severity of the situation clicking in her head. “Alright, hang on,” she said confidently, before forcing the broom to go faster. The two were soon streaking through the sky, rustling the leaves on the trees below them so hard that many of the branches ended up bare as a result. Marco was clinging for dear life onto the back of the broom, his nails leaving permanent marks in the crafted wood. He looked back to see if the birds had somehow managed to catch them and to his surprise, they were closing in. He was contemplating how that was even possible, when it suddenly hit him. No wonder their pecks had hurt worse than normal, these weren’t ordinary pigeons, they were pigeons of war, magically modified birds that had been all the rage during war times but were now simply flying nuisances for anyone who dared to get too close. And Star and Marco had provoked them. 

“Star, we need to do something, they’re catching up,” Marco said, scooting up closer to her on the broom. He knew it was stupid but he felt exposed and vunerable and for whatever reason being close to Star made him feel braver. 

Star was already thinking the same thing. “Okay, I have an idea,” she said solemnly. She wordlessly reached behind her, picking Marco up by the scruff of the neck before setting him down in front of her. Marco immediately felt safer and he pressed himself up against Star for comfort. “Why did you do that?” he asked shakily, not sure he wanted to know the answer.

“So you won’t accidentally fall off,” Star explained cryptically. 

Before Marco could question her further, Star angled the broom upward, the two immediately lifting high into the air. Soon they were simply going straight up and Marco could almost feel the ground beneath them growing further and further away. But Star wasn’t done yet. In a movement Marco barely had time to comprehend, the blonde pulled against the broom as hard as she could, until they were flying completely upside down. Marco’s claws slipped from the wood and he started to fall back down, but Star was quick to catch him, holding him protectively against her chest. She kept pulling on the broom, the two doing a full loop through the air, until finally they were flying upright again. 

The pigeons hadn’t even had time to veer their course, but they quickly realized the two were now behind them and they all turned in mid-air, ferociously fluttering towards their enemy, their blank faces strangely terrifying. Star set Marco back down before holding both arms to her sides, then with all of her might she slammed her hands together as hard as she could, a loud clap echoing through the air. 

A giant blast of magical energy, ten times the size of anything Star had ever conjured before, shot out of the witch’s hands. 

Everything in front of the two was completely decimated. The birds, the trees, even the grass was gone, there was nothing left but smoke and ash. This continued on for miles, a whole stretch of the forest just destroyed in an instant. The birds were no longer there, their path was now clear, and Star just flew ahead silently. 

She didn’t say anything for a few minutes, not until they were clear of the damage she had done, and when she did risk a glance down at Marco, she saw he was petrified. He was pressed up against her, standing on hind legs, his eyes were wide and full of unbridled terror, and his chest was rising and falling at a rapid rate. Star wasn’t sure how she should take that. She didn’t know if his fear was coming from her or the birds who had almost killed them. Either way her insides churned with guilt.

Star watched as the tension slowly left Marco’s body, his muscles relaxed and his joints loosened until he was able to lay down. His fur slowly flattened and his tail just hung limply off the broom. In fact, his entire body slumped against the broom with exhaustion. 

“You okay?” Star asked worriedly, giving his head a tiny scratch. 

“I’ll live,” he replied, though in all honesty he was pretty miserable. On top of his now pounding headache, he was covered in small bruises from where the birds had mercilessly pecked at him. And they were on their way to see the worst person Marco had ever met, so his day was going worse than expected. 

“I bet Janna has some fishy chews, if you want any,” Star hesitantly said. She knew it wouldn’t make up for her mistakes but she hoped it would at least cheer her best friend up in some way. Marco lifted his head so he could meet Star’s eye and he saw the guilt and concern in her sky blue eyes.

The cat boy knew what he had to do. Nodding his head, he said in a caring tone, “Yeah, that sounds great, Star. Thanks.”

Star twitched nervously, shifting her weight awkwardly on the broom, causing it to sway left and right a bit. “I’m sorry you had to see that,” Star muttered sadly.

“See what?” Marco asked, confused.

“My magic. It really is out of control.” The blonde lowered her head in shame. 

Marco put a paw on her hand, smiling up at her sweetly. “Well that’s what I’m here for, right. To help you work past that.”

Star’s face softened and she said in appreciation, “Yeah, thanks Marco.” Inwardly though she was thinking of the device Janna had. Maybe after today Marco wouldn’t have to clean up her messes anymore. She could start taking care of him instead of the other way around. Star could only hope it worked like Janna said it would. 

And that hope carried her the entire rest of the way to the village.

…

When the two finally touched down on land, Marco immediately hopped off the broom, transforming back into a human, laying face down in the dirt. “Oh, land, sweet, land! I’ve missed you so!” 

Star rolled her eyes but didn’t say anything more. She just hopped off the broom, laying it down beside her friend for safekeeping. “Here, you watch my broom. I’ll go in and get what I need.” 

Marco sighed in relief, glad he didn’t have to deal with Janna on top of everything else that had happened to him today. “You sure?” he asked, double checking if it was really okay. “You might need backup in case Janna tries something.”

Star gave her friend a scolding frown, her hands to her hips. “Janna is our friend, remember? Besides, if she does try anything, I can handle it.”

Marco nodded, he wasn’t sure if that was true or not but he really didn’t have the energy to argue. “Okay but don’t take too long. We can’t risk anybody spotting us… or, uh, you.”

“Gotcha,” Star said with a wink. 

A tiny bell jingled as Star entered the shop, the tune jovial and deceiving to the store's true nature. The room was kept in very low lighting, making navigation difficult for many and Star often wondered if this was a scheme to get someone to accidentally break something and be forced to buy it. The wares were all manner of magical goods, each more mysterious and dangerous than the last. Ancient jewelry glowing with dark magic were encased behind unbreakable crystal. Skulls of many different magical creatures hung on the wall, potions and poisons scattered haphazardly on the shelves. Janna had no sense of organization and if you were to buy from simply looking around the store instead of asking Janna directly you were likely to end up going home with the wrong elixir. Finally, a cauldron bubbled behind the counter, boiling from whatever concoction Janna had created. All the potions in the store were hand-brewed, something Janna took great pride in. 

But potions didn't interest Star, not today, she was there for something much more rare. The blonde witch casually glanced over the selection of magical artifacts, looking for her order but frowned when she didn't see it on display. She looked around for some assistance but Janna wasn't there, the only other occupant of the store had his head buried in a magazine, ignoring her. 

"Hey Tom!" Star called, immediately recognizing him. It was hard not to, most people didn't have purple skin.

Tom groaned at the interruption, slowly peeking at her from behind the magazine, his three eyes narrowed in annoyance. His face brightened when he realized who it was though. "Oh it's you." His attention immediately returned to the magazine. 

"Is Janna around?" She asked, her fingers drumming against the countertop impatiently. 

"She's in the back," he said pointing halfheartedly in that direction, still never looking up from the magazine. 

"Wellll, can you go get her?" Star asked impatiently. 

"No," Tom replied plainly.

Now Star frowned. "Don't you work here?" she asked critically. 

"No I'm forced to be here, there's a difference," Tom shot back. 

Star didn't have a good comeback for that. After all, she should have seen that argument coming. She knew Tom's situation was a bit more complex than that. 

Star didn't know the whole story, but from what Janna had explained, Tom was a curse created by a rival business seeking to knock her out of the competition. Janna, being as resourceful as ever, had somehow managed to reverse the curse and used Tom to ruin her rival's business instead. It was kind of a shame, in Star’s opinion, Apothecary Sherry actually had some good stuff. The curse should have ended there but somehow Janna was in full control of it and had kept Tom around to ward off any unwanted attention. Anyone who tried to hex her business, be it customer or foe alike, would have Tom’s full wrath upon them. Thanks to Janna’s resourcefulness she was easily the wealthiest business in town and Tom was stuck working for her until the creepy witch decided she didn’t want him anymore. 

Star had asked both of them how Janna had managed to change Tom’s curse but the story differed greatly between them. According to Janna, Tom had willingly agreed to her request to change sides and let him stay as a permanent addition to her quaint little shop, while Tom described it as much more blackmail involved. How Janna could blackmail a curse was beyond Star but she never argued that fact. She wasn’t sure who to believe, since Tom’s story fit Janna much better but at the same time Star had difficulty believing Tom was only there out of force. Sure he usually acted like he hated being stuck there but Star could swear he enjoyed himself, she caught him smiling one too many times to really believe he was completely miserable.

“C’mon, Tom it’s not that bad,” Star finally said.

Tom rolled his eyes. “Yeah, right. I’m not even supposed to exist right now and instead I’m stuck doing Janna’s chores.”

Star smiled, it was time to test her theory. “Well that may be true but I know Janna appreciates having you around.”

Tom scoffed. “Yeah because I do her dirty work,” he grumbled, looking slightly downcast.

Star shook her head. “Actually, I think there’s more to it than that. I’ve known Janna my whole life and I can tell you right now I’ve never seen her happier since you showed up. I think the whole curse thing is just an excuse to keep you around.”

“Really?” Tom said, his face lighting up with a hopeful grin. All three of his eyes shimmered in the dim lighting, until he realized what he was doing and loudly cleared his throat, putting on a neutral expression. “I mean, cool, glad to know she at least appreciates all the sacrifices I have to make for her.”

“Rigggghhhht,” Star said in a knowing tone. His reaction was all the proof she needed to know Tom’s true feelings. His pride might not be able to admit it yet but it was clear he had feelings for Janna. Star hoped in time Tom would realize that and be able to admit it to both himself and the one he was crushing on, but he could take his time. Janna didn’t seem to be in any hurry either. 

Speaking of, said witch stepped in from the back room, holding herself in the same cocky, confident manner that seemed to just be her default, her face set in a permanent smirk. "My ears are burning, somebody talking about me?" she asked playfully. 

"Janna Banana!" Star squealed, running behind the counter to tightly hug her old friend. Janna gave her bestie a light pat on the back, trying to focus on her breathing. She loved Star but her hugs were legendary for almost breaking bones and it was all Janna could do not to gasp for air. When she thought she heard something in her spine crack, she decided to call the hug off, giving Star a gentle, but telling, push and the blonde witch responded by respectfully releasing her suffocating grip.

"How's my favorite customer?" Janna asked.

"Excited!" Star exclaimed joyfully. 

"That's what I like to hear," Janna replied with a wink. "So where's your partner in crime? Is he hiding from me?" 

"He stayed outside," Star explained, her tone still bright and upbeat. "He was worried you might try and turn him into a newt again."

"I was just testing his transformation," Janna defended herself with a small shrug. "It would've worn off, y’know, eventually."

"Yeah, well, it made Marco uncomfortable so maybe don't try any kind of magic on him without his consent, okay." Star's chipper tone became firm, trying to drive the point home to her old friend. 

Janna held up her hands in defeat, saying smoothly, "Fair enough."

"Good." The blonde's voice regained it's upbeat composure as she gave Janna a bright grin. "Glad we have an understanding."

"I'm glad too, you barely stop by anymore and now Marco's avoiding this place, he’s one of the only perks of this lame job," Tom spoke up, his head still buried in his magazine.

"Aww, what? Is my little forced worker feeling underappreciated?" Janna asked sarcastically, giving Tom a knowing look. “Don’t you know how much I love having you here?”

Tom's eyes instantly widened, crumpling the magazine into a small wad of paper. "You heard us?!" Tom squeaked, feeling his entire face heat up with a blush.

Janna shot him a playful smirk. "I hear everything that goes on in my shop."

Tom buried his face in his hands, hiding his bright red cheeks, groaning loudly in despair. Janna would never let him live this down. He'd be better off ceasing to exist, at least the void didn't have Janna's adorable, smirking face around to mock him. 

Janna scooted closer to her blushing victim, trying to feign innocence. "Awww c'mon Tommy, no need to be upset, after all I love having you around. You make work so much more fun," the creepy witch teased relentlessly.

"Please stop talking," Tom growled between clenched teeth. He didn't think his face could take anymore embarrassment, he was going to burst into flames, he just knew it.

"See like right now," Janna said in a overly positive voice.

Tom parted his hands long enough to send Star a death glare, the young witch positive she felt her skin heat up when he looked her way. "I blame you for this," he hissed and Star shrugged helplessly.

She did graciously change the subject, though, hoping to save Tom from further embarrassment, at least for a few minutes. “So anyways, my package?”

“Oh yeah,” Janna said knowingly, reaching into her pocket, pulling out a small cube. She walked over to the counter and with a flick of her wrist, the tiny box bounced onto the wooden surface, rolling to a stop. Star watched amazed as the small box began to glow with magical energy, growing in size and shifting form until it was a fairly sized jewelry box. Even as a witch, Star was still amazed sometimes how cool and helpful magic could be and now she would finally have the chance to do real magic, more than just cleaning up her own messes.

She leaned down till she was level with the table, her eyes lighting up with excitement as Janna slowly lifted the cover off the box, revealing the contents within. Inside was a bright, golden necklace, which somehow managed to glow and shimmer even in the low lighting of Janna’s shop. Hanging from the expensive chain was a small orb. Its surface was intricately carved, symbols of which Star could only guess the meaning of circling its entire length. Within the tiny ball seemed to be some untapped magical power, the whole thing pulsing pink or red or purple or gold, every time Star blinked it was a different color. It was both intimidating and beautiful at the same time and the blonde witch felt her heart pounding for multiple reasons as she stared at the enchanted necklace.

“See I told you I’d deliver,” Janna said proudly, clearly soaking in Star’s awed reaction. “The power balance necklace, just like you asked for.”

“You’re still trying those cheap tricks for controlling your magic?” Tom asked critically.

Janna shot him a dirty look, before arguing firmly, “Uhhh, yes and this time it’s actually gonna work.”

“That’s what you said the last time you sold something to Star. Y’know, the junky piece of jewelry that only worked on gnomes.”

“To be fair, the gnomes seemed to really like it when I gave it to them,” Star spoke up, defending her old friend’s honor, even if she did mess up, multiple times. 

“Well this one is different,” Janna said, lifting the necklace out of the box and moving around to attach it to Star. “This came highly recommended and has worked successfully for multiple people.” Star pulled her thick hair back to allow Janna to work on attaching the chain. “In fact, it’s actually pretty well known in the magical community. The people I bought it off of said it worked wonders for them.”

“What were they using it for?” Star asked curiously, looking down at the necklace now hanging from her neck. She could feel power radiating off of it, feel it soaking into her body, making everything tingle. It wasn’t a bad sensation but it was definitely weird. 

“Apparently, the guy was suffering from night terrors and was magicing in his sleep. His family said once he put the necklace on he stopped blasting everyone in his sleep.”

“Did his night terrors ever stop?” Tom asked, raising an eyebrow skeptically.

“Oh, he’s dead,” Janna replied immediately. 

Star and Tom’s eyes met, both wide with fear. Janna, however, quickly changed the subject. “So a few things to keep in mind about that necklace: don’t put it in water, obviously, and try not to use too many spells, you could end up overloading it if you're not careful.”

“Yep, yep, yep, no water and something about spells,” Star said absentmindedly, excitedly heading for the door, barely paying attention to anything the two were saying. “Okay, gotta go, I’ll see you guys later. Thanks for the necklace!”

“Uhhhh, Star,” Tom spoke up, not bothering to hide his concern for his friend. “Did you hear what-”

“Oh and I almost forgot, Marco wants some fishy chews!” Star exclaimed, interrupting Tom’s question. 

“Here, on the house.” Janna tossed a bag over to Star, the girl catching it easily. She examined the packaging, making sure it was the right flavor, before shooting Janna a grin. “Thanks!” she cheered, before throwing open the door and skipping out. 

Janna and Tom were silent for a few seconds, just staring at the door as it slowly swung closed. Tom finally glanced over at Janna before saying, “She’s gonna break it.”

“Oh definitely,” Janna agreed with a nod.

“How long do you think it’ll last?” 

“Ehhh, probably a day, maybe two.”

“Really? That long? I think she’ll break it before the end of the day,” Tom predicted. 

“We’ll see,” Janna replied with a shrug. Her face turned into a smirk as she added, “Soooooo, I’m curious. Do you love being here as much as I love having you here?”

Tom shot her a glare. “No.”

“Come onnnnnnn,” Janna said, pressing herself up against his shoulder. “Just admit you love me.”

“I will not!” Tom hissed, shoving her away, his face bright red.

Janna chuckled to herself, rolling her eyes. “Okay, okay, don’t admit it. I already know the truth.” 

Tom crossed his arms bitterly, putting on an angry frown as he huffed. But he couldn’t quite hide the happy gleam in his eyes. Existestence wasn’t so bad. Existence with Janna wasn’t so bad. He wasn’t sure if he was quite at the point where he would say he loved being with her but he did like it, even if he would never, ever say it outloud.

…

"Moooommm! Daaaadddd! We're back!" Star called excitedly as her broom descended onto familiar ground, the peaceful cottage clearing warm and welcoming like always. 

Marco hopped off the broom before they even touched the ground, his body morphing in mid-air and he landed delicately on the grass with two very human feet. He stretched his arms high over his head, breathing in the cool, forest air, glad to be out of the village, at last. Luckily, the ride back had been uneventful, Star just explaining everything she knew about the mystical necklace, and now that they were home Marco was excited to sink his teeth into the fishy chews Star got him. He pulled out the bag, slowly ripping the top open, licking his lips as the scent wafted over his face. 

Star's focus was on her parents as she rushed over to the little pond they called home, yelling excitedly, "Guys! You'll never guess what I got! Prepare to be frogs no more!" She stopped in her tracks, though, when she realized her parents were gone, the small lilypad she always found them on empty and there was no sign of them anywhere else in the pond. "Mom! Dad!" she called, getting down on her hands and knees, frantically searching for them. "Where are you guys?"

"Marco, my parents are missing!" she yelled to her friend, her voice cracking with fear. 

Marco was about to drop one of the fish candies onto his tongue but stopped at the news, dropping the treat back into the bag. "I'm sure they're around here," he reassured her.

"But what if something got them!" Star shouted, pulling at her thick, blonde hair in panic. "What if they were eaten alive and we weren't there to save them!?"

"I'm sure they didn't-"

"Oh man it's all my fault! I never should have left them alone!" Star was starting to hyperventilate and the boy knew he had to do something to calm her down. 

Marco put a hand on Star's shoulder, giving her a calming smile. "Star, relax. Well find them." 

Star nodded, releasing the iron grip on her hair (causing it to poof up in a few places) and slowed her erratic breathing. "You're right, Marco. They couldn’t have gotten far! Let’s just split up and-”

Before the blonde witch could finish her sentence, a blue alligator appeared between the two, snapping its jaw closed and sending both Star and Marco reeling back in a frenzied panic. Marco’s tail stood on end and Star held out her hand, already glowing with magic, in warning. “Whoa, whoa, gator! You picked the wrong girl to mess with!” 

“Bwwwwwaaaaa!” the reptile said back, opening its mouth wide, revealing its sharp teeth. Star was about ready to blast the alligator into the next dimension when she noticed something small and green sitting on its head, the creature’s mannerisms too delicate and refined to be mistakable. “Mom?” Star said in confusion. Her frog mother gave her a warm glance, followed by a small ribbet in greeting. “Are you… riding an alligator?” Star asked, her voice a mixture of surprise and admiration.

Instead of answering, she just croaked, “Bwwaaaaaa,” the alligator, responding with the same noise, bowing its head to Star and then Marco.

“Oh man, mom, that is so cool!” Star squealed, impressed her high-strung mother would actually do something so dangerous and awesome. “I didn’t know you spoke alligator! You totally gotta teach me that sometimes.” 

Moon puffed out her chest, proudly, clearly enjoying the praise coming from her daughter. 

“But, uh, where’s dad?” Star asked in concern. 

Right on cue, another blue alligator came bursting from the bushes, this one carrying her father, who was hanging on by his tongue wrapped around the reptile’s neck. The alligator barreled over to Marco, its snapping jaw nearly taking his hand, as well as his fishy chews but luckily Marco pulled his hand away just in time. He clutched the bag against his chest, hissing at the alligator in warning, his ears pressed back defensively. 

Moon quickly took control of the situation, simply croaking, “Bwaaaaaaa.” The alligator backed away from Marco, River managing to his bearings back as he slid off the reptile, his head spinning wildly. 

"Oh man, guys! I had no idea you both knew how to do something so cool! That was so awesome!" Star said cheerfully.

"Heeeyyy," Marco whined, still clutching his fishy chews to his chest.

"Oh, well except for the part where Marco almost got his hand eaten off," Star added.

"Thank you," Marco said gratefully, finally taking another bite of his snack. 

"It's good to see you guys enjoying yourselves!" Star said, honestly proud of her parents for actually making the most of their situation than just laying around being miserable. But she was too excited to think about that for long, adding hintingly, "Buuuttt I have even better news!"

Star paused for dramatic effect, particularly vibrating with excitement. She had to bite her lip to keep from just blurting the secret out, waiting until the suspense built to its climax. Moon, however, wasn't in a patient mood, croaking once in annoyance, the look in her bulging eyes screaming, 'Can we get on with it, please.'

"Okay, okay," Star said, giggling to herself a little. But she could wait no longer as she suddenly declared, "Guess who figured out how to undo your curse!"

Her parents both erupted into happy ribbets, unable to suppress themselves as they hopped around each other in a circle. It was the closest they could come to dancing with webbed limbs instead of hands.

Star wanting to add to the good vibes, pointed over at the two, saying dramatically, "That's right! You're getting your bodies back!" She aimed the tip of her broom at them, already deep in concentration as she imagined her parents back in their original bodies, adding in a more serious tone, "Now hold still, okay. This'll just take a second."

She was stopped from performing the spell as Marco grabbed her by the wrist (gently, so he didn't accidentally hurt her) and Star turned to him bewildered. "Hang on, Star," he said calmly. "Let's test and make sure that necklace actually works before we do the super dangerous spell on your parents."

Normally, Star would argue with him, impatience and guilt, pressuring her to do the spell anyways, but then she remembered what Janna said about the necklace's last owner and decided it was better to be safe than sorry. "Good idea, Marco!" she praised, hugging him tightly around the neck, her cheek gently pressing against his, making his whole face turn dark red. It took everything in him to keep from purring. The last thing he wanted to do was embarrass himself in front of his crush- err, partner. "This is why I keep you around," Star joked, pulling away with a bright smile. Marco smiled back awkwardly but his friend didn't notice, already looking around for some idea of what to cast. 

"Sooooo, what spell should I do to test out this necklace?" Star asked absentmindedly.

Marco was able to get ahold of himself enough to speak, suggesting, "How about we start by fixing the giant hole in our house?" He gestured over to their still broken cottage.

"Oh, starting off easy I see," Star said grinning brightly. "Classic Marco." She stepped over to the broken wall, taking a deep breathe in and out, before spinning her broom around a few times, letting her magic gather and her mind settle. She had done this spell more times than she could count, it was nearly impossible to get wrong but this time she felt… different. Her magic felt muted, not cut off or drained but just that it was less. It was an odd sensation but not an unwelcome one, in fact it was encouraging. For the first time she didn't fear how her own magic could backfire and blow up in her face. 

She brought the broom to a sudden stop and instantly her magic went to work. Star watched proudly as the broken bricks picked themselves up and began restacking. The wooden boards did the same, pressing together so tightly you couldn't even tell they had ever been broken. After less than a minute, the wall was back to normal, not a crack or dent in sight. 

"I did it!" Star exclaimed, overjoyed at performing such a spell with ease. 

Marco nodded, admiring the repaired wall. "Gotta admit, it looks great," the cat familiar commented. 

"Yeah but it was too easy," Star said a little glumly. "That wasn't a good test, I need a real challenge." She scratched her chin, deep in thought, looking around the forest clearing for a new idea. Finally her eyes landed on the small pond and she was struck with inspiration. "I got it!" She shouted, racing over to the pond and picking up a random frog. "Something I've always wanted to try." 

Star immediately began focusing on the frog in the palm of her hand, once again feeling the muted magic in her body. The small orb hanging around her neck began to glow a dark purple, some kind of unspoken power radiating off of it. With a puff of magical smoke, Star's frog transformed, looking nearly the same… except for the massive six pack it was now sporting.

The blonde witch squealed, happy yet another one of her spells was cast with no problems. Nothing was on fire, nothing exploded and Star didn’t turn Marco’s limbs into squid, tentacle arms (it was a long story).  "It worked!" Star screamed, holding the frog aloft in victory. 

Marco, however, was less than impressed, staring at the now beefy frog with a quizzical look. “Why abs?” he questioned. 

“Why not abs?” Star answered back, lowering the frog down to eye level. She gave the amphibian a little scratch on the head, saying, “Looks like we’re gonna have to call you Buff Frog from now on.” Buff Frog croaked happily at the idea.

“Well, I gotta hand it to you, Star, looks like that necklace really does work,” Marco spoke up, nodding his head in approval. “Looks like for once Janna gave us something that actually works.”

“And you doubted me,” Star said, giving him a sly grin.

“Yeah, yeah, my bad,” Marco admitted, rubbing at the back of his neck. 

“So since it works,” the blonde said, her voice hiding a playful undertone as she smiled sweetly over at her friend. “How about I use it to give you that hot bod you’ve always wanted?”  

Marco rolled his eyes, but grinned back. “No thanks, I’d rather earn that.”

Star shrugged, trying her best to hide her disappointment. “Suit yourself.” Her enthusiasm returned as she continued brightly, "Ok, so now that we know for sure it works, whaddya say I turn my parents back to normal." She saw Marco giving her a purposeful look, one that seemed to hint at something, and Star quickly added, "Uhh, after I test to make sure I know the spell."

Marco nodded his head in approval and Star lit up with joy for impressing her crush. She looked around for her next victim/test subject, her eyes landing on a random frog hopping its way across the clearing. Star smiled mischievously, saying to herself, "Looks like it's your lucky day, friend." 

The blonde closed her eyes, letting her thoughts clear, blocking out all distractions as she just focused on the spell. She had lost count how many times she had tried to perform this spell but her chaotic magic always made it difficult to concentrate. Usually she was so busy focusing her magic down, thinking about less magic, less energy, less, that she never actually casted it. And when she did it was always a failure, the magic always just creating some bizarre side effect that Star would then spend the rest of the day working on undoing. Once, she had managed to turn her dad's webbed feet into human hands and feet but that was as far as she could ever get it. 

Now though, everything felt right. Her magic was gathering just like it should, her mind clear and easily able to picture the transformation, frog to human, no mistakes this time. She felt a burning against her neck, not quite hurting her but just a bit uncomfortable. Star figured that was normal. It just meant the necklace was doing what it was supposed to be doing, right? 

With a deep exhale, Star released the spell. A ring of magic circled the tiny frog, who immediately froze in terror. The magic soon covered its entire body, the amphibian beginning to grow and stretch, its green skin turning pale and white. Its tongue shrank and teeth pushed out from its gums. It's webbed fingers grew a little in length and a few extra formed from its skin. Brown hair began to grow from the top of its head creating a mop of unruly hair and bangs that covered its eyes completely. Fabric covered the bulk of its body, a loose fitting shirt and a pair of shorts. Once the spell was finished, the slimy, green frog was now a human man, looking no different from any other in the world. The man was still crouched down on all fours and he quickly turned his head side to side, looking utterly lost and confused. 

Star just stared open mouth at her creation, too dumbstruck to even process what she had just done. But slowly, she came to her senses, the revelation of her success causing her to shake with excitement. "I did it," she muttered, low and unsure as if she didn't quite believe herself. "I-I actually did it." 

She chuckled loudly, her look of confusion turning to one of pride. "I did the spell!" She declared at the top of her lungs. Without warning she ran to Marco, throwing her arms around him in a celebratory hug. "I did it, Marco! I actually did it!" She squealed, hopping up and down with joy. “I did it! I did it! I DID IT!!”

Marco gave her a supportive hug back, saying in the most encouraging tone he had, “Way to go, Star! I knew you had it in you!” Star squeezed him tightly, feeling her heart race from his kind words, uplifting her in a way no other could. This was exactly what she wanted, finally her Marco was proud of her and wouldn’t ever have to clean up her messes again. She was no longer just a problem for him to deal with, finally they could be equals. 

Meanwhile, the frog-turned-human took notice of his strange new body, flexing his odd, bendable fingers. His hands gripped his hair, tugging at them a few times until he felt his roots cry out in pain. He ran his hands down his face, feeling his smooth skin and squishy cheeks before the realization finally dawned on him. “I’m human.” He stared down at his hands for a few seconds before an evil laugh escaped his throat, starting out small but slowly growing in power, until he was belting it out to the whole forest. Star and Marco turned to him in confusion, eyebrows slowly raising. “At last, my reign of terror against the pitiful two-leggers can begin!” With that he crouched down and began hopping away, not knowing any other way of movement other than his froggy instincts.

“Uhhhh, you should probably take care of that,” Marco suggested, raising a knowing finger in the air. 

“Oh totally, I’m on it,” Star said confidently, spinning the broom around in her hands a few times for style. Holding the broom like it was some sort of gun she fired a blast of magic at the frog-man but he hopped to the side, avoiding the spell. “Oh what the-” the blonde witch started to exclaim, before remembering Marco was still watching her and she quickly gave him a thumbs up. 

“Okay, maybe I need to try actually targeting him?” she whispered to herself, spinning the broom around again, letting the magic gather. The necklace was burning again as she forced more magic to the surface but she ignored it. So long as it kept doing it’s job it could reacted however it wanted to react. She held the broom out in front of her, a stream of magical energy spiralling outwards.

 The frog-man saw it coming and hopped out of the way, but it curved to follow him. He tried to hop away from the magic, zig-zagging to avoid getting struck but no matter what he did it stayed on his tail. 

Until, he got a new idea and headed towards Star, jumping high over the blonde’s head, the girl having no time to dodge as she was hit with the magic full-force.

Star went flying back, landing hard on the rough ground, the air knocked from her lungs as her body ached with pain. “Star!” Marco screamed, moving to help her up but the blonde had already jumped to her feet. 

“That does it! No holding back!” Star shouted, her voice tight from the hard tumble she had taken. She tossed the broom aside, instead focusing all her magic on her hands. She held them out to her sides, letting the magic gather. Her brain flashed her a warning, a memory from the last time she had tried this attack playing in her head. It’ll be different this time, she told herself. I have the necklace. I won’t destroy him, just turn him back into a frog. I literally can’t mess this up. 

The necklace was beginning to glow a deep red, burning so hot that her neck was starting to tan under the heat the enchanted jewerly was producing. Purple smoke was starting to rise off of it, littering the air with uncontrolled magic. 

Star took a quick breath in for comfort before slapping her hands together as hard as she could, the resulting explosion nearly filling the entire clearing. Marco leaped out of the way of the blast, landing gracefully on his feet as he watched the magic encompass everything around him. The frog-man was not so fortunate, getting caught up in the magical explosion, his body slowly shifting back to that of a frog. 

When the spell wore off, Star blinked a few times, left completely stunned by what she had just done. The frog, now back to normal, looked up at her with narrowed, yellow eyes, croaking once before hopping into the pond, disappearing underwater. The blonde witch smiled to herself, happy and proud she had performed yet another spell without a disaster happening. She looked around at the trees and grass and, yep, everything was intact. 

“Star.”

This necklace was a miracle worker. She couldn’t think of the last time she cast a spell that big without at least a burning tree or two.

“Star!” 

This really was her chance. With this necklace, she could finally, truly be a real witch. She could make her family proud. She could earn Marco’s heart. She could-

“STAR!” Marco screamed, finally reaching his spaced out friend.

“Huh?” she said, looking lazily over in his direction. Only to be completely blindsighted as Marco practically tackled her, leaping over to her with cat-like reflexes, and ripping the necklace from her neck. 

Star felt the chain snap and rose a hand to her neck, startled. “Wha- Marco! What are you doing?!”

But Marco was in too much pain to respond, the magical gem burning his hand to the touch and he hissed, tossing away the piece of jewelry as fast as he could. But his impatience backfired as the necklace sailed over to the pond, splashing below the surface with a muted plop.  

“No, my necklace!” Star screamed running over to the pond. She reached her hand into the murky water, feeling around blindly for the magical necklace, too panicked to even form rational thought at this point. Eventually her fingers grazed something round and hard and she scooped it up, swiftly pulling it out of the pond. She stared at the necklace dishearteningly, the small orb now black and lifeless, no magic resonating off of it anymore. “Noooooo,” she whimpered, tears forming in her eyes as she stared at her ruined hopes and dreams. 

“Star, I’m so sorry,” Marco said quietly, putting a delicate hand on her shoulder. “I didn’t mean to break it. I was just- it was smoking and I was afraid it was gonna explode or something.”

Star said nothing, just continuing to stare sadly down at the necklace, cradling it in her hands. “Star?” the boy questioned, concern creasing his brows. 

“I need to be alone,” Star said, rising to her feet and brushing past her friend. Marco called to her but that just made the blonde speed up, escaping into the house as quickly as she could. 

Worry plagued Marco as he stared longingly at the door Star had disappeared behind, fearing he had just ruined the one good relationship he had ever had with a witch. He could already picture it so clearly, Star sending him away in anger, him getting reassigned to a new witch, one that saw him as a pet rather than a person. He had never had great luck with partners, Star was the first one that made him feel safe and happy (and maybe even something more) and now it seems his bad luck was getting the best of him again. 

But more than that, he was worried about Star herself. He knew how important turning her parents back was to her. She had been so excited, looked so free and joyful when casting her spells. He had always seen Star as this positive ball of sunshine nothing could destroy, even her own flawed magic never seemed to affect her that much. She always seemed eager to push past it, each new spell she cast, for better or for worse, she cast with excitement, not dread. But now it seemed like that positive attitude had been corrupted. And if she did send him away than who would be there to pick her back up, to heal her heart and help her regain her confidence. 

The boy looked over at Star’s parents, who were both staring up at him desperately, their eyes seeming to beg for him to do something since they couldn’t. Marco gave them a weak smile and said, “Don’t worry, I’ll go talk to her.” 

The two frogs nodded before hopping back over to their lilypad, trying not to worry for their daughter, knowing she was in good hands. Moon and River both wished to be human again, if only to hug their darling Star and tell her how proud they were of her. But since they couldn’t they would just have to let Marco do that for them. 

…

As soon as she was inside, Star headed for the roof. She didn’t know what it was about sitting up there that relaxed her but she always felt at ease. Maybe it was because up there she was away from all the burdens and guilt, it was just her and the open sky. It was an escape from reality, leaving her problems for a while and just getting to exist peacefully. She loved to watch the sunsets, sometimes she would imagine hopping on the sun and riding it into the next world. But she usually dismissed the idea… because  then she wouldn't have Marco.

She heard a meow beside her and she didn't have to look to know who it was, and sure enough, a small black cat began rubbing against her side, purring softly. "Marco, I said I wanted to be alone," she grumbled, sounding more annoyed than she really was. 

In the blink of an eye, Marco was human again, his hands resting on her leg as he stared at her face with those wide, chocolate brown eyes. "Oh sorry," he apologized, looking hurt and disappointed, the kind of look that killed Star's soul. "I was just coming to check on you but, uh, I understand if you need your space."

Marco started to slide down the side of the roof but was stopped when Star placed a hand over his. "Marco wait, I'm sorry. You can stay," she said apologetically. 

Marco's eyes searched her face, silently asking for permission, and she patted the spot beside her, giving him a warm, if halfhearted, smile. The cat familiar jumped at the opportunity, scooting next to her, his tail gently wrapping around her waist, while his hands he kept firmly in his lap, not wanting to upset her or break some unspoken rule between them. 

"How are my parents doing?" Star asked, her voice dead and lifeless. "Are they disappointed I couldn't turn them human?"

"Weeeelll, I wouldn't say disappointed, they were more concerned."

"About me?"

Marco nodded. "Yeah." He lowered his voice before adding, "We all are."

Star went quiet after that, letting that process in her head. She hadn't really thought they would react that way. She was sure they would blame her for breaking her promise, it hadn't even occurred to her they would be more concerned about her well being than her sins. Did they really think she was more important than regaining their humanity? 

Marco was twitching in place, his curiosity burning away at his will. He wanted so badly to question Star, to ask her if she was mad at him, if she was planning on sending him away but he held his tongue. He knew that would do no good, instead he took the most logical approach: an apology. "Um, so I know I already said it but I'm really, really sorry Star," he said awkwardly, his ears drooping sadly. "I didn't mean to ruin your necklace, I know it was important to you."

Star let out a long sigh, hugging her knees to her chest as she said, "No, it's not your fault. I know you were just protecting me like always." She curled up even tighter before admitting, "Besides, Janna mentioned something about too many spells but I wasn't paying attention."

"Ah," Marco said, finally understanding why the magical jewelry had been smoking, of course in Star's hands it had been overloaded. Seeing how guilt-ridden his friend was he added jokingly, "Well it was Janna so I can't really blame you for ignoring her."

Star snorted, caught off-guard by the joke. “Marco, she’s our friend,” she scolded in-between giggles.

"And she's also a compulsive liar and thief."

"She doesn't lie, she just … stretches the truth."

"Until it breaks," Marco commented and the two shared a good, long laugh. 

Eventually, the laughter died down and Star's depressed frown returned. Marco stared at her sympathetically, asking her softly, "So what's really bothering you, Star?"

Star took a moment to answer, maybe she needed to think about her response, maybe she needed to find the courage to say it out loud. Either way, Marco gave her all the time she needed. "It's just, when I was doing all those spells, I felt like a real witch, like I was finally doing something right." Star ran a hand up and down her arm. "I guess I started to think maybe I could do more than just Star everything up. But now it looks like the only thing my magic is good for is cleaning up my own, stupid messes..." She threw her arms high into the air before exclaiming, "...and I can't even do that right half the time!"

"Star," Marco said, reaching for her but she jerked away, turning away from her friend as she continued. 

"And don't say it's okay because I know it isn't okay! I know I make your life harder by being around you, I know I do. You're always taking care of me and protecting me and how do I repay it? By making more messes for you to clean up." Star finally met Marco's eyes, her own crystal blue clouded by guilt and regret. "I don't want it to be that way, Marco. I want to be able to help you the same way you always help me. I wanna be your equal. But how can I be that when I can't make breakfast or turn my parents human or protect you from evil birds without it blowing up in my face!"

Star buried her face in her hands, her voice choked and raw as she cried freely outside of Marco's vision. "And you don't deserve that, Marco! You deserve a real witch, one who isn't constantly struggling with their magic. I don't know why you haven't left already to find someone better than me."

For a few moments, Marco was speechless. How had he never known Star felt that way? He was supposed to know everything about her and yet something so monumental had slipped right past him. No wonder she was always looking for quick fixes and band-aid solutions to her wild magic. He had always assumed it was out of impatience or overeagerness or possibly even laziness but in reality it had been because of guilt. Sure he had known she felt bad but he had thought it was because of her parents, not him. And the fact that he was such a big cause of her guilt cut so deep Marco was convinced there would be a scar left on his heart. 

"Star, I-I had no idea you felt that way," Marco said gently, sadly, fighting to keep his voice steady. 

"Yeah well I'm full of surprises and all that," Star grumbled bitterly, a dark frown spread across her pretty face.

Marco shook his head, seeing that Star needed to hear what he really meant. "No, I mean, I should have known you felt that way. I'm supposed to take care of you, not make you feel worse. I shouldn't have ever let you believe I wanted anyone but you."

This caught Star's attention, the blonde staring at her friend wide-eyed. Marco began tapping his fingers nervously on his legs, trying to keep his calm as he said, "I never told you about my other partners, did I?"

Star slowly shook her head, her expression of shock and surprise never leaving her face. Marco didn’t talk about his past, ever. It was sort of an unspoken rule between them, you never mention his past, you never asked questions, and you certainly didn’t use mind spells to try and see what he was hiding inside his head, which Star had stopped Janna from doing. She had asked a few times and he either gave some vague answer or changed the subject altogether. So the fact that he was choosing to talk so openly now caught Star’s attention, so much so she almost forgot she was supposed to be upset about something. 

“Well they were more like ‘owners’ than partners, honestly, at least that’s how they saw it,” Marco hissed, sounding almost feral, every word dripping with so much repressed anger and bitterness. Star had never heard Marco so upset before in her life: annoyed, yes, upset, yes, but this… this was pure, unbridled hatred to its core. Star couldn’t imagine what they could have done to unlock such vileness in her best friend. No wonder he never talked about it. “Most of them were gifted witches, pure, magical genuines, others were more like you, struggling and unsure, but they all had one thing in common, they were all terrible people, at least to me.”

Marco’s nails began digging into his legs, so much so that Star was afraid he might break skin, his face set in an agitated scowl. “None of them ever had any respect for me, they all acted like I was just some tool for them to use. To them I was just a servant, made to do their bidding or, if I was lucky, I was their pet. But I was never a person to them. I was never their equal or their partner, I was just an animal. One of them never even learned my name. My name, Star! They just called me ‘cat’ like that’s all I was.”

Star put a hand gently on Marco’s back, saying softly, “Marco, I’m so sorry that happened to you.” The boy’s face was scrunched up, clearly reliving all those painful memories of times gone by and the blonde forgot her own problems as her worry for her friend took over.

Marco let out a heavy breath before continuing with his tale. “For the first few witches I would fight back, y’know tell them off and correct them when they would treat me badly and they’d just send me away and I’d end up with a new ‘owner’. The Witches Council didn’t like that I was ‘disobedient’ so I started to just put up with it for the sake of my job and that’s when I met the guy who thought I was his pet. It was better, I guess, but I still hated it.”

“Wasn’t there any witch who treated you decently?” Star asked, her voice shaking with rage now too. The idea that anyone could treat her Marco that badly was unspeakable and if she ever met the witches who did that to him she would destroy them on the spot. At least that was one good thing that came out of erratic, wild magic. It was easy to eliminate your enemies with. 

“Well there was one girl who I thought might be a good partner. You would have loved her Star, she was so cool and laid back and she was always so nice to me, but she moved away before I ever got a chance to ask her,” Marco said sadly, his heart aching as he remembered his old crush Jackie. 

“Oh, Marco,” Star whined, her eyes filling with tears. 

“After her, I started to think I was just doomed to be miserable. Even convinced myself I was a black cat entirely because I was born with bad luck that was gonna haunt me for the rest of my life. I was about ready to just give up and resign myself to my fate when something crazy happened.” For the first time in minutes, Marco’s face softed, a smile slowly forming on his lips. His tone changed from hurt and depressed to upbeat in an instant as the story took a turn for the better. “I met this weird witch girl. She wasn’t very good at magic, like at all, but she had this energy that seemed to follow her around everywhere she went. She could make you smile just by being near you and she would do these little, goofy things that would just be so cute, you couldn’t help but laugh. It sounds kinda cliche but it was almost like her positivity had a magic of its own. And the minute I met her I knew my luck was finally changing for the better.”

Marco’s eyes slowly met Star’s, shining brown meeting a startled blue, both cheeks painted red from their close proximity. “Star, you may not think you do enough for me but you do everything for me. You treat me like I’m a person and more than that you really see me as your partner and your friend. Heck, you want us to be equals! You have no idea how much that means to me, Star.”

He paused for a moment, seeing sadness slowly overtake his friend once again and added, “And yeah, maybe you mess up sometimes and I have to be the one to clean it up, but you are worth any mess if it means I get to be around you every single day.” He took her hands in his, gently squeezing them as he proclaimed, “So you see, Star, you're so much more to me than just my partner or my equal, you’re my whole world! You’re the-” Marco swallowed, the words ‘love of my life’ getting caught in his throat. Instead he changed it to, “You’re my very best friend, Star. And magic or no magic, that’s not going to change.” 

Tears streamed down Star's cheeks, dripping onto their linked hands but neither teen cared, instead Marco gently raised a hand to her face, wiping the tears off her cheeks. Without warning, Star pulled him into a bone-crushing hug, her face buried in the front of his shirt, and Marco didn't pull away, instead just embracing her back with an equal amount of vigor. A low purring vibrated through his chest, keeping rhythm with his pounding heart. His tail curled and uncurled affectionately and he could feel Star smiling against his chest. "You're my best friend too, Marco," she said, her voice muffled by his shirt and Marco just laughed. 

"I know," Marco softly replied. 

Star pulled away first, swiping her hands across her tear-stained cheeks, which were blushing brightly thanks to the warm hug they had just shared. Marco just watched her lovingly, before remembering he still had a few more things to say. It was far too easy to get distracted by Star, everything she did and said was so adorable he couldn't help but get drawn in.

"And for the record, I think you're gonna become a witch someday," he said encouragingly. 

"Really, you do?" Star said, her eyes shining like her namesake. 

Marco nodded. "Yeah, of course I do, you're the most stubborn girl I know. There's no way your gonna let your own magic keep you from getting what you want."

"Yeah," Star said thoughtfully. She repeated it over and over again, each time getting louder and more energetic. "Yeah. Yeah. YEAH!!" She stood, striking a dramatic pose before exclaiming, "Who says I can't be a real witch! I'm Star Butterfly and I can do whatever I want!"

"Whoo, now that's the Star I know!" Marco cheered, clapping enthusiastically for his friend.  

Star plopped back down beside him, her face the picture of joy, the afternoon sun reflecting off her skin, making her whole face glow warmly. 

Marco quickly averted his eyes, coughing into his hand to try and cover his blush. He scratched his cheek shyly, training his eyes on a point in the distance rather than Star’s adorable face. "So, uh, not to ruin the moment but I don't think the way to mastering your magic is by using a bunch of shortcuts or magical devices, y’know."

"Yeah, my bad," Star agreed. 

"But I also don't think you can do it alone, either," Marco added.

Star frowned, saying sarcastically, "Gee thanks."

Marco finally met her eye again, giving her a bright grin that caused her heart to flutter uncontrollably. "So whaddya say we stop using dangerous magical artifacts from Janna and instead work together to figure out your magic?" He reached into his pockets pulling out a wrinkled sheet of paper. He carefully unfolded it, handing it to Star.

The blonde recognized it as the chart Marco had made, finally paying it closer attention. It was clear her friend had put a lot more effort into it than he needed to. He had listed almost every spell Star had ever used, which was impressive since she was always making up new spells off the top of her head. And besides the effort and care he went into actually measuring her magic output levels (whatever that meant) he had also made the entire page colorful, full of lots of cute pictures to help keep Star’s interest. Before, she had only ever been annoyed by all of Marco’s charts and graphs, seeing them as nothing but meaningless, boring distractions from what she really wanted to do but now she saw just how wrong that was. Marco had gone above and beyond for her with this, just like he always did. It wouldn’t be right to let all that hard work go to waste, Marco deserved better than that. 

Besides, it’s not like her plans were much better.

“Yeah, that sounds awesome,” Star said to her friend, showing her support with a positive grin and a thumbs up. Marco’s face lit up, excited he had finally gotten through to his friend, and the blonde witch knew she would never regret this decision, not if it made her bestie this happy. “So, how about we get started?!” she asked, too impatient to wait a moment longer, standing and energetically bouncing up and down, ready to do something productive. 

“Okay,” Marco agreed with a short nod, glad to see his friend back to her normal, hyper self. “What do you want to practice first?”

“Weeeellll…” Star put her arm around her friend, twirling her broom around in her other hand. “Since you’ve done so much for me today, I want to do something for you.” She lightly poked his chest with the end of her broom.

“Like what?” Marco asked curiously. Hopefully it was a giant bowl of tuna or a mackerel the size of his entire body or a trout bathed in syrup, anything to do with fish basically. Just thinking of it, the half-cat licked his lips, rubbing his hands together in anticipation.

“So I was checking over the chart you made for me, very helpful by the way, and I couldn’t help but notice you mentioned a little spell I’ve used before,” Star continued, a mischievous smirk slowly forming on her face. 

Marco’s smiling face immediately turned to horror as he realized which spell Star meant. “Starrrrrr…. don’t you dare!” he hissed, backing away fearfully. 

“Come on, Marco, it’s for your own good,” Star said, gripping her broom in both hands as she prepared to cast the spell. She would need to be quick, thanks to Marco being part cat, his reflexes were incredible. 

“No way, you’ll never take me alive!” he screamed, before throwing himself off the roof. He shifted into a cat, landing lightly on his feet, before running as fast as he could across the clearing. 

Star held the broom over her head, shooting the magic through her body and out the end of her wand. A rush of water flew high into the air, arching in the sky before crashing down right on Marco’s head. The cat boy was thoroughly soaked, head to toe, and shaking miserably. 

Star hopped off the roof, floating down to the ground on her broom. “Well, looks like that’s one spell that I got down, huh?” She gently scooped Marco into her arms, wrapping him in the folds of her dress.

“Very funny,” Marco hissed, still shaking bitterly. 

“Okay, okay, I know you're mad, but I had to do it! You were starting to smell like rotten eggs and fish!” 

Marco just let out a low growl, curling himself even tighter into Star’s lap but not looking her in the eyes. “Fine. I promise I won’t use that spell without warning you next time.” 

“And?”

“Annnndddd I’ll use my magic to double the size of your tuna,” she said, hoping that would be enough for him to forgive her.

“And?” he asked, still not convinced.

“Uhhhhh and I’ll let you choose the movie for movie night?”

“Annnndddd?”

Star sighed, before scratching him gently behind the ear, making him purr against his will, “And I’ll make dinner tonight and clean up the mess, afterwards.” 

“And no magic at the table?” he added, hintingly.

“And no magic at the table.”

“Good,” Marco agreed with a nod. “Then it’s a deal.”

Star let out a sigh of relief. “Thank goodness, I was running out of things to promise.” 

“Oh I forgave you after the tuna thing, I just wanted to see what else I could get,” Marco admitted, giving her a wide smirk. 

Star gasped dramatically. “Marco!” she exclaimed in disbelief.

Marco laughed, before saying in a flirting tone, “Gotcha!”

Star’s cheeks puffed up in the cutest way as she mumbled, “You’re lucky you're so adorable right now or you would be so turned into a newt.”

The boy just laughed again, the playful conversation continuing as the two headed inside the cozy cottage, not as friends or companions but as equals. And maybe with time… something more. 

So that’s it for this AU! Yeah I know I didn’t end with Star turning her parents back but I didn’t think I could just have her do that at the very end. She still has a ways to go before she gets there, honestly, and it didn’t feel right to take away her growth here. I’m not planning on doing a continuation but who knows, I’m pretty weak sometimes so if I get a good idea I might. I also encourage anyone to make their own ending or interpretation just please make sure to credit Spatz because I wouldn’t feel right taking away from her original concept. This story wouldn’t exist without it. 

Anyways, there is still more I didn’t get to include in my original ideas. Like Mariposa is also a familiar like her brother, only she can turn into a butterfly. Her witch assignment is Meteora obviously. I also had an idea about Eclipsa being an ancient witch who made herself immortal and was shunned from the magic community so Star will go to her for advice since she isn’t welcomed anywhere else. So yeah, wish I could have fit those in but oh well, I’m only human.  So that does it for me today and I hope you all enjoy and have a happy Halloween! Stay spooky all!

[amphxtrite]

ginny weasley x fem!reader

Royalty Au

Warnings: spelling/grammar mistakes

Summary: the reader has to choose someone to marry from the Weasley family and she falls for the only girl.

enjoy <3

___________________________________

y/n l/n Princess of Felicitatem, next in line for the throne, treasure of the Kingdom of Prosperity. 

Yawning as you sit yourself up in your lush 4-poster bed, you stretch your arms out and throw back your covers, swinging your legs off the edge of your mattress and sighing at the feeling of your feet meeting the cool marble of the floor beneath you. 

“Good morning Princess.” you hear a voice call out to you from the doorway. “Good morning Melina, beautiful day isn’t it?” you answer back, gazing out your large window into the beautiful garden. “Yes it is indeed Princess, I’m here to fetch you for breakfast.” Melina steps into the room and closes the door behind her. You murmur a quick mhm before scooching over to face her.

Melina was like the older sister you never had, you two were very comfortable around each other, but she still liked to stick to formalities when she was unsure if anyone was around. “Mellie there’s no need for that Princess stuff around me, you know that!” you grin. “I know, but I thought I saw Sebastian coming around here, and you know how much of a blabbermouth he is.” She sighs, flopping down onto your bed. You shrug, standing fully up and heading to the bathroom, you begin to run a brush through your hair as Mellie informs you on the castle’s gossip. “So I heard the head chef and one of the chambermaids were caught snogging in a broom closet,” She giggles. “And, Alex says the gardener is pregnant, Oh, and we got a cute new stable boy.” She rattles on, you can feel her blush from here. You smile. Beginning to brush your teeth, Mellie comes into the bathroom and begins to braid her hair, “It’s parcel day too, I think I saw a whole stack with your name on them.” She looks over at you. You rinse out your mouth before answering. 

“Oh yeah, the Potter’s kingdom is trying to sign a deal with my parents, and they think spoiling me will convince them.” you answer nonchalantly. 

���Do you think it’ll work?” Mellie asks curiously. “Oh, Mother was going to sign it anyways, she's just a bit busy right now.” You snicker, “The fabric in their kingdom is to die for though and they send the most beautiful dresses, so I’m not complaining.” you turn and head towards your closet. “You want to borrow anything today?” you call out to the blonde trailing behind you. “Do you have that ribbon I like?” She asks as you walk to a drawer and pull out the baby blue silk hair ribbon and toss it over to her. “You can keep it, you know, since you like it so much.” You smile at her. She squeals and hugs you tightly, thanking you over and over again, you simply smile and hug her back. She helps you put on a casual white dress and you walk down to the dining room talking about the kingdom’s news, you separate once you arrive at your destination, waving goodbye as you open the large doors.

“Ah, y/n there you are!” Your father calls out to you as you step into the large room. “Good morning father.” You answer “Good morning mother” you greet your mother beside him at the head of the table. Your father stands and walks over to you, “We have guests today darling,” He says motioning to a large family of red-heads, you immediately recognize them as the Weasley’s from the Western Kingdom. You curtsey to them, “It’s a pleasure to make your acquaintance.” You greet. “Oh thank you darling.” A short woman with a kind face answers, she must be Mrs. Weasley. “You have a very kind daughter Charles.” Mr. Weasley compliments, you smile. You scan your eyes down the row of ginger children seven in total, skimming over each one of them, your eyes stop at the only girl there, the youngest one too you presumed. She sends you a small smile and you find yourself staring. She was so beautiful, long light ginger hair, ocean blue eyes and pretty pink lips. You grin back as you walk with your father to the head of the table taking a seat on the other right side of your him, directly in front of Mr. Weasley, The adults continue talking and you find your mind wandering, your eyes goes back to the girl you had made eye-contact with just a few moments ago, she’s picking at her eggs, you smile but catch yourself in the act, you shake your head slightly, you’ve never felt this way about a girl before, what was going on? Despite these thoughts there was a part of your brain saying to just go with it. You’re brought out of your thoughts by your father’s voice.

“You’re probably wondering why the Weasleys are here?” Your father asks, reading your mind. You nod. “Well dear, we’ve decided to join our kingdoms and would like to have you and one of their children marry to unite us when you’re crowned queen.” He explains. You freeze. “So you’re arranging my marriage?” You ask, fear lacing your tone. “Well not exactly,” Your father tries to reason with you. “The Weasley’s have six boys in their family and 5 for you to choose from, aside from Bill the oldest who is already married, who you choose is your choice though of course.” You nod nervously, thinking back to the girl at the other side of the table. You glance in her direction and she’s looking back at you blushing. You feel a surge of happiness and turn back to your father. “Any… of the Weasley’s father?” You smile at him. “Of course darling, you have my word.” He nods to you unknowingly, your mother looks between you and the girl and back at you again, you raise one of your brows at her and she smiles, nodding. You feel a rush of excitement, quickly eating your oatmeal and drinking your tea before you stand hoping to greet the girl. “y/n why don’t you give the kids a tour around the castle?” Your father suggests, “to get to know them better.” He continues a grin on his face. “Um- of course! If you would kindly follow me?” you call out to the seven gingers, they all stand and walk towards the doors with you introducing themselves one by one. There was Bill, Charlie, Percy, Fred, George, Ron and the beautiful girl that caught your eye's name was Ginny, what a gorgeous name. For the rest of the morning and afternoon you run around the castle, showing them every room and every crevasse you thought was important, but in the end most of your time was spent in the garden, playing football with the family, you grew tired after a couple games and decided to sit under your favourite cherry blossom tree to watch. 

The Weasley’s were such kind people and you knew any of them would make a perfect partner, but only one of them had left you speechless. Ginny was absolutely perfect, she was so kind, strong and mature compared to most of her brothers, and on top of that, so very beautiful. You watch with heart-eyes as she runs around in her long dress throwing and catching a ball around with her brothers, you watch her eyes light up, her smile grow, and her hair sway and you knew she was the one you wanted to choose. You were conflicted though, you’ve never felt this way about a woman before, but with Ginny it just felt so natural, she made you laugh, blush and hang onto her every word, she was everything you could ever ask for and more, but you knew there was a problem, what if she didn’t feel that way about you? What if she found you disgusting for having these feelings for her? What if your father didn’t allow it… He did say sons after all. You could feel someone's gaze on you and you see Ginny standing with her twin brothers Fred and George, you smiled and waved at them, wondering what they’re talking about.

“Really?!” Fred says to his sister, his eyes wide in shock. Ginny rolls her eyes, “raise your voice a bit Fred I don’t think she heard you.” She whispers to her brother sarcastically. “But, you’re serious?… You like y/n?” George whispers back, Ginny glances back to you a pink dust on her cheeks and a smile spreading on her face, “Yes, she’s absolutely marvelous!” She answers George.  “Look Gin, I’m happy for you, really, but what are mum and dad going to say?” Fred questions, slightly concerned. “Well, I haven’t really thought that far yet, but I’m sure they’d be fine with it!” Ginny answers looking back to you again, she sees your eyes raise to hers and she can almost see your future together in your eyes, baking in the kitchen together, running through your castle hand in hand, and kissing you under the moonlight, the thought made her blush. “I’m going to tell her!” Ginny confidently starts to walk over, George grabs her by the arm. “Gin wait a second, how can you tell she feels the same?” George asks worriedly, not wanting his sisters heart broken. Ginny only grins, turning back to look at your rosy cheeks, she says dreamily, “I just know,” before releasing her arm and walking over. 

You see Ginny walking towards you and you start to panic. Did your hair look okay? Was there food on your face? Did your breath smell okay? Were there any stains on your dress? Ginny sits down next to you and as you look into her stunning eyes all your insecurities wash away. “You’re beautiful you know.” She says finally, grinning happily as she watches your face go bright pink again. “Thank you Ginny.” You respond meekly, feeling small under her intense gaze. “Really y/n, you’re the most beautiful girl I’ve ever met.” She says tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. You sat there stunned, wishing you could stay in this moment forever, Ginny staring into your eyes, her hand running through your hair, sitting under the pink cherry blossom tree, basking in the warm spring sunlight. 

“I want to choose you.” you utter unconsciously, staring lovingly at the girl in front of you. Ginny freezes, did she just hear you correctly? Her jaw drops. You snap out of your daze, taking her silence as rejection and stand up quickly. “I-I’m so sorry, I’ll just go.” You say stuttering, rushing off, tears in your eyes. You must’ve read the signs wrong, oh how stupid you were for thinking she felt the same way… 

Behind you Ginny shakes off her shock and stands up, following you and calling your name, you don’t stop and continue running until you reach a hidden alcove, your favourite one you had decorated with flowers, plants and pillows. You turn and drop into the alcove, hugging your knees to your chest. You hear Ginny calling for you again, you don’t answer, you hear her footsteps getting closer, you pray she doesn’t find you, but alas, luck wasn’t on your side. “Y/n! There you are!” She calls out. Great, you think to yourself, looking up at her with tears running down your face. Ginny steps into the alcove and wipes the tears from your eyes with her thumbs a small smile on her face, you turn away and hide your face from her embarrassed. She kneels in front of you and removes your hands from your face, holding them in her own. She takes a deep breath. “I want you to choose me too.” she says in a happy voice. “y/n, I’d love to be with you!” she breathes out with a smile on her face. “I know we’ve only just met today, but I feel something between us I don’t want to let go of, we can go slowly if you want. I'm in no rush. I just want to be with you.” She opens her mouth to speak again, but you shush her with a kiss, feeling her lips against yours was heavenly, your mouths moved in sync and you could feel her nibbling on your lips. You didn’t want it to stop, but you need to say something to her. You pull away reluctantly, and look deep into her eyes. “Then I choose you, Ginny Weasley, to be my queen, my love and my light, to stay by my side forever, do you accept?” You ask with a renewed feeling of confidence, “Yes, y/n I do.” She replies without hesitation, pulling you to her again and joining your lips together again, your hands on her soft cheeks and hers grasping the fabric of your dress. You would worry about any issues later on. Right now it was just you and your love sitting together in the hidden alcove. 

[thefloorisbalaclava]

A/N: Thank you for this @tiffdawg​!

And thanks to @loki-098​ who is always helping me out. Also I used my favorite color.

“I dunno shit about flowers, man,” Frankie tells Santiago as they walk through the garden center at Home Depot.

“Ask someone,” Santiago tells him, pointing at one of the people wearing an orange apron.

They walk over and the employee greets them with a bright smile. “How can I help you?”

“He wants to plant a garden for his girlfriend,” Santiago blurts out and Frankie glares at him.

“I…want to plant a garden…for my girlfriend.” He sighs when he realizes he just said the same exact thing.

“Okay, well, what flowers do you have in mind?” the man asks.

“Uhhhh….” Frankie looks at his friend who only shrugs. “Pretty ones?”

“Wait…what’s her favorite color?” Santiago asks and Frankie is grateful for the save.

“Blue! Blue flowers. Got any of those?”

“Of course! There’s hydrangeas, the Himalayan blue poppy, forget me not, desert bluebell, blue dai--"

“That’s…a lot,” Frankie cuts in.

“We have all sorts, sir,” the man says excitedly. “It’s all up to you.”

“I know. That’s the problem. I don’t know the first thing about this.” Frankie feels like he’s back in school getting ready for an exam and this test he definitely wants to pass.

The man explains more things to him and he just nods and picks up whatever the employee happens to point out.

“Excellent choice, sir. Your girlfriend will love them.”

“Thanks for all your help.” Frankie turns to Santiago who has been pushing the cart.

“Think you got enough?” Santiago teases.

“It better be enough.” They walk up to checkout and Frankie cringes at how much he spends but nothing is ever too much for his sweetie.

*

Santiago helps Frankie unload the truck when he gets home then gets into his own car to head home. Frankie stares at the plot he set aside in the backyard for this then looks at his watch—he has a few hours until you get home.

He couldn’t decide if this was a good idea or not. He clearly knew nothing about flowers or gardening but you like them and that is a good enough reason to get him to do anything. Keeping it a surprise might prove a challenge too, but he picked the backyard for that reason. You hardly went back there—he mows the lawn, rakes the leaves, puts out the sprinklers. Now that it was warmer, he sometimes fires up the grill and that brings you out to the backyard, but other than that, he is safe.

*

Frankie works until the sun begins to set and he hears your call pull up. He looks down at himself and sees he’s covered in dirt but walks around to greet you anyway.

“Hey guapa,” he says as he wipes the dirty gloves on his jeans.

“Hey…Frankie?” You take in his appearance—looking him up and down. His cap is on backwards and there’s dirt smudged on his cheek and nose. Your laughter makes him smile. “Did you get into a battle with the weeds back there?”

“Something like that. Here lemme help you.” He reaches for your bags.

“Nuh uh. You’re filthy, sweetie.” You give him a kiss on the lips which he deepens, of course, his arms wrapping around you. Some of the dirt from his face is certainly on yours now. “Francisco!”

“Now we’re both filthy.” He shrugs and takes the bags from you. “I thought you liked it dirty anyway,” he teases. You gasp and hit him on the butt, making him laugh loudly.

“Boots off before you go through that door, mister!”

“Yes ma’am.” He easily kicks his boots off then toes them out of the way before pushing the door open.

“And we gotta hurry and get those jeans in the wash,” you point out.

“Hm, why? I got lots of ‘em?”

“Because I happen to really like those on you.”

He puts the bags down and turns to you. “Are you…checking me out?” He feigns shock.

“I’m always checking you out and while you look great in the jeans, I need you to get them in the wash now and you do the same.” You point towards the laundry room.

“You want me to get in the washer?”

“Oh, so we’re being a smart-ass tonight? Guess I won’t be giving you a nice little clean up.” You walk around him and head upstairs and can hear him scrambling behind you, hopping on one foot as he tries to pull his dirty jeans off.

*

Now in bed, Frankie has curled up and nuzzles you as you hold him close. This was an every night tradition and you love it. It is the only way he can fall asleep.

“Are there more weeds to pull?” you ask, playing with the hair hanging on his forehead. He smells like his soap and your shampoo.

“Yup.” His eyes are closing already and he yawns.

“Should I take tomorrow off so I can help you? I feel bad that you’re doing all this work on your vacation time.”

“Don’t worry about it, babe. I don’t mind.” He opens his eyes long enough to give you a kiss but once he puts his head back down, he’s out for the count.

“Goodnight Frankie,” you whisper, reaching carefully to turn out the light.

*

Frankie gets up early with you so he has all day to finish up the gardening. Your ‘see you later' kiss gives him all the energy he needs. He works through the morning and afternoon without a break. He doesn’t notice what time it is until he stands, holding his lower back and your voice reaches his ears.

“Frankie, are you still back there?” You are getting closer so he makes his way through the back door quickly to stop you.

“Heyyyy,” he says, standing in front of the backdoor awkwardly.

“Hey, dirty boy,” you greet. “How’s it looking out there?” You crane your neck but he doesn’t move.

“All done. How was work?” He takes off his dirty gloves and grabs your hand to lead you away to the living room.

“Same shit, different day,” you say. “Frankie…your boots.” You look down at the trail of dirt and stand.

“I got it, baby. It’s my mess.”

“God, I love you.” You kiss him then let him go get the broom. “You know, watching you do housework is…kinda hot.”

He freezes and looks up at you. “I’ll put a French maid outfit on next time and really spice things up.”

You snort and double over in laughter. “What an image.” You stop laughing for a moment and really think about it.

“Wait…don’t tell me you’re actually trying to picture it.” He disappears down the hall the leads to the backyard. You hear him kick his boots off.

“Maybe I am.” You shrug just as he walks out.

“You know what? I’d do it for you.”

“I’d hope so. You’ve had me put on some questionable things. I deserve something.” You chuckle at how quickly his face turns pink then red. After a quick kiss, you point upstairs. “Bath time.”

Frankie scurries upstairs as you follow behind, smiling from ear-to-ear.

*

After two weeks or so, Frankie is finally ready to show you what he’s really been doing. He sets up the grill as soon as you head out. Looking over at the blue flowers that were now in full bloom, he can’t help but feel proud of himself. Maybe he had a bit of a green thumb after all.

This time when you get home, he’s not covered in dirt, but he’s not in the front to greet you either. When you get out the car, your nose tells you why—he’s grilling. You walk inside and kick off your shoes.

“I’m home, handsome!” you call.

“Great. Go get into something comfortable and come get something to eat!” he shouts back.

“What? No kiss?”

“You gotta come get.” You can hear the smile in his voice.

“Fine,” you say quietly, heading upstairs to change. The smell of the food made you move a little quicker than usual. You head back downstairs and to the backdoor. “Did you need me to bring-" Your words escape you as you open the screen door to see Frankie standing off to the side in front of a bed of blue flowers proudly.

“You like it?” he asks.

Your eyes follow the blue all along the fence then go back to him. “Blue…my favorite. It’s beautiful.” You sniffle and walk over to kiss him.

“Just don’t ask me what kinda flowers they are because I can’t remember for the life of me.”

“How did you…how did I not know?”

“That’s kinda why I picked the backyard. You only come out here every once in a while, mostly when I’m grilling so…”

“My boyfriend is a romantic genius.” You look at the flowers again. “I’m gonna come sit out here every day now.” You pull your phone out. “Gotta take pictures.”

“For what? You can just walk out the backdoor to see them.”

“I know but I wanna have memories for when they’re not in bloom anymore…and I also wanna show off at work.”

*

“Are you happy? Do you really like the flowers?” Frankie asks as he climbs into bed and lays down beside you.

“I’m with you, of course I’m happy. And the flowers...no one has ever done anything like that for me before. I love them more than anything.”

“More than me?” Frankie asks jokingly.

“It is impossible for me to love anything more than I love you…although your cooking is pretty damn good.” You yelp and giggle as he grabs you and rolls you on top of him. “Seriously, babe…thank you.”

“You’re welcome. I’d do it a thousand times over.” He kisses you softly.

“In a French maid outfit or…” You laugh.

“I’d do it naked for you.” You both laugh but then you really start to think about it. “There’s that look again. You’re actually trying to imagine it!”

“Can you blame me, hot stuff? You’d have dirt everywhere and I’d have to clean you up.” Frankie sits up, knocking you off him in the process. “What’s wrong?” you ask.

“Nothing. I’m just gonna go roll around in the dirt so you’ll bathe me.”

“You’re so silly,” you laugh. “Come here.”

Frankie gets back in bed and rolls onto his side. He reaches behind him to grab your arm and put it around him before lacing his fingers with yours. You sit up slightly to lean over him and kiss his cheek.

“Goodnight, Frankie. I love you, my little gardener.”

He chuckles quietly. “I love you too.”

[fearfulkittenwrites]

A Hurt Bird - Part 1: Sprained Ankles and Ice Cream

Words count: 2569

Summary: You find out just how broken the local hero really is. It's a good thing you don't mind fixing wings.

Notes: Hey there! This work was beta'd by @foxam-vampire​. Thank you friend! Now, some more notes! I'm avoiding gendered terms on this, bc I wanted as many people as possible to be able to enjoy it. If that needs to change at any given time, I'll let you know in the notes. There will be at least one nsfw chapter in this. I'll try my best to split it in a way that will make it easy for you to skip over it if you don't want to read that kind of stuff. This fic mostly consists of random one-shots that are very much connected. It may grow forever or stop soon, depending on how much I feel the need to update it. Also, this will mostly consist on the reader caring for Dick instead of the other way around, although that may happen too. If there's something you'd like to see in this, feel free to leave it in the comments or head over to my tumblr and leave me an ask!I hope you enjoy this!

It was about three in the morning when you heard a loud sound coming from your window. Normally, those sounds wouldn’t trouble you, seen as you lived on the last floor of an old, relatively small residential building. Disoriented birds would crash into windows every now and again, but it was nothing to worry about. However, considering that most birds should be asleep by now, and that the sound came from the fire escape window, you got a little worried.

In your recently-awoken, adrenaline-filled mind, picking up a broom for protection and investigating the noise instead of calling the police and locking yourself up in the bathroom seemed like a very good idea, so you did just that. As you got closer, you heard annoyed mumbles.

“Stupid lose brick.” A man’s voice said “Fucking fell like an idiot, Jesus Christ. I feel like a damn teenager again.” He hisses, seemingly in pain. You held your breath for a second. He grumbled something you couldn’t quite get, sitting on the floor.

Suddenly, you pushed the window open and swatted at him with the broom, causing him to scream in surprise and you in fear.

“Wait, wait, stop!” He said, trying to evade your hits and yell louder than you “I’m not here to rob you!”

“Y-you’re not?” You stop, finally taking a better look at the stranger “Wait. Are you...”

“Nightwing, yeah.” He smiles. There was a cut in his lower lip and a little bit of blood tainting his teeth “Sorry for disturbing you, I’ll be on my wa-Ah!” He attempts to get up, hissing in pain as he tries to support his weight on his right leg.

“You’re hurt.”

“Yeah, it happens a lot.” He jokes in a strangled voice, holding on to the metal handrail.

“Come in, I’ll get you some ice.” You say, giving him some space.

“You don’t have to, I’ll be fine.” He waved you off.

“Yeah, but I want to.” You shoot back “Besides, I hit you with a broom several times, so I’ll feel really bad if you don’t let me help.”

“You really shouldn’t be inviting strange men into your house in the middle of the night.” He raises an eyebrow.

“You’re not just a strange man.” You argued, tilting your head from side to side lightly “You’re our hero.”

“But you don’t know me.” He lets his head drop down a little, cocky smirk on his face. You rolled your eyes.

“I’m helping you. Like you help us. Let me, okay?” You motioned for him to come in “I have ice, and water, and food.” He stares at you hesitantly “C’mon.” You say, a little impatient.

“Alright then, if you insist.” He caved in, accepting your help to climb into the house. You wrapped his arm around your shoulder and supported him, holding him by his waist, walking with him to the couch.

“You’re – ugh – heavier than you look.” You grunt. He huffed a laugh.

“Maybe you’re just weaker than you think you are.”

“I just woke up, give me a break.” You roll your eyes, setting him down on your old couch “Besides, you are thin, but you’re also a mountain of muscles. That makes you heavy.”

“My friends can carry me.” He teases.

“Are your friends heroes too?” You ask, taking the ice tray out of the freezer and cracking the cubes into a towel.

“Touché.” He laughs.

You kneeled down, bringing the ice with you, and slowly attempting to remove his boots.

“You don’t have to.” He says, trying to reach down. You put a hand on his shoulder to stop him.

“Let me.” You stared at his eyes, or at least tried to; they are being covered by the mask, making it impossible for you to see the color under that abnormal white screen blocking them.

“They’ll smell bad.”

“Yeah, it’s a thing that happens with feet.” You shoot back, rolling your eyes “I’m used to it, don’t worry. My friend used to sprain her ankle a lot while running. Now shut up, sit back, and let me help, okay?” Nightwing seemed a little taken aback by that, cheeks assuming a light pink hue as he leaned back against the couch, slowly.

His ankle was swollen, but it still hadn’t turned purple. You delicately pressed the ice against his skin, and noticed how he grimaced.

“Sorry.”

“No, it’s okay.” He answers “There’s no way of doing this without a bit of pain anyways. You’re very gentle.”

“That’s good to hear.” You smile, pressing your lips together as you stare at his injured foot “So, uhm, what about your mouth?”

“My mouth?” He asks.

“Yeah.” You look up “There’s blood on your teeth.” He brought his hand to his lips slowly “You... Do know that there’s blood on your teeth, right?”

“Yeah.” He answers, staring at the blood on the tips of his gloved fingers “Yeah, sure. I did know that. I was... aware. Of the blood, that is. I did know of blood on my teeth.”

“You had no clue, did you?”

“I had no clue.” He whispers, lowering his head.

“But didn’t you... I don’t know, can’t you taste it?” You ask.

“I can. It’s just that it lingers for quite a while, to be honest. I thought it had stopped, but apparently there’s another cut on my mouth, or maybe a loose tooth.” His tongue searched around a little “Yup, found it.” He says, words kind of mumbled because of the position his tongue was in “Definitely a loose tooth.” He grimaces “Man, those suck.”

“Uhm... Do you want some ice, maybe? I have more.”

“I...” He ponders on it for a moment “Yeah, actually. If it’s not too much trouble.” He places a hand at the right side of his cheek “It’s starting to hurt more now that I’m aware of it.”

You nod, trying to balance the ice pack on top of his ankle.

“Leave it.” He says “Can I put my feet on your couch?”

“Sure.” You got up as he turned to the side, stretching his left leg out and pulling the right one a little closer so he could hold the ice pack in place.

You picked the other ice tray and repeated the process, filling both of the trays and placing them in the freezer before going back to the hero. You handed Nightwing the ice pack and went back to the kitchen to get him a glass of water. When you came back again, he pulled his left leg closer, giving you space on the couch.

“Thank you.” He says after emptying the glass.

“No problem.” You smile “Give it here.” You used two fingers to ask for the ice pack back.

“It’s okay, I’ve got it.”

“C’mon. It’s better for your leg to be stretched out.” You insist, tapping your thighs.

“You’re very stubborn, aren’t you?” He teases.

“Yes, I am, now give me the damn ice pack, hero.” You stretch out your hand. He placed the wet towel-ice pack in your hand and his feet on your lap “Was that so hard?” You tease. He stuck out his tongue.

“Very.”

“Awn, you poor thing.” You sarcastically add “Being made to suffer by a civilian tending to your battle wounds.” He chuckles.

“Why are you being so nice?”

“Why shouldn’t I?” You shrug “You saved my life.”

“Did I?” He raises an eyebrow.

“Yeah. A while ago, when that shooter walked into the subway station? I was there.” You look down at his feet again as you nervously bite the inside of your lips “I was scared shitless. And then you came in, swinging through the stairs, and knocked him out so fast.” You swallow “So yeah. Thank you for that.”

“I was just doing my job.” He smiles, face leaning into the ice pack pressed against his cheek.

“I guess.” You whisper. He nods “You don’t normally get too much help, do you?”

“Not so much.” He purses his lips “Working and living alone have their downsides.”

“Yeah...” You look at him for a moment.

The hero seemed more battered and bruised than you ever thought he could be. Before tonight, you couldn’t even be sure that he was human, but now, watching him talk and walk (well, limp), he barely seemed like a masked vigilante. He looked like a lonely guy. Before you realized it, your thumb was drawing slow circles on his clothed leg. You weren’t even sure if he could feel them under the material, but the way that he stared at your fingers made you believe he could.

“Okay, uhm, would you like something to eat?” You offer “I have some chinese food that I ordered earlier, but I don’t know if your mouth is in a chewing mood.” He laughs again.

“Yeah, I don’t think my mouth is in a chewing mood.” He smiles “It’s okay.”

“Well, I do have ice cream. If you want any.”

“Really?” His face seems to light up a little “What flavor?”

“Chocolate. Want some?”

“Uuuh, yes, please!” He smiles, removing his legs so you could get up from the couch “Listen, I don’t want to sound like a child, but, do you have any sprinkles? I really like them.”

“Sadly, no. I don’t really like sprinkles. But I do have caramel syrup.”

“Caramel syrup with chocolate ice cream?” He makes a weird face.

“It’s good!” You try to defend yourself.

“I’ve never heard of that.”

“Look, you can try some of mine, and if you like it I’ll put it on yours, okay?”

“Sounds good.”

“Alright then, wait here.” You went to the kitchen yet again, looking for cute bowls to put the ice cream in, unfortunately realizing you only had one old, glass bowl, sometimes used for soup “Well, shit.” You murmur in embarrassment, picking up your wide coffee mug for yourself and the bowl for him. You took both of them and the syrup to the living room “Here.” You hand it to him, sitting down again.

“Thanks!” He grins, watching as you poured the caramel on your mug “You’re eating it out of a mug?”

“I don’t have any other bowls.” You murmur, ashamed.

“Oh, I see.” He says, looking at your lowered face “Hey, that’s fine. I mean, I have only one mug and three spoons at my place.” You chuckle a bit.

“So we’re both broke loners, huh?” You ask, handing him the mug “Here, try it.”

He took it, picking some up with his spoon.

“Hum, that’s good.” He hands it back to you “And yeah, guess so.”

“Told you.” You pass him the bottle, letting him pour as much as he wants in his ice cream “So, uhm, what will you do about the tooth?”

“I’ll try to see my dentist tomorrow.” He answers.

“Isn’t it a bit suspicious? I mean, I imagine this happens a lot.”

“Well, I usually say it happened while I was practicing my acrobatics.”

“So you’re an acrobat?” You raise your eyebrows.

“I thought that much was obvious. You know, with all the spins and impressive sky stuff.” He smirks. You giggle and nod “Awn, that’s a pretty laugh.”

“Oh, shut up.” You blush, staring at his feet again.

“I wasn’t teasing you. You do have a pretty laugh.”

“Thanks. You have a pretty laugh too. And your feet don’t smell thaaaat bad.” You tease, causing him to snort.

“Okay then. I suppose that is one of the most sincere compliments I’ve ever been given.” Both of you laugh for a while, before finishing your ice creams in silence.

You set your mug down, noticing how the ice had melted almost entirely, leaving a very soaked towel on his foot. When you motioned to leave, you noticed him trying to stop you.

“Where are you going?”

“I need to take these to the kitchen. It’s all melted now.”

He pouts.

“But I like you here.”

“I’ll come back, Nightwing.” You laugh.

“Alright.” He lifts his legs.

“Is there ice left on the one in your cheek?”

“This one is alright.” He replies “Thanks.”

“No worries.” You rush out, putting the bowl and the mug in the sink, along with the wet towel, before coming back “See? I’m here.” You lift your hands, showing off playfully.

“That’s nice.” He turns around as you settle on the couch, catching you off guard as he places his head on your lap “Hi.” He grinned, white teeth showing.

“Ooookay...” You said, a little startled, but smiling. You placed your hand on his head, playing with his hair.

“Hmm, yeah. That’s great.” He closed his eyes, sighting “You must be an angel. So kind, so helpful... Gives the best head scratches...”

You huffed out a laugh.

“Well, I’m glad you like them, you needy boy.”

“Hey! I’m an attention-seeking whore, and a man, get it right angel.” He smiles.

“Makes sense.” You raise your eyebrows, watching him melt under your touch, breathing deeply “Listen, if you want to crash here for the night, that’s okay.”

“Oh. No.” He says “I should go.” He gets up, and the sudden lack of warmth scares you a little.

“I wasn’t kicking you out or...” You turn on the couch, facing him.

“No, I know!” He smiles extending his hands “I just shouldn’t take advantage of your kindness.” Nightwing looked down, hands behind his back.

“You’re not taking advantage of anything, hero.” You support the weight of your head on your elbow.

“Really?” He asks, a little cynical “What do you get from all of this?”

“It’s not about what I get.” You roll your eyes “It’s about what I’m willing to give.” He raises an eyebrow “You help people, right? People like me, my friends, my family... So you should get it.”

“What do you mean by that?”

“You help because you can. Because you know you can’t keep waiting for something magical to happen and eradicate all human suffering from the earth. You can save people, so you do. Right now, I can help you, so,” You shrugged “I do.”

“Yeah, alright.” He scratches the back at his neck “Still, I feel like I’m acting a little too...” He gestures towards your lap “Friendly.”

“That’s not a problem.” You chuckle a little, and he does too. You bite your lower lip “You sure you don’t want to spend the night here? The couch turns into a bed, and it’s more comfortable than it looks.”

“No, it’s fine.” He smiles at you “But thanks for the offer.” He stands up “I can already walk again, so I’ll be on my way.”

You followed him to the fire escape, watching as he picked up his grapple gun.

“So, uhm, listen...” You start, hugging yourself to try and keep the cold wind out “When it gets too hard... you know, being a loner. You can come here again. If you want to.” He looked at you for a moment, and his features seemed to soften as you spoke “You don’t have to care for your wounds by yourself, if you don’t want to.”

“Thank you.” He smiles “I’ll keep that in mind.”

Nightwing leaped from the metal staircase towards the ground, before surging up, holding on to the grapple gun, swinging his body forward and falling again, then going up, and down, and up, until he was too far to be seen. 

(Hey! If you made it this far, consider rebbloging? It’d make me very happy :) )

Thank you for reading! <3

[fuwafuwamedb]

The Pup Was Collateral (Rin, Setanta(Cu Chulainn))

The day was slow.

The rain was coming down slowly, the sound of Emiya cooking in the other room could be heard as she flipped through another magecraft book in her hands. The familiar was really getting the hang of taking care of many of the menial tasks around the house while she focused on her reading. There was a vast and colorful garden outside, blooming away despite the dreary brick and mortar outside.

Not a sound other than chopping or the occasional clatter here and there of pots and kitchen supplies being moved could be heard. Sometimes she’d flip the page of the text in her hands, earning that soft sliding sound of paper sliding against paper. At other times, she could hear the fabrics of the couch as she adjusted once more to find a better sitting position.

Everything was peaceful.

That was how everyone wanted their day off from school and magecraft studies to be, wasn’t it? She could look at the writing before her and really focus in on what was important.

That is- if she could focus at all.

As it to mock her, Rin couldn’t help but to rub at her sore gaze. A soft sigh comes out, marking the first noise she’s uttered since awakening and bringing her teacup to the living room.

It was her birthday.

Something should have been going on during her birthday. Whether it was an exciting visit from friends and frenemies or simply just a gift from the Mages Association, marking that she was 18, an adult by European terms; something should have been going on.

Hell, she’d waited for a full hour in the kitchen for her Archer, Emiya, to say something.

The man had scrubbed countertops instead.

What was she supposed to do if the whole day continued like this?! Was she to just shrug it off, focus her energies on other things like more magecraft or planning another shopping trip? Was she supposed to beg and plead for someone to spend time with?!

God, but she wouldn’t demean herself to such a manner. If they couldn’t bother to spend time with her or acknowledge that she was present and celebrating life, then good riddance.

Her books closed, the layers of this vexing mood worsening as she glances to the dark skies and downpour of rain.

Going outside and adventuring forth was an option and it certainly sounded good, but not in this kind of weather. She didn’t want to be bothering with carrying an umbrella and shopping goodies, not when it would require telling Archer that she had no plans or friends coming.

…

It was probably a really bad plan.

A terrible plan, indeed- she really didn’t need to be wandering down to her magecraft room in the basement, looking over her father’s surviving possessions and eyeing the circle. It’s a worse plan to be moving to said circle and trying her hand at speaking Archer’s least favorite language to said circle. Those words, at worst, were the same ones she’d used to summon her familiar.

The old form of Gaelic comes out so nicely after so much practice. The room begins to gain wind, brushing papers from shelves and dust up from the corners were no broom dared to tread. She can feel the warmth radiating forth, the light glowing brighter and brighter from the circle. The hairs on the back of her neck rise up as her breathing halts. Her eyes widen a second before-

A whiteout.

The blast of golden white light blinds her for a moment, nearly destroying the fluorescents in the basement as she falls to her knees. All that dust seems to have come straight to her, making her cough and cover her mouth.

“Ah, master, you look a little green there.”

Why does she know that voice?

A pair of arms wrap around her before she can look up. The servant she’d summoned, a bit taller than her, is wrapping his arms around her, patting her back.

His blue hair falls into view as Rin opens her eyes.

“Easy now, Master. Better in and out rather than one or the other.”

Her eyes meet a crimson gaze.

All the words she could have possibly said to the servant vanish.

“…Lancer?”

“Saber,” the boy corrects, “but I could see how you’d get confused. It’s the staff, ain’t it? Or maybe you’ve met me before?” The smile- god, but it’s worse than before. The boy smiles like all the world is in his hands. “Allow me to introduce myself. I am Setanta. I know some people call me Cu Chulainn, but I’m a little immature for that title, you know?”

A bark comes from nearby. Her heart takes flight in her chest as Setanta laughs.

“And how could I forget my great companion? What are you doin’ there, pup? We got a cute girl here with us! Make yourself look good now, come on.”

He moves to squat, puffing up his chest at the beast of an animal sitting on her floor over the summoning circle.

“That’s a good lad, proud stance. We’re in a lady’s home now. We’ll find you a nice bone and make sure you don’t ruin any of her good linens. If I see you so much as lift a foot…”

The pup whines.

Setanta laughs, “I’m messing with ya, but don’t do that, got it?”

“He understands you?”

“Huh? Oh man, you have such a voice,” Setanta’s smile seems to bloom back into fruition, his eyes gleaming. “Yeah, my pup’s pretty good at understanding shit-stuff going on.”

The correction comes with a sheepish look.

“If you want, you can pet him. He’s real sweet. I swear he won’t bite.”

“He’s a wild animal.”

“Yeah, he’s pretty great.”

The strange flutter is back in her chest.

Rin’s not even sure what to make of it as she finds the Cu Chulainn of youth moving to her side, pulling her back to the beast and reaching her hand out.

“Cu-“

“Setanta,” he corrects. “Just call me Setanta. And you’re doing great, see?”

“He’s deciding whether to eat me.”

Those beady eyes were looking at her a little too much as Setanta holds her hand out. The longer they wait, the more she finds herself debating how hard it would be to quickly burn the man before Archer comes down and finds out what she’s done. It won’t take him long to notice.

A decision forms as she thinks. A pink tongue, right out of the fluffy white pup’s mouth, comes forth, lapping at her hand.

“Awww, he loves you too.”

“Too?”

“Of course,” Setanta replies. He slips a bit closer, his face moving in before she can do anything.

A kiss, soft and sweet, taps at her cheek.

“You stole my love away first, my faelike beauty of a master. The pup was collateral.”

[xandertheundead]

Reddie for the kiss list #44

Of course!!

...out of lust.

Eddie grit his teeth when Tozier pulled Eddie against him again, only to sigh and let him go with frustration written all over his face. It wasn’t like it was Eddie’s fault he felt weird trying to tango, it was so different compared to ballet and all the closeness with one of the most annoying people in the world didn’t help.

“You need to stop freezing up like that.” Richie complained, moving to grab the remote so he could stop the music from the box. “You’re a dancer, you have had to hold people before for shows, so what is going on here?”

It was so unfair of the company and Bill to write a goddamn show that threw so many styles of dance together. Eddie tugged at his sweatpants, not used to dancing in something with so much extra fabric. The shoes were also different and he missed his flats along with his tights and shorts.

“You’re just...really in my space.”

“That’s the point!”

Richie Tozier had been sought specifically by Bill Denbrough for his skills in the Tango and Waltz as well as some kind of artsy artistic stuff that Bev had done with him apparently. His mother had owned a dance studio and that was it. That’s all he had for experience, unlike Eddie who had worked his ass off to get where he was today. 

Jesus Christ, it made him so mad.

It also made him furious that Richie was insufferable, annoying, teasing, rude, cocky and how even though he was lanky, had a long thin nose, a large mouth and wore thick ass glasses everywhere except on stage…

He was beautiful.

Eddie sighed and ran his hands over his face so he would have to look at the frown on Richie’s face while his long dark curls were up in that pink scrunchie. “I don’t know, okay? I’m just not used to...that.”

“Look Spaghetti,” Richie sighed and that was another thing that Eddie just couldn’t stand. The CONSTANT nicknames. “If you can’t get this right they’re going to have to give your role to someone else and as much as I love Vic and his weird ass scowl and creepy eyes, I would much rather dance with you.”

Eddie frowned, crossing his arms over his chest. “Really?”

“Well, yeah.” Richie replied easily and Eddie for a moment thought maybe they could do this before Richie had to keep going. “I mean, you’re a way hotter piece of ass than Vic.”

Eddie resisted the urge to bludgeon the fucker to death with his water bottle.

“God, just...let’s try again.” Eddie bit out and moved back into his starting position.

Try again. Fail.

Try again. Fail.

Try and try and try again.

Fail.

Eddie let out a yell of frustration when Richie again pulled away with a groan and walked back over to the music box. They had been here for hours, Eddie was getting hungry because he’d missed lunch to practice this stupid thing and he was sweating heavily.

“What was wrong now?” He barked, the wooden footed room carrying his voice and the anger in it all around. “I was doing every step! The footwork I have been practicing none fucking stop, so what the fuck is the problem?!”

“God, I’m going to sound like my mom…” Richie sighed and then turned to look at Eddie sharply. “Fine, you want to know why this isn’t working? Because it’s like I’m dancing with a broom.”

“Excuse me?!”

“A broom who looks great and moves well, but there is nothing there because it’s just a broom.”

Eddie was ready to slap him. “What does that even mean?”

“You have no emotion!” Richie yelled back. “You like a fucking robot when you dance.”

“I am not.” Eddie replied evenly, his temper just about to boil over and ruin this entire thing. He had not trained since he was three to be told he had no feeling in his dancing by some ass wipe who didn’t know how to shut up. “I have plenty of fucking emotions so you take that back.”

“No.” Richie replied quickly. “Not until you fucking show them to me when we’re dancing.”

Eddie had options right then, he could have thrown things at Richie and walked out, told Bill that it wasn’t worth it and be once again not given the lead. He could murder Richie right now and claim it was in self defense because no one told Edward Kaspbrak that he was fucking emotionless.

Or he could make Richie eat those words.

Eddie licked his lips, taking a deep breath to make sure he didn’t explode and instead tried to channel that anger and fury another way. 

“Play the music.”

“What-“

“Play the fucking music, Tozier.”

Eddie moves back into the start, swallowing thickly as he closed his eyes and took another deep breath. I’ll show you emotion he thought and opened his eyes when the first note started to play. This time, when Richie grabbed his arm and pulled him close, Eddie thought of it almost like a fight and instead of freezing pushed close as well.

Their chest pressed tightly together, Eddie turned his head to the side so Richie could run his nose along Eddie’s cheek softly. Eddie felt Richie’s lips brush the very bottom of his ear lobe and the words were just barely a whisper.

“Show me, Eddie.”

Richie moved then and Eddie followed quickly, the steps different but not any faster than he had learned in ballet. He kept up and then instead of just following and trying not to flinch or jump every time Richie put his hands somewhere, he leaned into it.

He wanted this man. He also wanted to kill him sometimes.

It was frustrating. It was infuriating.

Eddie wanted to fuck him so bad.

He threw his head back, arching his neck and pushed out his chest when Richie dipped him low, the need to actually want to moan when Richie ran his hand across him. Warm large hand from his neck down over his chest to his stomach before he was pulled up quickly and stepping again.

The wound around each other like snakes, each in each other’s space as they moved across the floor in sync. The more Richie clung, the bolder Eddie felt, making more of a show with his hips like when he and Bev just danced for fun. When Richie spun him around, pressing his chest to Eddie’s back, Eddie reached up behind to wrap his arms around Richie’s neck.

The shared a soft moment of Richie running his hands along Eddie’s torso when the music slowed before the music popped back into rhythm. Richie grabbed Eddie’s hips and Eddie made sure to keep his posture perfect and hang on as Richie dragged him across the room with large sweeping steps. When they had reached the mark Eddie quickly loosened his grip and Richie spun him around quickly.

Spinning had never been an issue for Eddie.

The song was coming to an end as the did their last few steps and Eddie acted like he made to leave, Richie’s hand grabbing his arm again to give him one last twirl before sinking to his knees and wrapping his arms around Eddie’s hips.

Richie rested his head on Eddie’s stomach just as the last note hit and soon the room was filled with nothing but their heavy breathing and panting. After a few seconds Richie dropped his arms and looked up at him with such a beaming smile that Eddie couldn’t help it.

He sank down to his knees as well and grabbed Richie by the collar of that stupid Aqua Teen Hunger Force t-shirt and kissed him roughly. Richie let out a sound of surprise, but it was lost on Eddie’s lips and soon Eddie felt a hand wind into his hair before Richie started to kiss back.

After making out for a good thirty minutes on the cold wood floor, they both lay on their backs staring at the ceiling and Eddie blinked when Richie started to laugh.

“What?”

Richie chuckled and shook his head. “Now that I know the feeling of wanting to get in each other’s pants is mutual it’s going to real hard for me not to pop a boner on stage when I got you against me like that.”

“Oh my god. You are so gross.” Eddie replied, trying to sound disgusted but he started to laugh as well.

Send me a number and a pair!

Taglist: @tinyarmedtrex @oldguybones @queen-sock @constantreaderfool @all-beef-no-derry @eddiefuckinkaspbrak @recycle-byn @s-s-georgie @mars-14 @inthebreadbinwrites @yikesitsrylee @thorn-harvester-ven @appojoos @photoboothreddie @moonlightrichie @madi-main @nancynwheeler @edstozler @stylesmelon @reddieforlove @lifesucksheres20bucks @marsisaplanetyall @trashmouthnick @girasol-eddie @s-onora @rebecca-the-queen @purplepoisonedgem @darkobsidianquill

[nyctolovian]

Summary: What if Jon was a Witch and Martin was a Runaway Royalty? Funnily enough, it doesn't make their first meeting any less unfortunate and terrible.

Warning: Since this might be something people are sensitive about, Martin is described as "fat" and "plump" in this fic. But not in a derogatory way? (Please tell me if it comes off as such oh dear.)

"Who the hell gave you the right to eat all my cookies?" Jon hissed, brandishing his broom at the intruder. 

The man gulped visibly as his round chocolate eyes wobbled. The crumbs still dusted between the freckles of his pale cheeks irked Jon to no end.

He had been saving those butter cookies, savoring only a couple every few days. So you can imagine the shock and fury that coursed through Jon's veins when he returned to his cottage after a frankly needless travel, and found a large man sitting in his living room with an empty tin on his lap. Before the man could even react, Jon had shoved him to the floor and whipped his broom forward threateningly, demanding an explanation for the cookie thievery. If Jon had given the situation more thought, he might have realised his priorities were slightly out of order, but it was the only tin he had procured from when he last set foot amongst human civilization. And he abhorred the thought of going into a town after just three months for a mere tin of cookies.

"I-I-I'm really sorry… I…" the intruder stammered out. "I, um, stumbled upon this cottage… and no one came back for the past two days so… I thought it was abandoned and, well, stayed…" 

"Abandoned?!" Jon shouted. "What part of this–" he gestured towards his numerous possessions with his broom "–looks abandoned to you?"

Sure, the cottage didn't have much furniture, but there was plenty of belongings that served to prove its occupancy. Most obvious was how it was filled wall-to-wall with towering mahogany shelves of well-kept books. No one in their right mind would simply desert such an extensive collection of ancient knowledge. This house was admittedly more library than home, but Jon's point still stood. 

"Well," muttered the man, "it is quite messy and dirty to be honest."

Jon narrowed his eyes at the intruder, who hastily  muttered an apology. It wasn't as though he was wrong though. If one were to believe Sasha James (whom, in Jon's experience, had never been categorically wrong), his living conditions were dreadful. It was as though a hurricane had swept through the house, throwing his belongings about, but deliberately left the dust and dirt alone. Books were scattered across all surfaces, couch and floor included, as several layers of dirt settled on the floor, shelves and table. Even some articles of clothing strewn on the floor and chairs have gotten jealous, and begun their own collection of dust as well. And maybe the air in this house was… a fair bit mustier than it should be.

Jon had never been much of a cleaner.

"I'm sorry. I really am," the man began again. "You're… not going to kill me, are you?"

"What? No!" Jon scrunched his nose in horror. "Of course not."

"Oh, uh, good." He let out a nervous chuckle. "To be honest, when I first came in and saw all the books and crockery, I thought the owner of the house might be some kind of witch. I'm glad you aren't one. They can be quite creepy, and I frankly don't like the idea of being cursed by one."

Thunk! Jon hit the butt of his broom against the wooden floor, eyes narrowed. Drily, he corrected, "I am a witch."

"Oh." The fat man pursed his lips as he shrunk into himself. "That would explain some stuff."

With a huff, Jon rolled his eyes. It was tiring to constantly have people doubt or assume he wasn't a witch just because of the way he looked. Admittedly, most people in the witchery profession were women. He had only known three men who were witches, only one of whom he had actually met, and maybe one other non-binary witch. At least this time he hadn't been accused of lying. "Don't worry. I won't put a curse on you or anything absurd," he told the now deathly pale intruder.

The man let out a sigh. "Right. Thank you. Sorry," he said nervously as he stood up, hunching into himself apologetically. “ I'll… let myself out now.”

Jon wielded his broom once more and the man yelped pathetically. "Now, hold on. I'm not letting you go after you've treated my house like a hostel for two days and eaten all my cookies."

"I'm really sorry," he muttered. "I don't have a single coin on me…" He pointed at an unfamiliar bag beside the table. "I… I do have some parchment and quill though."

"Parchment and quill?"

"It… has a certain vintage feel to it."

"No need. I can subsist on pen and paper just fine." He jerked his head towards the overflowing mess of a study table.

The man winced. "I'm sorry… I really don't have much else with me."

"Right," Jon said, narrowing his eyes. He couldn't help but doubt those words. The fabric of the man's clothes looked rather expensive, and the garment was skilfully crafted to fit his stocky build. It was unusual to see a man this well-dressed without a single coin in his possession. But an actually well-to-do man wouldn't be stumbling into cottages in a forest and polishing opened cookie tins off, Jon would presume. "What's your name?" he asked.

The man's already big eyes widened further. "Uh, what?"

Impatiently, Jon groaned. "Your name. Do you have one?" he asked, acid practically dripping from his voice.

"Ah, um, yes," the man stammered out. "I'm Martin K- Blackwood."

"Martin K. Blackwood?"

"Uh, yeah?" 

"Are you answering or asking a question?" Jon snapped.

"Answering! Answering."

He huffed in annoyance, his eyes sliding across his kitchen. When he had left, unwashed crockery and cutlery were piled up into haphazard towers in the sink and on his tables. However, they were now properly washed, dried, and placed into his cabinets. So this home intrusion hadn't been an entirely unprofitable one.

With a glint in his eyes, Jon said, "I have a proposition." 

***

Stupid Martin, he cursed himself. Why are you constantly making things worse for yourself?

First, it was the whole running away from home thing. He didn't regret that in particular, but he probably should have brought along more than 10 silver pieces. It was no wonder how after a mere week, all his money was spent or given to a group of famished scrawny children. Then, he had decided to cut through the woods in hopes that he could sustain himself on wild berries, none of which, he later found, looked convincingly edible. Then, he had stumbled upon a curious cottage in the middle of a dense forest and, upon finding it abandoned, let himself settle in. As was typical of his luck, it wasn't actually abandoned, and its owner was none other than a witch. Thinking back, he should have taken note of the tinge of change in the air when he first stepped foot, evidence of its steady pool of magic, and its otherworldly still-resident.

Most mortifyingly, however, Martin had flushed to a ridiculous shade of pink when the witch smirked and said he had a "proposition" because, holy crap, did Martin have an imagination. The puzzlement on the witch's face at his reaction before clarifying what aforementioned proposition actually was might have been the finishing blow to his dignity. 

"You're not in some romantic comedy," he muttered angrily to himself as he scrubbed the study table with all his might.

"Did you say something?"

Martin looked up at the witch, who had retreated to the floor while Martin cleaned his study table. He had built a fortress of books around himself and had to straighten himself to look over its walls. There was genuine confusion on his features as he asked the question. 

"Uh, no," Martin said, shooting him a smile and adjusting his spectacles nervously. "Just a rather nasty stain here."

The witch–"Jon, Jonathan Sims," he had been told–shrugged and returned to burying his nose in some spell book, his tousled hair cascading gently with the movement to frame his handsome face with a wavy shoulder-length curtain. His slender fingers flipped the page gently before curling thoughtfully over his stubbly chin.

With a sigh of resignation, Martin got back to removing the stubborn stain on the dining table.

It always were the prickly men that had the prettiest faces, weren't they? So Martin really couldn't be faulted for consistently developing unwise infatuations for them. 

The image was still imprinted in his mind's eye, like an afterimage of too-bright light. Falling to the floor had kicked up a cloud of dust and the poet in Martin felt the air tremble with ethereality. And the sight before him was nothing short of divine.

Jon's lustrous greying locks tangled gently with the sunset glow from the ajar front door, and his silhouette was outlined with light. It highlighted how well the black pinstripe suit fit his slender figure and gave him a sort of cool sharpness. His thick eyebrows were tightly knitted in a rather adorable frown on confusion. His eyes were beautiful obsidian that reflected every shimmer of emotions upon its surface. Martin found his gaze slowly trickle down from those eyes to his thin parted lips as though guided by the sureness of gravity. Then, Jon brandished his broomstick and–bloody hell–Martin would be lying if he said that didn't spark an embarrassing warmth in his gut.

Being in close proximity with someone this hot was going to be detrimental to his health. Martin was pretty sure if he spent a second longer around this man, he would have fainted like an anaemic lady in a poorly fitted corset. That or lock himself in the washroom, preferably with the shower on, for a suspiciously long period of time.

Thank god, however, Jon had the fashion sense of a grandmother. When he emerged from his bedroom, he had changed out of his suit, into a dark green cardigan, overstretched beige shirt, and grey tartan trousers. (Tartan? Really?) Every single article of clothing was baggy and oversized beyond what was sensible for someone as small and angular as Jon. Martin had never seen anyone more swallowed up by clothing than Jon was. That was saying a lot since Martin had seen more jesters than the average person in their entire lifetime. 

At least, he supposed, the colours of his apparel complemented his dark earthy skin, bringing out the richness in its tone. Martin might go as far as to say that what Jon was wearing now made sense. When Jon first appeared, he was posh and brooding dark colours, oozing with cruelty–a foreboding shadow that obtruded the autumn palette of forest and cottage. However, in his indoor clothes, he was an easy fit in the puzzle that was this house, with its quaint exterior and cosy interior.

There might also be something endearing about seeing such a slight person swaddled in soft fabric. And the smallness of the man as he sat criss-crossed on the floor did no favours for Martin’s sensibilities either.

Martin shook his head, physically objecting to his own train of thought. He couldn't afford to let his imagination run wild like letting loose a golden retriever with cabin fever. After all, if he actually had to clean up the house to compensate for his intrusion, he was going to be staying in this cottage for a long while. Because, despite his unquestionable familiarity with his broom, Jon had clearly not used it (or any cleaning tool for that matter) in the house for at least 4 months, and Martin was now left to deal with the aftermath of such a decision.

With a soft sigh, he went to change the water in the pail before moving on to cleaning the kitchen table, which was honestly worse off than the study table. That was a major understatement given the amounts of stains and bits left on the kitchen table. Martin rolled up his sleeves and began to scrub the stubborn stains.

As he got rid of the last grime on the table, he stood upright and stretched his back, hearing it crack softly. His eyes settled upon the clock above the bookshelves. It was 8.45pm already. Concernedly, he asked Jon, "What time do you usually have dinner?"

The witch looked up from his volume, his dark hooded eyes blinking owlishly. As though just realising what Martin had said, he let out a quiet noise and glanced towards the clock. "Oh," he muttered. "I forgot."

Like a disappointed parent, Martin pursed his lips.

"Now." Jon nodded to himself as he rose from the floor. "Now would be good."

"I could cook."

Jon jerked to a halt, midway to standing upright. "Ah, yes." He plopped to the wooden floor like a stuffed doll before crossing his legs once more. "I should have some potatoes…"

Sheepishly, Martin said, "Actually, um, I ate them. But, uh, I can cook rice."

Jon jutted his chin out. Exasperatedly, he waved his hand and grumbled, "Fine. Do whatever." Grumpily, he returned to reading again. 

After clearing the dining table as best as he could, Martin went to work with cooking. After examining the contents of the fridge, he decided on a simple meal with baked beans and some veggies and sausages since there wasn't enough time to defrost any meat.

While Martin was scooping out the uncooked rice, Jon suddenly spoke, "Do you really know how to cook rice? None of that white-people rice-boiling nonsense. I have a rice cooker." Then, in the most condescending voice, he asked, "You do know how to use a rice cooker, right?"

"If it assures you, I've worked in the kitchen of a Mexican restaurant before."

 Jon, whom Martin was fairly certain by now had quite the dramatic streak, visibly relaxed with a loud sigh of relief. "That's good." Then, he burrowed into his books again.

Turning around, Martin rolled his eyes and flipped on the tap to wash the rice. After filling the rice cooker with rice and water, he plugged the cooker to a socket and hummed with curiosity. "I wonder where the electricity comes from?"

"Magic."

Martin startled.

Jon's head was peeking out from behind his ever-growing book fort, which now reached just below his chin. There was a proud quirk in his eyebrow as he continued, "I decided living this deep in the forest doesn't mean I have to give up the conveniences of technology. So I've imbued this cottage with magic to keep the electricity running."

"Well, that would explain the lone WiFi network my phone detected."

"It's password protected," Jon said, as he wriggled a smartphone out of his pocket. "Do you need it?"

"No thanks," Martin responded immediately. Then, realising how strange he must sound, he added, "Uh. I have unlimited data."

Despite how ridiculous this must have sounded, Jon didn't seem to pay the blatant lie much attention. Instead, his attention had shifted to his own mobile phone. He typed furiously into the device for a few minutes before his phone began to ring. His expression soured and he muttered under his breath, "God damn it, Tim."

"What?" Martin blurted even though he had heard Jon loud and clear. 

"Just a… troublesome friend. It's none of your business." Jon picked up the phone and began the call with the most peeved "Yes, Tim?"

"Right. Yes… Of course." Still, Martin couldn't help but perk his ears.

"Before you begin, the answer is a resounding no," Jon said. "No, I don't. ... It doesn't matter to me what the rewards are. … You can't– Ugh…" He squeezed his nose between his thumb and forefinger. "I really couldn't care less. … I'm not your personal sniffer dog. Or the state's for that matter.” The perpetual small frown on his face deepened with bewilderment. “What do you mean you’re not…?” Then, with a huff, he muttered, “Shocking.” His lips however quirked up by an almost indiscernible centimetre.

Martin felt a pang of curiosity. This might have been the first trace of a smile that he had seen on the crotchety man. Noticing that he was staring, Martin ducked his head and busied himself with cooking the sausages.

Suddenly, Jon shot to his feet. "Don't you dare!" he hissed. "Tim, I'm warning you. … Fine." His tense shoulders relaxed as he folded his arms in front of his chest. "I'll… I'll see what I can do." To Martin's disappointment, Jon stepped over his fort of books and headed into his bedroom, where the conversation continued without eavesdropping ears. Pursing his lips, 

Worry was a hungry hound nestled under Martin’s sternum. Perhaps his ribs were particularly sweet in its canine teeth because it frequently gnawed and chewed at his chest. But this might be the biggest and hungriest hound yet, though this time it spared him and merely nibbled. 

Stop overthinking things, he told himself. Not every Tim in the world is going to be Tim Stoker.

***

Tim Stoker was unrelenting when he wanted something.

Jon had realised this long before when he had helped search for his brother but this was ridiculous. Threatening to reveal a hermit’s address, much more one that practiced the occult, was to strip a hermit crab of its shell. And revealing it to the Royal Guards of all people was to smash the shell with a massive hammer while the crab was still in it—needlessly cruel and most probably going to get him killed.

But Jon supposed simply helping Tim out would be much less inconvenient than moving house and cutting ties with the man. Besides, he wasn’t entirely a nuisance.

With a grunt, he knelt beside his bag, still unpacked from his previous trip, and grabbed his journal and a pen. "Alright," he said, setting the book on his lap and pinning his phone between his head and shoulder. "Tell me about this prince. Age? Birthday? Height? Weight? Something?"

"Um… 28, I believe? Not sure about his birthday… Height is between 180 and 190, I think? Uh… He's on the fat side… He's got curly brown hair, brown eyes, pale skin, wears glasses, dimples handsomely when he smiles…"

A long-suppressed groan finally escaped Jon. After his draining trip to the Witch's Conference, he really didn't have the energy to listen to Tim describe what was clearly a small crush of sorts. "This is going nowhere. Just send me a photo."

There was a brief sheepish silence. "Haven't got one, actually."

"Alright, hold up," Jon cut him off. "How on earth do you have nothing on this man? He's a prince for god's sake. In fact, I've only been hearing about this whole missing prince debacle from you. How is this not on the news yet? It's as if you people don't even want him back."

"Well," Tim mumbled over the phone, "it's… a tad bit complicated. You know, how I said I'm not doing this for the state?"

"Mm." 

"It's 'cause he ran away to avoid getting married off to another kingdom," Tim said. "Specifically the Nebula Kingdom."

Jon raised an eyebrow. The political ties of the Nebula Kingdom and the Kinsley Royal Family would put even the most volatile stock markets to shame. That was to say, they were mercurial at best. Having a marriage between the two nations would likely stabilise their relations, but if the groom scampered off, it wouldn't just look bad. There would have to be either war (fortunately, a non-militaristic one since neither country was physically confrontational), or massive compensations of the monetary sort. And the Kinsley Royal Family was not quite as wealthy as Nebula, so their best bet at the moment would be keep this runaway business on the down-low for now.

From the other end of the phone, Tim sucked in a hiss of breath through his teeth. "Yeah… So, honestly, only the most high ranking officials are aware of his disappearance. To everyone else, he's just caught a bad case of flu."

Curious, Jon pressed, "And how is a mere royal alchemist such as yourself privy to such confidential information?"

"Actually, he's a friend of mine," Tim said. "So you can imagine how worried I am for him right now."

"I take it you're not carting him off to the palace the moment I find him?"

"Of course not," Tim said with an affronted tone. 

Jon let out a hum. "And why the lack of photographs?"

"Well," Tim said. "There's the fact that he's pretty camera-shy. But, also, he's sort of… an illegitimate child of the prince. So things were kept on the very down-low when it came to him."

"Good lord." Jon squeezed his nose bridge with a loud sigh. He could imagine it already: keeping the illegitimate child a secret, ensuring no one could recognise him, and then using him as a marriage pawn when the time was ripe. With how notoriously prolific the prince was, no one could ever tell the difference between an illegitimate child and a regular concubine's offspring. 

How a man could sustain such a virile lifestyle perplexed Jon, to be honest. But there were a great many things of the sexual nature that had that effect on the witch so he'd much rather think about actually decipherable things such as spells and potions. 

Mentally shoving his distaste aside, Jon continued, "So how do you suppose I find this man without any useful information?"

Jon could practically hear the sunshine in Tim's voice. "Not sure to be honest! I was kind of hoping you'd have an idea."

"I'm a witch. Not a… private detective or sniffer dog or whatever you're taking me to be!" Jon grumbled. "Tim, it's not that I don't want to help you, but you have to give me something better than just a general description of the man."

"Right…" Tim sounded genuinely disappointed. "What about his stuff? I'm not sure about witchcraft but you guys use possessions and stuff for curses and such, right? If I manage to find something he left behind… would that work?"

Jon hummed in thought. "Wait a moment."

He scavenged through the books in his bedroom and found a leather-bound journal that was practically falling apart. Gently, he flipped through the pages and finally came across the section he was looking for. 

"Well, if we are to use an object, I'd cast a searching spell on the seeker, which I suppose would likely be yourself," he explained, running his forefinger over the squiggles of the page. "There are then several criteria that the object has to fulfill. First, we need it to be of emotional importance. Then, it has to have a connection between the target and the seeker, meaning you should try to find a gift from this man. Not something you took without his permission or something that is borrowed. And even then, there is a chance of it being a dud."

"That's… not ideal," Tim winced out. "I'll see what I can find." His voice was warm and sincere. "Hey, thanks a bunch, dude. You helped me find Danny, and now Martin as well… I was lying about exposing your house address by the way. I'd never do that. "

"Yes, Tim, I know."

Tim bounced back into his cheeky disposition. "Love you too, Jon! Bye!" 

Jon rolled his eyes and ended the call. 

Martin… The prince had the same name as his unexpected intruder… 

A frown settled upon his brow. What if…

There was a quick rap against his bedroom door. Jon got to his feet and opened it.

"Oh!" Martin–the intruder–gasped. "I thought you were… still on your phone… or something. Um, I was just… Dinner's ready?"

"Ah," Jon said with a nod. The two of them sat at the dining table. The food looked good actually, much to Jon's relief. Still, with some frankly warranted skepticism, he fluffed the rice with a scoop, and when he saw that it was nice and soft. He placed it in his bowl and began to eat. 

Sitting opposite, the cook took a sigh of relief at the silent approval and dug in as well. Then, his phone began to ring and he swiped the screen absently. "I saw some tea in the cabinets so…" he muttered as he got up and carried two mugs from the kitchen counter to the table. 

Jon took a sniff from the cup. Chamomile. Carefully, he took a sip, and his eyebrows yanked upwards with delight. 

Martin's plump cheeks dimpled deeply with pride as he hummed and drank from his own mug as well.

Jon supposed he earned that. When he brought the rim of the mug to his lips again, his eyes fluttered half-closed as the fragrance of the tea surrounded his senses like an old but well-kept blanket, warm and soothing. 

Wouldn't it be great to keep him around? His mind sponsored. Jon had to beat the thought down with a stick. He was a hermit and he planned to stay as such. Besides, Jon had a niggling feeling about this man's identity... 

But this Martin couldn't possibly be a Prince Martin, Jon convinced himself Imagine such excellent tea-brewing skills squandered on royalty.

[seokiloquy]

Tea and Tuna - Kita Shinsuke

Soulmate AU: First words said to you by your soulmate are written on your wrist

Requested (I changed it up a bit but it still follows)

Word Count: 1.5K

It was a late evening on a school night and the sun was beginning to set, taking the last bit warm weather with it. The sky began to turn various shades of pink and orange. You sat at the back of the classroom with a neat stack of books at your side, waiting to be shelved. Behind you, your friend Hina swayed to the beat of her music pumping through her headset as she swept the floor. Following her rapid steps was Yua, who wiped down the tables to get rid of dirt and doodles left by bored students. Autumn was okay, once the weather started to get cold it meant more layers which you weren’t a big fan of.

At least the colours are pretty. You thought as you watched the sun begin to lower.

As you mindlessly placed the books on their shelf, you were late when reacting to what was going on behind you. Yua’s amused voice broke through.

“Hina, no,” she laughed. “Watch out.” She didn’t sound at all worried.

Something bounced off your head with a hollow thunk and your perfectly stacked books were easily taken down by Hina’s weight. Grabbing the book that landed on your lap you used the stiff cover to pat the forehead of the giggling music enthusiast before stashing it away.

“I swear, Hina, you need a new pair of feet, sweetheart,” you laughed as you picked up the broom that fell.

“My feet are perfectly fine, thank you,” she huffed, grabbing Yua’s hand.

Yua easily picked Hina up, who was almost launched in the other direction from the force, as she replied.

"I could always cut them off? Where's my hack saw?"

Spinning quickly on your knees you stared in horror at the casual grin on her face.

"Yua! No!"

"What?! I was kidding!" She whined, throwing her hand in the air. Narrowly hitting Hina's face.

"Gah! Watch it! You nearly took her head off!"

Throwing her arms down, Yua grabbed the wipe and spray off of the table and got back to cleaning the last few desks. "Why am I getting reprimanded?" She grumbled.

Hina skipped over, picking up all the fallen books as she went, and began to help you finish putting them away. Once she was at your side and had all the books in her arms, you left the work to her so you could face Yua. Yua had her legs spread on either side of the chair she sat on, making her volleyball shorts visible below her grey and black plaid skirt. She ruffled her shortly cropped hair, before stuffing her school bag closed.

Your brow pinched together as you checked the calendar that was pinned up on the classroom’s wall. “Yua, hun,” you called, “Don’t you have a game tomorrow?”

“Yup, sure do,” she yawned.

“And didn’t you have practice this morning?”

“Sure did.”

There was a pause as you watched the two girls finish packing up.

“Yua?”

“Yup?”

“Where’s your sports bag?”

Hina laughed loudly, throwing her head backwards and holding her stomach as she watched Yua spin in circles, searching for her extra bag. Despite Hina being a great singer, her laugh sounded like an emu giving birth to a carburetor. Yua growled as she gripped the roots of her hair tightly.

“I’m so stupid.”

“Did you leave it in the gym?” Hina asked after her laughing fit.

“Probably,” she said, rolling her head over her shoulders.

“Well,” You hummed a bit as you threw on your coat, getting ready to leave, “The gym is on the way and the boys are practicing this evening, so we can drop by to pick up your stuff. Hina put on your coat, it's cold out.”

Hina huffed but followed your suggestion anyway. “I’ll see you guys tomorrow. My family’s going out to dinner, and I don’t want to be late.”

Yua waved Hina goodbye once you all got to the exit. You called out to her once her back was turned.

“Hina, your laces are untied!”

One step too close to the other sent her flying, tripping over her shoes. Luckily she managed to dance out of falling on her face and shot the two of you a wave of her own. She kept walking with her laces undone. Yua hooked her arm around yours, pulling you in the direction of the gym before you could fret over Hina’s shoes.

“Hey, (Y/N). How did you know the boys were practicing today anyways?”

“Oh I asked one of the teachers what the gym’s schedule was so I could keep track of your practises and games. That reminds me, what do you want to eat before your game tomorrow? Ginger rice or miso salmon?”

Pushing open the gym doors, Yua dragged you inside, waving to the coaches as you walked their way. “I’ll stick with the green tea smoothie you make, thank you though.”

“That sounds rather tasty. (Y/N), you’ll have to give me the recipe.” Coach Kurosu was a nice man, teasing at times, and hid the bags under his eyes behind square-framed glasses.

“Mr. Kurosu, it’s been a while. I can write the recipe down and deliver it tomorrow before Yua’s game. It’s rather easy, but great for energy and it's healthy too.”

Yua sighed next to, interrupting the conversation gently, “I hope you don’t mind coach but I left my bag here this morning. Have you seen it?”

The man chuckled and pointed over in the far corner, “must be the one we tucked over there in the corner. Watch your head, though. The boys are practicing serves.”

Yua nodded as she elbowed your side and left you to continue your conversation of healthy foods with the boy’s volleyball coach. A conversation which led to you pulling out your phone to email him a list of meals that are high in protein that he could give to his players and friends.

“Heads!”

You were used to this. After attending Yua’s games and practices you should be. Immediately ducking out of the way of a ball that flew in line with where your head was, you watched as it bounced off of the wall and knocked over the piled water bottles like bowling pins.

You had always thought the word printed on your wrist was about coins. For a while, during middle school, you had gone around asking people to choose heads or tails when flipping a coin. In hindsight, with your wrist burning now, in a gym, without a coin in hand, that might have been a bit ridiculous.

“Atsumu, you need to be more careful, you’ll take someone’s head off.”

Standing up you made a throwaway comment about not having a meal for concussions, which made Kurosu laugh as he picked up the stray ball. He handed off to one of the older players that came your way.

“Are you alright?” he asked, taking the ball off his coach’s hands.

“Oh ya. I’ve got eyes at the back of my head,” you said laughing as you started to pick up the bottles. “As I just said, I don’t have a meal for concussions so I need to be able to dodge balls.”

Yua, who had made her way back from the corner of the gym (while expertly dodging every ball that came her way), groaned “You dodge balls by scaring guys away with your overbearing attitude.”

“Yua, please. Watch your language, the coach is here.”

“I didn’t swear, Mom. It’s not my fault you’ve taken a vow of abstinence until you met your soulmate.”

“Yua!”

It was a bit more than embarrassing, you were used to your friends being more than brash in friendly quarters. You can’t say you hadn’t had moments of crude hilarity yourself, but an adult was present, and he didn’t need to know about anything more than your grades and healthy food choices for athletes.

“Well, Yua,” the player spoke up, “I don’t think you’ll have to worry about that for much longer.”

Wait. The burning. You forgot about the burning in your rush to duck out of the way of projectiles flying at your head. You rushed to pull the sleeve of your uniform to see the word printed there.

“Kita! That’s not how you ask a girl out!”

The word on your wrist had changed colour.

“Atsumu, I won’t make you any fatty tuna if you keep yapping!”

You looked up at the player’s light coloured hair that made the black tips stand out as they sit in the open spaces of the boy’s forehead and cheekbones.

“You can make fatty tuna?” You asked, shoulders rising with a smile.

Yua groaned.

“Ya, sort of have to with these guys always asking for food.”

With a bit of a squeal, Kita was easily dragged into a friendly conversation about food with his soulmate. A soulmate who seemed almost a bit overly excited when coach Kurosu gave in his share of ideas on side dishes. Yua waited patiently on the side, texting Hina who seemed bored at dinner but excited about the new development revolving around their friend.

So does that mean we can add a dad to our friend group?

Yua swallowed a thick gag but replied with a flat, ‘yes’.

Just a fluff, that's it. - Bacon

Posted: 03/07/2020

[kusunogatari]

[ ObiRyū October | Day Fourteen | Do It Yourself ] [ @abyssaldespair ] [ Uchiha Obito, Suigin Ryū ] [ Verse: Like Magic ]

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Another evening...another round of assignments to do.

Given her need for additional research material, Ryū is - rather than in the Hufflepuff common room - spending her evening in the library. Several other students are scattered about, quills scratching against parchment in the quiet as the librarian lurks nearby, ensuring no one makes too much noise or gets too rowdy.

And so far, it’s been just that: peaceful, with only the fluttering of pages and frustrated sighs of students interrupting the silence.

That is, until someone new arrives.

“Oh, Ryū!”

Everyone in the library seems to perk up, including the one called. Blinking, she flushes a light pink as Obito enters the hall, waving and grinning. “Shh, you’re going to get us in trouble!” she lightly chastises, but not without a smile.

“Sorry, sorry...I see you and I just sort of...forget.”

The accidental compliment earns a soft snort. “Here to work on homework?”

“Yeah...I’ve got some Arithmancy to do.”

“Oh…”

“What?”

“I don’t have that class.”

“You don’t?”

“No…?”

Obito blinks, and then frowns. “...huh. I didn’t realize until now. So, uh...you can’t really help me then, huh?”

“I’m afraid not...you’ll just have to do it yourself, hm?”

His lips purse in a pout. “Ah, drat…”

In turn, she gives him a look of sympathy. “I’m sorry...but I’d be pretty much useless looking at it. Um...got anything else I can help you with while you’re here?” She glances around, seeing the librarian eyeing them shrewdly. She’s talking quietly, but…

“Uh, lemme see…” He digs around in his bag. “I’ve got that Care of Magical Creatures essay on nifflers…”

“Ah, I did that yesterday, so I can lend a hand!”

“Okay! Uh...Potions report for what we brewed today, but you weren’t there...hm…”

In the meantime, Ryū watches with growing amusement as Obito pulls a seemingly endless supply of things from his bag...including a pumpkin pastry. Did he put an extension charm on this thing, or what?

“I think that’s it, actually.” Straightening, he looks at his little mountain of things, and Ryū immediately starts giggling.

“Miss Suigin,” the librarian offers as a warning, watching eagle-eyed as the girl tries to stifle her noise.

“...I think I need to clean out my bag,” Obito then offers, grinning sheepishly.

“I think you do,” Ryū agrees, still suppressing the urge to laugh again. “How do you keep track of anything…?”

“Lots of digging. Kinda like a niffler.”

Now, however, isn’t the time for tidying, and they move instead to the one piece of homework they can actually do together: the niffler essay.

Ryū, already familiar, gets up and goes to fetch the book she’d used the day before to complete the piece. Walking along a row of books, she scans them, a hand raised to hold the tomes’ spines and keep her place.

“Find it?”

Almost jumping out of her skin, Ryū spins around, finding Obito behind her, grinning. “Don’t do that…!” she hisses, lightly swatting him. “I thought you were going to start with the textbook?”

“I thought I’d come help.” At her confused frown, his grin only grows. “And...by help, I mean have a moment alone.”

“Alone? We’re in the library!” she counters, glancing down the aisle. “This is the last place you can get away with being cheeky, Obito!” Between how quiet it is (and thus easy to be overheard), and the ever-present vigil of the librarian, there’s little being sneaky here without it ending poorly.

“What, just for a moment?”

“No!”

“But -?”

“I don’t know about you, but I do not want to get in trouble. She’s a raptor, she is! I’d like to be able to come back here again without her being angry!”

Realizing he’s not going to make any headway, Obito actually scowls a bit. “Fine, fine...what book are we looking for?”

“It’s called “Nifty Nifflers” - it goes more into their history than the textbook does. More information to help fill the parchment count.”

Not responding, Obito just...starts looking alongside her, finding it on a high shelf before the pair of them return to their table.

Finishing up her Charms assignment, Ryū gives Obito a glance. He’s actually rather focused, looking between the book and his parchment.

...she can tell he’s still a bit peeved.

But she has to draw a line at him trying to be frisky in here. She relies too much on the library to risk upsetting the lady who runs it! There will always be time for random bouts of snogging later, in other places. She hates telling him no, but…

“...Ryū?”

“Heh?” Her train of thought broken, Ryū looks back up.

“Can you read what I’ve got so far?”

“Oh, uh...sure.” As he turns the parchment, she starts looking it over.

“...are you mad?”

“...huh?”

Obito glances aside. “...did I make you mad?”

“...no? Did...did I?”

“...no.”

“...are you sure?”

After a pause, he sighs. “...sorry. I don’t, er...think sometimes. You’re right. It was dumb. I just get excited when we get to do stuff together. It kinda...gets to my head.”

In spite of herself, Ryū’s cheeks dust pink. “Well, I...I can understand that.” She then gives a sheepish smile. “I’m sorry if I snapped at you.”

“Nah, I was being pushy. You gotta be firm with me sometimes, heh.”

“...true…” After a pause, she offers, “Hey, um...the trip to Hogsmeade is in a few days. You want to go and do something then? To...make up for it?”

That earns a blink. “...really?”

“Well, we’ll have to be decently caught up on work, so we don’t fall behind. But...yeah! We’ll go do something fun. Just...the two of us, okay? No Rin or Kakashi this time around.” Her expression turns more demure. “I know it’s not easy juggling...everything. And trying to find time alone with how crowded things are…”

Having brightened at the prospect, Obito chuckles. “Yeah...we’re running out of broom closets, aren’t we? And...they’re not the most romantic.”

“No, but they do in a pinch,” she replies with a smile. “So...it’s a date, then! Just be sure not to leave too much on your plate before we go, okay? I don’t want you falling behind.”

“Yeah, sure! Though uh...I might have to get some more help before then.”

“Sure! So long as it’s not Arithmancy,” she teases with a giggle.

They pass the rest of their work in quiet, occasionally checking in with each other. Obito finishes his essay and Potions report, and Ryū manages to get her Charms work done. And with that, they leave the library, Ryū giving the librarian an apologetic smile on the way out.

“So, all caught up for the night, then?” Obito asks as they approach the Great Hall for dinner.

“I think so! Why?”

“Just in case we cross paths after dinner,” he replies, giving a cheeky smile.

Ryū lightly rolls her eyes. “Well, you won’t delay anything other than me getting to bed at a decent hour, I suppose.”

“Perfect!”

“Go eat!” she insists, lightly shoving him toward the Slytherin table as she in turn makes her way to sit with her fellow Puffs. Dinner, as always, is perfect, and she’s soon pleasantly full and starting to get sleepy.

But her evening is not over yet.

Looking around the hall, she doesn’t see Obito. Ah...maybe she took too long and he went off to the dorm early? Not that she can blame him - it’s getting late, and they were working pretty hard. But then again, he seemed rather...riled up. Packing up her bag, she starts on her way to the Hufflepuff dorm, glancing around for him just in -

A hand finds her arm, pulling her aside and forcing her heart up into her throat. But she manages not to say a word, having a feeling she knows who and what this is.

And as suspected, Obito soon grins at her from the newly-closed broom closet.

“Just can’t let it go tonight, can you?” she teases with a sigh.

“Ah, ‘fraid not,” is his reply, hands finding a grip on her waist. “Can you blame me, though? You’re kinda hard to resist.”

Once again, she goes pink. “You are so ridiculous…”

“Am I wrong?”

“Can’t really agree without sounding like a narcissist, now can I?” she counters with a laugh as his nose tickles along the underside of her jaw, his bulky form having to lean down quite a ways. “...you know if you get any taller, you’re not going to be able to fit in here with me anymore.”

“That would be a terrible day indeed.” But that doesn’t thwart him at all, still paying rather special attention to her neck.

It’s her self-proclaimed weak spot, after all.

Not having a retort, Ryū instead gives a hum, head tilting to give Obito more space. As always, she’s mindful of how much noise she makes. It wouldn’t exactly be pleasant to get walked in on by someone curious about strange sounds in a broom closet.

But he sure does make that difficult.

Only once he’s teased her a bit does he sneak back around and kiss her properly, her arms coming up to encircle around his neck. While she’s not short by any means, he still makes her feel that way between his height and his bulk. A big scary Slytherin, indeed.

And yet she can never be afraid of him. Rather, being anywhere near him makes her feel a special kind of safe. Knowing that, given he is capable of knocking a few heads around, he’d do so to protect her in a heartbeat.

The thought brings some warmth to her chest, and she smiles against his lips.

“Wuzzat for?” he murmurs between kisses.

“Nothing. Just happy.”

His expression softens slightly. “...good.”

Looking at him fondly, Ryū then offers, “So...think that can tide you over for a while?”

“I think so. But I’ll be looking forward to Hogsmeade.”

“Mm, me too. A nice change of pace.”

Obito then peeks out, waiting for the way to clear before they both scurry out of the closet and back toward their dorms. Needless to say, they both fall asleep later with smiles on their faces.

The rest of the week, of course, crawls by at a snail’s pace. With something to look forward to, the waiting is all the more agonizing. But then the weekend finally arrives, and students are cleared to head out from the school to the little village not far beyond it.

By now, the pair of them are pretty familiar with it, multiple visits under their belts. But the trips into the town are almost always done in a group with the rest of their circle: namely Kakashi and Rin. So managing to head out with it being just the pair of them is a treat, indeed.

“So, where to first?” Ryū asks as they meander into Hogsmeade. There’s no snow yet, but the Autumn air is still chilly. “Should we go to Honeydukes and get some candy? Or would you rather warm up with some butterbeer first? Maybe get something to eat?”

“Really doesn’t matter to me,” Obito replies with a shrug. Ryū, to keep pace with him, has her arm hooked through the crook of his own. “We could just wander around and I’d be happy.”

That earns a warm smile. “Well, we should do something. It’s not every day we get to be here! We can always go for walks on the school grounds. Right?”

“Hm...I guess so. In that case…” He looks around, once again familiarizing himself with their surroundings. “Let’s do lunch first, then sweets!”

“Okay!”

As always, The Three Broomsticks is crowded, and it takes a little while to find a place to sit. But they’re lucky and snag a corner table, snuggled up together as they wait for their food. Butterbeer soon warms their bellies.

“I think this might be my favorite place in Hogsmeade,” Ryū eventually observes.

“Yeah?”

“Mhm. Honeydukes is great, but...I love the atmosphere here. It’s so cozy!”

“Can’t argue with you there.” To accentuate his point, Obito lets an arm slink around her waist to tug her closer. A smirk grows as she blushes.

“Someone’s going to see!”

“Aw, c’mon. Everyone knows by now. And it’s not like we’re snogging.”

“Well, no...but -?”

He turns to give the crown of her head a quick peck, laughing at her squeak of surprise. “It’s fine! You need to relax, Ryū.”

Lips purse in a pout. “It’s embarrassing…”

“Why? Don’t like being seen with me?”

“No! That’s not -!”

“Cuz I like being seen with you. I like everyone to know just how lucky I am.”

Ryū blinks, looking a bit surprised.

“...otherwise, screw what anyone else thinks. Right?”

Her gaze falls in thought for a moment. “...right.”

They eat a bit quickly, wanting to have more time to wander around. After all, the selection at Honeydukes is enough to take half a day on its own. But they wander through (with a whole score of other Hogwarts students), picking out the goodies they want and figuring out their budget.

“Ah, I should put these back…”

“I’ll get them for you!”

“Ryū, it’s fine -”

“You want them, so you should have them,” she chirps in defiance, cutting off his refusal. “Papa always gives me too much spending money anyway. I might as well use it on you.”

Deadpanning slightly at her sweet-disguised stubbornness, Obito realizes this isn’t an argument he has any chance at winning. “All right, all right…”

The rest of the afternoon is spent wandering as Obito suggested, watching both the townsfolk and students mill about.

“Well...I’d say that was a pretty successful day, wouldn’t you?”

Obito hums. “...yeah.”

“What?”

“Nothing. Just thinking.”

Her head tilts curiously. “...about?”

“Stuff.”

That earns a snort. “Not in the mood to share?”

“Mm...maybe later.”

Knowing better than to push him, Ryū just leans her head against their shoulder as they start meandering back toward the school. The day is growing old, and it seems they’ve had their fill of the village this time around. By the time they arrive, supper is about to be served, so they linger in the Great Hall to wait.

“Hey guys!”

Turning, they spot Rin. “Hey! You just get back too?”

“Mhm. Did you guys go?”

“Yeah!”

“Huh...we never saw you,” she muses, head tilting as Kakashi steps up beside her.

“We took our time,” Ryū explains with a smile. “It was a bit of a date.”

“Ohhh...so you were avoiding us!” Rin grins cheekily as Ryū backpedals.

“Maybe a bit,” Obito supplies with a matching upturn of his lips.

“Sneaky sneaky!”

As Ryū makes to speak again, the meal is served, and Kakashi and Rin take their leave to the tables.

“Well, it seems they got their own date too.”

She glances to Obito. “...yeah, guess so. Maybe we’ll go as a group next time around.”

“That’d be fun. I...really enjoyed today.”

After a blink, Ryū gives a warm smile. “...me too.”

     This is...a little short .w. I had a stressful day and honestly was just not feeling the prompt, so...idk how good this khfdjh - I just wanted to get it done. Been a while since I struggled that bad OTL      But yeah, just some HP verse fluff cuz...I like it. Not much to do with the prompt but...blegh lol      Anywho, I’ma go sleep and hope tomorrow isn’t a wreck, ahaha. Thanks for reading~

[weirdly-rebelling]

What is love? Was a question Jughead Jones asked himself almost everyday until he met her. He was so obviously gone for her. So lost, in too deep for too long.

When he had kissed her for the first time in her binding pink bedroom , he knew he couldn't stay away anymore, as her lips on his was a feeling so good , so addictive , out of the world. She was gorgeous and she didn't know it , as the bitchy so-called mother Alice Cooper placed insecurities in her head , filling her mind with negative thoughts and self-destruction of herself. That was pure torture, she didn't deserve it. She deserved so much and more , she deserved the skies and the moon and

Love.

She deserved love.

It was simple as that. Betty Cooper (or jones as he doodled on his notebooks like a 10year old with a crush) deserved love. And him , Forsythe Pendleton Jones the third could give it to her. It wasn't a crush. He didn't love her. He was in love with her, the real her , the one with beauty inside and out. Not the perfect girl next-door Betty Cooper , infact he hated the facade she had to put . But he loved her, he loved the way she laughed , he loved her cute frowns , he loved her iconic ponytail to her emarald wide doe eyes . Hell, he even loved her Cresent shaped scars. They were a part of her which he was willing to accept and love until he dies. He would do anything and everything for her.

Sometimes he doubted , if this was a joke , if the universe was playing with his feelings as Betty Cooper was his girlfriend of five years. Yes, they had their drama and a lotta breakups. But, this was it, she was it , they'd always go back to each other.

Shit, she was turning him into a sap. He was that guy now. The guy who couldn't sleep without his girlfriend. Ugh!! Why Betts?? What have you done to me!

He wasn't good with feeling and stuff. But he'd always be strong for her. Everytime she cupped his jaw , pulling in for a kiss , his knees weakened and quivered. She had a power over him. A power that he feared , but he had given it to her and didn't want it back. She was his weakness and strength. Everything he had ever needed and ever wanted.

She wasn't perfect , but neither was he , and he definitely didn't want her to be . As her flaws were the only things making her human. Yes, they weren't perfect , they had their moments . But they were perfect for each other. He didn't believe in soulmates but he believed in her.

That night with his mind full of thoughts, he realised he couldn't live without her. He wanted to...he had to marry her and make her his.

His gorgeous girlfriend was finally returning from her trip to New York with Veronica and Kevin . He was pissed at Veronica for stealing her away for a week. But Veronica lodge always got what she wanted. They would be back home in 6 hours. (It's not like he was counting days or something, he was not.) Betts wanted them to meet at pop's, which she missed while Veronica stuffed her with weird dishes. Yea, he was pretty nervous , nope, he was a mess , an absolutely total mess.

Pop noticed this ofcourse as Jughead jones never refuses food and yet,here he was legs trembling and staring at his burger , while Toni Blossom yelled at him; JUGHEAD!! Your an absolute idiot. If you seriously don't calm down I'm gonna whack you with a broom. Just chill man!! . Jughead became even more nervous after that if it was possible. Pop immediately grabbed Jughead's phone and calmly replied ; Mrs Blossom kindly lower your sound as Jughead here, looks like he might faint. The serpent king who was known to be ruthless in the eyes of strangers was shivering at the mere thought of getting rejected by a tiny blonde. Once Toni quietly replied,' sorry pop but Jughead here is crazy if he think Betty'll reject him', and ended the call.

Pop slowly turned to the younger man ,'Jughead I've known you and Betty for a long time and I've noticed both of you pining and being oblivious. But both of you are meant to be.

'But what if she's meant for someone like Trev or Archie'?

'She could have anybody else, but she chose you, guys like those can flirt but by the end of the day, it's you who she wants to be kissed by'.

..

..

..

..

..

'Jug!!!' squeals his girlfriend as she enters the diner. 'Betty Cooper you are a sight for sore eyes,'He runs towards her and lifts her and twirls her as she laughs and connects their lips. I've missed you, he mumbles against her lips. Before she could say anything else , the she-devil enters,

'What are you doing here Veronica, can't you leave me and Betts in peace.'he grumbles.

' move aside Jug Head "Bones" , this is a public diner , I should be asking you what you're doing here as snakes aren't allowed.'

'Guys!!' Betty scolds ' be nice I love you both equally'

That's when I finally get a good look at her, her hair is loose framing her face, she's wearing a tank top which says ' sorry not available' and tight black jeans which shows off her hips making me groan in frustration. Her clear green eyes are brought out by her top are glistening in happiness. She looked amazing as usual.

I kissed her again as I couldn't get enough. Veronica yells ' no baby making in public diners '. Betty blushes , while I glare at her saying 'let's go eat'.

After eight burgers and long conversations , he was ready to leave. Veronica, mumbling something about a massage had left. 'Betts , let's get outta here eh?' . She grins widely.

They reach at Sweetwater viewpoint in his motorbike , as comfortable silence surrounds they. Betty looks kinda nervous , he observes.

' Jug, We need to talk '

'Oh shit ' he replies , she was gonna break up with me , I knew it was too good to be true.

'No!no!' she winces at her choice of words ' not that kind of talk'

'Good heavens , thank god'

He blurts out 'doyawannamaybemarryme?'

'What?'

He stumbles and regains his confidence,

He kneels on his knee and stutters with the ring while she watches with a adoring look,

' I love you Betty Cooper and I'll love you until I die, if there's a life after that I'll love you then too, I know how much you've complained about having the Cooper name of a nut case reporter and a serial killer father, so do you wanna take the name jones? You already have captured my heart in a vice-grip why not take my name too? Every part of my body loves yours Betts and I never want to be apart from you. Let's write our own love story with a happy ending , not Romeo and Juliet but Jughead and Betty. So do you wanna be partners in life , will you Betty Cooper marry me the loner weirdo and make my life brighter than ever?'

He ends it and slowly lifts his eyes from its position on the ground to her eyes.

Deep Blue meets Clear green.

Her beautiful eyes are filling with tears of happiness. And she kisses him, that's answers enough he thinks and eases into the kiss.

Like it should have always been, the sarcastic loner with a big heart and a huge appetite getting the girl, instead of the All-American hero 🖤🖤

Guys please support me , I'm 14 and this is my first fanfic🖤🖤I wanna get better at this any tips or pointers will be really appreciated.🖤🖤( Some of you might be wondering what Betty wanted to tell him , that's a story for another time😝) it wouldn't hurt to give a like and support

-Sam🖤

[elizabeth-234]

The Supplejack

Previous Chapter Fourteen: Encounters of the Third Kind 

Hi friends! Thank you for waiting for this one! I knew where the story was going but was having trouble executing it so hopefully this longish chapter will make up for it. Hope you enjoy!

Thank you to everyone who has read this story in any capacity! I appreciate you all so much.

Chapter Fifteen: He Returns

“On the count of three.”

Everyone plunged their hands together, stacked on each other and shaking as the energy moved through them. It was almost visibly pulsing between them and feeding off of the crowds waiting beyond the curtain in front of them.

“One.”

Frank eyes moved between the five of them as he bounced side to side, bumping into Julia each time. He looked like he was born to wear a suit. Maybe it was Peter who was aware of the uncomfortable clothes framing his body.

“Two.”

Monica’s hand not in the circle was gripping the notecards they’d spent days making and hours going over. Highlights and red annotations covered crammed space on the small paper. Her hair was in some type of bun today and Peter thought she looked regal, very adult-like in her black pantsuit.

“Three.”

Julia’s hand was at the bottom of their stack below Peter’s. Stored in her backpack was a bursting-at-the-seams binder filled with their notes from all the months of their work. The past week Julia met up with him at the library. They went through and organized all of paperwork in case Monica needed some obscure reference.

She held his gaze as they finished their countdown. A small smile rose under her steeled eyes.

“Team!”

Their hands ascended.

Cheers erupted.

The stage taunted them from where they stood in the wings.  

Frank grinned while Julia narrowed her eyes. Monica whipped up her notecards, beginning to go through them again, and Peter squeezed his eyes shut.

A tech alerted them it was their time to present. Monica hugged them all one last time and walked on stage. The rest of them peered around the curtain trying to get a glimpse of their teammate while she presented. Her words were loud and clear, and Peter’s eyes strayed to the captive audience, overlooking all the heads and searching for one in particular. He wasn’t sure if he wanted to find the certain person amongst the crowd or not.

Julia nudged his side and his attention shifted back to Monica.

-

Peter winded through the crowd trying to spot Frank, the tallest of their group, over the heads of everyone milling about the room.

He tried not to think about how strange it was being in the Tower again. How he knew down the hallway through the first door there on the left was a broom cupboard where Mr. Stark showed him a stash of snacks. ‘Easy access on the way to meetings’ the man had said. He withheld the urge to find an empty room so he could talk to Friday, afraid he might end up like those employees yelling to empty rooms with no hopes of an answer. His stomach turned at the thought that their friendship was contingent on his internship.

People were gathered in groups waiting for the news and he ignored his racing heart. Peter fiddled with his tie. He loosened it and attempted to straighten it only to shorten the front material. It was crumpled by the time he was done ‘fixing’ it.  

The presentation was over and his internship would be done with the announcement at the end.

Monica was a queen. She gave the presentation, nailed the question and answer portion by redirecting their inquiries and concerns with a smile and no hesitation. They ran to her once she exited the stage and held her arms until she got to a chair, which she promptly melted into it. Monica smiled, drained but happy, as they showered her in praise. Her hand covered her mouth as she muffled her giggles like a child.

“I can’t believe we did it. That was… amazing.” She giggled and relaxed back into the chair.

“You freaking nailed it, Mon. Like seriously amazing stuff.” Frank said.

They walked back to the waiting room and sat together on the couch, pressed side-by-side as they watched the other groups representatives present on the monitor stacked in the corner of the room. Flash popped his head in after his group went and then they were sent into the crowd to mingle with different companies and ‘influential’ people in attendance.

His team took to this portion of the day with gold stars. Even Julia got in there and got the card of a small start-up asking her to email them when she graduated.

It felt like the whole state of New York was there. All of them dressed in tailored suits and dresses, their posh hair and clinking glasses catching Peter’s attention with every turn. He observed these groups as he continued on his search. People laughed imbibed from the courage generously poured into the glasses.

He wasn’t oblivious enough to say no one wanted to talk to him. That would be false, but he couldn’t shake the feeling that he wasn’t worth their time. A tall woman with dark hair had asked for his resume assuming he was older than a freshman. He didn’t even know how to fill out a check and she wanted to know his work experience. With a polite nod, Peter took her card and walked away. He ended up finding Flash digging into the buffet, who he followed around until Flash joined up with his own team.

Peter couldn’t correct the tightness in his necktie no matter how much his fingers played with the material. His rented tux drooped around his shoulders but was too short in the pants. At least he was wearing his trusty Converse. Once May got over her initial tears at seeing her baby dressed so nice she had zeroed in on the offensive footwear. Her objections were minimal at his insistence and she gave in noticing the tightness in his jaw. In the end she shrugged her shoulders and said most people would be looking at his face and not his footwear. Peter didn’t stop blushing until they were on the subway into the city.

“Hey Peter.” Julia called and his teammates closed the gap between them, carving a space between the other groups of people.

“We’ve got it in the bag, don’t you think?” Frank said, eyeing the plate filled with small appetizers in Julia’s hands. She saw his wandering gaze and moved her plate over so it was further away from him.

“Of course, we will.” She said. “Get your own food.” She added but extended the plate over at the puppy eyes and pout Frank was shooting towards her. He snatched up the miniature hotdog and moaned while he chewed.

“I don’t know how you can eat at a time like this.” Julia said. Peter watched as he snuck another hotdog off Julia’s plate when she bent over to say something to Monica. He winked at Peter.  

“Dude, this is so good. All vegan it says and I won’t be eating anything like this in the college dorms.”

Julia asked if he’d been assigned his roommate and he began to tell them how he’d matched right away with a cello-playing, Hawaiian shirt-wearing Political science major.  

Monica moved to the side, stepping out of their circle. Peter stared at the back of her head not believing who was standing beside her.

“Is that…?”

“Yep,” Julia stepped closer. “Estee came right up to us when we first got out here and they haven’t stopped talking yet. It’s kind of cute if she didn’t work for the devil.”



“Julia!” He said but couldn’t help but agree.

Frank chuckled and she just shrugged. Peter looked over at his teammate and their ex-tour guide. They were standing close. Monica reached over and touched Estee’s shoulder. Her hand lingered and a pink blush stole across his teammate’s cheeks when the other girl said something he couldn’t hear. Estee also wore a pantsuit but hers was a bit softer looking than the girl she was standing next to. Maybe it was her hair that was down. He tried to compare the features on each outfit but gave up after remembering May’s comment about his abysmal fashion sense. Either way the pair looked great together.

He couldn’t stop the churning in his stomach when he thought of who she worked for.

Julia informed them all that Lee already came around and wished them luck before seeing to the other teams. Clipboard in hand she ran down the list of people they should talk to, people they needed to talk to, and people to avoid before whizzing away to do the same for everyone else.

Frank kept stealing Julia’s food when her gaze started to drift to the stage situated in the front of the room. Its imposing mass was difficult to keep Peter’s eyes from darting there. His laughter and outrageous comments about the people around them distracted everyone from their growing nerves.

The team continued to talk and joke but Frank’s laughter was a little too loud. Monica kept muttering mistakes in her presentation to herself and whoever was next to her, to which Estee would retort, and Julia didn’t touch a single morsel on her plate.

Peter couldn’t stop straightening his tie. His fingers rose of their own accord running down the ridges and tracing the pattern as he watched them all pretend to be fine.

Surrounded by all these fancy people and the onset of memories from the building, his internship, Peter’s thoughts kept returning to Ben.

When he decided to make The Weaver.

Where this all started.

His uncle’s hands were callused and cracked around his nails and palms. They were ‘man’s hands’ he would say to Peter. Peter remembered rubbing sand between his own hands in hopes they would be more like his uncle’s.

Memories of running clouded his thoughts.

His feet raced down the path to their home. One hand grasped at his nose, the slits in his fingers allowing the blood to drip down onto his shirt, and the other clutched his reward. A rock leapt out and sent him sprawling. The dirt ground into his hands and knees, leaving stains on his pants. Peter shuddered but climbed to his feet. The trek home was silent and void of any other kids.

He ran passed May who yelled his name once she got a look at the state he was in, and sat, eyes vacantly staring at the evidence left by the scraps of his fall. Grass and tinges of blood seeped through the knee of his pant. His fist remained closed. The metal pinched the skin of his palm but he couldn’t let go. Not yet.

The door creaked open and his uncle’s head popped through. He observed Peter from behind the wood, left, and came back carrying some tissue, band aids, and antiseptic. Ben knelt in front of Peter with a mumble about old knees and back pain.

Peter stared down at his fist.

“Peter? Are you okay?”

He nodded avoiding his uncle’s stare. A pulsing ache emanated from behind his nose and come tomorrow he would have another shameful trophy from the day. This one would be a bruise from where the kid had hit him.

Ben had taught him how to throw a punch when he went into middle school. ‘It’s good to know,’ he had said with a wink. It wasn’t something he ever thought he would need. He wished he hadn’t.

“What happened?”

He swallowed and uncurled his fingers to reveal what was hidden inside.

Ben picked up the metal object. He wiped off the dirt around the edges and shined the surface against his shirt before inspecting the lettering decals in his school colors on the front.

“What was the word?” Ben said examining the pin’s inscription closer to his face. He handed Peter an icepack and tissue for his nose which had stopped bleeding and waited for an answer. The shirt he was wearing was beyond help so he pressed the tissue into the crust forming on his chin and mouth.

“Indomitable.” He muttered under the tissue. Ben tapped his leg and Peter straightened it out keeping a wince from his face. His uncle seemed to know anyway and gave a squeeze to his calf.

“Remind me? How is it spelled?” Ben rolled up his pant legs and began disinfecting the cuts from his fall.

“I spelled it right.” Peter said.

“I know. I see your medal. I’m guessing those other kids weren’t very happy with your indomitable spelling skills?” Ben said with a smile.

“Ben.” Peter said dragging out the syllable until the band aids were in place on his knee. His uncle smiled but his eyes focused on the swelling in Peter’s face and a frown took over his expression again. He moved to sit next to Peter. They both rested their backs against the bed and stared at the clothes laying on Peter’s furniture and floor.

“I’m sorry I couldn’t be there today. I wished I’d seen it when you spelled it correctly. Let me see, I think it goes: I-N-D-A-”

“That’s not right!” Peter said turning to grab Ben’s arm.

“Oh, and how is it spelled?”

Peter realized what Ben was trying to do. There was a twinkle in his eye but Peter promised himself earlier when all his classmates had laughed at him he wouldn’t do it again and not even for his uncle.  

“I, um, I forgot.” He said.

Ben covered Peter’s hand. Heat spread up his neck and across his cheeks.

“When is the next round?” Peter shook his head. He wasn’t going and placing himself in that position again.

Surrounded.

On the ground.

Weak.

Like he always ended up no matter how hard he tried to avoid it.

“I-N-D-O-M-A or is it I? If only there was a spelling bee winner to help me out.”

“Ben. I don’t want too.”

“You’re right. I think I’ve been spelling it wrong this whole time. I think It’s I-M-D-”

“Alright, alright.” Peter said and proceeded to spell the word out as he had on the stage hours before.

Ben clapped as Peter said the last letter.

“So when can I see you next.”

The sleeve of his jumper became fascinating between the alternative of answering his question. The original draw of the spelling bee had begun with the need for approval. He had this image of May and Ben sitting in the stands, watching as, for once, he could win at something. Much to his uncle’s chagrin, sports were not something Peter were good at. At the best of times he could manage to keep the injuries to himself and not the other players. Ben had patched him up when he came home with bruises and cuts but said maybe Peter should try something else. He noticed his uncle’s eyes roaming to his old varsity jacket he had given Peter in hopes he could add his patches to it.

While he felt like an unwanted guest in his body, unable to coordinate it enough to catch a football or swing a racket, Peter knew his mind better than the back of his hand. Equations, school, and books were what he was good at.

That was okay most of the time. But he felt an ineffable tug in his abdomen every time he saw the varsity jacket handing behind the door in his room.

His stomach gave that same tug sitting there besides his uncle, the man he looked up to on how to be a good person, on what a good man was supposed to be.

“I don’t think I want to do it anymore. I mean I’ll be in high school next year and you know I have a… difficult time with people. I just- well I think I’m too shy.” Peter said resting his head against the bed behind him.

Ben turned to face him. He took the tissue from Peter’s hand and wiped the crusted blood under his nose away, careful of the swelling.

“It’s okay to be shy Peter. There is nothing wrong with that. In fact, it can be a good attribute. I just want you to remember that you can’t let that, or anything, stop you from doing something you want to do. Courage and bravery aren’t the absence of fear, Peter. They are acting in spite of fear because you know it’s right course of action.”

Peter stared at his uncle, feeling his fingers brush through his hair before resting on his shoulder. Something in his face must have influenced his Uncle for Ben pulled him in for a hug. Peter froze at the unfamiliar sensation and then melted into his uncle. His strong arms enveloped Peter. His words spoke true for that moment. Peter was safe.

Someone laughed and he was back in the Tower surrounded by his waiting team.

A hand landed on his shoulder from behind and his heart stuttered an uneven rhythm.

“Congrats everyone!” May said coming around Peter to join the circle. Her hand was too small but for a moment, lost in the memories, it had felt so much like his uncle’s. What he wouldn’t give for Ben to be here today.

An echo of “thank you” went around the circle and May greeted everyone with one of her famous hugs.

“I’ve heard a rumor there’s going to be fireworks or something at the end of this. What a way to celebrate your victory, right?” May said with sparkling eyes.

“We don’t know we won.” Peter responded but the rest of the team replied with enthusiasm.

“It’s certainly a showstopper. Nothing around here is done halfway” Monica said.

“I expect not. Speaking of showstoppers when is Tony Stark supposed to get here?” She must not have seen the looks from Monica because Estee continued talking. “Is he making one of his world-famous grand entrances then?” Monica elbowed the girl in the ribs.

The group went silent. They tried not to but their eyes made their way to where Peter was standing. His hands ran down his tie again and the ground couldn’t have been more interesting if Frank sprouted wings and a tail.

“Mr. Stark’s not coming.” Julia said after the tension rose. “Lee also mentioned that he was called away on urgent business but he didn’t wish the teams luck because it was unnecessary. We were all too good for luck.” She said, staring at Peter.

Mr. Stark wasn’t coming.

Mr. Stark wasn’t coming.

Because of him.

That was the only reason. It had to be.

Was he so disgusted with Peter? Did he mess up enough that the man couldn’t even be there for his program?

Shame welled inside of him.

“Excuse me a moment.” He mumbled. Peter turned around and stumbled away. People looked at him as he walked through the crowd. Somewhere quiet and alone was what he needed. Peter could almost hear all the whispers about him; about what they thought happened. The faces of his teammates, staring at him with wide eyes, remained in his thoughts.

The careful way they had treated him since Oscorp and the dissolvement of his internship came rushing up. Julia’s quiet way of suggesting the library, the group chat where they would talk about nothing to do with their project, them all dropping notes and snacks off to him and then sitting with him to talk.

He’d thought they’d seen his smile and that was it, but somehow, they knew. They saw his pain and took steps to be there. For him.

“Peter.” May called out as she followed behind him.

He didn’t stop. A man in a velvet tux took a step back and Peter dodged him. He didn’t spare the stage a second glance and continued beyond the buffet tables he had yet to peruse. Maybe he could go to the broom cupboard down the hall.

“Peter.” May said again, closer this time. She touched his arm, wrapping her hand around his wrist and gently stopped his movement. Her hand slid down his wrist to capture his hand in hers. Skin met skin and Peter stared at the lines etched into his aunt’s face.

“Sweetheart, I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be. S’not your fault.” He said. The occupants around them besides a cursory glance paid no attention and Peter shuffled his feet. “I- I just can’t talk about it. And I wanted him to be here despite how much I wanted h… Why isn’t he here May? It’s my fault.”

Peter wondered what man he’d failed he was talking about. His hands trembled and she gripped him tighter. May pulled them further toward the wall and away from people.

Her eyes, though older, still glowed like the first time she walked into his hospital room. She gazed intent at him and her words were harsh, but gentled by her thumb stroking his hand. There were no answers in her eyes but May did what she did best and that was bring him hope; bring him home.

“This was the tie he wore on our wedding, did you know? The tie he tried to teach you how to tie for the middle school promenade. Do you remember it?”

She pulled it from his jacket and, pressing her hands down the center tried to iron out the wrinkles he’d worried into it.

“You listen here Peter. I am so proud of you. So proud and happy and filled with this big ball of love we are standing in this room and that you’re my son. I know this past year hasn’t been easy. I’ve been working a lot and I know our apartment has been quiet. I’ve watched you and despite everything, you always work hard for others. Your Uncle Ben would be so proud.” She was holding him by the shoulders, almost forcing him to look into her eyes.

“He was always proud of you, Peter. When you won the spelling bee and even when you stopped all that. He was so happy to be with us, our family, together. You know he’d come home sometimes after work, he’d tell me this after the fact, and just stare up at our house. Watch the lights turned on and off, knowing we were inside and waiting for him. And if Tony Stark doesn’t want that, well I say screw him!”

Her eyes blazed and Peter believed her for a second until he remembered Mr. Stark’s eyes. The way they looked through his face when he told Peter he didn’t want him to stay.

“Anyone who has a bone to pick with Stark is a friend of mine.”

Peter’s shoulders tensed at the voice. The oil oozed out of the man’s words leaving a heavy air around them. A slim hand entered his vision, injecting itself between himself and May. Spindle-like fingers waited for May to return the gesture. Peter stared at May begging her silently not to.

“I think you may have misheard me, Mr….?” She said shaking his hand. He cringed at the way May’s hands looked curled around the newcomers like prey caught in a trap.

“I don’t think so but we’ll forget I overheard anything. It was quite rude to eavesdrop but I couldn’t wait for the chance to talk to Peter here. Could you introduce me to this beautiful woman, Peter?”

Mr. Osborn smiled, curled, and Peter shivered. All he wanted to do was run back to his room under his covers, and away from all these people- from this person.

It was not worth wearing this ill-fitting tux over.

“This is my Aunt May. May this is Mr. Obsborn. He works at Oscorp.” He held onto May’s hand for a beat more then looked to Peter.



“There’s no need to be so humble. I own Oscorp, which by the state of things over here is doing remarkably well. You may call me Norman.”

“Yes, you exude humbleness.” She gave pointed look to his green chatoyance tux. He cleared his throat and pushed back his hair.

Peter looked between them and in a rare thought of calm, he knew if anyone could take on Mr. Osborn, it was May. While her hugs were legendary, so was her temper.

“I was coming to say congratulations, Mr. Parker. Second place is quite a feat.”

“We don’t know the results yet.”

If possible, his smile curled tighter. The man stepped closer, leaning towards them as if he was about to divulge a secret.

“Well, let’s say I have some insider information. I even happened to skim through your proposal and was most impressed. You should be proud of him, May.”

He hated how he said his aunt’s name. May looked between them and stepped back towards Peter.

“I am.” She said, wrapping her arm around his shoulder.

“Quite. Besides the fact your little group only came in second, I came over here to make you an offer Mr. Parker. Now you’ve seen the… paltry side of things. You would benefit from coming to Oscorp and seeing how a true visionary runs thing instead of how it’s done here. You’re speechless, I see. How about I sweeten the offer? That little serum you witnessed the last time. You could work on that again. Your friend has been working so hard on it but he can’t quite get it right.”



“Peter, what is he talking about?” May’s hand tightened on his shoulder.

A feigned shock came over his face.  

“Your boy here can tell you all about it later. What do you say, Peter? Ready to play with the professionals?”

Peter swallowed. His hands hung in fists at his side as he decided the best course of action.  

There was no way in hell he was going to work for the man standing before him. It was enough being a foot away from him, smelling the pungent cologne, but then he was bashing Stark Industries. He was making fun of Mr. Stark. It didn’t matter that he didn’t want to see Peter again. None of that did at the moment.

Peter squared his chin.

He took a breath in and tried to take comfort from May by his side. She would never let anything bad happen but he couldn’t stand by while someone hurt Stark Industries and all it stood for.

“Thank you for the…opportunity, but I much prefer places that don’t have to steal their projects.”

Mr. Osborn stepped forward and Peter resisted the urge to step back. His eyes narrowed to slits.

“If that’s how you feel, Mr. Parker I wouldn’t want to intrude on this… happy situation. We know what we’re doing and what’s happening. It’s your loss if you don’t see it.” He turned to May. “But this is for you and I won’t take no from such a fine woman. It would hurt my honor too much.”

May reached forward to grab the business card in his hand and at the last moment he flipped his fingers over so his palm was supine and grabbed hers. Peter’s breath stopped. He saw her tense up. Her hand pulled, ready to escape but Mr. Osborn held tight. Words were on the tip of his tongue when someone stepped forward.

“There you are Mr. Osborn, Sir. The press are doing rounds and need you to give a statement.”

Mr. Osborn let May’s hand fall and he finally stepped back giving them space, though his attention remained on the pair of them.

“I’m sure we’ll see each other again. Give my regards to Stark if he ever decides to show his face.” Mr. Osborn said, eyes lingering before Estee called his attention again.

They walked off, Estee turned around at the last moment and mouthed an apology to them.

Peter stood beside May in his favorite building in the world. People surrounded them but he would have rather been anywhere else.

-

“Why won’t you tell me what this is all about, Peter? Peter? You need to breath, Sweetheart.” 


Somehow, they were home. He recognized the yoga mat May was pacing over with shoes on as the one situated in their living room.

It ruins the grip if you do that, she always said. Maybe she forgot. Maybe it didn’t matter anymore.

He was sitting, no, laying on the couch. His head pounded. She was talking but Peter was too empty to receive her words.

“…here. You are here at our apartment, on the couch. I threw that ratty old blanket Ben tried to knit on you. Feel its weight over your body.”  

She was kneeling in front of him, her eyes bored into him, keeping him along with Ben’s blanket grounded in their apartment.

He stared at her not understanding what she was saying. Not feeling anything besides the cracks fissuring through his thoughts.

May smelled of lavender.

Peter noticed her hair flipped out at the same angle as it had since he was a child. She sat next to him on the edge of the couch he was lying on, not touching, but close enough to feel the warmth of her skin and to smell the calming scent.

He came back to the world piece by piece; out of breath and melted into the couch.

May held Ben’s necktie in her hands. It dangled between her legs and Peter became aware she was speaking to someone other than him.

Her head bent low almost touching the tie and her words drenched in loneliness echoed through the apartment in the picture frames of their family lying face down against the bookshelf and the worn paint not touched-up since he was in middle school.

Peter knew who the words were for and wished Ben could hear them somehow.

He reached forward and rested his hand on her leg.

“I’m sorry, May. I’m so sorry.” His lips trembled and her hold tightened on him.

“No, Sweetheart. You have nothing to be sorry about. I love you so much, Peter. So, so much and I want you to do something for me. I want you to start working for yourself and no one else. I want you to start taking care of yourself and loving yourself. I know it’s not easy and it downright sucks most of the time but can you try to do that?”

She moved so his head rested on her lap. Tears broke through and ran down his cheeks, soaking into her dress. He nodded into the material.

May held him. She didn’t say anything besides her love for him and in the moment that was all that mattered.

It was funny, really. Almost ten years had passed but they ended up in the same place; locked in an embrace and heartbroken over someone leaving their lives.

He wondered why he hadn’t given up yet.

He worried about what he should do now.

All he knew was the emptiness he carried around with him every day. How despite the absence of everything it weighed down on his body and soul. It made getting up in the morning and sitting with someone at lunch so difficult and he was tired of carrying it. He couldn’t carry it anymore.

Peter wasn’t happy.

He let the thought sink in. Let himself truly understand what it entailed. And then he tried not to worry about if he deserved it. Whether it was his right to be happy. All he wanted was the emptiness to be filled again.

There wasn’t a path to go down and he didn’t know where to begin, but May was here. She was always there for him and he hugged her tight.

He vowed he would find some way to try.

Because although he was only Peter Parker and he’d made so many mistakes so far. He wanted to be happy.

Thank you all! 

Taglist: @whatisthou @demi-starzak @warmwithafewfrostymoments

Next Chapter Sixteen: Civil War 

[plurdledgabbleblotchits]

Boulot  in “Down and Out in Paris and London,” by George Orwell.

 “In a hotel a huge and complicated machine is kept running by an inadequate staff, because every man has a well-defined job and does it scrupulously. But there is a weak point, and it is this — that the job the staff are doing is not necessarily what the customer pays for. The customer pays, as he sees it, for good service; the employee is paid, as he sees it, for the boulot — meaning, as a rule, an imitation of good service. The result is that, though hotels are miracles of punctuality, they are worse than the worst private houses in the things that matter.

Take cleanliness, for example. The dirt in the Hôtel X, as soon as one penetrated into the service quarters, was revolting. Our cafeterie had year-old filth in all the dark corners, and the bread-bin was infested with cockroaches. Once I suggested killing these beasts to Mario. ‘Why kill the poor animals?’ he said reproachfully. The others laughed when I wanted to wash my hands before touching the butter. Yet we were clean where we recognized cleanliness as part of the boulot. We scrubbed the tables and polished the brass-work regularly, because we had orders to do that; but we had no orders to be genuinely clean, and in any case we had no time for it. We were simply carrying out our duties; and as our first duty was punctuality, we saved time by being dirty.

In the kitchen the dirt was worse. It is not a figure of speech, it is a mere statement of fact to say that a French cook will spit in the soup — that is, if he is not going to drink it himself. He is an artist, but his art is not cleanliness. To a certain extent he is even dirty because he is an artist, for food, to look smart, needs dirty treatment. When a steak, for instance, is brought up for the head cook's inspection, he does not handle it with a fork. He picks it up in his fingers and slaps it down, runs his thumb round the dish and licks it to taste the gravy, runs it round and licks again, then steps back and contemplates the piece of meat like an artist judging a picture, then presses it lovingly into place with his fat, pink fingers, every one of which he has licked a hundred times that morning. When he is satisfied, he takes a cloth and wipes his fingerprints from the dish, and hands it to the waiter. And the waiter, of course, dips his fingers into the gravy — his nasty, greasy fingers which he is for ever running through his brilliantined hair. Whenever one pays more than, say, ten francs for a dish of meat in Paris, one may be certain that it has been fingered in this manner. In very cheap restaurants it is different; there, the same trouble is not taken over the food, and it is just forked out of the pan and flung on to a plate, without handling. Roughly speaking, the more one pays for food, the more sweat and spittle one is obliged to eat with it.

Dirtiness is inherent in hotels and restaurants, because sound food is sacrificed to punctuality and smartness. The hotel employee is too busy getting food ready to remember that it is meant to be eaten. A meal is simply ‘une commande’ to him, just as a man dying of cancer is simply ‘a case’ to the doctor. A customer orders, for example, a piece of toast. Somebody, pressed with work in a cellar deep underground, has to prepare it. How can he stop and say to himself, ‘This toast is to be eaten — I must make it eatable’? All he knows is that it must look right and must be ready in three minutes. Some large drops of sweat fall from his forehead on to the toast. Why should he worry? Presently the toast falls among the filthy sawdust on the floor. Why trouble to make a new piece? It is much quicker to wipe the sawdust off. On the way upstairs the toast falls again, butter side down. Another wipe is all it needs. And so with everything. The only food at the Hôtel X which was ever prepared cleanly was the staff's, and the patron's. The maxim, repeated by everyone, was: ‘Look out for the patron, and as for the clients, s'en f— pas mal!’ Everywhere in the service quarters dirt festered — a secret vein of dirt, running through the great garish hotel like the intestines through a man's body.

Apart from the dirt, the patron swindled the customers wholeheartedly. For the most part the materials of the food were very bad, though the cooks knew how to serve it up in style. The meat was at best ordinary, and as to the vegetables, no good housekeeper would have looked at them in the market. The cream, by a standing order, was diluted with milk. The tea and coffee were of inferior sorts, and the jam was synthetic stuff out of vast, unlabeled tins. All the cheaper wines, according to Boris, were corked vin ordinaire. There was a rule that employees must pay for anything they spoiled, and in consequence damaged things were seldom thrown away. Once the waiter on the third floor dropped a roast chicken down the shaft of our service lift, where it fell into a litter of broken bread, torn paper and so forth at the bottom. We simply wiped it with a cloth and sent it up again. Upstairs there were dirty tales of once-used sheets not being washed, but simply damped, ironed and put back on the beds. The patron was as mean to us as to the customers. Throughout the vast hotel there was not, for instance, such a thing as a brush and pan; one had to manage with a broom and a piece of cardboard. And the staff lavatory was worthy of Central Asia, and there was no place to wash one's hands, except the sinks used for washing crockery.

In spite of all this the Hôtel X was one of the dozen most expensive hotels in Paris, and the customers paid startling prices. The ordinary charge for a night's lodging, not including breakfast, was two hundred francs. All wine and tobacco were sold at exactly double shop prices, though of course the patron bought at the wholesale price. If a customer had a title, or was reputed to be a millionaire, all his charges went up automatically. One morning on the fourth floor an American who was on diet wanted only salt and hot water for his breakfast. Valenti was furious. ‘Jesus Christ!’ he said, ‘what about my ten per cent? Ten per cent of salt and water!’ And he charged twenty-five francs for the breakfast. The customer paid without a murmur.

According to Boris, the same kind of thing went on in all Paris hotels, or at least in all the big, expensive ones. But I imagine that the customers at the Hôtel X were especially easy to swindle, for they were mostly Americans, with a sprinkling of English — no French — and seemed to know nothing whatever about good food. They would stuff themselves with disgusting American ‘cereals’, and eat marmalade at tea, and drink vermouth after dinner, and order a poulet à la reine at a hundred francs and then souse it in Worcester sauce. One customer, from Pittsburgh, dined every night in his bedroom on grape-nuts, scrambled eggs and cocoa. Perhaps it hardly matters whether such of people are swindled or not.”

[operativesurprise]

Dreams I’ve had recently enough to find with a quick scroll on my fb wall

was dreaming about a cave last night. With lots of shallow pools of water along the floor. I feel like if I'd seen the layout from above it would have looked like paisleys. There was a creature there tending the pools. Sweeping detritus away, skimming the surfaces of the water. It took moss that was growing too thick in some places and put it into bare areas, and it was very gentle with the little frogs and salamanders living on the walls.

There was the sound of bats and the dripping and echo of water, and a low hum in the background, but the creature itself made no sound. You heard the bristles of it's broom, and the soft shift of stones it touched, but no footsteps, no breathing, no nothing but a soft chiming noise as it looked in each pool.

The waters all glowed, some white, some pale blue, others pulsed through light pink to deep magenta. The whole dream had this aura of calmness, of being content. It was like being in a giant zen garden but dial the peace up even more. I'm not really sure where -I- was in the dream. My POV was kinda hovering over the figure as it tended to the pools, but I'm fairly certain I wasn't the figure itself. I was like, 6 inches up and to the left.

_____

I've been trying to sketch an image I had in a dream last night and it's just not setting up right. It was like. Honestly it was like the first few seconds of the Adventure Time intro animation - that super fast 'drone camera' POV that swoops down through trees and stuff and focuses in on a character with their back to the camera and then they turn and look?

I was swooping through this orchard of blooming apple trees - and I took note bc for some reason I was surprised they weren't pear and peach trees like 'they were supposed to be'.

But as the camera/I got closer to this feminine figure standing under the branches and the flowers and these really almost black-green leaves in this rich green velvet textured dress (it's totally the dress that's on the original golden book cover of Ella Enchanted), with big free fall bouncy waves of BLOND hair, they turn and instead of it being that kinda anime "turn and wink/smile" and the camera goes to the next, she turned around and it was a dead eyed marionette.

My camera POV just slammed to a halt with the freeze frame of this... entity (which I 'knew' in my dream was The Druid) (Even though this wasn't really an MJ dream) looking up and over their shoulder at me, like they'd become aware of the camera and were looking straight at ME. The branches with the flowers and the leaves above it framed it really close and I couldn't see much other than the scribbly ovals of it's eyes. Then the colors all got desaturated except for the apple blossoms.

And then that dream was over.

___

Vivid dreams last night about being on house hunters. With Lithrick as the realtor.

Also had a very ominous dream about standing in a misty open field, feeling the sawgrass scrape my bare arms and shins, staring up into the grey sky while sharp winged birds with broken bodies 'flew' through the air. It looked like how a washcloth you are swirling in a tub of water looked. There was no sound for that one but I could feel the rain on my face as I looked up.

Then I was dreaming about being on the beach in Belize with the chitons and baby hermit crabs and the breeze and I was watching the sunrise.

___

I've been having zombie nightmares since Sunday. Sunday and Monday were taking place in the shopping mall (which is a relatively new venue for my dreams), Sunday being the Beginning of the outbreak (and star trek themed) and Monday mostly about life starting up in the 'colony' of this gigantic shopping mall.

But last night I dreamed about the collapse of the colony and then survival in the forest.

There was a man in a wheelchair who had arrived at the shopping mall with his mother - both of whom were injured but not infected. We let them in and the mother succumbed to her injuries shortly after.

This left the man in the wheelchair distraught and he would wheel around the open plaza in the center of the mall mumbling. It was not concerning - until other weird things began to happen.

Like how one of the dorm areas had mysteriously become locked, how some people were going missing (presumably they left to try and find their families), and how some older people were getting injuries in the night - explained away by "well, old people have delicate skin and maybe they bumped themselves".

But then the man in the wheelchair wheeled up to the mezzanine and shouted for attention. And then he collapsed, and clouds of mosquitos erupted from his wounds and began to attack people.

Flash forward to a weird mix of irl and larp characters living in the woods behind my house in an abandoned homestead - I had gone from dying by mosquito to being Sano and a group of us avoiding Velociraptors in the long grass as we made our way back to the relative safety of this bombed out building husk.

But then The Rattler Gang came - horribly tattooed and violent and they ransacked through the homestead and were almost into our barricaded room when not-quite-Malaki and sorta-Allison with an ancestor spirit wig on saved us.

The dream ended with us all in a cave explaining to a horrified Morgrym that "see what happens when you're late?"

It was so weird bc as the dreams progressed and became more MJ and less Real World but with Zombies the zombies became less of an issue (I mean, repel undead is a thing)

___

Last night I dreamed about Ridge Road being a swamp instead of a road. The fields on either side were the same, but the road itself was a Louisiana/Florida/Bayou/Swamp thing with hot, moist air, dragon flies, grasses, alligators, everything you could want (though the water was clear as day).

And I was walking along the broken up boards that served as this sorta river trail following the path of the road. Slats were missing in places and it was a distinctive walnut color, and it was rickety and I could smell the heat of it like being on a dock in the summer time.

And as I was walking along I knew I was heading toward Harris Hill farm but instead of the farm it was the Pirate Tavern bar that I dream about fairly often.

(as I'm thinking about it, it kinda has the air of a setting in a Curse of Monkey Island game crossed against Diablo II)

But before I can get into the tavern there was a crowd of tourists wading through the water nearby. Like, the most stereotypical hawaiian shirt white-sunscreen-on-nose and flyfishing capped tourists you could imagine. And they were lost looking for their fan boat but I didn't know where it was - but I also didn't want them to find the Pirate Tavern bc it's a secret and my co-owner Matt Sch would be mad if we had to relocate AGAIN bc non-pirates had found us.

And in my dream I am DISTINCTLY aware that LAST TIME there were also VAMPIRES there, but Skye Collins had bought out their half of that Pirate-Vampire Tavern to own it outright as JUST a Vampire Tavern so this time I went into business with Matt. Not Lithrick, Matt.

And I was -upset- in my dream until I 'remembered' that I hadn't skipped out on Skye and the Vampirate Tavern, I'd just opened another location with a different partner after reaching an amicable business deal. We still traded aligator blood grog for peat moss from the other location to serve a certain cocktail with at THIS one.

___

Had a dream last night that I was diving on a whale fall. But either I was minuscule or the whale was super gigantic bc the rib bones were these looming spires like I was watching a stroll under redwood trees through a low fisheye lense.

Thinking about it I can totally piece out the different dives that meshed to make this dream up.

The stalactites from the Blue Hole, The gelatinous muck on the bottom in the St. Lawrence The cold from the Brownstone Quarry

___

If we want to talk about a fever dream... last night I had a dream about being trapped on a volcanic island while the whole chain of volcanoes were erupting.

The evacuation was happening but I went back to the house for the animals and got stuck there. And other neighbors who couldn't get out in time were coming over with their pets and supplies.

I was watching the lightning and the ash fall outside when I saw three red colored golden retrievers but I could only get two of them to come inside and I spent the rest of the dream upset and trying to find the third one. I found other animals trying to hide from the ash and storm, but I woke up before finding that 3rd golden.

The lava flows were coming down the mountain too.

___

Dream time. So. A classical vampire and an actual bat demon are out on the town looking for something to do when they come across a nail parlor.

What a great idea, they think! We'll get manipedis and then do brunch over at IKEA.

But when they go into the nail parlor there is far too much religious imagery to be comfortable and the demon doesn't want to stay anymore so they go back outside all sad.

Vampire suggests they just kill and eat the occupants of the nail parlor and find something else to do with their day off.

Demon agrees to the plan but they have this 'thing' where when the two of them murder a bunch of people they leave a haiku written in the blood on the wall.

They begin to argue because they both have different accents and can't decide on the syllable count for a certain word.

___

So there's a string of tall, skinny houses in Litchfield after 'The Church' that usually feature in any nightmares I tend to have. Last night did not disappoint.

The lineup was this:

🏚🏠🏡🏠 An empty house, My house, the neighbor's house, and then for some reason my grandmother's house.

And we had gone next door to the neighbor's house for dinner, even though we knew it was dangerous to be outside of our house after dark. But as we gathered in their entryway the spotlights on the rest of the neighborhood started turning on and we knew we had stayed too late.

"They" were out there. You were safe in the daylight, you were safe at night as long as you didn't open your doors. BUT now it was night. And we had to get home.

So we slip out the door and we can hear the neighborhood using birdcalls to communicate the 'all clear'. As we are going down this overgrown embankment toward our house we see it.

One of them.

And then we hear someone sound the alarm, a series of owl hoots. It distracts the thing for a moment and we think we could slip away but it turns and starts trying to get into our house so we run to the empty one next door and JUST barely make it.

Dream me's mother and little sister make it into the screened in porch just ahead of me and I fall in and turn and only just get the door closed in time when It attacks.

It was a zombie. Or a ghoul. Or something. a woman with a bloody face and terrible teeth and honestly it looked like Reagan from the Exorcist and she launched herself against the screen door which I'm trying to keep closed.

I know she can't get in the door but then she makes this horrible noise and says,

"You won't be safe for long. We're getting stronger,"

And the door is almost coming off its hinges but I -know- as long as I keep the door closed at night we are safe and then she laughs and presses her face to the screen and says,

"I'll just get in tomorrow morning. Before you're awake. Because, really, what difference does the sun or stars make? I'll get in tomorrow,"

And then I woke up.

____

My dream last night was so complicated I can barely keep it straight.

I was some grizzled, older ex-con dude pulled out of my soft retirement as a school bus driver because a child genius was being used as the catalyst for the robot war apocalypse by his wealthy mother's greedy board of directors.

And somehow I had a time machine that I was gonna use to bring the kid back to the beginning of all the issues and he was gonna start sabotaging the dangerous inventions so he could just be a regular child genius instead of responsible for global-scale mass murder.

At one point I had thrown the kid's manifesto at him but he hadn't actually read it bc it was too big and there were no pictures but also bad language and he asked me what "twat" meant and the kid was horrified that they would use that kind of language. Like he was ambivalent about the murders but bad language was crossing a line.

And as part of my "wait. He's just a kid I can help him instead of kill him" epiphany for some reason I looked out the time machine window and saw my old motorcycle which was painted in blue tiedye pattern and that memory moved me enough to offer to help the kid.

So the kid grabbed his froggy backpack and offered to give me all of his science fair winnings (which was like. Hundreds of thousands of dollars and two telephoto camera lenses for some reason. And a green and purple feather boa) but I just took enough to buy a new motorcycle and told him to hide it from his past mother so they're not suspicious.

___

Okay subconscious, doing laundry with the elves of mirkwood is NOT becoming a reoccurring dream. Three times is enough. Stop now. ____

I was an undercover secret agent posing as the nanny to a royal family's children. The children had a pool party for the oldest's birthday, and I was in charge of the yacht rides in the aquarium tank. Halfway through the dream, Pirates attacked with large assault rifles, trolls, and fire elementals. I managed to save some of the children, but then Katina was healing the ones that had been injured when a Shadow quick deathbed them and I had to resort to Improv comedy to keep the remaining kids from screaming as their friends turned to ghosts around us. None of the adults would listen to me that the attack had been planned, they were convinced that it was random, and despite the fact that I had a way to turn back time and catch the one woman who had started the fight they refused to do anything but complain that dinner had been delayed.

[saccharii]

Todofam Month, Day 23: Burn

Burn

AO3 link

Todofam Month master post

@todofammonth

Warning: major character death

Dabi curls deeper into the tattered blanket. He’s cold. Colder than he’s ever been. His body is made for the cold—as a child, he played outside in winter without a jacket. He could stand barefoot in the snow and it wouldn’t bother him. He’s done it before. But now he’s freezing under a worn, lumpy duvet in his apartment in the middle of May.

He’s beyond shivering. His body jerks, almost uncontrollably, and his teeth clack together so hard it’s painful. 

The room spins whenever he moves, and his eyes won’t focus. There is no more room for thoughts in his head, but he’s still coherent enough to know not to use his quirk to warm up. The last thing he needs is to burn himself even worse because he set his bed on fire like an idiot.

He itches all over. Bugs crawl beneath his skin, behind his eyes. Buzzing fills his head, and shards of glass scratch the inside of his throat. He just wants it to stop.

Mother smiles warmly, happy in a way he’s never seen her, as she hands him his birthday present. The wrapping paper crinkles under his fingers. It’s everything he’s ever wanted. (When was the last time anyone gave him a gift?) 

He throws his arms around Mother’s neck, and she hugs him back, her cheek pleasantly cool against his.

She pulls away and cups his face with ice cold hands. It’s not just her hands; she is ice and frost radiates off her. Light refracts as it passes through her body.

Flames wreath him, lashing out, and Mother screams and melts. She screams and screams until she can’t scream any longer because she’s no more than a puddle on the ground.

Someone lays a cool hand on his forehead, and he leans into it. It’s too large and too calloused to be Fuyumi’s smooth, dainty palm. Who...? Dabi struggles to open his eyes, but he can do no more than flutter them.

“Jesus christ, you’re burning up.”

“Natsuo?” he croaks.

His voice scrapes its way out of his throat, harsh and rasping. It cuts him; it cuts his mouth, his tongue, his lips.

“Who’s-? No. It’s me. Hawks.”

A hawk? Why is there a hawk in his room? Mom will be mad there’s a bird in his room. He’ll have to chase it out with a broom. Maybe not. Birds of prey are vicious, intelligent creatures. They should call animal control instead. 

Touya tries to move away from the hand, but the sheets are lined with shards of scrap metal and they scrape away his skin.

“Go away, Natsuo. I’m tired.”

“I’m still not Natsuo, whoever that is.”

He pries his eyes open—it’s physically painful. Kohl-lined gold eyes under a creased brow meet his. Sunlight filters through downy, blond hair. Oh. That’s right. Hawks. Dabi was supposed to meet up with him... today? Yesterday? 

He tries to say something, but all that comes out is a groaning, gurgling noise.

Those golden eyes widen in alarm, and Dabi sinks down, down through his mattress and into the floor where only darkness remains.

Mother reels away with a shriek, knocking over a lamp in her haste. It shatters on the ground, but she doesn’t notice.

Touya steps closer, arm outstretched. She stumbles back until she hits the wall.

“Go away,” she says in a wobbly, shrill voice. “Go away!”

“Mom? Please... it’s me.”

Mother grabs a picture off the wall and throws it at him, but it misses. “I said go away!”

“Mom...”

She sinks to the floor and curls up into a ball, clutching at her snow-white hair. “Go away, go away. I hate you, I hate you, I hate you, I hate you, go away, go away.”

Touya leaves.

Static roars in his ears. The world dips and jerks around him. The air steals away what little warmth he had, but he doesn’t shiver and he isn’t sick from the violent movement. There is nothing left inside him; he’s hollow.

The stars shine, vivid in the still, deep night sky. How could he have never seen them before? The sky’s so close; he could touch it. He wants to drag his fingers through the starry river and see the ripples, but his arms are tucked limply against his chest.

Dabi’s head lolls against a firm, warm surface, and a racing, thumping noise is the only sound the wind doesn’t whisk away.

Touya snatches a piece of fried tofu out of Fuyumi’s bowl, and she squawks out a ‘hey!’ He stuffs it in his mouth before she can steal it back. Hawks laughs at her outraged look.

A black-haired man—his father, his mind supplies, not Endeavor—scolds him, but humor laces his voice. Fuyumi glowers at Touya until Mother gives her some tofu from her own bowl. Fuyumi protests, but Mother insists.

Shouto complains that he didn’t get any extra tofu, and Natsuo offers to trade his for Shouto’s sliced beef.

Touya tries to snag a piece of Hawks’ meat, but the other man knocks his chopsticks away. With a quick movement, he grabs a slice from Touya’s bowl instead. Touya bares his teeth at him in mock anger, the movement pulling at his scars and staples. Hawks smirks back cheekily.

“How are you so heavy? You barely eat. Ugh, work with me here, you limp noodle.”

Touya’s feet drag across the ground. “Mom put dinner in the corner under the cobwebs,” he says. “Make sure Shouto gets some.”

“Fuck, you’re really out of it. Could you at least try to stand?”

Touya puts his feet flat on the floor and tries to push himself up. His legs wobble and he sinks. Strong arms pull him back up.

“I’m really tired. Could you kill Dad for me while I take a nap?”

He falls backward onto a soft surface and bounces.

“Kill your own damn dad.”

Rough hands manhandle him and fabric catches on Dabi’s staples as his shirt comes off. A distant voice curses, and fingers press down on the seam of his scars and Dabi screams. He thought he’d grown used to pain by now, but god, no, this is worse than when-

He struggles to get away. A man looms over him. A flash of red- red, fire, pain, his skin sticking to the smooth wood of the training room floor. He lashes out with a hoarse cry and blue fire erupts. The man jerks back. Dabi tries to sit up, tries to lurch away, but the world sags and melts and bright pink and purple lights flash before his eyes.

Someone is begging and pleading, but Dabi can’t make out their words. Water sloshes around him and the smell of antiseptic burns his nose. Small things drifting in the water bump into him, and he floats.

“Don’t die, you bastard. You’re supposed to be unkillable, like a cockroach. After all the shit you’ve been through, you really gonna let some infection do you in?”

The room sharpens. Hawks is gripping Dabi’s hand, his eyes wild, and his eyeliner is smeared. His sleeves are wet with water from the ice bath.

Dabi isn’t cold anymore, and he doesn’t hurt. Actually, he doesn’t feel any pain at all. He hadn’t realized how much everything hurt for all these years until now. Suspended in the water, Touya is more comfortable than he’s ever been in his life. 

He feels like he could sleep forever.

[romioneflufffest]

Sitting Here

Title: Sitting Here

Creator: @insufferableknowit-all 

Prompt: The Burrow, middle of the night

Description: It’s the night before the seven-Potter plan to retrieve Harry from the Dursley’s, and Ron Weasley can’t sleep. How could he, when everything is about the change? Lucky for him, the one person in the world who is able to calm him down, also can’t sleep.  

Rating: G-PG

Warnings: N/A

It was the middle of the night and Ron Weasley could not sleep. 

How was he expected to? It was the night before everything was going to change. In less than twenty-four hours, he'd be flying on a broom disguised as his best friend. Seven of them would be disguised as it best friend. And despite reassurance from all the members of the Order, Ron thought the plan was absolutely barmy. 

Of course, he wouldn't dare say that aloud, and especially not in front of Hermione. Every second word from her mouth over the past few weeks had been laced with worry and doubt. "What if something happens to us?" "Oh, you know that Harry is going to absolutely hate this plan." Ron tried his best to reassure her, but that was proving rather difficult, because 1) It was Hermione Granger, the queen of worrying, and 2) He was starting to doubt the plan himself. 

Ron knew that he needed sleep. His body was practically begging for it - he had spent the entire day bidding his mother's housework, and then was persuaded into a Quidditch match with his brothers and Ginny in attempt to distract themselves from worry. He had even enjoyed some of the chores during the day – along with Ginny, he taught Hermione how to de-gnome a garden, which resulted in the Weasley siblings laughing hysterically, mostly at Hermione's offense. 

Hermione. His chest warmed as he thought of her, the way she tried to keep her expression stern while he and Ginny were laughing, the way she tripped and stumbled into his arms after one of the gnomes nearly bit her finger off. Ron had been savoring the past few weeks. He knew that once Harry arrived, everything would be different. Not that he didn't want Harry to arrive - he knew that the wizarding world was breaking at the seams, and they had a job to do - but the hours he'd gotten to spend with Hermione, alone, had felt sacred. And soon, they'd be gone.

"Ron?" He almost thought he was imagining the sound of his name, but then Hermione's voice squeaked again. “Ron?” Slowly, she nudged his bedroom door open. "I can't stop worrying about tomorrow," she whispered, her voice barely loud enough for Ron to hear. 

He was worried too. But he knew if he admitted that to her, it would only make her worry increase exponentially, so instead he sat up and patted the spot next to him on his bed. "C'mere."

Her eyes were damp, just barely, and her hair stuck up in more directions than usual, likely due to sleepless tossing and turning. She sat cross-legged on his bed, her skin just inches away from his, and then pulled her knees to her chest. 

"Were you asleep?" she asked. 

"Nah."

"Are you worried too?"

Ron didn't want to lie to her, so he simply shrugged, and tried his best to smile at her without giving himself away. "'M alright."

Hermione sighed. "I'm sorry, I didn't want to bother anyone, it's just, you're the only one who...who can calm me down." Even in the dark, Ron could see her cheeks turn pink. He scooted towards her and wrapped his arm around her shoulders, trying to ignore the burning feeling in his ears. 

“It’s gonna be okay,” he told her, and he meant it. He meant it with every ounce of his being, because if there was one thing he could say for sure, it was that he would make sure things were okay. For her. 

Hermione shook her head and sniffed. “I don’t mean just tomorrow. I mean…everything. Even if tomorrow goes to plan, what happens next? With…with the horcruxes, and V-Voldemort – oh, don’t wince every time I say his name, Ronald– and even if Harry defeats him, what…what about my parents? What if I made a mistake?” 

Hermione began crying in earnest, though she tried her best to wipes the tears with the hem of her shirt. “Here,” Ron said, grabbing an unfolded shirt off the ground and handing it to her, “Use this. It’s clean.”

She stared at him for a moment, something in her eyes that Ron had never noticed before – was it affection? He couldn’t tell – and then she took the shirt from his hands and used it to dry her eyes. “You should really invest in a handkerchief. Or at least some tissue.”

“Only you would find a way to chastise me while I’m comforting you,” Ron smirked. Hermione giggled in response, and Ron added, “You know, I’m sure I’ve got a handkerchief somewhere. Just gotta dig it out of my mess. I’ll find it, just for you.” He squeezed her shoulders and winked at her (which surprised even him), and she shook her head and smiled, then leaned against his shoulder. He was glad she couldn’t see how red his cheeks had turned. 

“I wish we could just stay here,” she whispered. He wasn’t sure wheether she meant here as in the Burrow, or here as in with him, in his room in the middle of the night, but either way he replied, “Me too.”

“It’s all going to change after tomorrow, isn’t it?” she whispered. 

“Probably,” he said. He turned towards her and took her hands in his. “But I’ll tell you what. I promise you, if I make it out of this madness, we can stay here all we want. We won’t have to be anywhere, or do anything, and you can come in here and sit with me like this. Er, I mean, you know. If you want to.” Silently, he cursed his burning cheeks. 

She squeezed his hands and smiled, then suddenly, her smile turned to a frown. “What do you mean if youmake it out?”

He grimaced. “Well, you know…you’re better at magic and stuff than me, and if anything happens, I’ll…you’re more…more important, right?”

Her frown turned into a glare. “Don’t you dare say you’ll sacrifice yourself for me in this war, Ronald Weasley.”

“Erm – ”

“How would you feel if I said I’d sacrifice myself for you?”

“That’s not the same!”

“It’s exactly the same! And you know it!”

They glared at one another for a few very long seconds, and then Hermione flung her arms around Ron’s neck and buried her face in his shoulder. “Nothing will happen to either of us,” she whispered, although her voice shook with worry and Ron knew better, “We’ll get Harry tomorrow – even though I think the plan is absolutely ridiculous, it’s really not safe, and – ”

“Your point?”

“Right. And…and we’ll make it out of this war, with Harry too, and then we’ll come right back here and everything will be okay.”

Ron wanted to believe it. He needed to believe it. “The first step in all that is probably to get some sleep,” he whispered. 

She laughed and released him from her hug. “I’ll get you some tea,” he said quickly, because he was afraid of what would happen if he sat there, looking into her eyes, any longer. He was afraid that he might kiss her, and if he kissed her, then he could throw out all hope of being any use during the war. He was already hopelessly distracted. 

By the time he came back to his room with a piping hot cup of tea, Hermione had already fallen asleep, curled up on his bed. He pulled a blanket over her and climbed into the camp bed that had been waiting for Harry. He fell asleep to the sound of Hermione’s quiet breathing. It was the only thing that could calm him down. 

 Several months later:

It was the middle of the night when the Weasley family finally returned home. The house was empty and quiet, yet loud with grief. Around every corner was a memory of someone they lost in the battle. Slowly, members of the household dispersed – George walked straight to his room, like a zombie. Percy paced in the kitchen, trying to put together something to eat. Arthur took Molly by the arm and led her upstairs. Their sobs echoed through the thin walls. After hours of talking, eating, and crying, Ginny bid Harry, Ron, and Hermione goodnight. The three friends hadn’t left one another’s side since the battle. They shared a bond that nobody else could understand. 

Harry fell asleep instantly – he had already slept in the Gryffindor Common Room the day before, but that had been no cure to the exhaustion that had accumulated from months on the run. Ron and Hermione sat, late in the middle of the night, listening to Harry’s snores from the camp bed. “Don’t know how we survived eight months in a tent with this,” Ron whispered. 

“I don’t know how you shared a room with him for six years,” Hermione whispered back, and they tried their best to stifle their giggles. 

Hermione snuggled into Ron’s chest and closed her eyes. He buried his face in her hair and let her curls tickle his nose. “I told you we’d come back here,” he whispered into her ear. 

“Hmm?”

“That night, before we went and got Harry. I told you, after it all, we’d come back here and just sit for as long as you want.”

“Are you trying to turn this into an I-told-you-somoment?”

Ron smirked. “I can’t let you have all of them.”

“Well…can we do more than just sitting? Here?”

Ron didn’t even care how red his face had turned. He kissed her on the lips, and then added, “Maybe when Harry isn’t snoring below us.”

She laughed and kissed him again. “We’re okay,” she whispered, the statement still unfamiliar after the horrors of the last months. 

“We are,” he said, “And we will be.” And he meant it.