#she's like.. using a sending spell so reserve a table in a booked out restaurant and when she appears ppl are to ashamed to say

[ocular-intercourse]

this is my wbn twtwatwo oc, the wizard steal

she's an illusion wizard and totally not at all on purpose thriving on the benefits of people mishearing her name all the time and scrambling to please the sword of the citadel

[dat-paw]

07 NONAGENARIAN

“Freshen up your coffee, hon?”

The waitress’ words shook Jude out of the daydream he hadn’t realized he’d fallen into. That had a tendency to happen, this time of the year. You’d think he’d be used to it, after all this time, and yet it always caught him by surprise just the same.

“No, thank you.” Jude answered, looking up at the waitress with kind, patient eyes. The waitress had been keeping her eye on his table all morning with the sort of businesslike concern a food service employee might reserve for an out-of-towner with no idea what to order. She’d seen this miqo’te youth come in and sit at a table all by his lonesome, ordering nothing but cup after cup of plain black coffee, and had resolved to save him from his indecision.

She did not recognize who he was, and so she had no way of knowing this, but unfamiliarity with the restaurant’s fare was not the issue giving the miqo’te pause. Jude had in fact been coming to this eatery for longer than the waitress had been alive. He had even personally known the proprietor… But that was years ago, before the proprietor died and the new owner changed the name of the establishment. 

The restaurant hadn’t been called the Drowning Wench for almost twenty years now.

“Can I bring you something else, then? You’ve barely touched your eggs and bacon... Something wrong with it?” The waitress asked, nodding toward Jude’s heavily laden plate.

“No, no, nothing’s wrong with it… Nothing at all.” Jude insisted with another warm smile and a wave of the hand. “I’m, ah… Just a slow eater.” “At least let me warm it up for you, it must be cold by now.” “I like cold eggs, if you can believe it.” Jude replied. The waitress smiled as though she thought the miqo’te was pulling her leg. Jude picked up on this and raised his coffee cup in her direction. “Don’t knock it until you’ve tried it. Believe me, it’s better than it sounds.” The waitress laughed. “Well, alright then… I’ll leave you to your cold eggs. Just let me know if I can bring you something hot, okay?” To this, Jude offered a wordless nod that sent the waitress on her way. The excuse he’d given her was a half-truth. He really did like cold eggs, but being a slow eater wasn’t the reason his food had gone untouched. Like the daydream he’d lost himself in earlier, his loss of appetite was just another symptom of the wistfulness that always took him this time of year.

It was his ninety-seventh nameday. That alone didn’t bother him overmuch. It wasn’t even something he would bother to keep track of, if not for the fact that this date on the calendar happened to be shared by his wedding anniversary. This would have been the eighty-ninth.

Slipping back into dreams, Jude thumbed the simple silver band he’d worn for the past eighty-nine years. Enchanted as it was, the inscription it bore was still as legible today as it had been the day he’d first gotten it. The engraving was written in Old Auri, a language that was no longer especially common, though Jude remained fluent. Even if that were not the case, he’d know the inscription by rote, like a memory held deep in his heart:

My Sun, My Azim, My Lion. I will be with you always. From this day, until the end of time.

He could still picture her face in his mind’s eye, clear as a bell. If he closed his eyes, he could imagine Sayoko was here with him. She’d sit next to him, resting her head on his shoulder the way she sometimes did. She’d order fresh juice- not coffee, not this time of morning. And she wouldn’t order a meal of her own, instead satisfying her hunger with a few bites off Jude’s plate. She never ate very much, and even if that were not so, Jude always ordered enough for the both of them anyway. He was always happy to share his plate with her, as she well knew.

He could see it so clearly that it almost felt real… Real enough that he wanted to stay there with her, in that pleasant daydream. But the arrival of his guest, who was presently easing themselves into the chair across from Jude, broke the spell and brought Jude back to reality.

[“I’m glad you came, Martin.”] Jude would say to his guest, speaking in sign language. 

Martin was a miqo’te like Jude, though these days, it was only vaguely clear that this was so. A walking cloud of pink hair, flowers and underbrush, his sibling seemed to drift deeper and deeper into the Twelveswood with each passing year, becoming more wild with every yalm they retreated into the forest. Antlers had begun to sprout where once there had been only miqo’te ears, and atop their head, they wore a crown of razor branches that could only have come from the Thornmarch- a sign of feral royalty, or perhaps something more ominous.

[“I would not miss our nameday.”] They replied, their long, thin fingers moving like brown spiders.

[“I started without you, knew you wouldn’t mind. Would you like to order something? I could call the waitress over.”] Jude asked. Martin shook their head, sending a cascade of leaves fluttering to the ground.

[“Thank you, no. In the free cities, even the water tastes foul. It pains me to be here… Nothing grows in this dreary place.”] They replied with a world-weary sigh. Mismatched green eyes stared out from a mass of pink tangles. [“Are you keeping well, Brother?”]

[“Well enough. I look after the house, check in on the new tenants from time to time… Run my bakery on the weekends… I keep busy.”] Jude replied with a sort of half-shrug. Martin lowered their head and fixed Jude with the kind of searching look that had always unsettled him. Even after ninety-seven years, he had the impression his twin could see right through him. In a way, that was the precise truth.

[“It is good to keep busy… Good to have purpose in life.”] Martin said knowingly. Jude looked down at his coffee, unable to meet his sibling’s eyes. It was quite similar to something his wife used to say, before she passed. At the time, Jude had been fond of suggesting that the two of them retire and become people of leisure, doing nothing but lazing about their cottage reading books and eating sweets.

“You would never be satisfied with that sort of life, my lion,” Sayoko replied, “And for that matter, neither would I.”

“And why not?” Jude asked, grinning. “We’ve worked hard, haven’t we? All those years adventuring to save up and buy a bakery, and now the bakery’s a success! It’s doing well enough that it practically runs itself!”

“Practically.” Sayoko repeated, flicking Jude’s nose lightly. “But you like the work we put into that place every week. Ordering the supplies, kneading the dough, baking the bread-”

“Taste tests…” Jude interrupted, leaning over Sayoko’s shoulder to dip a finger into the mixing bowl she was holding. Before she could stop him, he’d scooped up a bit of chocolate frosting on his finger. The golden-eyed Xaela laughed and grabbed his wrist, bringing his finger to her lips to steal his ill-gotten treat. “Yes, those too.” She continued. “You like having things to do, Jude. That’s what I mean. We both do. We weren’t made for lives of leisure… We’d just get bored.” To this, Jude’s only immediate reply was wrapping his arms around her waist, sighing happily. “Nothing about you bores me.” He whispered.

[“Brother.”]

Jude shook his head, the remnants of the dream fading like the last rays of sunlight in late afternoon.

[“You went away again.”] Martin signed.

[“Sorry. It’s this time of year, I suppose I get a little bit nostalgic.”] Jude explained with a sigh. [“I miss her every day, Martin.”]

Martin reached out to place a hand on Jude’s in solidarity before signing their response.

[“I know you do, Brother.”] [“Couldn’t you… Just do your aether thing to… I don’t know…”] Jude grasped for words he didn’t have. Martin lowered their head again, this time a great air of sadness coming over them.

[“Brother… She has rejoined the Lifestream. No power in this world can bring her back from that. Nor should it.”] Martin spoke with the sort of tired urgency that indicated they had had this conversation before, and Martin was beginning to grow weary of having it. [“ Even if such a thing were within my power... It would not be her. Not really.”]

[“I know.”] Jude replied, his shoulders sagging in defeat. [“I just… I was sort of wondering if there was anything you could do to my aether to help.”]

[“I could take your memories of her… Or make you dream of her every night. But I do not think you would thank me for either of those things.”] Martin answered with a sorrowful shrug.

[“No, I suppose not.”]

There was a pause while Jude chewed a bite of eggs. It tasted like ash in his mouth.

[“You don’t have to stay with the mortals, you know. You could come with me. Back to the Black Shroud. The forest would welcome you.”] Martin said slowly. There was a certain reluctance to their words that suggested they knew what Jude’s answer was going to be. Sure enough, Jude shook his head.

[“I belong with the mortals, my dear sibling. My place is here among them. I know that they are weak, and flawed, and… And they do not live forever.”] He thumbed his ring again. [“But that is why I love them so. Their lives are so brief and fragile… They hold it precious.”] [“Mortals hold very little precious, Brother, save their hunger for violence. You and I are proof of that.”] Martin sighed, smiling sadly. [“But I admire your faith in them, even if I do not agree.”]

Jude smiled ruefully and raised his coffee cup to his sibling. “Happy nameday, Martin.” Martin returned the smile and offered a small nod.

[“Happy nameday, Jude.”]

It was a quiet, dignified sort of moment between the two Allagan nonagenarians… And it only lasted until the sound of approaching clapping reached their ears from the restaurant’s kitchen. The waitstaff was approaching, carrying a large cake and wearing party hats.

It was the nightmare shared by anyone who had ever gone to a restaurant on or around their nameday- the terror of the restaurant staff finding out, and taking the opportunity to sing a nameday song.

Jude’s mismatched eyes shot toward the approaching waitstaff, then back to Martin.

“YOU DID THIS.” He hissed, his voice dark with anger. Martin smiled coyly. They shrugged, pleading innocence. The worst lie of the morning.

And then the singing began.

[mhdiaries]

Diary of Nefera de Nile

Of course you want to read my diary...peasant.

30 July

So father arranged an appointment for me to meet with another agency today but regretfully I was unable to attend. I must have eaten something that did not agree with me last night for I felt faint this morning and I thought I detected the beginning of the shadow of a blemish. I immediately had the servants prepare an emergency spa treatment and I feared to move lest my complexion be upset by the change in humidity that would occur if I left the penthouse. The whole incident was very traumatic and was made more so by learning that some monster with far less beauty and talent was chosen by the agency for its new campaign. Father called and was royally cross with me even after I explained the dreadful details of my situation. He has threatened to come here himself and personally escort me to the next appointment if I do not, in his words, “Stop draining the royal coffers with nothing to show for it in return.” I may never recover from such a blow to my delicate psyche. The only remedy for this situation, of course, is to throw a party.

12 August

All is in readiness for tomorrow night’s festivities. Every agent and top model has received their invitation and RSVP’d. The city’s beast interior designer is putting the finishing touches on the decorations, the caterer an DJ are coming in the morning to set up and I have bought out the next floor down to prevent any potential problems with the neighbors. I, myself shall be the most opulent and regal host since...since ever. I am incomparable to any who have come before and so I will remain. I totally rock and rule. 

13 August

It should have been the night. I made a return on my father’s investment. Everything was supposed to be about me. ME! It all started out like it should have. The decorations, the food and music wove their spell over every thing and I was at the center of it all. I was shining like the sun and every monster there wanted to be in my orbit. Except, except for a motley group of monster models who were sitting on my couch huddled around some kind of book. I do not know why I invited them to the party and I hadn’t remembered them coming in but there they were now. I had met them when I first moved to the city. I suppose I noticed them at that time because they acted just like the group of losers my sister creeps around with at Monster High. They has all come to Milan on a wing and a scare and despite my offer for them to come live with me in the penthouse they insisted on sharing a place together that they could all afford. So next I decided to offer them the benefit of my wisdom and leadership. Only they didn’t want it. No, they wanted me to just come and “hang out” with them. Asp if. Now they were sitting on my couch looking through...MY FEARBOOK...and they were laughing...at me. It must have been at me. Who else could it have been? Then the whole room began to spin and it felt like everyone was pointing and laughing at me...I guess I must have feinted because when I woke up it was totally quiet and I could hear the sound of...of cleaning. I stumbled out of my bedroom and there were those same models helping the servants clean up after the party. Every other monster was gone. It was all ruined - all of it - because of them. I wanted to scream but that would have been so...common. Instead I quietly asked them to leave and told them that the servants would finish the job. They didn’t argue, they just left but before the door closed the last one out, a werewolf with too blond hair and split ends stopped and said, “I was captain of my Fear Squad too - we all thought it was funny that we had that in common.” Common? I have never been common.  

25 August

I’m still in Milan but everything is packed and I am ready to leave. I should have left yesterday but the servants that father sent to pack my penthouse were lazier than the ones he sent to unpack me when I moved into the place. It’s only 10 rooms for Ra’s sake and I was only here for a year. They actually tried to use the excuse that the elevator was out and carrying everything down 15 flights of stairs was slowing the process. One of them even had the audacity to lift his eyes from the floor while speaking to me. Such insolence! I would have punished him but father has forbidden me from disciplining the servants. One day though I shall be queen and I do not forget.

26 August

Before I left tonight I had my driver bring me around the horrid little mausoleum where that motley pack of models crammed themselves together like zombies until they could be “discovered”. I had something special I wanted to leave for them as a parting gift and though normally I would have considered this servant’s work I wanted to make sure, in this case, it was properly done. As I walked up the stairs I could hear them gossiping, in a most petty way, about some failed model they all knew. I thought their comments were quite revealing, especially since the likelihood that any of them would ever haunt the runway was laughable. I rapped on the door and waited...I heard some ghoul inside laugh and say, “Yes, but what she lacked in generosity she made up for in meanness.” “And don’t forget insecurity,” added another in zombie. They were still laughing when some Spanish gargoyle whose name I had forgotten but whose wretched complexion was completely familiar finally opened the door. The mausoleum went as silent as a tomb as they all sat gaping with open mouth stares. It never gets old seeing the effect I have on less than common monsters. Finally the gargoyle regained her senses long enough to acknowledge me. “Hello Nefera, we thought you left yesterday.” “Royalty is not bound by the restraints of schedule,” I replied. “I am leaving tonight but before I go I wanted to hand deliver these invitations. They are to the restaurant you all have said would be the first place you would like to dine after you got your first big break. It is most exclusive you know, and there is a table with your names on it reserved for you this very night. I have left a car at your service downstairs and the first course shall be placed on the table in two hours. This should give you all ample time to make yourselves presentable.” They attempted to thank me but their gratitude is as below my acknowledgement as my beauty is above their plainess. “All is arranged,” I said as I walked to my waiting car. Later on as father’s plane lifted off and the lights of Milan disappeared beneath the clouds, I thought about the dessert and laughter they must be enjoying and I wondered how in the world that pathetic bunch of losers would ever be able to afford the bill that was headed to their table.

31 August

After several stops and some shopping along the way we were finally flying home. There was no moon and the sky was clear. Father’s pilot announced that there was going to be a meteor shower tonight. Azula climbed out of her hiding place to perch on my hand and look out the window just in time to see the stars begin to fall. I was rather bored by the whole spectacle until I noticed a small group that seemed to be falling together at the same speed. That is until a much larger and faster meteor came out of nowhere and smashed through the small group sending them spiraling off into the darkness. Ah yes, I am on my way home little sister and you and your happy little life cannot even see me coming. 

[itsallabigmess]

Of Charms and Threads

A/N: Listen up, beautiful people: Jackson Wang! This amazing human being is my ult bias. I fully blame him for my high expectation in men - and in relationships in general.

 If you read any of my other fics or visited my blog you are very aware that I’m a slut for fluff and corny stuff. So all the cuteness is elevated to a 100 in this scenario. You’ve been warned.

I had the idea for this fic after contemplating how much I need a vacation (from life). It’s a mixture of AUs and I had to do some light research, which was fun. So was writing this story.

Once again, it’s poorly revised -- I’m really bad at revising my stuff -- so I apologize for the many absurd mistakes you’ll find.

A massive thanks to everyone who have been reading my stuff, liking, reblogging... 

And oh, if you want to read any of my other scenarios, I have a masterlist link on my blog. A.

It took you a few seconds to realize that the buzz you were hearing was not the alarm on your phone, but the bell from your front door. You stumbled from the bed, your legs stuck in the sheets almost making you fall. There was a package for you, the delivery man said, giving you something to sign before handling you the small box he was holding. You tried to be polite, smiling and wishing him a good day but only after checking yourself in the mirror you understood the funny expression the guy had on his face.

You took your time on the shower, preparing yourself for the things you had to do that day. You finally saved enough money to give yourself a nice trip. And after months or researching you finally chose your destination: Greece. The place that seemed to have the perfect combination of everything your mind was craving good food, beautiful beaches, a lot of history, and maybe a bit of magic. Even though you were poorly trying to convince yourself the last part had absolutely nothing to do with it.

It was late in the afternoon when you came back home, dropping the shopping bags by the door, glad that you could find everything that was on your checklist. And after you prepared yourself some nice dinner, you finally gave attention to the package you received. You knew exactly what it was and who sent you before opening it. But still, there it was, a small card with your mother’s handwriting.

Hope this will ease your heart’s torments. But don’t forget, love always comes from one’s inside first.

“Yeah, mom. Thanks,” you mumble rolling your eyes, throwing the card over the coffee table.

Inside the box, there was a small book of spells, one you remembered from your childhood, your mother never let you get close to it when you were a kid, even though she used it constantly. The book was passed from generations in your family and now, apparently, it was your time to have it.

It smelled as old as it looked, his pages yellowed with time. Somehow, all the different writings and drawings were completely visible. It was filled with charms, incantations, and recipes, written by the women of your family.

You always ran away from it. Magic. It was much more visceral. More real than the books and movies you grew up with. There wasn’t wands and flying brooms. No magical creatures or making things disappear in thin air. Which was maybe why from a very young age you didn’t see the fun of it. And yes, you used it every now and again when you were filling sick or wanted to make your hair grow faster. But witchcraft, even though was in your blood, never really made part of your life.

A few weeks back, you visit your mother in your hometown, and after a few too many glasses of wine, you confessed how lonely you were feeling. You were in your mid-twenties and had never fallen in love before. You had relationships, but they didn’t last long, you never being able to fully correspond to the other person emotions. It never bothered you before. Your mind was always focusing on your studies and then work. But now, you just felt empty. Like a part of you was missing. And seeing all your friends being happy with their significant others, getting married, wasn’t really helping. At first, you decided to take this vacation to convince yourself that maybe that was all that you really needed: some time off from routine. But even though you were thrilled with the trip, something in you kept telling you that it was not enough.

So, your mother decided to send you the book. “Take it with you on your trip and use it wisely,” she texted you as soon she delivered it the post office. Now that it was in your hands, you chuckled alone, feeling incredibly goofy.

You skimmed the pages until you found the one that had the spell you were looking for. A spell to attract your soulmate.

With the word soulmate shining at you, you remembered this story you heard in one of your first classes when you started college. A Greek myth about how humans used to be almost perfect beings, man and woman together in the same body. Zeus, angry at those humans for wanting to be equal to the gods, cut them in half so they would walk on earth with the curse of always missing the part that was taken from them.

You bit your lip, putting the book over the coffee table. Feeling a strange tingle on your body, you held your legs over the couch. Was your destination choice for the trip, not a coincidence?

If you were going to do this, might as well do it with purpose. You spent your first day in Athens, visiting museums and archaeological sites, heading to the Aphrodite temple last. Maybe doing your chant in the house of the goddess of love would help to speed things up. The sun was almost completely down and only a few people remained at the place. You tried to find a spot outside the temple where no one could see you and started to remove from your backpack all the things you have stored the night before. In a small bowl, you put some water, a few drops of your favorite perfume, a string of your hair you just removed, and some petals of miniature rose. Simple enough, you thought, wrapping the bowl in a red scarf. You read the lines of the book again, just to make sure you memorized it.

You waited until it was five minutes before the visitations would end to come back inside the temple. Crouching in what appeared to be the exact middle of the temple, you placed your backpack in your front so it may look like you were searching for something inside of it, and unwrapped the bowl, putting the scarf around your neck. You looked around, but nobody seemed to notice you, the remaining few people too occupied looking for the best angle for their selfies. You dipped your fingers in the bowl, bringing them to your forehead, chest, wrists, and ankles, while you recited the words, asking the winds to show you the way to the part that was missing from you.

You repeated the action a few times before someone else’s voice distracted you. A look over your shoulder and you saw a guard coming in your direction. You closed your backpack and put it your back, and held the bowl close to your body, not having much else to do with it.

“I’m sorry, I don’t speak Greek,” you told the guard as he stopped in front of you.

He gave a good look at you and the bowl in your hands, before giving you a likable smile. “You’re not the first to come to ask Aphrodite to bring you love,” he said with a strong accent. “Visitations are over. You need to leave.”

You looked down, feeling your cheeks burn in embarrassment as you passed by him, mumbling your apologies for the disturbance.

You were in the tub, back in your hotel room, water covered with the rose petals you still had with you and lavender, plants usually used to bring love and sense of peace. You wondered if you should, would feel any different. If it worked, shouldn’t you have a new sensation in your body, feel the heaviness of your heart dissipate?

Or maybe it didn’t work. Because it was stupid after all.

It was illogical, you thought, wanting to find your soulmate at such a young age. Especially if you weren’t even sure if soulmates really existed.

Lying in bed, you tried to brush away those thoughts, deciding you should continue to focus on yourself, and in having fun and enjoying your next days of vacation. You did spend a lot of money on it after all.

Instead of making reservations in a hotel, you decided to rent a small studio in your next destination, Santorini island. The owner of the place, a woman in her forties called Maria, was kind enough to pick you up at the airport, giving a few tips on where to go and what to do on the way to the place where you were staying, even giving you cards of people who could give you tours for a decent price.

Maria gave you the keys of the studio, and wished you a nice stay, leaving you behind mesmerized by the amazing view from the balcony, the sensation you could see almost all of Santorini and the sea surrounding it from there.

You took a quick shower, changed clothes and decided to walk around to get familiarized with your surroundings, takings photos every few steps, already in love with the island. When the night came, you sat in a small restaurant on your way to the studio, accepting the recommendation the waiter gave to you.

There was traditional music playing somewhere in the nearby square, and you followed the sound after you finished your dinner. A few older men were sitting and playing while people surrounded them, some singing and clapping, some dancing along. You were taking a few pictures when you felt someone bumping into you, cold liquid sliding down your body.

“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry,” the man who had just give you a beer bath started to apologize, sounding embarrassed at the mess he made.

It took you a second to get out of your surprise state, barely looking at him, more preoccupied with your camera. “It’s fine,” you finally said, putting the camera inside your backpack.

“I swear it was an accident,” he insisted.

“It’s okay,” you looked at him, trying to not sound mad “It happens. No harm was done.”

You started walking away, trying to wipe off the drops of beer you could still feel in your arms when you heard him call for you again. A look over your shoulder and you could see him doing a small run catch up with you “Wait! Maybe you should take this,” he offered the button shirt he was wearing, making you frown at him, confused. “Ahm… your shirt is a bit transparent.”

You looked down only to see that your lace bra was completely visible through the white wet shirt. “Shit!” Your hands flew to cover your breast, as you looked around quickly to see if anyone had noticed. Gladly, you still had your red scarf with you, and you soon wrapped it around yourself.

“I’m really sorry,” he apologized again.

“You already said that,” you snapped back, walking again, faster this time, feeling completely annoyed.

“Still. I’m Jackson, by the way” he said, still following you, but keeping his distance. You didn’t say a thing, holding the straps of your backpack as it would help you to walk faster somehow, looking straight away. “My friends don’t know how to drink without making fool of themselves. Or a fool of me, apparently.”

“Look,” you said, turning abruptly to him. He seemed surprised for a second. “I said it was fine. I would really appreciate if you stopped following me now.”

“I’m not following you. Just keeping you company.”

“Thanks, but I’m fine by myself,” you gave your back to him again, feet moving quickly.

“Are you sure? You do seem a bit lost,” he stayed in his place, hands shoved in the front pockets of his pants.

“I’m not lost,” you mumbled to yourself, waiting to turn the corner to check the directions on your phone. He didn’t seem to continue to follow you, which was a relief. Not that he seemed dangerous. Somehow, he really sounded concerned if you were okay. But still, you didn’t know him, or anyone in the country for that matter, and really didn’t want to have a strange man knowing where you were staying alone. Maybe you should have looked for a protection spell instead of a love one. It would probably be way more useful.

“Have a good night, stranger,” you heard him shout far way back, a prickle in your ankles as you turned around the corner.

Hiking seemed like a good idea for your first day in Santorini. You left early, with the sun still rising, wanting to avoid dealing with the summer heat, even though you knew you didn’t have much of a choice. The hike could be made in a total of 3 hours, as you learned by researching about it, but you were in no rush, wanting to do as much sightseeing and take as many pictures as possible.

You didn’t hire a guide, knowing that if you started the path in the right place, all you needed to do was follow the signs. In any case, you just might as well ask for directions, surely you wouldn’t be the only one in the trail.

An hour later you finally stopped in a villa to drink some water, glad that it wasn’t as hot as you expected. You sat by the white wall that gave you the view of the ocean, taking a few minutes to catch your breath and take some pics of the sea of white walls that made formed most of the houses of the island. Your feet started moving again back on the trail, the sun giving all his attention to the back of your neck, as you heard some steps behind you.

“Hello, stranger,” Jackson smiled when you turned your face in his direction.

“You again,” you said blankly looking at him up and down. He looked casual, wearing shorts, a black tee, and snickers, traces that he didn’t have enough sleep still on his face, his cap a reminder that you still needed to buy one for yourself. “Where the hell did you came from?”

“I’m staying at that hotel back there,” he pointed over his left shoulder. You didn’t follow his gaze “Saw you passing and decided to say hi.”

“Hi,” you said with a little wave of your hand after noticing that his eyes were fixed on you, which was a little worrisome since you both were walking up an uneven trail. He seemed satisfied, eyes now down.

“I felt bad for leaving you to walk alone last night,”

“Why?” you raised a brow at him “You don’t know me.”

“Oh right, you didn’t give me your name last night,” he snapped his fingers, throwing his head back as if he had just remembered something.

“So, you think that just by being aware of a person’s name you already know them...”

“No, but it’s a good start,” he gave you his easy smile, the one that apparently was constantly in his face. “So…?”

After a long heavy sigh, you finally stopped walking and gave him your name, he extending his hand to shake yours and repeating his own, as if he was meeting you in a formal situation that didn’t fit neither you or the place, the seconds of silence that followed starting to make you feel embarrassed.

“I should keep going,” you said apologetic, adjusting the straps of your backpack. You started to walk again, distracted with a new thought in your mind when you felt Jackson walking by your side again.

“You really need to stop following me,” you sounded way less angry than you did the night before.

“Not following. Keeping you company, remember? You are making the hike to Oia, right? Why not do it together?”

“You, making the hike?” you sounded skeptical. “Shouldn’t you at least have some water with you?”

“I can buy some on the way,” he shrugged.

“Aren’t your friends going to miss you? It’s a long walk.”

“Doubt it, they are all passed out because of last night. Besides, I spend way too much time with them already.”

There was no excuse you could find to give him not to keep you company, no matter how hard you tried. You were also certain that nothing you could say to him would make him go away, so you just kept walking, avoiding looking at him, knowing he wasn’t doing the same.

But Jackson stayed quiet most of the trail, which was nice, mostly because you were too busy focusing on keeping breath steady during the ups and downs, even though you were walking in a slow pace – you shouldn’t have skipped the gym. But also, Jackson was cute. Really cute. There was something pleasant about the way he smiled, the way he talked. You didn’t figure out what was it yet and wasn’t sure if you wanted to.

He didn’t mind to stopping every now and again when you wanted to take photos, even offering to take yours. And as the hours passed, even though you didn’t share enough words that weren’t about the view, you felt used, comfortable even, with his presence.

You both dropped in your chairs after finally arriving at the end of the trail many hours later, resting by the shadows of a lounge place that allowed any visitor to use the pool if they bought some drinks and food. You both decided to have lunch there, your stomach growling as you looked at the menu.

The pool was tempting you, feeling almost desperate to have it’s the cold water on your warm skin. Gladly, you had prepared yourself – as always - and were wearing a one-piece swimsuit under your clothes.

“I’m going for a dip,” you told Jackson, as you get rid of your sneakers. “Wanna come?”

“No, I’m good.”

“Mind keeping an eye on my things then?” you asked, smiling at him when he told you to not worry about it.

Jackson watched you carefully as you walked to the pool, eyes resting on the vivid red lines contouring your ankles. When you told you were going for a dip, he imagined you would just jump in the pool. But curiously for him, you entered the pool slowly descending by its stairs, keeping yourself close to the borders until you got to the other side, diving and then resting your arms over the edge where you could look to the ocean in front of you.

He took a photo of you with his phone, mesmerized by how nicely you fitted the view., how distant your mind seemed to be.

The lazy hours you both shared after lunch were spent by getting to know each other, you feeling a bit guilty for sharing so much time with someone and only being aware of his name. Jackson was more than willing to know you better, asking about your life, where you lived, what you did. It was oddly easy talking to him. Like you were old friends that were catching up on all the time lost, sharing every detail that came in mind, you could swear you even knew each other’s mothers birthday as the night arrived.

You shared a cab after giving up on hiking back. Jackson tried to convince you to go for dinner with him later, but all you had in mind was the comfy bed that waited for you. He complained – a lot – when the cab stopped first at his hotel but calmed down when you exchanged phone numbers and you promised to text him as soon as you got to your place.

The red lines in your ankles didn’t stop to tingle since you came back, and as you took your shower, you wondered if they were consequences of the spell. As if it had bounced back, the marks being a punishment for dwelling with magic when you were not used to doing so.

Jackson texted you back when you were already in bed, saying how much he has enjoyed your company, and how he was expecting to see you again. You smiled at the message, biting your lip when you realized that, for some reason, you felt the same.

With heavy eyes and tiredness washing over your body, the last thing on your sight before everything turned to black was the spellbook resting on top of your suitcase.

Running as fast as you could, your legs still tired from the day before, you arrived late at the marina. You still lost a few more minutes trying to find the right boat that would take you on a tour around the island. After the guide showed you where you could keep your bag, you approached the front of the boat where the other passengers were, amazingly not surprised by the fact that Jackson was there too, his infections laugh easily finding its way to your ears.

“Well, who’s following who now,” he teased, getting up and walking towards you as soon as he noticed you.

“And here I was thinking it was called keeping company,” you winked at him, blushing after he gave you a quick kiss on your cheek.

Jackson introduced you to his friends, you already feeling familiarized with how much he talked about them the day before, they all very welcoming, offering some of their beers and asking you to sit with them. Jackson made sure to sit by your side as the boat started moving, a whisper in your ear to tell you how glad he was that you were there.

The boat was taking you on a tour around the most beautiful beaches of Santorini, as it was announced, and twenty minutes later you arrived at the first stop. Not necessarily a beach, since there was no sand, only rocks, but it was a place where people could do some diving and snorkeling. With your camera in hands, you watched amused as people started to jump from the boat, Jackson’s friends screaming at each other as if they were in some form of competition.

After escaping from of his friend’s grip, Jackson looked around trying to find you, only to realize that you were still sitting at the same place, your chin resting in one of your knees, eyes focusing in something that was not there.

“Aren’t you coming?” he asked, now standing by your side without you realizing, water dripping from his body.

“Uhm… no, I’m good,” you smiled weakly, a hand above your eyes so you could see him properly. You obviously still needed to buy a cap.

“Why not?

You thought for a second before answering. “The water must be cold,” the excuse sounding too weak for anyone to believe.

“Well, as someone who was just in there, I can assure you it’s not,” Jackson sat in front of you, eyes squinting “You don’t know how to swim, do you?”

“How do you…?” you started to ask, eyes wide open, not remembering including this information in your previous conversation.

“Yesterday at the pool, you stayed close to the edge all the time.”

You had to remember yourself to close your mouth, biting your lips for a second “Very perceptive of you,” you said looking down, your cheeks burning.

“Are you blushing?” he asked in a chuckle as he sat a bit closer to you.

“No?” you tried to brush it off without much success. “I do just fine at pools or even in the beach, as long as the water doesn’t go above my chest.”

“Ah, I see. Why don’t you come with me? Pretty sure I can handle both of us.”

“What? No, Jackson. Go on. I’m fine here, seriously.”

“Are you really going to spend the entire tour sitting on this boat?

“That’s the plan. I can take nice pictures from here.”

Jackson glared at you, his expression hard to read. “I’m gonna stay here with you then,” he said, making himself comfortable by your side.

“Jackson don’t be silly.”

“I’m not. I was planning on working on my tan, to be honest. I’ve been very pale lately,” he said looking down at his own body, you feeling incapable to not look – again – at his athletic shape.

“Jackson...”

“Besides, I would feel very bad for leaving you alone here in this sad, lonely boat, as I swim through the most beautiful beaches of Santorini,” he shook his head while overemphasizing every single word.

“Are you really trying to make me guilty?”

“Maybe” he smirked, “Is it working?”

“A little bit…”

Jackson got up in a jump, hands brushing his own hair back before he offered his palms to you. “Come, let’s have some fun,” he smiled that big smile of his to you, making your heart flutter. “Just trust me, okay?”

He jumped first but waited for you by the mobile stairs at the side of the boar. You bit your lip, eyes moving from him to the water, then to the stairs, and your surroundings, as if you were trying to find someone to hold you back, regretting coming to a tour that didn’t fit you. Jackson waited patiently, giving you an encouraging look. “Don’t worry. I got you,” he said, his hand moving away from the wet hair that kept falling on his eyes.

You took a deep breath, finally stepping down the stairs, arms wrapping around his neck as soon as your body was in the water, he hugging you back, making sure you locked your legs around his waist. “Better than the boat, hum?” he asked in a tease.

“Can’t believe you convinced me to do this,” you mumble, body shaking as you got used to being this close to him.

“Me neither!” the funny expression on his face making you laugh.

You loosened your grip around his neck as you felt more comfortable, but Jackson didn’t let you go, as he promised. He stayed close to the boat though, maybe to show you that you were not only safe but could go up again at any time.

It was easier on the third stop, the boat stopping close enough to an island for you to jump in the water and still be able to walk until you got to the land. That didn’t stop him to be by your side, you two ignoring his friends to explore the place, finding nice spots to enjoy a bit of conversation under the trees shades before going back to the water.

You had lunch with his friends when the boat took you to a different harbor, the boys looking too red as if none of them were used with being under the sun for long. You laughed between bites as they teased each other, especially Jackson, for abandoning them for you. Not that it wasn’t understandable – their words, not yours.

The last stop of the tour boat was near a cliff, where people could watch the sunset a privileged view only a few people had the chance to witness. You didn’t notice when it happened, but there you were, body leaned against Jackson’s, his arm over your back, his fingertips going up and down on your shoulder, as you watch the blue sky turn to shades of orange and yellow.

Is that how it feels like? To fall in love…Shouldn’t be harder, take longer? The lines on your ankles haven’t prickled the entire day, but you felt your entire body static every time he touched or looked at you.

“Am I bothering you?” he murmured close to your ear.

“No. Why would you think that?”

“Well, something must be, you are doing that thing again.”

“What thing…?” you frowned.

“You do this thing where your eyes become foggy and your mind seems elsewhere.”

You sat straight up, staring at him with mouth open. “Jackson, you weren’t even looking at me!”

“It was just a feeling,” he shrugged. “I saw you doing it earlier today and yesterday when you were in the pool, so I just figure you were doing it again.”

You looked at him incredulously, eyes wide open. It was odd, in an amusing way, realizing how Jackson was picking up on details of you most people really don’t care.  You shook your head, laughing with yourself, and resting against him again, his inquisitive eye on you. “I’m not bothered, Jackson. I’m just… glad. It was a nice day.”

“I was a nice day,” he repeated, smiling. “It deserves a picture” he shuffled a bit to take his phone out of his back pockets, taking some photos of the sunset, then turning the camera to selfie mode so he could take a picture of you two. Smooth, you thought as you inclined your head to rest on his shoulder, he tilting his own head closer to yours. He hid the phone again, dropping a small kiss on the top of your head as you continued to watch the sun disappearing in the horizon, feeling your heart beat a little too fast as he pulled you closer. It was nice to feel that his own heart was at the same pace.

"Do you have any plans for tomorrow?" Jackson asked when you stopped by the stairs that led to your place. This time you’ve allowed him to walk with you, your fingers intertwined, he not being able to keep his touch away from you. "Probably, but what do you have in mind?" “I heard about this wine tour,” he gave you an uncertain look “and I thought maybe we could go together.” You tilted your head to the side, smiling foolishly. "Are you trying to get me drunk?" "I could never!" He put a hand on his chest, looking at you as if you had just offended him you the worst possible, only relax his face a second after "But that could be a side effect on the both of us." You giggled at his overreaction, this scenic side of him not failing to amuse you every time you had a chance to witness it – and you had a lot to see through the day. You didn’t even have to think before agreeing, anxious to spend another day with him. "Can I meet you here at nine?" he asked, playing with your fingers in the hand he was still attached to. "Isn’t that too early to start drinking?” "We’re on vacation, it’s never too early to start drinking,” he stated, “But I was thinking we could go for breakfast before." "I’ll be ready at nine, then,” you nodded, eyes drifting to your connected hands, the sensation that all heat of the day was now burning inside your chest. "You're gorgeous. You know that, don't you?" He said, getting you off guard, probably noticing your flushing. “You’re not so bad yourself,” you said, biting your lower lip, an appropriate compliment failing to fall from your lips as if no words were enough to describe how striking he was. "See you tomorrow," he inclined to give you a gentle kiss on the cheek, sliding over to kiss you again, closer to your lips, staying there a second too long before his free hand cupped your face, your lips meeting his. It was soft, salty, as you could still taste the ocean in him.

Kisses shouldn’t feel like this, you thought. Like nothing mattered before. Like you knew your life would depend on it from now on. "I'm sorry," he broke the kiss, resting his forehead on yours, recovering the air that left his lungs. "I shouldn't have... I mean I wanted to, but..." "Jackson, it's okay,” You said softly, your hand moving up to touch his face too. “I... I wanted it too." "You did?" a breath of relief coming through his mouth. "Yes. I mean, I think that after the day we had I would feel quite offended if you didn't even try to kiss me." He chuckled, moving his face back so he could look you in the eyes "I've been wanting to do it since the first time I saw you." "Oh you mean the night you spilled beer all over me and stared at my breast?" "When you say it like that it makes me sound so unromantic," he rolled his eyes, making you chortle. Jackson caressed your cheek with his thumb, his big doe eyes saving every detail of your face "Can I kiss you again?" You nodded quickly, yearning to taste him again.

Most of your night was spent thinking of Jackson, your fingertips lightly touching your lips as if it could bring back the sensation. But you figured Jackson wasn't your soulmate. He couldn’t be. That's why those damn red lines appeared on your ankles. The spell hadn’t bounced back. In fact, it was giving exactly what you asked to. To show the way to the missing part of you. And the tingling you felt every time you spent time with him was a sign that you were with the wrong person. No matter how hard you wanted it to be otherwise. Because you liked him. Like you never liked anyone else. Nobody ever made you feel like your entire body was about to combust just by looking at you. Nobody ever made your heart skip a beat every time you were touched.

He noticed, during your walks through the vineyards, that your mind was elsewhere, your expressions giving you away. He asked you more than once what was happening. You always brush it off, glad that after a while you could use the wine as an excuse. Jackson was a summer fling and so you should treat it like it. Have fun, enjoy his company while it lasted. Cause, in the end, it was all you could do. Maybe you should’ve just ended it. Whatever it is that you were doing. God, it’s been only a couple of days. And still… still, you were not ready to say good-bye.

So that’s what you were going to do. Be completely egoistic. Enjoy every second you still had. Finding your soulmate seemed so irrelevant when you had Jackson looking at you.

"I have a question for you," he said, you two walking around town, holding hands, as you did for the past week. Your vacation was almost over and you decided to do some shopping around the island. "Apparently there's this beach where people usually go swimming at night when there's a full moon, which happens tonight."We don't need to go too far into the water” he rushed when you raised a brow at him “and I'll be holding you all the time." He stayed a few moments in silence, waiting for an answer, as you looked at the miniature boats aligned in the shelf of the gift shop. "Or maybe we could just sit by the sand and laugh at people making fun of themselves."

"We could do that,” you said, turning to him, embracing him by his neck and giving him a quick peck, “or we could buy some wine, some food, go back to my place, and watch the sunset from the balcony,” another peck as he holds you by the waist “Have I ever mentioned that I have a Jacuzzi?” you gave him an innocent look.

There was still an hour until the sundown when you two arrived at the studio, Jackson being even more surprised to see the jacuzzi was actually located in the balcony. You never used it before, not being able to turn the damn thing on. Jackson figured it out in a minute. You went inside to change your clothes and came back wearing only one of your sets of black lacy underwear.

You were gonna going to miss that. The way Jackson looked at you. Like you were the most amazing thing he had laid his eyes on. He was already inside the jacuzzi when his expression going from surprised to hunger in a split. But he kept his eyes on your face, reading you as you got closer, getting up and offering his hand to help you enter.

Sex had always been something trivial for you. Never associated with passion, only to lust. It was just an itch you needed to scratch, your past partners understanding that and never asking more – at least not of sex itself. And now, even that was different. You felt nervous, walking towards him, a new kind of desire building in you.

“You’re oddly quiet,” you noted, entering the tub, trying to distract yourself from your own jitters.

“And you’re stunning,” he uttered, his hands bringing you closer to him, his lips finding yours like magnets. He kissed you slowly, tenderly, with his arms doing the best they could to keep your bodies glued.

You parted the kiss and moved away from him slightly, Jackson looking at you confused. You smirked, pushing him back with both of your hands on his chest, making him sit, so you could position yourself on his lap.

“You had all this planned out, didn’t you?” he asked in a smile, his hands squeezing your hips.

“It was more like wishful thinking,” you giggle, as you caressed the hair on the back of his head. “I want you, Jackson,” you said matter of factly, starting to lose yourself in his round eyes.

“You already have me,” he whispered, pulling you for another passionate kiss.

You didn't want to talk tonight. You did enough talking already. You wanted to feel him, touch him. Discover every inch of his body. Your hands slid to his shoulders, then chest, abdomen, until you found his bulge. You started to caress him, a groan coming out of Jackson's mouth when your hand touched him under the thin clothes that were still between you. "You need to take this off" you uttered, getting on your knees to give him some space to remove his shorts, going back on your action as soon as he threw it to the ground. He let go of your hips to remove your top, spreading sloppy kisses all over your collarbone and chest until he reached your nipple, filling his mouth with your breast.

A loud moan came from his mouth when you slid him inside of you, moving your hips fast, you sure we would leave a mark on your ass considering how strongly he was squeezing it.

"I can’t handle any more" he growled, lifting you both up, your legs attached to his hips. He took you inside, pressing you against the wall, kissing you messily before dropping to the bed a few seconds later, lifting one of your legs to rest on his shoulder, his lips, tongue finding you clit with no trouble as your hand goes to the back of his head, pulling his face against your core.

He stayed there even after your climax, giving small kisses to your inner ties, the lower part of your belly as if he was giving you time to recover. Jackson crawled over you, his warm body covering yours, getting rid of your shivers. One of his hands brushed away the wet hair that was glued to your face, the tip of his fingers sliding through your lips.

"I'm so glad I finally found you" he whispered before his mouth was on yours, as he started to move slowly inside of you.

You woke up in the middle of the night, the cold breeze coming from the window giving you chills. You got up to put some panties and a large shirt and went to the kitchen to drink some water. You stopped at the doorway, glass in hand, looking at Jackson and smiling at the image of him, chest going up and down in a slow steady rhythm, his naked body being illuminated by the moon. 

To hell with soulmates, you thought. Jackson was the only one you ever wanted.

That when you saw it. The red lines around his ankles, same as yours.

Blinking once, twice, imagining you were seeing things, you got a bit closer to have a better look. But there they were. His lines, not only matching the ones you had but going from his ankles to yours, connecting you two. You started to feel your heart race, dizziness taking over you. You did this to him. He was the one that came to your call. And now he was attached to you.

You sat outside in the balcony, eyes burning as the tears started to form. How could you be so stupid? You shouldn’t be messing with magic, even if it was part of you. You never fully embrace it, and now was dealing with the consequences, your charms becoming the curse to another. You heard Jackson calling your name inside, his voice horsed with sleep, he soon found you sitting by the small table, shaking as the tears ran down your face.

"Hey, what are you doing here? It's cold!" He approached you, wrapped around a blanket. He must have felt how tremulous you were. Just like he always seemed to know when your mind was somewhere else. Because you caused this to him. You bonded him to you. 

"What's wrong?" You didn't want to look in his eyes, turning away when he tried to touch your face.

“Please, tell me,” he begged, crouching in front of you, both of his hands on your knees. “Was it something a did?”

“No,” your voice trembled, a knot on your throat. You had to tell him. He deserved to know. “I did something...” You tried to look at him, only to sob even harder.

“Hey, it’s okay. You can tell me,” he tried to assure you, squeezing lightly your knees. “It couldn't have been something that bad.” "I don't know where to start," your voice trembled. "Well, let’s go inside first, and then you can start from the beginning." You told him, because what else could you do? It took you some time for the sobbing to stop and your voice became steady enough. Jackson waited and waited, sat with you in bed, holding your hands and playing with your fingers gently.

You did start from the beginning. From your childhood, from your mother telling you had magic in your blood. You figured it was the only way he would maybe, maybe, believe in you. Your tears came back when you told him about the spell, about your visit to Aphrodite’s temple. You felt him squeezing your hand a bit tight when you told how lonely you were feeling, how much you felt like a part of you were missing. And when you finished, there was only silence.

“How do you know?” he asked after a while, voice sounding calm. “How do you know that it worked?”

“Because of the lines” you lifted one of your legs to the bed, a hold on your ankles as if you wanna hide the red marks. “You can’t see it, but there are this red lines going from my ankles to yours.”

“Threads.”

“What?” you looked confused.

“The right term is threads. I can see them too,” he gave you a lopsided smile. “You know, my mom always told me this story... that after she met my father, she started to have these dreams where they were connected by red threads. After they got married she told it to him and my father confessed to her he used to have the same dreams…”

When he saw how puzzled you looked, not making sense of his words, Jackson couldn’t contain a chuckle. He brought his free hand to your face, sweeping away the tears that remained in your cheeks. “They are called red threads of fate,” he explained, “According to legend, the gods tie the ankles of those who are destined to be together with an invisible red cord.” "Jackson…"

“I knew I there was something about you…”He interrupted, looking at you lovingly” That silly night. Before I actually spoke to you... I’ve seen you a bit earlier and I just couldn’t keep my eyes away. I wish the first time we talked didn’t involve me spilling beer all over you, but you know my idiotic friends, “He giggled “I only saw your threads the day after… at the pool.”

You were trying to digest what Jackson told you, repeating his words on your mind. Could it be, that Jackson and you were really meant to be? That you didn’t curse him like you were so certain you did? “Where’s the book?” he asked you, seeing how you still were lost in your own thoughts. “The one with the spell?” You pointed to your luggage on the room’s corner. Jackson asked if he could get it and after you nodded, he gave your hand another soft squeeze.

He sat in front of you again, book in hands, asking you to show him the spell. “Read it again,” he asked you softly, turning the pages to you. “Out loud.”

You did, looking at him right after as if you were expecting him to explain it to you.

“You really aren’t good at being a witch, are you?!” he joked, “The spell says to show you the way to your soulmate…I know nothing about magic but wouldn’t you need something from me to make me fall in love with you?”

“I… guess…?” you stammered, surprised by his question.

“And did you do any spells after meeting me?”

“No. But Jackson...”

“When was the first time you saw the threads on yourself?”

“The morning after the spell,” you recalled your second day of the trip, still in your hotel in Athens, seeing the red marks on your ankles when you were showering, not making a big fuss out of it.

“Which from what I remember, was the same day I got here. That’s when I first saw mine.”

“Jackson, I...”

“Can you stop being so stubborn?” he cupped your face, giving you a peck to shut you up. “You didn’t curse me or whatever awful thing you thought you did. You just helped us to find each other.”

“Then why didn’t I see the threads before like you did?”

He thought for a second before speaking again.“Maybe because tonight was the first time you completely accepted your feelings for me.”

You were silent again, eyes shifting from the open spell book at your side in the bed, to your hands open in your lap, Jackson caressing one of your palms. Your head was a mess, and you couldn’t understand why was that way. Why it was so much easier to believe that you had damned Jackson than it was to believe in this story he told you. Why can’t you believe in his mother’s story when he didn’t seem to care about you telling him you were a witch. Why couldn’t you believe that you were destined to be together? You wanted so much to find love, to find your soulmate, that now that it, him, was in front of you, touching you, it was so hard to accept it.

“Why are you dealing with this so well?” your thoughts came out in a whisper, eyes down, somewhat afraid to look at Jackson.

“Because you’re not the only one who felt that a part of you was missing. I can be very insecure by the things in my life... but I look at you and everything makes sense.”

Jackson closed the book and put it back in your luggage, the smell of its old pages flying in your direction. Coming back to you, crouching down so you could look at him without lifting your face, he held both of your hands, a long sigh coming out of his mouth.

“I understand if this is too much for you,” he said, voice low and soothing, you certain he could feel the disarray that was your thoughts and feelings. “And I will give you all the space and time you need to think about it. I’ll be waiting for you when you’re ready.”

“That’s the thing, Jackson. I don’t want you to go anywhere,” you exasperated, the memories of all the times your threads tingled every time you left his presence coming clear now. Not a sign of a curse, but a proof of that you should be together, “I’m just scared,” you could feel the tears starting to form again. “I never felt like this before. I didn’t even know I was capable to feel this much.”

“I know,” he stroked your face, a sweet smile towards you “I feel the same.”

You inclined towards him, wrapping your arms around his neck, hugging him as tightly as you could. Jackson got up, carrying you with him, strong arms around your middle, to sit in bed with you on his lap. You stood like that for minutes – hours? – silently comforting each other. It was always easy to be around Jackson. Now you were finally understanding why.

“What are we gonna do?” you asked, your face still buried in his chest as he ran his fingers in your hair “I'll be leaving in a couple of days.”

“Good thing we live in the same country. We can make it work. We’re soulmates after all.”

You lifted your face to look at him, “You promise?”

“Should we find a spell to make sure?” he asked jokingly, pleased to see that you were finally able to smile again.

“I think a kiss is enough.”

[robertemeryofficial]

Angsana Velavaru - the Maldives island masquerading as a Steinway

A piano is a bit like a car. You can spend one hundred thousand hard to counterfeit pieces of paper on a Rolls Royce or a Steinway grand piano, or you can spend one thousand on an old Chappell upright or Nissan Sunny. Both should do the job, but both offer the user a very different experience. Holidaying in the Maldives is the same, with the difference that you can usually test drive the car or piano before you give away your hard earned cash. A holiday is a leap of faith, trusting in the myriad of reviews on Trip Advisor and online photos. So after much debate in the Emery household, we decided Angsana Velavaru was the chosen one.

I’ve been to the Maldives three times in the past eight years, and each time I needed something different. The first time I was a Maldives virgin, so I didn’t know what I wanted. The second time I’m told by Mrs E that we were on a ‘Baby Moon’ (and if you don’t know what that is, nor do I…), and this time was our much-needed family holiday with three-year-old Master T.

Most peoples reaction when I mention a toddler visiting this set of 100-or-so islands in the Indian Ocean is ‘what about all that water, isn’t it dangerous?’, ‘there is nothing to do, you’ll all be bored!’ or ‘isn’t the journey to long?’ Yes, the journey is long from London’s ever-glamorous Gatwick airport, but the other two points are just stupid. I’ve yet to meet a toddler who is silly enough to wade into the sea of their own accord and keep walking until their parents finally notice and scream. As for boredom, imagine a place with no cars to be careful of, actually no vehicles whatsoever - so your little one can roam as free as a bird, safe and relaxed. A place where wild Stingrays visit for a little food once in a while. A place where you can walk from your villa, outside in the sand and heat, to breakfast, lunch and dinner, knowing you don’t need to keep quiet in any corridors. A beach which is so empty you don’t need to send a flair to find little Jonny amongst the thousand other sun-tanners. Yes, if you find the right island, the Maldives is the perfect family holiday. My only issue was that Angsana Velavaru was far less than perfect.

A two-week stay (excluding flights) in a Deluxe Beachfront Pool Villa at this five-star resort will set you back around $16,000 (USD). You could own a whole fleet of the wonderful Nissan Sunny for that amount. And sometimes, unfortunately, it felt a similar standard. It was usual for the public washrooms to have no hand towels. The minibar was restocked with the same regularity of the trains in the UK, and the same goes for the toiletries in the villa. You go into a bar or restaurant, and for some reason, the staff only ever gave me a menu; either it seems that a man should order for his wife, or they have not printed enough menus - neither of which are good reasons, especially as we are not in the 19th century. Talking about the bars, you go in as a family, order a bottle of water, and for some reason which I just cannot figure out, the staff never, ever provided Master T with a glass to drink from; and if you order a cocktail expect it to arrive anywhere between 5 and 20 minutes, again a bit like our trains. If you booked an activity, it’s not unusual for the real time of the activity to differ from the one advertised. Book a table in the over-water restaurant Azzurro, and although the food is absolutely delicious, your toddler will have to eat sitting on your lap, as they have a rarity of high-chairs. And be careful, although I’m not anti-smoking, there are no dedicated areas for smokers to enjoy themselves without inflicting their habit onto others; even in the restaurant whilst you’re eating with a three-year-old at your table.

If you are a keen snorkeler like I am, I’d advise you to find another island unless you’re happy to take a daily boat trip; admittedly this isn’t the fault of the resort, but the coral around the island was particularly affected by the bleaching of 2016 and as a result, it looks a little more like an underwater graveyard than a bustin’-with-wildlife underwater oasis. And although the island is nicknamed ‘Turtle Island’ - don’t let this fool you; none of the staff have ever seen a turtle actually nest on the island.

And then there’s the Chinese. Now, I have nothing against one of the most successful races on earth; but as this is an Asian company, and the island is heavily marketed to the Chinese, there are a lot of them on the island. Again, not an issue. But remember the Chinese are culturally different to Westerners. On the first dinner, a waiter apologised to me because of the one set of cutlery laid out, instead of a starter, main, dessert etc. He said, “it’s what the Chinese prefer so that’s what we do”. And if you make the mistake of asking a Chinese member of staff, like I did, for some sugar to sweeten me and my coffee cup, you’ll be given an ashtray.

You may think this illustrious list of bad service means I wouldn’t recommend Angsana, and that I was permanently in the bad books of Mrs E and Master T for choosing this resort, and you’d be totally wrong. We had a fabulous time. The island is stunning, one of the most beautiful places in the world; and the grounds-staff work hard to keep it that way. Despite the service in the restaurant on the water, the service in the buffet restaurant was wonderful (and a name drop to Hathim for that), and the food at both locations was superb. The variety of activities offered were wide and at a reasonable price. The cleanliness of the whole island, something so basic but so important, was flawless, and the accommodation of the 207 sqm Deluxe Beachfront Pool is great; with a garden and pool so private you can sunbathe all day with your tackle out, and no one will attempt to use it for fishing.

As for the free kids club (check the age eligibility; we were told in advance it was three and up, and got to the island to be told four and up!), I have a mixed feeling. It should have been a child’s paradise playground; with the leaflet offering ‘Movie Time’, ‘Story Time’, ‘Sea Life Discovery’, ‘Kiddies Aerobics’, ‘Sand Sculpture Building’, ‘Treasure Hunts’, and even ‘Mini Olympic Games’; sadly none of these things happened. Having said that, the lady who runs this, Tini, has been there many years and Master T liked her very much and did ask to visit quite regularly; so she must have done something right!

"If you want to book this hotel, my advice is to book directly with the resort and contact their reservations manager. The staff are usually happy to match prices and can tailor your package much more; and feel free to mention my name and I'm sure they'll work hard to provide you with extras..."  -- RDCE

Within a week of being on the island, we noticed some big changes happen. Full cutlery services started to appear at dinner. Mrs E was given a menu, and Master T a water glass. Drinks arrived within the time it took me to learn the spelling of Angsana Velavaru, and the activities board has new, accurate timings. Something miraculous was happening, and now I know how they felt on the 25th December in the year naught. New management had been installed, and a new General Manager had been on the job for three days and was already turning things around. This island had been unloved for too long, and now it was like the baby Jesus being born; excitement was in the air and people started to follow their new leader.

I’d easily place a bet that if I’m invited back to visit nine months from now, all of the above will be history, and the elements that’ll shine will be the beauty of the island. The feeling of being looked after and receiving great service won’t be noticed, because it’ll just be there as standard - from the moment you arrive to the moment you leave; like driving a Roller, or playing a Steinway; like all five-star experiences in life should be.

[accidental-ducky]

How Love Goes (Steter, Mortal Instruments AU)

Peter has seen the young warlock around the bookstore a few times before, usually browsing through the fantasy section while a Shadowhunter lurked nearby. He was handsome as far as warlocks go, little horns curling up from his forehead that only those with the Sight were able to see, and even then they were nearly obscured by his carefully styled brown hair.

The Shadowhunter with him wasn’t nearly so interesting, just a girl with distrusting eyes and the thick lines of Runes dotted here and there when clothing wasn’t obscuring them. The only interesting thing about her was the scent of an Alpha that clung to her, and there weren’t very many of those in California as a whole. In fact, there were only two and something told Peter that she wasn’t hanging around Deucalion.

Either way, Peter did his best to put the teenager out of his mind as he went back to the novel propped up on his knee. He had more pressing issues to worry about, like the fact that the Seelie Queen—bitch that she is—is demanding an audience with the leaders of certain groups of Downworlders. Peter would decline if he didn’t value his health and good looks so much.

Still, he finds himself tracking the boy’s movements from section to section until he reached the counter to pay for his finds. His jeans were tight in just the right way and Peter only felt a small flush of guilt as he eyed the boy’s round, perky ass. Of course, that’s the moment the boy decides to glance over his shoulder and meets Peter’s gaze head on.

And the warlock winks.

***

The next time he sees the warlock is as he’s leaving the Beacon Hills entrance to the Seelie Court, a small cove near the beach that Mundanes saw as a rundown hut. The boy was dressed to the nines in a shiny blue suit, hair stylishly messy and revealing those beautiful horns that glittered blue and green like a mermaid’s scales under the moonlight.

“Is your master sending you here in their place,” he teases, hands in the pockets of his own suit of charcoal gray. Black just didn’t look good on Peter, it made his aura something straight out of a Disney movie, and not in a favorable light either. “A chance for you to learn how the Seelie Queen is when she’s not happy?”

“Not quite,” the boy answers in a voice like honey. “I haven’t had a master since I was a kid.” Peter arches a brow, not subtle as his gaze moves from the boy’s horns to the ratty Converse he wore on his feet. “I’m six hundred years old. I know, it’s a shock to everyone that doesn’t already know.”

“A nice one, at least.” And the boy grins at him, cheeky and wonderful and Peter could live for that flash of white teeth. “I’m Peter.” He holds out a hand and the boy reaches out to shake it, a spark of something shooting through the wolf on contact and a static shock seems to rip through his chest as his eyes flash Alpha red. The boy’s eyes flash in return, fire bright before fading to their usual amber in sunlight.

“Stiles.”

***

Battles were hard things no matter your species, though why he was called to New York of all places could only be explained by the text his nephew had sent just twelve hours before. Sometimes it really sucked to like one’s family and their continued existence. And to make matters that much worse, the fight was on a goddamn boat and he was surrounded by all kinds of Shadowhunters.

The one good thing to come out of it was seeing Stiles in all his glory fighting alongside his Shadowhunter buddy. He was a force to behold, flinging spells every which way when he’s able or even just a bat with Runes burned into the wood to enhance its strength as he flings it left and right against the oncoming demons. The Shadowhunter wasn’t awful, he supposes, but he’s never been a fan of the Clave and all their rules.

After it was done and Derek’s reason for dragging him all the way here was rescued—a relatively young werewolf that had been meant to be sacrificed—Peter was intending to just go back to Derek’s apartment and sleep for seven hours and then go find Luke and have a drink. Things didn’t end up going that way, however, because Stiles was bleeding and his pet Shadowhunter looked ready to play a game of Murder Time with whatever had caused the deep scratch along the warlock’s cheek.

“I take it warlocks don’t have the best healing factor,” Peter snarks, sidling up to the pair with a smirk. The Shadowhunter went to step between the pair, but aborted the motion when Stiles touches her wrist.

“It’s alright, Ally. I know him.”

“So does everyone in the Institute,” Ally remarks, sending Peter a frown that more than hinted at I saw you at the Christmas party three years ago, you nasty fucker. And really, how was he supposed to know the punch had been spiked and that he’d end up banging a shifter named Peg in the women’s bathroom?

“Oh, that was you, huh? Very impressive, man.”

“I rather thought so,” Peter agrees, trying his best to ignore Ally. It wasn’t hard, not with the way the dawn light highlighted the small moles scattered over the left side of Stiles’ face in a way that made Peter want to follow that trail with his teeth.

“Peter,” yelled the familiar voice of Magnus Bane,” stop creeping on my protégé!”

***

So, it turns out that pale warlocks with amber eyes and magic bats are Peter’s type.

Who knew?

***

Stiles likes to smoke. It’s not really a big deal for Peter because Stiles’ just uses his magic to make the smoke scentless. Whenever Peter finds Stiles’ in the little park down the street from the school, the warlock is usually swinging slowly and blowing smoke rings. When he wants to show off, he’ll turn the billows of smoke into little ships or paw prints or, once, a triskelion.

Peter asked him why he smoked once, after he learned that Stiles had changed the cigarette’s taste to strawberries. “Because I like watching the smoke curl and dance,” he’d answered, doing just that as he turned the smoke shades of blue and bright red.

Sometimes he’d find Stiles just wandering through the town as though he was searching for something, smoke floating over his shoulder and grief in his scent. Peter never bothered him on those nights, just watched to make sure no one tried to sneak up on him while he was lost in his thoughts.

One night, the second one Stiles had ever spent with him, the warlock woke him up with a bitten off curse and it took Peter a moment to realize that the wriggling boy next to him was still deep in sleep. He writhed and twisted as though trying to escape, Polish rolling off his tongue as easy as English, calling and begging for his father to be saved.

When Peter had finally managed to get Stiles awake and convince him that he was safe, Stiles told him about the mother that had abandoned him after she realized her child wasn’t human; he told him about the father that fought and protected him through thick and thin until the man’s heart had given out. Then, in the early hours of the morning, he told Peter how his father had always smoked a pipe at night, how he’d blown smoke rings to Stiles’ delight and would always grin so proudly when Stiles managed to turn those rings into flowers.

After that, Peter never asked about Stiles’ obsession with smoking.

***

Their one year anniversary sneaks up on both of them and they only realize how momentous the day is when Stiles checks his Facebook and the memory of their first date pops up in his feed. Their first date had been the thing of legends, the one you tell future generations about because it had been perfection; a high end restaurant that needed reservations three years in advance unless you threatened to eat the owner’s pet rabbit (Peter wasn’t proud of that, but he’d stand by his choices), a walk along the beach to a blanket with chilled champagne and strawberries waiting on them, and the sweetest kiss goodnight to finish it off (followed by mind-blowing sex, but he’d save that until his kids were old enough to really embarrass).

Their first anniversary was just as perfect in a different sort of way; Pizza Hut delivery that they got free because Stiles glamoured their apartment so that the pizza was exactly thirty-one minutes late, a Parks and Rec marathon on TV that they could quote word for word (and they did, they even made a game out of it that was bound to become tradition), and a garlic-laced goodnight kiss that had Peter laughing because he’d never pictured this being how he and Stiles spent their anniversary during the first few months of them dating (followed by sex on the couch because they were too full to actually make it to bed).

After that, Peter swore that their second anniversary would be different and they’d at least have something fancier for dessert than a shared pint of Ben and Jerry’s. Stiles had laughed, baring the pale column of his throat, and he’d curled tighter around Peter as they attempted not to slide off the couch.

“This was perfect,” he said, flashing Peter that grin he loved so much.

And Peter really thought it was.

***

Turns out dating the best friend of a Shadowhunter has more drawbacks than Peter had originally thought. There were two of them in his apartment when he got home from his shift at the bookshop, just dirtying up his couch like they had any right to it and it took all his years of training not to at least growl at them in warning. Instead, he sets the new stack of books down on his kitchen table and turns to face his intruders.

“You know, normal people call before dropping by,” he tells them, arching his brows.

“You’re dating Stiles,” Ally says in response, as though that gives her every right to break a perfectly good window and climb inside using the fire escape.

“Is this the part where you tell me that you’ll kill me if I break his heart? Before you do that, you could at least introduce your friend.” The other Shadowhunter, a man around Peter’s age with hard blue eyes and blond hair that was slowly graying, looks unimpressed with Peter altogether. If he didn’t want to see me, then he shouldn’t have broken into my apartment.

“My name is Chris Argent,” the man says, all condescension and arrogance that Shadowhunters are well known for. The Argents were fairly high up in the ranks, the Inquisitor’s lap dogs from what Peter had heard. Still, they weren’t as prominent as the Lightwoods or the Waylands. “And I’m fairly confident that Stiles could dispose of your body with barely a flick of his pinky if he wanted to.”

“That’s lovely. Now, if you’d see yourselves out I’d be forever grateful.” He gestures at the broken window, already making plans to send that particular bill to the Institute or wherever these two were holed up.

“We’re just here as a reminder that Stiles won’t have to kill you himself, Hale.”

“Since when are Shadowhunters so concerned about warlocks? Is it some new fad or just something that happens when you hang around Magnus Bane for long periods of time?” Which reminds Peter that he needs to send Bane a fruit basket for not threatening him this way.

“Just remember that you’re outnumbered here,” Ally states, and the glint in her eyes tells him that she’s already thought up seven different ways to kill him slow should Stiles even sneeze wrong.

***

Magnus Bane wasn’t getting a fruit basket, but he might get a foot up his ass for breaking Peter’s window again when he could have just used a portal for God’s sake.

***

It’s three years later when Peter’s stumbling around the famed city of Alicante that he realizes just how much he loves Stiles. Dead bodies are littered all over the ground from the what would come to be known as the Dark War, there’s blood basically painting Stiles when he comes around the corner, but neither of those things stop Peter from grabbing the boy and just holding him.

He buries his face in the crook of Stiles’ neck, breathing in the heady scent of home and pack and mate. And Stiles was doing much the same thing, shaking as he tangles his fingers in the back of Peter’s ruined coat, clinging to him like some kind of shell-shocked koala as he worked through the panic attack.

Peter never wanted to let Stiles go again, barely managed to free an arm to wrap around his nephew and pull him close. This was his pack, his goddamn family, and the Fair Folk had nearly torn that away from him in one harsh sweep against the Nephilim stronghold. He’d nearly lost control of himself during the fight and the only thing that kept him anchored was that constant pulse under his ribs that said Stiles was still alive, Derek was still fighting tooth and claw.

He would kill the next person that thought they could destroy his pack, he would tear their heart out and feed it to his mate like a delicacy, paired with the finest wine he could get his hands on. Looking at the other two confirmed they felt much the same way, Stiles’ eyes flecked with gold and Derek’s blazing a bright electric blue.

No one would ever threaten them again.

***

Seven years later, Peter didn’t think Stiles was actually capable of shocking him anymore. Not after he’d learned about the warlock’s banishment from Peru (something about psychotic monkeys and trying to one-up Bane), or the fact that Stiles could change into a fox if he felt like it, or even that his father’s side of the family were made up of Shadowhunters that had ended up forming the Argent line (which, yeah, that connection cleared a lot of things up).

So, when he’d come home for lunch that day and found Stiles sitting on their kitchen table wearing only a silk tie and matching boxers with a velvet box balanced in the palm of one hand, Peter realized that there were still plenty of ways Stiles could still shock him. “So,” Stiles said, swinging his feet back and forth through the air,” you wanna tie the knot or not, old man?”

“I guess we should since the neighbors are starting to gossip,” Peter replies, and he takes a special interest in getting Stiles out of those purple boxers. He never did make it back to the shop that afternoon.

Now, was that the most romantic way to propose to a person? Probably not. Did Peter actually give a damn about elaborate proposals? Not really, but that didn’t stop him from standing outside Stiles’ window with a boombox blasting In Your Eyes with a velvet box of his own.

“You’re such a fucking showoff,” Stiles tells him as he comes outside.

“It’ll make sure all our stories are memorable, sweetheart,” Peter promises as he hands the box over. Stiles flicks it open and tilts his head back in a full body laugh that never failed to make Peter revel in his beauty all over again. He also manages a smirk this time because the delicate silver band has the Batman logo etched into it.

***

Their wedding turns out to be nothing fancy, just the two Argents and Derek attending with Deaton replacing a priest. Their vows were simple things, their first dance was uncoordinated because apparently Stiles is only graceful when he’s fighting, and everyone had tears in their eyes once it was done. Even Peter did, though he’d never admit that to anyone but his husband.

Peter spent the afternoon and early evening just trying to process the fact that the beautiful man sitting next to him, the one with the glittering horns and sweet-as-honey voice, was really all his. That he’d get to wake up every morning and see Stiles for the rest of his life; he’d get to listen to Stiles’ off-key singing in the shower, eat the unpronounceable Polish meals he whipped up for special occasions, and hold him whenever he wanted.

And Stiles seemed to be just as excited, unable to sit still even through the speeches the other three insisted on making. The Argents had managed to slip a few thinly veiled threats into their speeches, something about sticking tasers in Peter’s squishy bits if he ever even entertained the thought of leaving Stiles. Derek’s was by far the classiest of the speeches, though that didn’t take much effort.

“You guys really belong together, you’re the same level of assholes,” he had said, and raised his glass of champagne.

***

It’s not until they get home from a great honeymoon in Mexico that they realized they’d forgotten to inform Magnus of their nuptials. They realized that because the older warlock was sitting in the living room of the newly rebuilt Hale House when they returned home, and all the glitter in the world couldn’t hide the rage burning in those gold-green eyes of his.

“Really,” Magnus had practically growled,” you couldn’t even send a fucking text that you two were getting hitched? Couldn’t shoot me an email or just mention it in passing or even use smoke signals so I wouldn’t be blindsided when Derek talks about how nice the fish was?” He glowers at them from across the room (he’d broken another window and the glass was scattered deliberately across the hardwood floors), and Peter was legitimately scared the warlock might blast them into next month.

“Did you still get us a present,” Stiles asked, because he has no sense of self-preservation and he’s the world’s biggest asshole at the best of times.

Peter really did choose the perfect mate.

[cinnaminsvga]

She’s Oblivious, He’s Ridiculous | Hoseok

prompt: “I’m flirting with you.” from this drabble game [x]. Requested by anon (hi there friend!) For more, request here!

→ summary: Hoseok had a problem: there were only two days until prom, and he’s asked you nine times already but you really couldn’t take a hint. Luckily, Hoseok doesn’t know the meaning of giving up. → genre: Fluff, High School/Prom!AU → words: 4.1K (This got too long. Sorry anon lol.) → a/n: Honestly, I hate public promposals because they’re really embarrassing. But here’s Hobi doing it anyway because he looooves you. Enjoy!

In the words of the wise Min Yoongi, Hoseok could say that he was very much catastrophically fucked.

He was fucked because their prom was coming up in two days and Hoseok still did not have a date—but it wasn’t from his lack of trying.

In fact, he had promised himself that he would secure himself a date the moment prom season started in order to avoid the situation he was in from happening in the first place.

Unlike most of his awkward peers, he had been excited for prom. Rejection was a word he did not have in his dictionary; he was so sure you would say yes. He wasn’t going to fumble his words when he would utter the three most important syllables of his life (well, his life as of now. It was too early in the game to say the three other most important words to you. He had to be patient for that.) He wasn’t going to mess up because he had been planning his promposal ever since freshman year.

He had known ever since he had laid his eyes on your pretty face that you would be the one. No one else could ever begin to compare—it had to be you.

From the moment he decided this, everything easily fell into place for him. He started off by trying to be your friend; occasional greetings in the hallways slowly evolved into casual hang outs at the local burger joint. Within the span of three years, the pair of you had become almost inseparable. Everyone had expected the two of you to get together eventually, so Hoseok wasn’t worried that someone else would try and nab you first. He had almost complete control of his situation; it should have been perfect.

Many would say that his promposal was almost too perfect: he was going to invite you to a lovely dinner at your favorite restaurant, order your usuals, etc. However, when dessert time came around, he would casually order a chocolate cake that had been specially prepared beforehand. Within the cake would lay a small plastic capsule, which you would pop open to find a small paper with the words “go outside.” You would be confused at first, but after seeing the knowing look that Hoseok would send you, he was sure your heart would start palpitating from nerves. You would dash outside, your head swinging around in excitement, wondering what on earth Hoseok could have planned!

Lo and behold, four foil balloons spelling out “PROM” would stand proudly in the parking lot, with flower petals and confetti scattered across the gravel floor. You would stand there, mouth agape, as Hoseok would go on one knee and say the three fated words: “Prom with me?”

It should have gone like that. That night, everything had been set in motion so smoothly that by the time Hoseok got on his knees, he was sure that he would become the happiest teenager in Seoul.

It should have fucking gone like that. But you were a goddamn, motherfucking, oblivious, idiotic—

“Eh? Hoseok? Are you practicing your promposal or something? Is this a prank?” You looked around in confusion, trying to figure out if someone was filming you. Coincidentally, Hoseok had indeed asked someone to take a video of your reaction; Jimin was sitting behind a truck with his phone in hand, and you had automatically assumed the worst.

You slapped Hoseok across the cheek.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” Hoseok yelled, but you merely crossed your arms in annoyance.

“I don’t know what’s up with you, but I don’t appreciate the joke!” You snapped, promptly stalking away from his bewildered figure. After that whole escapade, you had ignored him for a week until Jimin explained to you that no, he had not been pranking you. It was a genuine promposal, you idiot.

Although you still didn’t believe either of them, you eventually forgave him for his “prank.”

Hoseok realized that he had forgotten a teensy variable to his almost perfect equation: you were so fucking oblivious.

A damned boulder could fall out of the sky with the handwriting of god saying “Hoseok is in love you!” and you still wouldn’t understand. It was honestly kind of ridiculous, but Hoseok supposed he still loved you regardless.

In short, Hoseok has been trying to ask you out for prom for two months already, and he was really starting to get pissed off.

Today, however, was going to be different.

“Are you planning your tenth promposal already?”

Hoseok hears his senior class president and best friend Kim Namjoon asking him exasperatedly, while tutting his tongue in pity.

All his friends have known about Hoseok’s embarrassing crush on you for years now, and all of them are aware of his special predicament. Many of them have even tried offering their assistance in his elaborate promposals, all of which have failed miserably due to your thick-headedness. Your obliviousness has started pissing them off—most especially Min Yoongi, their older friend who had already left for college the year before. It is Yoongi who tells Hoseok to give up, but Hoseok declines for the umpteenth time.

Hoseok is going to prom with you, and that’s that.

“I gotta hand it to you, you get full points for creativity and tenacity,” Namjoon muses, opting to take the empty seat beside Hoseok. Normally, that seat is reserved for you, but for whatever reason, you are running late this afternoon.

Hoseok sighs, mussing his hair into an even more disheveled mess than it already is. “I don’t get it! I’ve done everything I can think of, but she still just doesn’t get it!” He groans, slamming his head dramatically onto his table. A few heads turn in his direction, but most of them just shrug indifferently. Almost everyone is aware of his problem, and they are excited to see what he comes up with next.

“Namjoonie, I’ve done everything! Serenades outside her house, romantic lakeside walks, beachside picnics. Hell, I even rode that roller coaster with her that one time! I think I might just die.” Hoseok continues to wail in anguish, as if he had just been castrated with Namjoon’s $70 mechanical pencil. (‘Hey! Don’t make fun of my special pencil!’ ‘What the fuck dude, this is MY internal monologue.')

“Well, it is kind of understandable.” Namjoon starts, but the tired glare from Hoseok makes him rethink his statement. “What I meant to say was that it’s understandable that she doesn’t take you seriously. You haven’t exactly shown much romantic interest in her before this whole prom thing started.”

Hoseok rolls his eyes until he can practically see the insides of his skull. “Namjoon, I am the epitome of extra. I have literally been coddling her since freshman year. How much more could I possibly have done?”

Namjoon snorts, but he supposes that Hoseok’s right. “To be honest though, you kind of act clingy with everyone, Hobi.”

Before Hoseok could retort, the bell rings and his eyes look up to see your rumpled figure making a dramatic entrance by the door, your books almost spilling onto the linoleum floor. “I made it!” You screech triumphantly, to which your teacher merely nods in mild acknowledgement.

“Go to your seat, Ms. L/N. We’re about to begin,” your teacher drawls, and Hoseok watches as your bright eyes make contact with his. Immediately, your mouth stretches into a brilliant grin and Hoseok cannot help the way his heart skips a beat for just a moment.

“In my defense, Namjoon? Everything I do for her is extra special.” Hoseok finally replies to Namjoon’s earlier statement, but the younger has already vacated the seat by then. You immediately take his place, dumping your books onto the small table exuberantly.

“Heya Hobi! Haven’t seen you today,” you greet him as you promptly take out your notebook for the class. Hoseok does the same, but the notebook he takes out is not the one for his Physics class. Instead, it is a messy leather-bound notebook, filled from start to finish with his (failed) plans to ask you out to prom. He has written another promposal, which is scheduled for this lunch break, and he intends to make use of this period to make sure nothing would go wrong this time.

“Eh, sorry. I was late this morning ‘cuz I woke up late. Did you miss me?” Hoseok flirts, but as usual, the comment passes over your head like a breeze. You snort at what you assume is a joke, and shake your head at his ridiculousness.

“Me? Miss you? Hardly. We see each other everyday, including the weekends.” You reply, already beginning to copy the work problems your teacher had begun to write on the board.

What Hoseok had said was only half true: he was late, but not because his alarm clock didn’t wake him up. He had been busy gathering the materials he needed for today’s promposal attempt. He called it “Operation Promposal: Plan J.” It was titled Plan J because this was officially his tenth attempt.

Yeah, it was that bad.

“Sooo, are you eating lunch with me and the boys today?” Hoseok asks casually, and you barely look up from your notes to answer. “Yup,” is your simple reply, and Hoseok ticks a small box on his notebook.

Ask Y/N to lunch? Check.

“Oh, but my friends from band club might pull me out midway for some rehearsals.” Your words make Hoseok pause in his writing, and you can see from the corner of your eye the way his head jerks up.

“No!” He yelps almost immediately, and you stop your note-taking long enough to send him a look of confusion. He clears his throat, stuttering a bit. “W-what I meant was that I, uh, really wanted to eat with you today. Yeah.”

You furrow your brows in bewilderment. “Uh, Hobi? We eat together almost everyday. What’s the problem? And besides,” you shrug casually, not noticing the way Hoseok’s forehead is beginning to sweat from nerves. “I’m gonna eat with you at least for half the time. So no need to worry.”

Oh shit. Now Hoseok had to deal with another variable: time. Albeit his plan for this promposal was a bit more… extravagant than his other attempts, he supposed that 30 minutes was just enough time to finish the entire spectacle. All he needed to do was warn his accomplices of the time restraint, and he was sure that he could make it work.

Hopefully.

Hoseok pulls out his phone, texting his three other friends about the change in plans:

From: hobi

To: taehyungie, jungkookie, jiminie

WILDCATS! We have a slight change in plans. Plan J starts at exactly 12:10 PM instead of 12:30PM. We only have less than 30 minutes to finish the promposal.

From: jungkookie

To: hobi, taehyungie, jiminie

Hyung, that’s really pushing the limit. Are you sure we can do this?

From: taehyungie

To: hobi, jungkookie, jiminie

YES SIR! I BELIEVE IN TEAM WILDCATS

From: jiminie

To: hobi, jungkookie, taehyungie

Tell me again why our name is Wildcats? @hobi, noted. I’ll prepare the materials once class ends.

“Mr. Jung. Is there something you’d like to share with the class?” Just as Hoseok is about to pocket his phone, he looks up to find that the eyes of his teacher and classmates are trained directly at him. He attempts to flash them the most innocuous smile he could muster, but he knows that his teacher isn’t going to buy it.

His teacher stands up, walking towards him and puts out his hand in a silent question. Hoseok sighs, placing the phone in his hands. While Hoseok expects his teacher to simply confiscate the phone, he watches in horror as his teacher unlocks it, where his previous text messages were still open.

“What’s this? Plan J? Are you planning more trouble again, Mr. Jung?” His teacher reads suspiciously, and Hoseok tries to suppress the embarrassed flush from rising in his cheeks. You stare curiously at his flustered form, confused as to what their teacher was talking about.

Unlike you, however, the remaining students have a pretty good idea as to what Plan J is, and many of them have started whispering in excitement. Namjoon spares a rueful smile at him, but Hoseok is too busy trying to keep you out of the loop (not that he needed to try in the first place because you were still very much confused.)

“N-no sir! I’m not causing trouble, I swear!” He defends himself immediately, to which his teacher just scoffs indifferently. Deciding it is probably just another one of Hoseok's weird ideas, his Physics teacher goes back to the board to continue the lesson.

On the other hand, you are still curious as to what the text messages mean. “Plan J? What’s that?” You whisper to Hoseok, who tries to casually brush it off. He could feel his Adam’s apple bobbing from the close call.

“Uh… No need to worry, Y/N. Let’s just listen to the teacher, alright?”

You give Hoseok a scowl, obviously not believing a word he says. Seeing that Hoseok is not going to budge, you eventually just roll your eyes in exasperation and the class finally moves on in peace.

…

After what feels like hours, the bell dismisses them and you yelp in surprise when Hoseok jumps out of his seat in a flash.

“Woah, woah. What’s the rush, hotshot?” You giggle, watching your usually neat friend stuff his things into his backpack like a maniac.

“Uhhh, I gotta pee real bad,” he explains offhandedly, his desk already clear of his clutter in record time. He shines you a heart-shaped grin, and you force the beating of your heart to settle.

Yeah, you liked your best friend. But it wasn’t like he was ever going to reciprocate, right? I mean, all those dates he asked you out to? Totally platonic, or so you liked to tell yourself.

Before you can ask if you can tag along, he has already made his way to the door. “Meet you at the table! Save me a seat, will ya?” He shouts at you, and you barely get an “ok” out before he rushes out the door.

“Hey, Y/N. Wanna go to the cafeteria together?” You turn to find your other friend, Namjoon, standing beside you with a dimply grin on his face.

“Yeah, sure. By the way, what’s up with Hoseok? He’s acting weirder and weirder these days,” you say conversationally, shrugging your bag on your shoulders. You both exit the classroom, and you have to struggle a bit in order to match your strides to Namjoon’s much longer ones.

He just gives you a sly grin. “Hmm. That’s a good question,” he muses, and you want to slap the smirk off his mouth.

“Hey! No riddles.” You pout, but Namjoon just chuckles at you. He pats your head almost endearingly, offering you no further comments on the subject.

It takes you only five minutes to arrive at the cafeteria, and the two of you are instantly dragged away by your dongsaeng, Jimin.

“Hey hyung! Hey noona!” Jimin greets, and although you are currently being manhandled by your underclassmen, you cannot help the friendly grin from appearing on your face.

“Hi Jiminie. Why are you dragging me? I can walk on my own, thank you very much.” You chide at him, but he only laughs at your reprimand. You are used to his antics, but you had to admit that his actions right now are more Taehyung’s style.

“I'm just excited to see my favorite noona, that’s all.” Jimin replies, and your eyes narrow suspiciously at his words. Why did it seem like everyone is set on having you eat lunch with them today?

“You’re so weird today. Speaking of weird, Hobi’s pretty weird today too.” You ponder to yourself, but the he doesn't reply because he promptly settles your small body onto your usual spot. You see that Jungkook is already seated on your other side, munching happily on a pizza.

“Hi noona. All of those hyungs are always weird, no matter what day it is.” Jungkook says in greeting. He sends you a big grin, his bunny teeth on full attention.

It doesn’t take long for all of you to sit down in comfortable conversation, talking about classes and upcoming exams that are worrying the younger ones. You are just about to offer to help tutor them during the weekends when the overhead speakers suddenly plays its famous opening tune, signaling the start of an announcement.

The din of the cafeteria settles significantly, with many of the students hoping for some good news (A suspension of classes? It was unlikely, but a student could only hope.)

“Good afternoon,” a low voice greets, and you crinkle your forehead in puzzlement. Normally, your female vice principal makes the official announcements on the campus radio, but the voice sounds awfully male.

A person quickly shushes the entire cafeteria, but hushed whispers continue to fill the room as the other students also wonder the same thing you did.

“Sorry to interrupt your lunch break, but we have a special announcement for you today. Uh, so like, can you direct your gazes to the door please?” The noticeable stammer makes alarm bells ring in your head, because you know someone who often blundered their words just like that. You do a quick headcount of your tablemates, and notice that Taehyung has yet to make an appearance. You have a bad feeling about this.

Just like the voice had said, your eyes snap to the entryway as cheesy romantic music plays on the overhead speakers. You hear many girls squeal in excitement, one of them whispering, “Oh my god, someone’s definitely promposing right now!”

Your heart deflates at that comment because to this day, you had yet to be asked out by anyone. (For some reason, Hoseok has the sudden urge to sneeze.)

A spotlight from who knows where is suddenly directed at the door, and your mouth hangs agape at the sudden influx of rose petals being blown in. People ooh-ed and ahh-ed as students who you know are from the school’s dance club enter in complete ballet costumes. Afterwards, students from the gymnastics club cartwheel into the cafeteria while wearing their leotards, and you even notice some of the glee club members singing behind the cafeteria queue.

It is all very dramatic and extravagant, and you feel a stab in your heart from jealously. Whoever this promposal is for, she must be luckiest girl in the world. This guy must really like her.

Just as you are about to take out your phone to snapchat the spectacle, you feel strong arms hoist you into the air. Your view is suddenly bombarded by the muscular back of Jeon Jungkook, almost making you drop your phone in surprise.

“Jeon Jungkook! What are you doing?!” You screech, beating his steely back with your tiny fists. It is as if your punches barely make an effect on him, as he continues to carry you to wherever it is that he is going.

From your vantage point, you cannot see anything at all. Even when he drops you unceremoniously onto the ground, you are much too disoriented to focus your eyes on your surroundings.

After gaining your senses back, you shake your head to find that the dozens of performers who had entered the cafeteria now surrounded you in a circle. You stand up wearily, trying to exit the ring of people in embarrassment when they suddenly part in scary synchronization.

You pause in your fumbling, and you can only stare in wide-eyed stupefaction at the sight that greets you.

Because in front of you stands you best friend, Jung Hoseok, wearing a complete suit and tie, with a bouquet of the most gorgeous flowers in his hands.

You did not know for how long the music from the speakers has stopped playing, but you are suddenly aware of the hundreds of eyes trained on you in the silence.

Seemingly unfazed by the spotlight, Hoseok steps forward, a small smile on his lips. Your heart pounds heavily in your chest, but you are more confused than you are nervous.

“Hobi? What’s going on?” You ask, and you gasp in surprise when he suddenly goes to grab your hand in his.

From up close, you can smell the musky cologne that he always wears, a scent that you have always associated as home. Despite the suit and tie, he is still your Hobi, just as you have always known.

“Y/N L/N. For two months, I have been trying to ask you a very important question. In those two months, you have rejected me constantly.” Hoseok pauses in his speech, a blush rising in his cheeks. His confident façade is slowly crumbling, but he feels your hand squeeze his in comfort. It gives him the strength to go on.

“Although you have rejected me nine times now, I like to believe it’s not because you don’t like me. In some ways, I guess it’s my fault for not making my intentions clear enough from the start.” With one last heavy breath, Hoseok settles on one knee, just like he had during his first attempt. You recognize the gesture, and you scarcely notice Jimin’s squeal of delight from the crowd.

“Y/N L/N. I am going to ask you plain and simple. I, Jung Hoseok, would like to take you to prom. No one else. Just you. This isn’t a prank.” He hastily adds at the end, and he waits for reaction with bated breath (along with the rest of the cafeteria, all of who are holding their phones to capture the special moment.)

“So, what do you say?” Hoseok asks quietly, hope sparkling in his deep brown eyes.

Meanwhile, you are still trying to wrap your head around his sudden declaration. This is all too sudden—how could this be happening? Where were the signs? Why was this happening? Could Hoseok actually be serious?

“Wait, you’re serious? I don’t understand…” You mutter confusedly. Cue the groans from the crowd.

It is at that moment in history when the normally calm and dignified senior class president Kim Namjoon finally snaps.

“OH MY FUCKING GOD, Y/N! ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING ME? HOSEOK IS ASKING YOU TO PROM! HE’S BEEN FLIRTING WITH YOU SINCE FRESHMAN YEAR! JUST SAY YES YOU IDIOT!” He bellows, and the both of you are stunned by his sudden exclamation. Hundreds of eyes turn to face the red-faced senior, who swiftly sits down once he notices the effect of his little episode.

You turn back to Hoseok. “Wait, you were flirting with me?”

Hoseok almost sobs. Why are you like this? “YES! I HAVE! FOR THREE YEARS NOW!”

You pause. “Wait, so… Does that mean… Are you flirting with me… now?”

The entire cafeteria groans again. Multiple voices express their complaints: “Are you kidding me? Y/N!” “God, when is this gonna end?” “Just say yes, you hoe!”

“Yes, Y/N. I am flirting with you. Always have, always will.”

Unbeknownst to you, tears start to prickle in the corners of your eyes. Hoseok panics, thinking that he must have gotten the signs wrong. Oh my god, what if you actually reject him for good?

“Hoseok, I…” You sniffle, squatting down to Hoseok’s level. You wrap your arms around his frozen torso, and just as he’s about to offer you his sleeve to wipe your eyes, he hears you speak.

“Of course you big idiot. Of course I’ll go to prom with you!” You say through your tears, and the cafeteria erupts into cheers.

You are torn away from Hoseok’s embrace by Jungkook, Jimin, and Taehyung, who had appeared sometime in the middle of the promposal. They throw you up into the air, cheering a hearty “YAS!” in celebration. You also see that Namjoon approaches Hoseok, who shake hands in congratulations.

After a while, you hear Hoseok telling the three idiots to put you down. “Hey, put down my girlfriend!” He jokes, but he freezes when he realizes the implications of his words.

You both stare at each other in stunned silence, but you awkwardly offer him a shy smile to ease the tension.

“Well, I guess we’re official now. Sorry for being so dumb.” You say shyly, making Hoseok relax. You reach out to him for a hug, to which he gladly gives you.

In the midst of celebration, Hoseok sighs. “Fucking finally.”

Suck it, Min Yoongi. He told you he could do it.

…

“Wait, so you had a crush on me since freshman year? Why didn’t you say anything?”

“Y/N. Are you serious.”

“So, you really flirted with me since then? How did I not notice? I thought I was smart.”

“It’s ok, babe. I can be smart for the both of us.”

“Meanie! I hate you. Or, are you flirting with me again?”

“I’m always flirting with you. Get used to it.”

“Already am."

[mandrakebrew]

Ayy I actually wrote something. I honestly gave up editing this one, so please keep that in mind. Alice is 18 years old. Also she is autistic, so if I wrote something that is offensive please let me know! 

Words: 2,909 Rating: T (Swearing, alchohol) Relationship: Mephisto x OC

You hate the hospital, you don't even like visiting people in the hospital much less staying in one yourself. After suffering a collapsed lung, shattered ribs, and a broke arm, you didn't have much choice in the matter. You're glad when you finally reach your home, taken there by taxi. You glance at the dead olive branch you hung above your door, meant to keep away negative people. Seeing it reminds you that you will need to strengthen the wards around your house soon. Though that won't be fun with just one functioning arm.

You unlock your front door, and you expect to be greeted by your familiars, your undead dog, max, and several goblins. However, you find your friend Mephisto standing there. He's not in his usual attire, but in brown tux, black shirt and pink polka dot tie.

"Welcome home~" Mephisto greets you with a wink. You look down and notice the box in his hand. Your familiars are all watching from the couch, with the exception of Max, who runs up to you and sits, bone tail wagging away. Your rub his head, feeling the dead skin under your fingers.

You hesitate before speaking to your guest. "Hi," You almost ask how he got inside your house, but then you remember who it is you're speaking to. "What's the box for?" You ask.

"Oh this?" He gestures by lifting it slightly in one hand. He then extends it towards you. "It's a gift, I figured you'd enjoy it after being stuck in the hospital for so long."

You take the box, and stare down at it for a moment. You find yourself far more interested in information than whatever's inside the box.

"What happened to Amaimon?" You ask, your eyes move to meet his. However, you quickly move your gaze to his nose, a trick your mother taught you since you hate eye contact.

"Eh? He must have run off somewhere." Mephisto shrugged as he spoke.

You know he's lying. You've had plenty of time to sit and think about the events that occurred before you went to the hospital. you tried to talk to Amaimon, you wanted things to end peacefully. When that failed, you fought him. You knew another demon king wouldn't get a mile close to you without Mephisto allowing it.

"You know where he is. You sent him after us. You sent him so Rin would reveal himself-" You voice raises to a yell."They cut his legs off! They could have killed him! Why would you do that!?" You throw the box across the room, it hit the wall and slide down to the floor. The noise caused your goblin familiars to jump, and some of the smaller ones went and hid under your couch.

Mephisto stares at you silently, eye's wide. He smile shrinks but doesn't leave. "You believe what the demon told you?"

"Stop talking to me like I'm stupid Samael. We're friends. Or at least I thought we were. Tell me the truth or get out." You motion your head slightly towards the front door.

The use of his real name makes his eyes go ever wider than before. His smile also widens as he lets out a laugh. "You've known what I am this entire time?"

"Yes." Your reply is blunt, and you give no explanation as to how.

"Very well," He snaps his fingers and the front door shuts behind you, "I will tell you. You are correct about me sending Amaimon to fight Rin. However he was under orders not to kill any of you. Though," His eyes scan your body, and his voice dropped in tone, "He nearly broke that rule."

"I noticed," You speak quietly, glancing down at the sling holding your arm. You also have skin freshly grafted onto your unbroken arm, and the bald spot on the top of your head where they preformed surgery to correct the depressed skull fracture you suffered.

You're amazed that you have no brain damage, and that you're alive at all, really.

"But worry not," Mephisto spoke up, "He will be dealt with." A smirk remained on his face, eye lids low.

"No."

"Eh, what?"

"No. You sent him. This is all your fault. Do not harm him for this." You do your best to keep your eyes on his face.

"That isn't up to you, now is it?" He says.

Your eyes glance down and away, before returning to Mephisto. Your voice is small when you speak again, "Please don't?"

"Hmmmmm, very well then, no harm will come to him," he waves his hand in front of him as if shooing away the idea. "And about Rin, do you really think I'd let him die?"

You reach for and take the chew-able necklace around your neck and put the black mushroom pendant in your mouth, and think. "I'm not sure. Every account I've read about you, says you're a trickster. So I don't know what you might do."

He laughs at you, "You believe every story about me?"

"No, but every myth has a seed of truth to it." You tilt your head slightly, grinding your teeth on you necklace. "If you want me to know, tell me."

Again, he laughs, "What fun would that be?"

You laugh in response too, "Wow okay, asshole."

The unease in the room dissipated because of your shared laughter. Mephisto snapped his fingers, and the box you threw earlier appeared back in his hand. He extended his hand and offered it to you once again. You hesitate for a moment, before taking the box again. Curiosity takes you, and you take it over to the coffee table, and pull the lid off.

Inside was a book, about four inches thick.The outside is hard, the designs on the cover is black, curls going in directions with little reason to the design. You open it to the first page, to see it's written in Gehennian.

"A Collection of Fairy Tales, Myths, and Legends", Read the first page. You freeze for a moment in surprise.

"This is a book from Gehenna," You speak just barely above a whisper.

"I was planning to tell you who I was, after you opened your gift you know."

You let out a loud squeal, jump in place, and begin flapping the hand that isn't in a sling.

"Thank you!"

Mephisto doesn't respond but snaps his fingers, and another book appears in his hand. Much less gory looking than the book you have. It's white with eloquent writing on it. "This is book I wrote. Filled with spells dealing with time and space."

You gasp and reach for the book, but her pulls it away from you.

"Wait a moment~" You smiles at you, "You can have this one, but you must do something first."

You backed up, confused. You ask, "what is it?"

"I've made reservations at a restaurant in the city for ten tonight. All you need to do is join me." He glances at the clock on your wall, "Which will be in an hour."

Having parents that put emphasis on public appearance, what they taught you kicked in. You looked terrible and didn't have much time, and with a cast you would need to bathe instead of shower.

"Oh, okay. Just give me time to get ready, okay?" You rush upstairs before he can even respond.

It wasn't until you were drying yourself off after you bath did you realize that your best friend, and principal had asked you on a date.

You're not opposed, though you would have appreciated it if he didn't bribe you into it.

You finish getting ready, you wear you black dress shirt, black slacks and black mary janes. You also put your yellow cat-eye lenses in, you would have also put your fangs in, but those don't go well with solid food you found out.

"Well, I look alright, Max?" You turn and ask you ever-loyal undead-dog. He barks in approval. You pat him on the head, and make your way back downstairs. You find Mephisto reclining on one of your sofas, reading one of your mangas.

He looks up from it, "Ah, there you are. Are we ready to go?" He stands and the book vanishes. You hope it's gone back to it's proper place on the shelf.

"Yes, but-"

"'But?' Can I do anything nice without you disapproving?"

You frown, "I'm not disapproving. I'm just saying you could have asked me out without the bribe."

"Oh, so you do not want the grimoire then?"

"Oh spirits, yes, I do want the book!"

He laughs at you again. --- Inside his hot pink limo, you sit next to him, perpendicular. You eye the mini bar. Drinking would help calm your nerves, though you might drink to much and risk looking like a fool. Your parents would hear if you embarrassed yourself in public.

"Help yourself," Mephisto interrupted your thoughts.

"No, I better not."

"Very well. I'll get you drunk when I take you home then." He winks at you as soon as you turn your head to look at him.

Your face goes hot and you attempt to cover your smile with your hand. "You fucking creep."

He smiles at you and laughs. You only just now realize how much you love the sound of his laugh.

You finally get to the restaurant. It's inside a large skyscraper. You still haven't gotten used to the size of them yet, despite living in LA and then Tokyo for several years.

You both enter, and ride up the elevator the floor the restaurant is in. People look over at you, and some stare. Of course they do. You do your best to ignore them, and keep your focus on your friend.

Your friend. Your best friend. Your boyfriend?

You run the thought though your mind as you walk, following the waiter to your table. He takes you to a booth, with a light hanging above it. The whole place how low lighting you notice. You sit down and order your drinks. You're still too nervous to drink anything so you order a soda. Mephisto orders something called a ginger berry smash. Once the waiter leaves, you adjust the earplugs in your ears to pick up a little more sound.

You look through the menu, Mephisto is making comments and talking to you, but you're not good at talking while doing something else.

You decide on some sushi rolls since you're not too adventurous when it comes to food, You put your menu down and turn your attention to Mephisto.

"So, how long?" You ask, making sure to keep your voice down.

"Hm?" He tilts his head at you, eyebrows high.

"How long have you been wanting to ask me out like this?"

"Not too long after you went into the hospital," He answered. He opened his mouth  again, but stopped before actually saying anything.

"What?"

"I suppose the idea of losing you," He pauses, "Made me realize what you are to me."

Your cheeks grow warm, and you respond. "But isn't this illegal? Couldn't you get into a lot of trouble?"

He flashed a wicked smile at you, "No need for you worry about that my dear student. Now, my turn to ask you a question."

You swallow, "Alright."

He begins speaking in a language you don't actually have a name for, but you understand perfectly none the less, "Where did you learn to speak the language of Gehenna?"

You eyes drop from his face and you stare at your menu. He's asking about a part of your life you'd rather not mention.

"I have my ways," You answer, speaking in Mephisto's mother tongue.

He chuckles at you, "Now that's not very fair, I answered your questions."

"Well I did technically answer yours," You've both switched back to using English.

"Alright, then let me ask you this; how did you know who I am?"

That you can answer, "One of my special interests is demons. Any legend or clue of their whereabouts is probably somewhere on my computer. Plus I'm a deviation witch. I can use magic to find things out."

"'Special interests?'" Mephisto asked.

"Yeah. I have autism if you haven't figured that out yet. My other special interests are magic and fashion."

"You're into fashion and you wore that?"

"I was rushed. Also you're no one to talk since you're wearing that tie with that suit." You quip back.

He laughs lightly at your comment, then asks, "Why is it you've never mentioned any of this before?"

"You never asked." You shrug, "You just talked about what you liked but that was fine. I like learning about you. I guess that makes you another one of my special interests- Wait, is that weird?" You stop and quickly ask.

His smile widens and he shakes his head, "I find it flattering!"

"Oh good. I sometimes come off as creepy. That's what-" You pause, "Some people have told me. Then again, you do too."

"Oh? Who said that?" He asked, it doesn't seem offended, but curious.

"Rin."

The waiter returned with your drinks and took your order. You and Mephisto spent the rest of the dinner discussing many things, the conversation often leaving and returning to topics at random.

You were laughing together when you returned to Mephisto's limo. Feeling more relaxed, you reach for the mini bar once your inside the limo.

"Oh? Now you're getting into my mini bar." He points out, he voice holding a teasing tone.

"Yup." You reply flatly.

"Well get me a glass while you're at it, my dear."

You pause when you hear what he called you, but you make no comment and get a couple champagne glasses, and reach for a small bottle of chardonnay, before you realize your right arm is still broken. You huff and hand him both glasses and then go back for the bottle.

But before you can reach it, it vanishes in a puff of pink smoke. You turn and look at Mephisto who now has the bottle in his hand.

"Oh fuck you," You say, sitting back up and sliding back over to him.

"But Ms. Cross, this is only our first date!" He only laughs a bit and hands you one of the glasses. You choose to not react to his little tease. He pours some chardonnay into both of them, and asks, "Well, what shall we toast to?"

You squint your eyes at him, the question seeming very stupid to you. "To us, obviously."

He lets out a laugh, and gently clinks his glass against yours.

"I like your laugh," You comment. You turn to take a drink from your glass. When your eyes return to Mephisto, he's staring at you. "What?"

"My laugh?" He asks, one eyebrow raised.

"Yeah, it sounds nice." You explain. You return to your drink, but you jump slightly when you feel a hand wrap around your waist. You quickly realize it's Mephisto as he pulls you closer to him. Close enough that your thighs are now touching. His hand remains on your waist as you look from your thighs to his face which is now a pleased grin. You look away, and you can feel a blush on your cheeks.

You're both tipsy from the alcohol by the time you get back to your house. You climb out of the limo, fallowed by Mephisto. You begin to unlock the door, when you feel yourself being taken by the shoulder and turned around. Mephisto places a hand on your chin, staring at you. You frozen, sure he was about to kiss you.

However he lowers his hand, and instead takes your hand and places a kiss to the back of it, like you've read in a dozen corny romance novels.

He stands back up, smile still ever present on his face. "Well, I suppose I should be on my way, it's irresponsible for a student to be up so late, don't you think?"

You squint your eyes, "But, you're the one who took me out."

He laughs at you. You guess it's a joke you missed.

"Good night my dear, it's been a treat." He says, giving you a small bow.

You return the bow, "Good night, Mephy."

He lets out another laugh, but before you can ask what he's laughing at, he's back in his limo, and soon gone down the road. You turn and unlock the door, and head in.

You're greeted by your dog Max, and your goblins. A voice calls out from the kitchen, "Hello deary, did you have a nice time?"

It's the ghost that resides here. She was here before you even moved in. "Yes I did, Granny." You look over at where you left the book of fairy tales, and see the grimiore Mephisto promised you is sitting right next to it. You walk over to it, eager to learn it's secrets. You decide the other book will be good reading when you're in class and have nothing else to do.

You open the book, and to your surprise, you find a note folded just under the cover. You open the note, it reads;

"Try not to stay up too late studying sweetheart, you wouldn't want to ruin your sleep schedule. - Mephisto ~<3"

You suppress the urge to laugh. There's no way you can sleep with brand new spells to memorize!