#in high school I had this oc that was a skeleton with a nose

[ghosttrolls]

It turns out things you make that you feel are absolute shit can still rock someone's world. You could be putting zero effort into something you're making just because you're bored and find it mildly funny to pass your time with but then years later run into people who have legitimately been fans of that silly little thing since the beginning. Sometimes there's fans out there you never get to meet. It's super possible that you're a fan of what the creator considers their worst work! And that's awesome to think about. People enjoy stuff! And it never has to be your best to be enjoyable!

[jamaisjoons]

of oleanders & honeysuckle I ⤑ knj | m.

⟶ 𝑠𝑢𝑚𝑚𝑎𝑟𝑦:〝 when one of your coven sisters, malise, had first mentioned your soulmate, you’d been young and unbothered - preferring to chase the elusive seduction of power. now, you’re twenty-five, and having established yourself as a powerful witch of the sisters of elysia, you've grown tired of the cold embrace of power. looking to settle down, you move to carelia in search of the one destined for you. within days, you come across the charmingly handsome apothecary owner, and warlock, kim namjoon. something about him magnetises you. but is he the one the universe has fated for you? 〞strangers to lovers au. supernatural au. witch/warlock au. soulmates au.

❥ 𝑝𝑎𝑖𝑟𝑖𝑛𝑔: witch!reader x warlock!namjoon

❥ 𝑔𝑒𝑛𝑟𝑒: angst ∝ fluff ∝ future smut

❥ 𝑤𝑜𝑟𝑑 𝑐𝑜𝑢𝑛𝑡: 12k

⟶ 𝑤𝑎𝑟𝑛𝑖𝑛𝑔𝑠: mentions of death, oc has a traumatic™ childhood, oc is also an orphan so mentions of parental death, brief mentions of religious persecution? (yn’s parent’s coven is destroyed by knights from a new religion), brief depictions of fighting/violence, there’s no smut in this part but namjoon is hot as fuck, namjoon in leather which needs a warning in itself, use of magic ofc, namjoon is I N S A N E and im simping for him

➵ 𝑎/𝑛: this was,,, supposed to be a oneshot but fneorifnge i’ve been so lazy and i haven’t been writing as much so in order to post something I’ve decided to split this into four parts! also sorry there’s no smut in this chapter but the next three parts all have smut yeehaw 🤩

⏤ beta read by the lovely @yeoldontknow, @nightshadevinter, @inthecrescentmoonight​ and @jjungkooksthighs​

⟴ Series Masterlist

It’s the dead of winter. Snow crunches under your soles; the muffled sounds of your footsteps intermingling with the odd cracking branch, and crinkling leaf-litter as you navigate through the Forest of Ingredeen. The sky above you is bleak: faint wisps of smoke-grey clouds obscuring the otherwise stark, white canvas; and the harsh light causes your eyes to squint in the slightest. The thick blanket of snow that surrounds you doesn’t help; the pristine-white coating only further reflecting the brightness. Despite the austereness of the sky, life continues thriving around you. Barren skeletons of deciduous trees are juxtaposed by evergreens of pine, fir, and yew – the latter of whose verdant branches still boast succulent needles of jade and viridian. Some of them, most notably the yew trees, still bear fruits: the scarlet berries adding a splash of colour to the contrary dreary scene.

Stillness befalls the entirety of the forest, and the eerie silence only amplifies the sounds of snow crunching under your feet. The air is equally stagnant, with not a single gust of a howling gale, nor a gentle wisp of a susurrus breeze, drifting through the atmosphere. Though, that's a small blessing you’re thankful for; because even with the absence of the wind, the frigid bite of the cold settles into your bones. As a matter of fact, you’re dressed in a thick-piled winter cloak - the black material lined with fur – as well as your woollen dress and leather boots. Yet, you still feel the brisk chill kiss your skin, the surface turning icy as it prickles with goosebumps.

Curling further into the warmth of your cloak, you pull the piled fabric further around your body and continue walking through the dense thicket of trees. The quiet is strange, and heavy, and if you didn’t know better, you’d think the woodland was devoid of all life. Nonetheless, every now and then, the shrubs around you move: their foliage rustling as hares and squirrels scuttle about, and wintertime birds flit through the canopy: sweet chirps of birdsong and languid flaps of wings resonating through the air. Albeit, they come infrequently, with long, gaping silences between. But they still come, and that settles the inkling of unease that flutters through your stomach.

You’ve only just moved into the large province of Carelia; the nation nestled between the much smaller territories of Alphana and Eyres; the latter of which had once been your previous home. Of course, in spite of Carelia being a large country – abundant with diverse wildlife and vast expanses of wilderness – the population of inhabitants itself was fairly small. In fact, throughout the entire country, there were only five human settlements; a significant decrease from the almost overpopulated country of Eyres. Naturally, that wasn’t the only difference. No, here, in Carelia, magic was bountiful – the very essence of life so palpable that you could feel it thrum in the air. Not that any of that was surprising by all means. No. After all, nature was plentiful here, and as a result, it meant that the innate magic of life was equally as powerful.

Taking a deep breath, you watch as your breath fogs in front of your face, causing your nose to scrunch at the sight. You had chosen to leave your previous coven, of your own volition. It had been a spur of the moment decision, after one of your past sisters, who’d specialised in oracles and premonitions, had suggested through thinly-veiled euphemisms that you’d find your destined soulmate here. When she’d first prophesied her vision, you’d been but a young wiccan, at the tender age of eighteen, a mere two years after your initiation into your coven, and you hadn’t cared too much. Back then, the idea of love, soulmates, and destiny had been far out of your mind. Rather, your entire being burned with the need to learn, to hone your magic and see just how far you could take it.

Your past coven had been a famous one, known by the entire world as the Sisters of Elysia. It had been an elusive coven, shrouded in mystery and repute, and one that was only open to the most powerful, or promising, female witches. In fact, it had been so exclusively prestigious, that it could only be joined by invitation from the High Priestess herself; a powerful seer with the ability to seek out the potential, innate magic of a witch or warlock. Though of course, the Sisters of Elysia had only been interested in an all-female coven, and even the most powerful warlocks had been turned away. Not that they’d even consider joining, though. No, they had their own coven for that – the Brotherhood of Requiem.

Being discovered by Mardella, the High Priestess, at the age of fifteen had been a blessing, and an honour; and having been told you’d had an incredible affinity for the Destructive Arts and Alchemical Restoration, two powerful schools of magic, had been even more of a privilege. As such, Mardella, and the rest of your sisters, had taken you under their wing, and taught you all about witchcraft for a year. And then, the very day you’d turned sixteen, you’d been formally initiated into the coven.

After that, you’d spent years upon years training your two schools of magic, honing them to the skill they are today. For the vast majority of your young adulthood, you’d chased the beguiling essence of magic – learning as much as you could about the two different archetypes – and soaking every ounce of the information into the very fibre of your skin. Power was a seductive thing, something far more enticing than the notion of love, and readily, you’d fallen into its clutches. Naturally, it was only made easier by being part of the Sister of Elysia.

You see, your previous coven had been a nomadic one – and its migratory nature had made learning all the more easier – especially since at the age of twenty-five now, you’ve traversed almost the entire world, and seen more things than an ordinary witch of your age would have. At first, the vagrancy of your previous home had been exciting. You’d loved travelling the globe, visiting different countries, and learning all types of cultures while simultaneously acuminating your magic. As a matter of fact, you had craved it – and wandering about the different kingdoms had whetted your own innate wanderlust; as well as the desire to learn as much as you could.

The Sister of Elysia had been your home, and you’d loved the family you’d created – after all, the blood of the covenant was thicker than the water of the womb. Or so, you’d been told all your life. Nevertheless, despite all your attachment and adoration for your coven – you couldn’t help but find that something was missing. You see, your blood-related family had been torn from you at the young age of ten, the coven of your parents razed to the ground by Knights of the Seven Lights: a new religion that had swept through Eyres, and in the bloodbath that had followed, you’d lost everything.

Orphaned from childhood, you’d spent the next five years living in the abandoned church that your parents’ coven, Mages of Mirror Lake, had occupied when they’d still been alive. Thankfully, the Kingdom of Eyres had a warm temperate, and winters were non-existent. Hence, even though you were essentially homeless, you’d somehow survived. By all means, you’d had to forage for scraps of food, clothing, or any other basic necessities – sometimes even needing to find a neighbouring human settlement and stealing whatever you could get your hands upon – but you’d survived. Moreover, you’d even continued sharpening your skills in witchcraft, using the ruined library of the church in order to continue your schooling.

For five years, you’d lived like that. Using the school of Destructive Arts, you’d kept those who would harm you, typically members of the Knights of the Seven Lights, at bay. And using the school of Alchemical Restoration, you’d heal and look after yourself; as well as the odd human who was desperate enough for a treatment to an ailment that they would turn away from their new religion and back towards the Magic of Old. Eventually, though, you’d met Mardella, who’d sought you out and brought you back to the Sisters of Elysia. And that was where you’d found your home, happiness, and solace.

That was, until now.

In the recent years, your magic had grown listless, and you, yourself, had grown restless – until eventually, you found yourself at an impasse.

You no longer found joy in travelling, and considering you’ve travelled everywhere there was little more you could learn that way, and even less that you could discover. You’ve reached the peak of your power. You’ve spent an entire decade garnering your knowledge, immersing yourself in the seductive lure of the Black Arts, only to hit a culmination. And now, there was nowhere else you could go except down. Of course, you could always consider learning a new school of magic if you so wished to continue chasing power. Except, lately, that deep, insatiable need for it had started diminishing; the searing fire dwindling until it was nothing more than weak flames licking at your being.

You still loved to practice your witchcraft, of course you did. You’d never really lose your love for power or magic. But your hunger for it had ebbed, its cold seduction releasing you from its tantalising embrace – and the moment that had disappeared, you’d found yourself lost. For the longest time, power had been your only vice, the only thing you had sought after, and cared for. But with that thirst gone, you had no idea what to do; or where to go anymore. More than that, you'd found yourself craving for some sense of home, of belonging. You had that with your coven, of course you did. But it just wasn’t the same.

A while now, there was a small, distant part of you that craved what had been stolen from you from a young age. A family. Love. You craved a sense of belonging; the affection of a lover, and the comfort and safety that they afforded. Something that was out of your reach with the Sisters of Elysia. By all means, it wasn’t as if there were rules that forbid romance. No, of course not. It was more, with how elusive the coven was, and with the doctrine that knowledge was power, and power was prestige; it meant that while romance wasn’t frowned upon, it just wasn’t something that was frequently entertained. Especially since the Sisters of Elysia had no room for men. Though, of course, if you fell for one of the sisters, that was a wholly different matter.

Which had all been well and good when you were younger. But now, you’re older, and you no longer covet power. Rather, you yearn for a sense of security, of home, of stability.

And thus, lately, you’ve found yourself going back to Malise’s oracle; the seer having foreseen of your soulmate almost a decade ago. You see, everyone in the world has someone fated for them – the knots of destiny tied by the Moirai long before even your own grandparents were born. Naturally, not everyone who was bound together actually found each other; after all, the world is large, and the universe was rarely ever so kind. No, more often than not, soulmates could be born miles apart, or even countries apart – and as a result – very few people found love with their soulmates. That is, of course, if you’re a human with no ties to the Magic of Old.

For witches and wizards, it was different.

The natural essence of the universe – the energy that made up the Magic of Old – was what guided practitioners of the Black Arts, and it was that very power that had bound the two beings together. And as such, for witches and warlocks, it was easier to find soulmates. Easier. Magic was mysterious, and the universe very scarcely answered definitively. Oracles were particularly attuned to the cosmos, hence their ability to catch glimpses of the future. But that’s all they were, mere glimpses and vague inklings. It was very rare for a seer to be able to clearly see the future – which is why Mardella was so powerful: she was particularly harmonious with the world.

However, Mardella very rarely involved herself with matters of the heart. As the High Priestess of the Sisters of Elysia, she embodied the fundamental teachings of knowledge and power; and as such her prophecies were seldom about the frivolities of romance or soulmates. Malise, however, was another matter. Frequently, the seer would have visions about soulmates, and she could even control them to a degree – having them at will. The first vision she’d had of you and your destined lover, had been involuntary; the fortune triggered randomly. She’d tried to speak to you about it, even offering to look further into it. However, you’d quickly dismissed her. After all, back then, you hadn’t cared.

Now, though, was a completely different matter.

Thus, a week ago, you’d sheepishly slunk into her chambers, and quietly asked if she’d be able to find out more about your soulmate. Her response had been eager, and she’d conducted her divination swiftly. As usual, her vision had been vague – veiled in euphemisms and cloaked with mysticism – the universe purposely responding to her questions with ambiguous answers. All she could say was that it was a man, a warlock to be specific, and that he lived in Carelia. It wasn’t much, but it was something. The idea of moving and settling down in Carelia – a kingdom so rich in nature and magic – immediately had excitement flourishing through you. Your earlier listlessness quickly faded, and with a new sense of purpose, you’d formally, and abruptly, left the Sisters of Elysia before you made your way to Carelia.

Naturally, there’s not much you know about your soulmate – because, really, living in Carelia and being a warlock was barely any information to go off of. Nevertheless, as mentioned before, despite how large of a country it is, Carelia only had a small population of humans inhabiting it. More than that, despite the abundance of magic, there was only one coven that was still prolific in the nation: Coven of the Evening Star. Moreover, out of curiosity, and before you had moved, you’d brewed the Essence of Venus; a potion that took on the scent of your destined lover. Each fragrance is wholly unique, customised purely for the individual, and completely memorable. In fact, you doubt you could ever forget the scent.

Thick notes of a pungent scent made up the bulk of your soulmate’s fragrance. Despite the sharpness of it, it was fruity and warm; with subtle hints of rich honey and ripe citrus. The fragrance was sharp, deeply intoxicating, and incredibly comforting. The telltale scent of honeysuckles in full bloom. Undercurrents of morning dew and fresh soil cut the effluvious aroma, adding a depth of light freshness and earthen musk to it that had your stomach flourishing with warmth. The first time you smelled it, you'd completely melted into the scent - something about it calling to the very recesses of your being, and soothing your soul - and you'd wanted nothing more than to sink into it.

After that, you'd immediately found yourself daydreaming about the mysterious warlock it belonged to. Lost in your fantasies, you wondered what his name was, what he looked like, and what he was like. You wondered what kind of magic he practised, and what he liked to do in his spare time. Moreover, you wonder just why he smells the way he does - and whether the scent of honeysuckle was wholly natural to him or artificial. Momentarily, you wonder where the fresh soil and morning dew comes from too. Mainly because, none of the notes that make up your soulmate's scents are common, or ordinary. Though, that's something you're thankful for, because hopefully, just hopefully, it would make finding him all that bit easier.

Distracted by your thoughts, you don't notice the dense thicket of woodland start to thin: the space between the trees growing further and further apart; until, all of a sudden, you're thrown out of your thoughts by the sight that greets you. Out of the blue, you find yourself in a large clearing. The glade is spacious, fringed by shrubs and bushes that make up the understory of the forest. Above you, the once thick canopy has cleared up, allowing dense beams of stark-white light to flood the ground: the sky's radiance bathing over the forest floor and casting its harsh brilliance over the structure that makes its home in the middle of the meadow.

When had you reached home?

Your cottage is moderately sized, and homely, but nevertheless, a sight to behold. The roof is gabled: made up of thin, multi-shaded hues of black slate, and the walls are smooth: made up of clay and stone of varied shades of beige. Flowering vines scale the exterior of your home, from the climbing roses that frame the oakwood entrance to your home, to the branches of clematis and moonflower that intertwine together over the side walls. Trumpet vine hangs over the edge of the roof, the lush foliage draping over the large windows that peek into your home. A wooden fence encloses your land, with the only entrance a small gate that breaks up the stakes. Bushes fill the space between your home and the timber barrier, however, being the dead of winter, only a few still bloom: the large shrub of daphne in the corner by the chimney, little clusters of violas nestled between clumps of cyclamen, and the vines of winter clematis that creep over the walls.

Carelia is large, and there are few settlements littered around the wild expanse of the wilderness. Nevertheless, your home is still secluded from even the nearest community - your new coven. Most people would be daunted by the fact that you're living alone in the woods. However, you? Not so much. After all, with your proficiency in the Destructive Arts, it would be hard for someone to get the best of you. Not to mention, that you had lived by yourself in the woods from the ages of ten to fifteen. No, to you, living alone in the forest, is somewhat comforting, and nostalgic.

At the comforting sight of your home, the corners of your lips curl into a slight smile, and you begin walking down the thin, winding dirt path that leads through the gate and to your home. Getting to the entrance to your cottage, though, you abruptly stop; the smile on your face falling. A small wicker basket sits on the shallow concrete step at the foot of your door. Curiosity colouring your being, you place your own basket of firewood and food down, before cautiously pulling back the soft linen cloth that covers the contents. Seeing the items inside, however, your curiosity is swiftly replaced by surprise.

A pot of lilac makes the centrepiece, the four-petaled flowers blooming in soft shades of periwinkle and blush despite the mid-winter atmosphere. Next to the pot lies a bundle of dried lavender, wrapped in a piece of plain brown parchment and tied with silk black ribbons. A few of the desiccated petals litter the base of the wicker basket, and in spite of its dryness, the thick, piney-floral scent of the bulbs intermingle with the cloying - almost sacchariferous - scent of lilac into a delicate floral aroma. The last items in the basket are three muslin sachets that contain a mix of rosemary, sage and cloves - the bag tied shut with red thread.

Thanks to your background in Alchemical Restoration, you’re well versed in the craft of herbalism, and from your extensive knowledge, you know that all the items signify protection. Lavender for purification and healing of the soul, lilac to banish malicious spirits or malevolent intentions, and the sachets to ward off negative energy. Having only moved into your new home yesterday, you haven't had a chance to properly ward off your property, and as such, the protective charms that keep you safe are basic and easily penetrable. Thus, the gift of the flowers and herbs is incredibly sweet. If a little strange, considering you have yet to meet any of your new coven members, or even announce your arrival. Nevertheless, you don't sense any negativity radiating off of the basket. In fact, if anything, you can feel a soft aura of safety enclosing the items - the gifter having clearly cast a few more wards of protection around them.

“Hello,” a voice suddenly speaks, and not expecting it, you immediately startle. Instantly, a rush of adrenaline surges through you, causing the hairs on the back of your neck to stand on edge, and a swell of power to flood through your fingertips. Before you can even consider your actions, lightning begins crackling around your fingertips: small bolts of bright, purple-hued sparks arcing around the pads of your digits; your magic involuntarily manifesting itself in a bid to protect you.

Spinning on your heel, you thrust out your hand on instinct, causing a large bolt of lightning to appear out of thin air. The moment you turn around, however, your eyes blow wide and despair courses through you. The newcomers are dressed in two large cloaks, their coats effectively hiding their forms from you. However, from the design of the brooch that fastens their coverings - the emblem of an intricate silver star - you know that they’re members of your new coven; most likely coming to greet you. Nonetheless, the damage is already done - your magic having flooded out of you and into the air.

The lightning bolt surges towards the two and you watch as the female’s hands move in a flash, a spell immediately slipping from her lips as she erects a shield in front of her and her partner. It appears just in time - your own magic colliding directly into the middle of the barrier. To the witch’s credit, the shield manages to deflect your attack, and the force of the collision causes the lightning to bound into the stratosphere. A large flash of blue blazes through the sky, accompanied by the thunderous sound of lightning cracking, before your magic dissipates and ebbs back into the atmosphere; a terse silence once again shrouding the forest.

The moment it disperses, the aura of power around you fades away, and your shoulders immediately tense. Clambering to your feet, “Sweet Earth Mother, I am so sorry,” you quickly splutter. Adrenaline still coursing through you, your heart continues beating rapidly and your hands turn sweaty. Though, this time, rather than fear, it’s out of trepidation: a ripple of nervousness fluttering through you. This was not a good way to greet your new coven members.

The shorter of the two, the woman, pulls down her hood, and you’re met by mesmerising, cat-like eyes and a mischievous smile, “It’s okay. I kinda startled you on purpose,” comes her coy response. Nervousness replaced by confusion, your eyebrows furrow as you regard her in puzzlement. Beside her, the taller of the two lets out a little sigh and pulls down his own hood. The first thing you notice is that both of them have identical features: the same, sharp eyes; smooth, glass-like tanned skin, and small, pouty lips. Twins, no doubt.

“Yeah, and you almost had us killed. I told you not to startle her,” he chides, causing the woman’s cheeks to puff in a pout.

“Hey! I saved us, didn’t I? If it weren’t for my shield, we’d both be ash,” she backfires. The man simply scoffs and shakes his head.

“If you hadn’t scared her, we wouldn’t have needed the shield in the first place,” he retorts. The woman opens her mouth to retaliate, however, not having a comeback, she quickly closes it.

“Fair enough,” she concedes with a simple shrug of her shoulders.

“Purpose? Test?” you reiterate softly, breaking their little spat.

“Well, yes, of course. Your reputation precedes you, ____. I just had to see if the famed Witch of Ruin was truly as powerful as the rumours made you out to be,” the woman replies. Hearing her words, you let out an awkward chuckle.

Witch of Ruin.

Gods, you hadn’t heard that in a while.

You’d first gained the epithet during your years in Eyres, after you’d single handedly defeated a small group of the Knights of the Seven Lights, who’d come to ‘purge’ you of evil. After that one event, you’d gained infamy as the Witch of Ruin; rumours of a child born of chaos, lightning and fire, spreading through the country. As a result, more and more groups of the Knights would come looking for you, and one by one, they would fall at your hand. By all means, it had all stopped once you’d been rescued by Mardella. Nonetheless, being initiated into the Sisters of Elysia, of all covens, had only caused your fame to grow. After all, it was a coven that prized themselves on power.

Still, you haven’t heard that epithet in a while; having stayed your lust for power a while ago, and falling more into your love of Alchemical Restoration in the recent years. In fact, if you were being completely honest, you’d tried your hardest to put the nickname, Witch of Ruin, behind you. Mainly due to the fact that it had been born out of your need for survival. Not to mention, your anger, and what could only be considered ‘teenage angst’, over your circumstances from when you were an adolescent.

The man in front of you bows, the movement breaking you out of your reverie abruptly. “I’m sorry about my sister. I’m Min Yoongi, and this is Yoonji. We’re here to welcomeyou to the coven,” he apologises. Then, straightening out his back, he glares at his twin pointedly through the corner of his eyes, “Welcome. Not test,” he mutters. His words cause Yoonji to pout and stick her tongue out.

Eyes blowing out, you quickly shake your head while waving your hands dismissively. “No, no. It’s okay! Would you like to come in?” you ask as you gesture towards your home. This time, it’s Yoonji who shakes her head.

“Usually, we’d love to. But we don’t have long today. We need to get back to prepare for the coven meeting tomorrow,” she replies, her mischievous smile curling into an apologetic one. “We’re only here to drop off your initiation robes, as well as let you know that your formal induction into the coven will take place tomorrow, at evening’s twilight, in the Lunar Grove,” she continues.

Eyebrows knitting together, you cock your head to the side, “Lunar Grove?” you repeat, causing Yoongi to smile at you kindly.

“Someone will come collect you around dusk and bring you to the meeting spot,” he supplies, and you nod in understanding.

“Do we not have a building to convene in, or…?” you find yourself asking before you can stop.

A tinkling laugh slipping from her lips, Yoonji shakes her head. “The Coven of the Evening Star reveres nature first and foremost. We feel that buildings impair our ability to connect with both nature and the universe. So, while we aren’t a nomadic coven, we do not have an official church building to worship in either,” she explains. Mouth forming a little ‘o’, a ripple of sheepishness washes through you. You remember Malise telling you something about that, however, in your excitement to move and settle down, you hadn’t completely researched your new coven; a blight on your part.

Sensing your mortification, “Don’t worry about it too much. Our coven is very different from your old one, so I’m sure it’ll take you a while to get used to everything anyway. In the meantime, we’re here to help you with whatever you need,” Yoongi speaks, his voice low and comforting. A grateful smile curls onto your face as you thank him.

“Not to mention, everyone is excited to meet you. It’s all anyone can talk about lately. About how we’re not only going to meet a previous member of the Sisters of Elysia, but that she’s also joining our new coven. Not only that, but she’s also the fabled Witch of Ruin… I can assure you, that almost every member of the coven will travel to view your initiation tomorrow,” Yoonji chuckles lightly. The moment her words slip out her mouth, you let out an awkward laugh, and hearing the sound, Yoongi rolls his eyes.

“It’s not that daunting, don’t worry. And Yoonji is exaggerating, I doubt that many people will turn up,” he says while pointedly glaring at his sister through the corner of his eyes. Before she can say anything, however, he’s cutting her off, “We really must get going now, though. We still need to complete preparations for your initiation,” he continues before thrusting a neatly wrapped bundle of fabric towards you. “These are your Initiation Robes for the ceremony tomorrow. We look forward to having you join us,” he finishes.

Taking the bundled material from him, you smile at him once again, “I’m looking forward to joining,” comes your reply. With their business complete, the two of them turn on their heels and begin walking away. All of a sudden, however, a thought springs to mind, and you quickly call out to them. Immediately, they stop and turn back towards you, a look of interest on their face. With a wave of your hand, you gesture towards the wicker basket still laying on the porch of your door. “Did you send me this, by any chance?” you ask as you point towards your gift.

The twins glance at each other, a knowing glint flashing in their eyes as they silently communicate amongst one another. Simply watching them, you await their response. You don’t have to wait long, however, because a few short moments later, they’re both turning back to look at you; their heads moving eerily in sync - almost as if they’d planned it.

“It’s not from us, no. It’ll be from Namjoon,” Yoonji explains.

“Namjoon?” you dumbly repeat.

“Mhm. Kim Namjoon. He’s a warlock in our coven. He specialises in Herbalism, and he runs the apothecary that supplies us with the ingredients we need for our rituals, spells or potions. It’s probably a gift welcoming you to the neighbourhood,” she explains. For the umpteenth time today, confusion colours your face.

“Neighbourhood...? I didn’t think I had any neighbours,” comes your response. The land you own now, once belonged to the human settlement that borders the Forest of Ingredeen. When you’d purchased this area of land from the chief, he’d tried to explain that it was a secluded property and that a powerful coven lived in the Forest - and one that could take offense to a strange witch moving into their territory. Of course, once you’d explained that you were soon to join the coven yourself, you’d assuaged his fears and he’d easily bequeathed the land to you.

“Oh, theoretically, you don’t. But Namjoon’s home is the closest to you; he’s about a ten, maybe fifteen minute walk north-west from here. The rest of us live deeper in the forest,” Yoongi explains, his hand lifting as he points towards the general direction of Namjoon’s home. Eyebrows quirking, you turn your gaze back down to the gift as you look at it in interest.

“It’s a wonderful gift,” you mutter under your breath. Despite it being the middle of winter, the pot of lilacs are in full bloom: the velour petals still brightly coloured despite their pastel hue; the leaves still succulent, and a vivid shade of pine-green. Not to mention that the quality of the dried lavender is some of the best you’ve ever seen. Fully dessicated lavender usually tends to lose some of it’s scent, and with the deep, dusky-mauve shading, you know they’ve had all the moisture removed from them. Nevertheless, the camphorous scent of it is still strong; wafting into the atmosphere in soft waves.

“He’s incredibly skilled in what he does,” Yoongi responds, his voice laced with pride. Then, after a short pause, he continues, “He’s similar to you. He was raised by the Brotherhood of Requiem, but moved here and joined the coven, hmm… maybe two and a half years ago?”

Stilling at his words, your eyebrows shoot up into your hairline. If he was part of the Brotherhood of Requiem, he’d have to be incredibly skilled as a warlock; not to mention powerful. Mind casting back to Malise’s oracle, your heart flutters at the discovery. Could Namjoon be the one you’re destined for? Suddenly, you find yourself itching to go look for him. Though, of course, you wouldn’t know unless you smelled him. And it’d be a bit odd to walk up to a stranger and simply sniff him. Especially if it turned out he was not your soulmate. Still, his gift was sweet, and generous, and that in itself is enough of a reason for you to go meet him.

“If that’s all?” Yoonji asks, her words cutting you out of your thoughts. Startled by her voice, you snap your head back up and grace them both with a sheepish smile.

Scratching the back of your head, “Yes! Sorry to keep you,” you quickly respond. Neither of them say anything. Rather, they smile kindly before once again turning around and walking away. You watch their backs retreat, until their figures disappear into the dense woods that surround your home. Once they’re no longer in sight, you bend over and pick up both your gift, as well as your basket of firewood and food, before entering your home.

As soon as you’re inside the warm comfort of your cottage, you let out a soft sigh. Considering you’re about to leave soon, in order to go thank Namjoon for his gift, you leave on your heavy cloak. Instead, you pad further into your home - dragging in the snow on your boots with you - and into the kitchen. With a casual wave of your hand, the two baskets begin floating in the air before following your figure, and with another flick of your wrist, the firewood sails through the air and towards the fireplace; your food sorting itself out into the pantry and fridge.

Left with only the gift, you carefully place the basket onto the wooden counter of your kitchen island. Gently, you pick up the lilac pot, and the moment you touch the ceramic vase, your eyes widen. A soft thrum of magical essence flitters through your fingertips - travelling from your extremities and down your limbs, only to settle into your core. A sensation of comfort fills you, as well as a spark of energy, and immediately, you know that both spells of protection, and vitality, have been cast upon the pot. The former is obvious - the protection wards boosting the natural magical essence of the lilacs. The latter, however, probably explains just why the lilacs are still in bloom; their life force is most likely supported by the magic cast into it.

Thoughtlessly, your fingertips graze up the side of the vase, along a plump leaf, and towards a supple petal. Another spark of magic jolts through you, and as the calming sensation washes over you, a smile unknowingly curls on your face. It wasn’t often that witches and wizards could imbue feelings into an object; and even less often into a living organism. He really must be a powerful wizard. As you place the vase onto your windowsill, a small frown mars your lips. How are you going to pay him back?

Suddenly, a thought crosses your mind. Swiftly, albeit carefully, you empty out his wicker basket and once it’s empty, you wave your hand; summoning small empty mason jars and your own blend of different tea leaves. The items soar towards you, and with another wave of your hand, they precisely land onto your kitchen counter. Eyes flicking over the different tea leaves, you promptly decide on three different blends - your most favourite ones. In the first one, you scoop in your special blend of cardamom, nutmeg and cinnamon: the laden scent of aromatic spices diffusing into the air and flooding your senses as you fill the jar. The second one, you fill with a blend of chamomile and jasmine; a soft aroma of a floral fragrance replacing the previous, headier one.

With the first two done, you turn your attention to the third, and final one. A mischievous glint flashes in your eyes. Lavender and oolong. A fine homage to his own gift. Opening up the last container, you fill up the last mason jar: the delicate, fresh scent of the lavender intermingling with the sweet, elegant one of oolong. When you’re done, you quickly shut all three jars, wrapping the neck of the containers in a satin ribbon, before attaching a manila label to them. Summoning a pen from one of your drawers, you quickly scrawl on the names of the teas in blue ink.

Once your thank you present has been packed, you cover them with the cloth and grab the handle of the basket, before making your way back out. As you step into the cold once more, the gelid air kisses your skin, causing a soft shiver to run down your spine. Huddling further into your fur coat, you begin walking in the general direction of Namjoon’s home. You’ve no idea what it looks like, or how far it realistically is. Yoongi had mentioned a ten, perhaps fifteen minute walk, but considering you didn’t know the forest very well yet, you weren’t sure how long it would take. You hope it really is a ten to fifteen minute journey. And, of course, that you don’t get lost.

Thankfully, after faithfully sticking north-west, it’s not long before you happen upon what you believe to be Namjoon’s home. The glade of the property is similar to yours: the dense woodland clearing up into an open expanse. In the middle, and a little towards the left, sits a quaint little cottage; with a gambrel roof made of dark brown wood shake, and stone walls of greyed-white to match. Unlike your home, this one has large square windows around the entire property, allowing thick shafts of light to filter through. Yet, despite the panes of glass, you can’t see into the building: the thick cotton curtains blinding your view of the interior.

The area surrounding the cottage is wild, and almost overgrown - in a strange, coordinated way. An organised mess if you would. Small trees skirt the property, growing near the moss-clad, brick fence that separates the forest from Namjoon’s own land, while smaller brushes and shrubs litter the spaces between. One section is covered in flowering perennials, another with potted plants and herbs, and the last third with low growing blossoms. Eyes widening at the sight, you take in a deep breath, only to be filled with a renewed sense of vigour.

Breath hitching in the middle of your throat, you look at the property in surprise. The magic in the air is thick; so palpable that you feel the very cells of your being begin to vibrate with power. Not only is it potent, however, but also pure - the quality of life’s essence so refined that it’s almost suffocating. In fact, you have to physically keep your magic in check, lest it fritz and grow out of your control. Taking a deep breath, you purposely subdue your inner magical core - dulling it towards the vigor of the energy in the air.

Fingers clenching around the woven handle of the basket, you grip it tighter as you step onto the property, a faint ripple of nervousness fluttering through you. With the potency of magic in the air, you desperately hope you don’t trigger any protective wards surrounding the land. When you safely cross the boundary between the forest and Namjoon’s home, your shoulders tense and you immediately come to a halt. The hairs on the back of your neck stand on edge, and a nervous edge tinges at the corners of your being as you wait for something to happen.

After a few moments of silence, you let out a relieved breath. The wards, if there are any, have accepted you. With that knowledge, you begin your descent down the brick path, from the outskirts of the property and towards the arched front door. Stopping by the dark wood entrance, you lift your hand and gently rap your knuckles on the surface, before stepping away as you wait for an answer. Long, drawn out moments pass, and when you get no response half a minute later, a frown descends upon your lips.

Is he not home?

Lifting your fist, you knock once again; and just like before, you don’t get an answer. Eyebrows furrowing in confusion, you shuffle to the side and towards a window. Then, stepping onto the tips of your toes, you attempt to peek into Namjoon’s home; looking for any signs of life. However, with the curtains drawn shut - only a sliver of an opening between the two, thick pieces of fabric - you barely have a sufficient view of the inside. Shoulders drooping, you let out a deep exhale and flick your gaze down to the wicker basket in your grasp. If he’s not home, there’s nothing you can do about it.

Disappointment settles into your bones, and for a moment, you consider abandoning your gift on his front porch - just like he’d left his. The thought only lasts a brief moment, however, because suddenly, you hear a small commotion from the back of his home. Startling at the muffled cluttering noise, you raise your eyebrow. Maybe he ishome. Intrigued by the noise, you follow after the sound. It leads you around the perimeter of his home, and getting towards the back, surprise colours your face as you see another building behind his cottage.

The emporium is fairly small, almost the size of a large shed, and made of a beautifully preserved walnut: the timber panelling still ripe with its rich colouring. Walking further towards the building, and to the front, you come to a halt at the entrance. Large panes of glass fill up the front wall, but in spite of the glass, your view of the interior is partially obscured: the dark-tinted, translucent surface preventing your complete view into the shop. Two large pots of firs sit on either side of the door, and just above the tips of the tree, hangs a banner made of dark linoleum. ‘The Blackthorne Codex’ it reads; the letters gleaming in burnished shades of bronze under the stark brightness of the sky.

Steadily, you approach the shop, and placing your hand on the brass handle, you push it open. The tinkle of a bell chimes through the air, and the moment you enter, you're assaulted by an onslaught of sensations. A balmy heat greets you immediately, the warm air rushing past your face and immediately heating up your numb skin. Following the heat is a sacchariferous fragrance: notes of a fruity tartness flooding your senses. Currents of a warm, woody scent coalesce with the stronger aroma; the piquant spiciness of what you know to be cloves weaving with that of dried black cherries into an amalgamation of intoxicating aromas. The incense is strong - almost overpowering - and wholly unique: perhaps a blend of his own concoction. It's so potent in fact, that you can almost taste it on the tip of your tongue: tinges of a pungent sweetness dyeing your tongue and causing you to salivate.

"Sorry, I'll be with you in a moment." The deep voice comes out of nowhere, the sound breaking the silence and causing you to jump.

Taking heed of the voice, however, you walk further into the shop, simultaneously letting go of the door handle and allowing it to shut behind you. Once you're into the heart of the shop, prickles of heat sting at your skin, the chilled surface quickly warming up - and from the magic charged in the air, you have no doubt it's thanks to some warming enchantment. Carefully placing your woven basket onto a table near you, you unclasp the heavy cloak around your shoulders before quickly shrugging it off and draping it over your arm. With the thick material off of your body, you let out a sigh of relief - your body quickly cooling down.

More comfortable with the temperature, and with the man - who you assume to be Namjoon - still keeping you waiting, you take a moment to look around the shop. Neatly stacked shelves of mahogany line the entire perimeter of the shop, the surfaces chipped and faded with age. Nonetheless, despite their worn appearance, they're not decrepit. Rather, they're antique - with a rustic feel to them. Glass containers of all sizes line the shelves: large jars of preserved tree barks and animal products occupy the top shelves, smaller sized flasks of various herbs, botanics and minerals fill the next few ledges; and little vials and ampoules of oils, extracts and essences litter the final racks. Each one is faithfully marked with a black label, the nature of their contents scrawled in gold ink.

Hand sketched drawings are strewn across the very tops of the walls, the drawings depicting a variety of beautifully illustrated, and incredibly detailed, plants and flowers. Looking closer at them, you can even spot labels, along with scrawled annotations, pointing out to different parts of the plants. They’re vivid, and colourful: the dazzling hues contrasting with the darker shades of the interior. Turning your gaze, you carefully peer at the counter that separates you from the back of the shop.

Similar to the rest of the store, it's made up of wood, with a white marble tabletop that offsets the walnut wood of everything else. One half of the wall behind is filled with a stack of drawers, each one labelled in black ink; the other half holding a door that undoubtedly leads to the back. A cash register sits in the left corner; the till glinting in polished shades of murky gold and varnished oak. On the opposite side, sits a small book rack stacked with aged tomes and grimoires. Next to it, are a few pestles and mortars, some made of marble while others are made of stone - each one with its own specific purpose.

As you’re admiring the interior, a man suddenly slips out from the back. He appears out of nowhere, causing you to jump. The moment you spot him, however, you freeze. He’s tall. Incredibly so. And his size is only emphasised by the corded, bulging muscles that fill his frame. He’s dressed in black leather trousers - the tight material clinging to his full thighs - and with each step he takes, you could swear the material threatens to tear. Moreover, the snugness of his trousers only emphasise the length of his legs: the toned limbs seemingly going on forever. His top is simple, a plain white t-shirt. Yet, despite the simplicity of it, you find yourself swallowing thickly.

Similar to his trousers, the cotton fabric of his shirt clings to his broad chest, highlighting the smooth, yet prominent, outline of his pecs. From how taut the material is, the garment straining against his upper body, you can spot the faintest hint of his dark nipples - the sight of them causing your cheeks to tinge with specks of heat. A simple leather apron is tied around his hips; the hide straps emphasising his trim waist and slender hips. Gaze travelling further up his body, your eyes lock onto his, and this time, you gulp audibly.

He is, perhaps, the most handsome man you’ve ever laid your eyes upon.

And you’ve traversed the world.

Tanned skin - as smooth and delectable as dulce de leche - glows under the ivory light filtering through the window. It casts a halo of argentate around him - the silvery hue juxtaposing his delicious, honey-kissed skin in the most enchanting way. Dark locks of silk, as black as coal, fall in choppy waves around his face, the front tips kissing his eyelids, and the back ends grazing the nape of his neck. They frame his face, accentuating the elegant slant of his cheekbones, the gentle slope of his nose, and the angled definition of his jaw. His eyes are hooded, and heavy, with a deep-set crease at the inner corners that only highlight the sharpness of them.

Irises of obsidian peek from between his keen eyes, the inky depths freckled with specks of silver and jade that only add to his allure. Eyes glimmering, he radiates an air of power: waves of soft, yet dominant, energy seeping off of his being. If you didn’t know better, you would say his aura practically thrummed with the same lively essence of the very forest itself. Sucking in a sharp breath, the cloying scent of black cherries and cloves floods your senses as you lock eyes, and effortlessly, you sink into his dark gaze.

A look of surprise paints his features, and in a once over, his stare sweeps over you. In one, long glance, he takes you in in your entirety, from the very tips of your boots, to the top of your head, and then back onto your face. His features are carefully stoic as he observes you - his eyes giving nothing away. But then, all of a sudden, it changes. A strong, thick eyebrow rises, and sensual, voluptuous lips pull into an impish, lop-sided grin. It’s wolfish, practically predatory, and almost as if he could devour you whole with a single look.

In two, swift strides, he moves closer, and pressing both hands onto the edge of the marble counter, he grins at you. The movement draws your attention, and your gaze immediately flicks from his eyes and towards his sinewy arms. So enamoured by his handsomeness earlier on, you hadn’t noticed the identical tattoos that brand each of his biceps. Three bands make up each tattoo. The outer ones are simple - embellished with geometric patterns and alchemical runes - and made up of the blackest ink; the colour so rich, it soaks up the light into its ebon void. Framed by the two simplistic bands, however, is an inner one - this tattoo more intricate, and vibrant. Thick, unassuming vines of pine-green form the bulk of the design, with supple foliage of fern-green and moss engraved between.

“Hello. Welcome to The Blackthorne Codex. I’m Kim Namjoon.” The man greets. His voice breaks you out of your trance, and instantly, your eyes lock back onto his. Then, features twisting into one of apology, “Sorry about the wait. I had a slight issue with some stock in the back. How can I help you?” he asks.

For a moment, you simply stare at him, your mind completely blank, and your face effectively illustrating it’s emptiness. His voice is low, and baritone, with a mellifluous undertow that threatens to drag you under and drown you in its beguile. Of course, the enchanting lure of his magic does nothing to help. Neither of you say anything, Namjoon waiting for you to reply, and you waiting for your mind to process the Adonis-like man in front of you. Eventually, and once you realise he’s staring at you, your brain finally kicks itself into gear.

“Oh. Oh!” you quickly splutter out, your cheeks tinging with embarrassment. “I’m sorry, I just didn’t… expect you to be so young,” comes your reply.

Arching an eyebrow, “Young? I’m twenty-eight years old,” he replies, a playful inflexion to his voice as his smirk deepens. Finally getting a hold of yourself, you simply roll your eyes, a coy smile curling onto your own lips.

“Hmmm. Well, when I heard about the man who lived in the forest, and was dropping off welcome gifts at my house, I couldn’t help but assume he was an old man,” you counter. That has Namjoon pausing.

“Wait. You’re ____? The Witch of Ruin?” he asks, his strong eyebrows disappearing into his hairline as he gazes at you in incredulity.

Taken aback by his surprise, you cock your head to the side, “Is that such a surprise?” you ask while lightly waving him off. Scoffing in response, he simply shrugs.

“I just expected you to be…” he begins, only to halt as he ponders his next words. After a short pause, “More menacing,” he finishes.

Once again, you roll your eyes, before waving your hand dismissively, “Well, I guess we both had incorrect assumptions about each other.”

“Touche,” Namjoon laughs. “So, what brings you to my humble apothecary? Need ingredients so soon, already?”

Placing your basket onto the counter, you slide your present over to him. “Hmmm, no. I come bearing a thank you gift,” you reply. Namjoon chuckles, and for a moment, you feel your abdomen stir with a fuzzy warmth. The sound of his laughter is enchanting: deep, rich, and thick like honey as it drips from his mouth like viscous ambrosia. His eyes flash with mirth, and he angles his head down to look at you through his sharp, hooded eyes.

“A thank you gift in response to my ‘welcome to the neighbourhood’ one? Your parents must have raised you right,” he jokes. His tone is light, and airy, and you know he means well - realistically knowing nothing of your past. Yet, you still find yourself gracing him with a rueful smile. Though, there’s only a faintest hint of bitterness laced through it.

“They did. Up until their final moments,” you respond. At your words, Namjoon immediately halts, and visibly, you watch every single one of his muscles locking; the corner of his jaw simultaneously twitching.

Face immediately dropping, Namjoon glances at you for a moment - his eyes carefully guarded, and giving away none of his inner thoughts. Unconsciously, you bristle; in preparation for his pity, and the meaningless words that tend to fall out of people’s mouth when you speak of your traumatic childhood. They mean well. You know they do. But it’s been close to sixteen years. And you’re tired of the constant condolences and well wishes. Tired of the way they walk on glass around the issue of your parents. After all, you’ve long since come to terms with it.

To your utter surprise, however, Namjoon’s face immediately relaxes, and his - what you assume to be trademark at this point - wolfish grin once again creeps onto his pillowy lips. “Well, then I’m sure they’re happy you’ve retained your manners then. Or they’d probably rise from their graves and haunt you,” comes his breezy response. That’s it. No ‘I’m sorry’s’ or sympathetic looks, or that tone people take when they find out you’re an orphan. Just a lighthearted joke. Perhaps, to someone else, he may seem insensitive. Perhaps, someone else would be offended. But you? You appreciate it more than he could, or would, ever know.

“Hmmm. Considering my mother was a necromancer… you’re right. She’d definitely be the type to raise herself from the dead just to lecture me on societal etiquette,” you deadpan - your voice purposely flat as you retort. Eyes bugging wide, Namjoon splutters as he chokes on his own spit.

“A necromancer? Please tell me you’re joking,” he replies, a look of bewilderment colouring his visage. Features twisted almost comically, it’s all you can do to laugh.

“Of course, I’m joking! What do you take my mother for? She birthed the Witch of Ruin. There’s no way she’d be foolish enough to practice necromancy,” you laugh in response. Hearing your reply, Namjoon immediately relaxes, and seeing the relief on his face, you can’t help but laugh harder. Necromancy was a false school of witchcraft, one only perpetrated by humans who wished they could practice magic. However, they had one thing wrong. There was no magic that could raise the dead. None.

After all, magic came from nature, and the cosmos, and life itself. It’s why most, if not all, witches and warlocks worship some aspect of the natural universe. Some worship the sky, others the sea, a few the mountains, and many the earth and forests. But no self-respecting practitioner of the Magic of Old, would ever worship the dead. Or even consider bringing the dead back to life. Mostly because it was an impossible feat.

Once a living creature reaches the end of its life, the magic that sustains it fades away. Instead, it returns back to the universe, only to be rebirthed into a new form of life. Sometimes that’s in humans - the species having faint tethers to the universe - or what they’d call their ‘souls’. Sometimes, it’s in witches and warlocks - a child born particularly talented in an archetype of magic. More often than not, though, it’s into the very cosmos, as the sea, or the plants, or the stars. Or really, any component of life, or power, that makes up the universe.

“You have me there,” Namjoon concedes with a chuckle. Then, turning his attention to your gift, he gestures towards it. “So, what do we have here?”

Cheeks flushing with heat, you pull your lower lip between your teeth and begin to chew on it while Namjoon unravels the cloth from the wicker basket. When he spots the three, neatly wrapped jars, he flicks his gaze to you in surprise. Suddenly feeling far too self-conscious - was the gift too much? - you suppress an awkward smile. “I don’t know if you drink tea… but these are some of my own special blends,” you explain, your voice a few decibels above a whisper, and laced with your unsureness.

You watch as Namjoon picks up one of the jars, only to open the lid and take in a deep breath of the aromatic fragrance. “God… that smells good. Is that lavender… and oolong?” he asks, his eyebrows rising in surprise.

Floored by his deduction, “How did you even… you can barely even smell the oolong,” you point out. You’re not lying. The scent of lavender is always strong - and overpowering - and no matter what ratios you blend of the two ingredients, you can’t seem to find a way to bring out the oolong. At your obvious shock, Namjoon laughs.

“I spent my day tending plants, or selling them, ____. I know what most of them look, and smell, like. Even if it’s subtle,” he replies.

Intrigued by his words, you look at him curiously. “If you don’t mind me asking… what school of witchcraft do you practice?”

Snapping the lid back onto the jar, he places it back into the basket. Then, eyes flashing mischievously, his lips curl into a teasing smirk. Gazing at you with his smouldering eyes, “How can you not tell? Weren’t you raised by the Sisters of Elysia? I thought they were supposed to be incredibly knowledgeable. Or perhaps… they don’t hold a candle to the Brotherhood of Requiem,” he provokes. Jaw dropping in surprise, you instantly bristle.

“W-What’s that supposed to mean?” you splutter in indignation. “The Brotherhood of Requiem is not better than the Sisters of Elysia,” you continue with a hiss.

“Hmmm… not if you can’t guess what my magic is,” he backfires easily. Huffing at his response, you roll your eyes. Though, there’s no real ire to it.

“Well it’s obvious you practice Herbalism. But with the potency of the magic surrounding you, that can’t be all you practice,” you reply smartly.

Laughing, “I guess you’re right. Botanic Arts. I also practice the Botanic Arts,” he explains. Ah. That would explain the aura of life that surrounds him.

Contrary to your Destructive Arts - a discipline that was focused on elements of chaos, such as lightning or fire, in order to bring about calamity; the Botanic Arts was a discipline focused around the elements of life, such as earth and nature, in order to bring about life. Nonetheless, even with their juxtaposing natures, they were both two incredibly powerful schools of witchcraft, and if used correctly, even the Botanic Arts could be wielded as a cataclysmic magic. A notion only emphasised by his incredibly imposing presence; as well as his sheer confidence.

“How about you?” he asks, his words breaking you out of your thoughts.

Lips twisting into a wry smirk, “How can you not tell? Weren’t you raised by the Brotherhood of Requiem?” you mock, throwing back his own words at him.

With a snort, Namjoon looks at you pointedly. “Well, everything I know about you is from rumours. The witch of ruin, a child of chaos, birthed from lightning and fire. So… I’m assuming you’re proficient in the Destructive Arts. But… considering you just brought me tea leaves I doubt it’s just that,” he says, imitating your own sentiments. Tongue poking out, you swipe it across your lips as you feel the corners of your lips twitching.

“Alchemical Restoration. The teas have healing properties,” you reply as you try to suppress your grin.

You can’t help it.

Namjoon is unlike any other witch or warlock you’ve ever met. In your life, you’ve travelled the world, and you’ve met many of your kind; from all different walks of life. As such, you’re not new to a little flirtatious banter, nor were you unknown to the pleasures of sex, or a budding romance. Nonetheless, it was rare for it to go past that. The moment they found out who you were, who you truly were, they would immediately lose interest in you - either by their own jealousy, or intimidation, or insecurities that you were most likely better, and more powerful, than them.

However, here was a man, who knew who you were, and still continued showing an interest. Or well, at least what you hoped was interest. Though, with the way his eyes subtly roam over your figure every now and then, and with how he keeps his attention focused on you, and only you, you doubt you’re wrong. Namjoon is different. Because even knowing who you are, and knowing about your past, his demeanour hasn’t changed. He’s not the least bit intimidated, nor insecure, or resentful. If anything, you have a feeling you’ve only stoked his interest. And that has a fuzzy warmth blooming within the pits of your stomach.

“A remedial discipline? Didn’t take you for the type,” comes his immediate answer. Then, eyes flashing in mirth, “Though… I can’t say I’m mad. I don’t even want to thinkabout what your gift would be if you just practiced the Destructive Arts… perhaps you’d set my apothecary on fire for daring to intrude on your property?” he teases, and as the words slip out of his mouth, you can’t help but hear the flirtatious intonation.

Your conversation is ordinary, and full of pleasant niceties. Yet, buried between both your tones, is a touch of something deeper; something heavier. Perhaps it’s the playfulness of his entire demeanour, or the coquettish nature of your own replies. But no matter what it is, you can’t help but feel the spark between the two of you. You don’t know where it’s come from, or why. After all, you’re both strangers, and this is your first time meeting. Nevertheless, you can’t help but feel drawn to him - a baser need, something more corporeal pulling you towards him. A flutter of excitement flits through you,

In response to his words, you childishly stick your tongue out. Then, “Yes, well, as much as I adore the Destructive Arts and the power trip that comes with it… I’ve just… somewhat grown tired of it,” you find yourself confessing - the words falling from your lips before you can even stop them. That has Namjoon’s devilish disposition dropping, his features twisting into one of inquisitiveness.

“Oh? Why is that?” he asks.

Once again, and before you even realise what you’re saying, you find yourself shrugging. “Honestly? I don’t know if I ever really even wanted to learn the Destructive Arts. But after my parent’s coven was destroyed, and once the Knights of the Seven Lights began hunting me… I had no other choice, you know? I learnt it because I had to. Because I needed to survive. It was born out of my need to prove something… that I could endure everything, and that I would still come out on top,” you confess. All of a sudden, you pause.

Eyelids widening in the slightest, you quickly halt your tongue as you realise what you’d just blurted out. It’s not often that you talk about your past. You’re over it. Or well, you’re more numb to it. But it wasn’t often that you brought it up - wanting to leave the past… well, in the past. Hell, the only reason the Sisters of Elysia had known, was because they’d saved you from that life. But you never spoke about it. At least, not of your own accord. And certainly not to a random stranger you’d just met. So really, you’re not sure why you’d suddenly, and completely out of the blue, truthfully spoken about your past. Especially in a casual meeting like this.

Nonetheless, something about him calls to you. You don’t know what it is, and you can’t accurately place it. But there’s something about him that you find reassuring. He’s a stranger, and realistically, you know nothing about him. Yet, still, you can’t help but trust him. There’s an air of power around him, yes. It pulses around him in an enticing fashion: a refined aura of magic that is both completely sensual, and commanding. However, woven between that presence, is a sense of solace. The kind that’s filled with a promise of safety, and home. The kind you’ve been desperately searching for all your life. It beckons to you, and effortlessly, you find yourself magnetised to him.

Momentarily, Malise’s words echo in the back of your mind. About how you’d find your soulmate here, and fleetingly, you wonder if it’s him. A part of you is desperate for him to be. For him to be the one you call your home. Yet, even with that yearning that tingles through you, you can’t bring yourself to put any real hope on it. He’s enchanting, and you’re completely enamoured by him. But that doesn’t necessarily mean that he’s your one. The universe has a twisted sense of humour, and seldom did it ever play to one’s hand. Soulmates aren’t perfect. And just because you’re fated for someone, doesn’t mean that you’d work out. Love wasn’t that simple. Thus, with the attraction that you do feel for him already, a weird, twisted part of you doesn’t wantto know. Just in case, he’s not the one destined for you.

A heavy air befalls the two of you; the tension intensifying until it’s so thick that you almost suffocate within its hold. Jittery under the sudden pressure, your hands turn clammy as you begin shuffling from foot to foot. You want to say something, to make a casual joke and immediately diffuse the stiffness in the atmosphere. Nonetheless, your throat is tight, and your mouth dry, and you simply can’t bring yourself to force the words out. Sensing your awkwardness, however, Namjoon quickly comes to your aid. The corners of his lips tugs, and the plush petals of his mouth pull into an easy smile as he points back towards your gift.

“Well, they seem really well-made, and I can already tell just how high quality these are. I’m looking forward to trying them,” comes his airy response. Then, after a brief pause, an impish smirk teases at his lips. “... And giving you my honest opinion,” he taunts. A sense of relief washing over you at the return of his playful demeanour, and with the tension quickly diffusing, you grace him with your own coy grin.

“I’m sure you’ll find them to your standards. It’s not like I could give you something subpar after your lavish present, after all,” you counter. Eyes lighting up suddenly, “Which, speaking of high quality, the lilacs and lavender… where did you get them?” you question. A deep, throaty chuckle emanates from the middle of Namjoon’s chest, and you watch his speckled onyx eyes glint in amusement.

“I didn’t get them anywhere. I grew them myself,” he responds. Taken aback by his answer, you blink at him owlishly. He’d… grown them himself? Well. You hadn’t been expecting that. Though, now that you think about it, it makes sense. Initially, you’d thought that perhaps he’d only enchanted the lilacs, in order to keep them blooming. However, with the sheer life imbued into them, you realise that for that level of magic, he’d probably have to grow them himself. Which, with his mastery in the Botanic Arts, paired with his expertise of Herbalism, would be a feat easier said than done.

With a fleeting glance, you flick your gaze around his shop, only to catch his eye once again. “Do you grow most of your stock?” you ask, astonishment evident in your voice. Once again, Namjoon chuckles, before nodding easily.

“A lot of it, yes. If not most. The things I can’t grow, I have to source from the human settlements. Though, it’s mostly animal products or minerals,” he begins, a look of thought crossing his face. “The minerals, because I don’t have time to go mine for that… Nor do I want to,” he laughs. “And I can’t bring myself to hunt for animal products myself because everytime I do, I end up not wanting to hurt them and letting them go. So I rely on humans a lot for those kinds of things. It’s why, unlike the rest of the coven who lives deeper into the forest, I live closer towards the edge… and also why I’m your only neighbour,” he continues his explanation.

Mouth forming an ‘o’, “That makes sense,” you reply.

“Why do you live so close to the edge? I’m sure High Priest Torin would have offered you a home in the coven’s territory?” Namjoon questions.

With a nonchalant shrug, “I just needed a change I guess. With the Sisters of Elysia being nomadic, we never had an actual home. And so we’d always live in temporary homes while sharing living spaces. Moving here, I knew I kinda just wanted some more privacy, you know?” comes your answer. Once again, there’s nothing but truth in it, and internally, you wonder just what kind of bewitchment he’s cast on you, for you to be so honest. Though, it’s probably just his natural charm.

“Plus, I’m focusing more on my Alchemical Restoration, and I want to be able to help as many people as I can. Both, our coven, and the humans in the country,” you continue. Then, letting out a sigh, “Except… I’m still new to the area and the Forest of Ingredeen is huge and I have no idea where the human settlements are,” you finish. Then, after a small pause for thought, “Other than the Sundale settlement, that is,” you ponder out loud.

“Oh. There are a total of five in the entire country, and they all border the Forest of Ingredeen since it’s the oldest and most ancient woodland,” Namjoon points out. Taking his hands off of the counter, he shuffles towards the book rack on the tabletop, and pulling out a large scroll from the corner, he unravels it flat onto the surface. A large map greets you; the parchment yellowed and the ink faded with time. Still, you can make out all the details of the cartograph. It’s of Carelia, you note, with the human settlements clearly illustrated, as well as the paths to them.

“These are the general routes that you can traverse. Though, not all of them are in use anymore. And newer ones have been created. There’s also no real roads to follow,” Namjoon explains, a small frown marring his lips. Then, flicking his gaze towards you, he looks at you through hooded eyes. “If you’re free tomorrow, I can show you around? I doubt anyone knows these woods as well as me” he boasts.

Lips pulling into a flirtatious smile, you loll your head to the side before cocking your eyebrow. “Like a date?” comes your glib suggestion. Your voice is light, and airy, and your tone completely casual. And of course, you don’t expect him to actually agree. Still, to your complete disappointment, Namjoon shakes his head

“Not like a date,” comes his quick response, his voice causing ripples of devastation to tinge at your being. However, “A date,” he continues. Instantly, your disappointment is replaced with delight, and your heart simultaneously flutters.

Pulling your lower lip between your teeth, you chew on the soft petal in a bid to suppress your grin. “I’ll look forward to it.”

a/n: SCREAM god fneorngeoirgnoeig i dont know why that was so long when absolutely nothing happened but  i hope y’all liked it ahhh 🥺👉🏼👈🏼 i’m hoping to get the next part up next weekend but jfneronorign no promises rip ♡

⇥ Series Masterlist | Masterlist | Like my work? Consider buying me a Kofi!

[the-kazoo-kid]

The Two Types of Goblincore

I’ll begin by saying that I’m a Jewish archaeologist, and one of my main areas of study is the pogroms of Eastern Europe during the beginning of the 20th century. This affects the way I think of goblincore in two major ways:

Goblins were used as a negative caricature of Jews to tother them and incite negative feelings and violence among non-news

I have been accused of only wanting to be an archaeologist so that I can dig up and hoard shiny things

I spend a lot of my time looking at images like this one. It’s an antisemetic political cartoon from 1898. 

Look at the crown, the long, hooked nose, and most importantly the clawed, webbed hands. His hands envelope the world, symbolizing the perceived universal greed of the Jew.

This stereotype of the greedy Jew didn’t originate in the 19th century either. It goes all the way back to the Middle Ages when Jews in Europe were banned from occupations other than banking. 

So now let’s talk about goblins in popular culture. First and foremost in my mind are J.K Rowling’s goblins who are portrayed as greedy, hoarding and-- you guessed it-- in charge of the money and treasure.

There are even physical similarities between J.K. Rowling’s goblins and the political cartoon above. Note the hooked nose and the hands. 

I was about eight when I read the first Harry Potter book. I remember bringing it to a synagogue event where one of the adults remarked about how uncomfortable the goblins made them. Before I was allowed to watch the movie my mother sat me down and explained what was problematic with those goblins and why.

Next up: LOTR

He has the crown and the hands, although not the nose, and while he bares less direct resemblance to that cartoon, this is still an example of antisemitism. This is a placeholder character for a Jew that is disgusting, hoarding wealth, and a direct antagonist to the main characters. 

Everquest 2:

(I found another image where this character was specifically labeled The Goblin Banker but tumblr wouldn’t allow me to upload it for whatever reason.) This goblin is so other that it’s not even recognizable as a person, and in fact in the game they’re classed as a Mob Race. Yikes. Additionally, Wikipedia describes them as “attempting to - unsuccessfully - forge gold coins, and yet they have no intention spending any of this money, they simply wish to 'have' it.” This goes along with a lot of the greed aspect of goblins and their obsession with hoarding.

So what do we do?

First, I want to say that just because these pieces of media (or any others) have these problematic aspects doesn’t mean that you have to stop consuming and enjoying them. If we never read books or watched movies or played games that were problematic we would back ourselves into a corner where nothing was permitted.

The important thing is to educate yourself to the point where you can recognize the negative caricature/stereotype in something that you come across, and to not create any new media containing the stereotype. 

But what if you really like goblins?

The good news is that this is the first, older kind of goblincore, but it’s not the only one out there. There’s a new wave happening that emphasizes the positive things without including the negative ones. These next examples are technically called trolls in their respective universes, but they really get the vibe that I’m going for.

Boxtrolls:

See? Shiny treasure thing, delight, and no malice. Admittedly the trolls in this movie are some funny looking creatures, but they don’t come across as perpetuating the negative Jewish stereotype to me.

Frozen:

Cute little guys made of stone and moss. They live peacefully, and when they encounter the protagonists they have a nice musical number and then dispense some wise advice. No greed, no bad intentions. Good for them.

(Again, these examples are both technically trolls but I think the idea comes through, especially since they’re so far from the large, lumbering brutes that are trolls in say... Harry Potter or LOTR.)

Now I’m going to hand this conversation over to @goblinblogging who is a Jew working on reclaiming and reworking the idea of what a goblin is and what a goblin does.

-Reid

Now, I know learning that something you’re doing could be problematic is scary! I also know that a ton of people have abandoned goblincore just because they learned of these stereotypes. 

However, you don’t have to abandon something you love! What you need to do is educate yourself and learn about why these things are harmful and learn what you can do to make sure you aren’t doing something harmful yourself! 

Let's start off with how this stereotype came around (Or at least, one way it originated.) In the book Knockers, Knackers, and Ghosts: Immigrant Folklore in the Western Mines, the author goes into detail about how European origins say the goblins of the mines were the ghosts of dead Jews, sentenced (in properly medieval anti-Jewish fashion) to perpetual restlessness for their supposed role in the crucifixion of Jesus. Which is where the “Goblins live in caves and mines” came from! 

So this explains that the ghosts of Jews became goblins because they were being punished for killing jesus. Already a pretty rough start! Now for common goblin appearances that are nothing but antisemitism in disguise. First, and most obvious, large, hooked, warted noses. I don’t really feel like I have to go into much detail about this one. Anyone who took history class in middle and high school should know about Hitler’s propaganda against jews and the depictions of their bulbous noses, often covered in warts. This caricature directly translates over to goblins having their predominant warted noses. Second, Let’s have a look at green skin. Hitler in particular loved to depict jews with green skin, or at the very least, in very green light so it turned their skin green. 

Image source

Notice the green tint, the evil sneer, hooked nose, and pointed ears in this one! All very reminiscent of traits we commonly see in goblins. 

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 This last one is a movie poster “Suss the Jew” produced by Terra Film at the behest of propaganda minister Joseph Goebbels, and considered one of the most antisemitic films of all time. Notice the green skin! 

 Next is horns and teeth. Hitler in particular would depict jews with devil’s horns hidden under their Kippah (also referred to in Yiddish as a yarmulke, or less frequently as a koppel.) He’d also just depict them outright as demons. 

Image source

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This one is Ukranian. Translated means “Satan has taken off his mask” Notice how “satan” has huge teeth and horns, red skin, with the star of David carved into his forehead. Also notice how his jewish mask has a large nose.

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This one is from Russia (1919), a caricature of Leon Trotsky, who was viewed as a symbol of Jewish Bolshevism. Notice the red skin and pointed ears. Also notice how he’s sitting above the people down below (who are sitting on skeletons and bones) symbolizing the Jew’s greed, which we’ll get into later.

And then there’s this one, where you can see (white) people inside of the Jew’s mouth, you can also see horrendously sharp teeth crushing them. Also pay attention to the large nose and pointed ears. I just remembered that I forgot to cover another very important anti-jewish facial feature, which is that many jews in propaganda have dark beady eyes and drooping eyelids. These are things you can see for yourself in the images above!

Next, we’re moving on to greed. This one in particular hits me close to home. I’ve heard the phrase “Jewing me out of my money” too many times to count. Or alternately, “Don’t be a Jew” when the other person doesn’t think that I’m giving them enough of what they want. (Could be money, could even be sweets. The first time I heard this phrase I was a little kid and I had a bag of skittles. I wanted to share with everyone but I still wanted to have enough for me to eat myself. I was passing out handfuls when my friend’s older brother (he was a teen) didn’t like how much I gave him. He said to me, “Come on, don’t be a Jew, give me some more skittles”. I didn’t understand and when I asked my mom what it meant later she was horrified.) Jews, and their caricatures, have almost always been viewed as greedy and power hungry. As @whalefromwales said above me, Jews in Europe used to be banned from any job besides banking. 

We also have images like this from WWII: 

Image source

Anyone who has taken any class where the Holocaust was talked about should be able to recognize this image, The Eternal Jew. He has money in one hand, which is reached out to demand more - he’s also looking at the money, and a whip in his other hand. In his arm, he holds the whole country of Germany.

Image source

There is also this one. A jew, tinged with red, weighs a man’s life against a large pile of money. Notice also how he’s looking at the money - not the man. 

And this one should also be easy to recognize. It reads “The Jews - A People of Contagion!” A city burns in the background as a jewish man sits atop a pile of bones counting his money. Notice the bulbous, hooked, nose, black eyes with drooping eyelids, and large hands! Hitler depicted jews this way (and as goblins) in order to segregate us. “Us VS Them”. “We are the Good Human Beings and Jews are monsters!” in order to make it easy for him to begin committing the atrocities that he did! It never happened overnight, there were key stepping stones that built up to concentration camps. One of those was “Jews aren’t really people, so it’s okay that we’re doing this to them. We’re doing it to save us, the Good Christian Germans.”  

So what does all of this mean? Well, first and foremost, it means that you have to be careful how you depict your goblins. How? When drawing your goblinsonas or goblin ocs, stay away from drawing them with huge, hooked, and warted noses, don’t make their skin green or red (personally, I prefer grey skin for goblins.) If your goblin has sharp teeth, don’t make them huge and obvious. Because modern goblins are fair folk, it’s difficult to depict them without pointed ears, but try not to exaggerate the proportions.  

Behavior: Stop with the “greedy little goblin” thing. That DIRECTLY comes from jewish stereotypes. Your Goblins are allowed to collect shiny things they find, but don’t make them greedy about it! Have your goblin share what they collect, make it a community effort. Sharing the things you love is way better than being miserly anyhow, and sharing more represents what we as goblins should want in our community! Also, be careful with your goblins being terrors. Yes, there are usually evil beings in every single race (whether mythological or real) but just be really really careful. Hitler loved to depict jews eating the Good Germans(™) or terrorizing communities. So even if your goblin is an evil one, be really really careful and be sure to educate yourself first so you’re not just perpetuating the same tired shit that Hitler did.Collecting coins. 

Now, this has been a huge topic of discourse lately. Coins are shiney! I understand why people would want to collect them. Hell, I have some awesome 50 cent pieces and gold dollars in my collection. You just can't depict  yourself or your goblin character collecting only coins and being very greedy with them. That’s literally doing nothing but echoing the same propaganda that Hitler used against us. Collect them all you want, but if I see “Greedy little goblin hoarding coins all for themselves” I swear I’m gonna hit the fan. To clarify, you can absolutely show off you coin collection in the goblin tags, just be careful how you frame it. “I’m really interested in history, so I collect old coins because I think they’re neat” is waaaaaay different then “Horrible littel crecher is greedy for shiney monies” (That last quote is something I’ve SEEN in the tags, luckily op was just completely unaware of why that was so wrong and they removed the caption after they were educated.) 

 So please, enjoy being into goblincore. Enjoy the culture and the fantasy. Goblincore is about appreciating the things about us that may be depicted as “weird” or “ugly”. Goblincore is a safe haven for neurodivergent people (I’m Autistic!) and also Trans and other LGBTQIA+ people! It’s a culture for appreciating nature, collecting things that may not be seen as normal, and sharing these things with other people. It’s a culture where you shouldn’t be ashamed to be who you are or afraid to get dirty. Goblincore is a support network for the weirder folks where we strive to uplift one another. Goblincore is wonderful and I’ve been so impressed at how welcoming everyone is! Especially on tumblr! Before the discourse happened, I was sure that goblincore was one of the kindest communities on tumblr. However, I understand why the discourse happened, and goyim in the goblincore tag really did need to be educated, but that doesn’t mean you have to leave! So be sure to educate yourself and be aware of how your actions could negatively affect folks. Listen to other Jewish people and be mindful of what they say. Some Jews are very uncomfortable with goblincore, and for very good reason! And I do not claim to speak for all Jews with this post. 

I am trying to reclaim the word goblin for use by any person who wants the label. I no longer want these fantasy creatures associated with such a beautiful and vibrant culture of people. Goblins are very interesting as a fantasy race, but the negative stereotypes do nothing but hurt real life Jewish people. Which is why I’m hoping that folks will read this post and realize what behaviors and depictions of goblins are wrong and harmful. Also, tag your goblincore appropriately! Again, many Jewish people are uncomfortable with goblincore because of antisemitism that has happened in their past. I’ve been compared to a goblin many times! So keep your goblincore in just the goblincore tags. There are many overlaps between goblincore and other micro communities on tumblr (Such as crowcore, cottagecore, naturecore, and vulture culture) but be mindful of what you’re putting in those tags. Most vulture culture people hate us goblins cuz we put pictures of dirt or “I’m just a smol crecher” in their tags, and I don’t blame them! Vulture culture is only for the remains of dead animals, and dead animal remains should be the only things added to those tags. So fellow goblins, I’m going to end this post with a sincere thank you for reading, be mindful of your actions, and most of all, HAVE FUN with goblincore! 

Here is where you should be able to read Knockers, Knackers, and Ghosts for free if you want.

TLDR: This is what we, as Jewish people, mean when we say that goblins are based off of negative stereotypes of jews. This is also why some jews get really upset at goblincore, however, there are many ways to participate in goblincore without using harmful stereotypes! So please, use this post to educate yourself so you can both be good goblins and good Jewish allies.

- @goblinblogging

[fischerfrey]

HPHM character profile

Identity

Name: Verna Aelia Malinda

Gender: cis female

Age: Depends on the timeline

Birth Date: December 15th, 1972 (Sagittarius)

Species: Human witch

Blood Status: Half-blood but thought to be pureblood by the Wizarding community.

Sexuality: Lesbian

Alignment: Chaotic good

Ethnicity: Mixed (black mother, mixed father)

Nationality: British

Residence: The Malinda Manor, somewhere in the English countryside

Myer Briggs Personality Type: The Protagonist (ENFJ)

The Mage

1st Wand: Hornbeam, 11 inches, dragon heartstring, unyielding

2nd Wand: Ebony, 11 ¼ inches, dragon heartstring, unyielding

Animagus: Calico cat

Misc Magical Abilities: -

Boggart Form: Evil!Jacob turning against her.

Riddikulus Form: Evil!Jacob transforms into a tiny, angry kitten.

Amortentia: (What do they smell like?)

Fleetwood's High-Finish Broom Handle Polish

Caramel apples

The orchard behind her childhood home

Amortentia: (What do they smell?)

Nailpolish

Old books

Coffee

Patronus: Calico cat (same as animagus form)

Patronus Memory: A summer day at the Malinda manor when Verna was young, Jacob is teaching her to fly while her parents watch from the sidelines, happy and carefree.

Mirror of Erised: Her family back together again, everyone is safe and content.

Specialized/Favourite Spells: Depulso (the banishing charm), Incendio (the fire-making spell)

Appearance

(I don’t really 100% vibe with her in-game appearence since the hair selection for natural hair is not the best but I make do.)

Height: 5′10 (178cm)

Weight: like normal weight for an athletic girl that tall ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

Physique: Athletic

Eye Colour: Blue

Hair Colour: Black

Skin Tone: Brown with warm undertones

Body Modifications: Earrings, nose ring (6th year onwards), a few tattoos as an adult

Scarring: -

Inventory: Wand, Merula’s gift necklace (5th year onwards), some cat treats for Osborn, random old homework and other pieces of parchment discarded at the bottom of her bag at all times, a bag of apple rings (her favourite sweets).

Fashion:

It’s 1984-1991 and I want jam city to let it show in their quest reward items!!!

Allegiances 

Hogwarts House: Gryffindor

Ilvermorny House: I don’t really vibe with Ilvermony so I have no idea xD

Affiliations/Organizations: Gryffindor house. Gryffindor quidditch team, Malinda family, Circle of Khanna, The Order of Phoenix

Professions: Worked as a Defence Against Dark Arts substitute teacher for a year shortly after Hogwarts, trained to be an auror for a while but dropped out due to disagreements with Ministry policy

Hogwarts Information

Class Proficiencies:

Astronomy: A

Charms: O

DADA: O

Herbology: A

History of Magic: P

Potions: A

Transfiguration: E

Electives:

Care of Magical Creatures: E

Muggle Studies: E

Quidditch:

Verna is the chaser of her house’s quidditch team for most of her Hogwarts career.

Extra-Curricular: Duelling club, Dragon club

Favourite Professors: Minerva McConagall

Least Favourite Professors: Severus Snape, Patricia Rakepick

Relationships

Brother: Jacob Aurelius Malinda

Growing up, Jacob was Verna’s hero. He is five years older than Verna but nevertheless they spent a great deal of time together as children, Jacob often babysitting his sister. Although he was never as much into Quidditch as Verna, he would spend hours teaching her to fly and even take her to watch matches a few years before his disappearance.

Although otherwise short-tempered and rash, Jacob had endless amounts of patience for Verna. With very absent parents, Jacob all but raised Verna from a young age and Verna trusted him to look after her more than their parents, which is why it was shocking to her when he disappeared without a word.

Father: Mervyn Malinda

The sole heir to the Malinda estate, Mervyn is an important character within the Wizard society. However, what the general public doesn’t know, is that he is, in fact, an illegitimate child with a muggle mother. This has been kept secret by his grandmother, father, and step-mother throughout his whole life. The only other person to know the truth since his birthmother’s passing is Juniper, his wife.

Mervyn works as the Head of The Department of Magical Transportation. He is not a very affectionate father, but he tries his best to support his children. Mervyn used to be a Gryffindor.

Mother: Juniper Malinda, née Raeburn

A prominent witch from the pureblood Raeburn family, Juniper married Mervyn Malinda out of love. She is a little eccentric and spends a lot of time working on her potions. For a time, the Malindas had a relatively peaceful life with their two children, up until Jacob went missing. After that, Juniper and Mervyn grew distant and started to argue a lot.

Juniper works as a potioneer and values learning, diligence, and holding onto what you believe. She used to be a Ravenclaw.

Love Interest: Merula Snyde

Verna and Merula start out as rivals but due to having to work together during their search for the cursed vaults, they are forced to spend time together. Both start to develop a crush on the other but are in complete and utter denial about it. Verna is the one to realize her feelings first, and she starts to antagonize Merula just to have tension-filled moments with her, which is a completely normal and rational approach to letting your crush know you like them.

Merula and Verna date in school and a while after it but eventually break up in the turmoils of the war. Depending on the version, they might end up together later on though.

(also, as a sidenote, i headcanon merula as like, really short so this dynamic is so much fun when verna is TALL)

Best Friend: Charlie Weasley

They both like Quidditch and are complete dorks. Worst pair of prefects Gryffindor has ever seen, totally incompetent at their job.

(Is this me projecting my love for Charlie into my OC? Absolutely yes and I have no regrets.)

Rivals: Merula Snyde, Patricia Rakepick

Enemy: Voldemort, R

Dormmates: Rowan Khanna, Skye Parkin, Eloise Montague, and  Yasmin Wakefield (the last two are my ocs just to fill the dorm for my fic but these spots are up for grabs if anyone wants to be dormmates!)

Pets: A black cat called Osborn

Closest Canon Friends: Charlie Weasley, Rowan Khanna, Ben Copper

Closest MC Friends:

Farrow Raeburn @threeon1match​

Verna’s cousin from her mother’s side of the family. He is a year younger than Verna and in Slytherin. They are nevertheless close, and Farrow has a huuuge crush on Verna’s cool, dragon-loving friend Charlie.

Background/History

Pre Hogwarts: 

Verna had a wealthy childhood in the countryside at the Malinda manor. She had a close friendship with her older brother who taught her to fly her first broom. Verna had a keen interest in learning spells even at a young age, and her parents would often find her using magic before she was allowed to (often with disastrous consequences). The year Verna was meant to start her studies at Hogwarts, her brother went missing and her mother became very distant, while her father acted as if nothing was wrong. Verna became determined to find and rescue her brother.

Hogwarts Years:

If I would get around to publishing my fic maybe you guys would find out!! But the basic skeleton of the storyline follows the game’s events, just modified to suit a different medium and sans all the dumb stuff!!

Order of the Phoenix / 2nd Wizarding War:

Verna works as a substitute teacher in Hogwarts for a year, after which she trains to become an auror. However, she doesn’t like the way things are run at the Ministry, so she quits and moves home to the Manor for a while, trying to figure out what to do with her life. Before she can come to any conclusions though, the Second Wizarding War starts to pick up speed and the secrets her family has kept all these years transform from dangerous to fatal. Verna is recruited into the Order of the Phoenix by her old friend Bill Weasley.

Verna reunites with many of her old friends from school while working in the Order. Her father is killed during the war and her relationship with her mother goes through a lot of turmoil.

Her ultimate fate is not set in stone and in some versions she dies during the war and in others she makes it.

Post-War:

Depends on whether she survives or not. If Verna lives, she will eventually find her path to a teaching position at Hogwarts OR a curse-breaking job with the (much-changed) Ministry.

She also reconciles with her ex Merula, and the two of them get together.

Personality

Positive attributes: caring, brave, selfless, confident, passionate, protective, resourceful. Negative attributes: impatient, impulsive, stubborn, cocky, reckless, competitive, short-tempered.

if you made it this far, wow! congrats! thank you!!!! i love you forever!!!

[brianc521]

Gears of Love | Raul Mendes

Mechanic!Raul | OC!Juniper

Juniper Kelly’s biggest dream was to become a published author. It’d been her dream since high school when she posted a few Fanfiction pieces on a website dedicated for fanfic and got tons of hits right away. She had her own account and racked up a pretty big audience that always requested for more, and every so often left her words of encouragement.

She’d built her whole life around her dream once she graduated. She read every book she could get her hands on, she pushed herself to write things that were out of her comfort zone, she researched random topics in hopes of adding dimension to the characters she created.

She found inspiration in everything. It’s how she met the one thing that gives her the most inspiration, her boyfriend, Raul Mendes.

Raul Mendes was a young mechanic who has just recently taken over his father's auto body shop. Raul has always liked working with his hands, it’s the one thing that kept him out of trouble through his younger years. He was a triplet, and between him and his brothers he was the known bad boy. When they all turned 16 his brothers opted for a Jeep and a truck when he begged for a motorcycle. Fixing up his bike and constantly learning new things about the motor is what kept him interested in school.

They both met one day while Raul was out to coffee with his brothers. It hadn’t been the first time he’d seen her there. She often was spotted in the back corner seat of Amy’s Cold Brew Place, laptop out, headphones in, typing away.

It wasn’t the first time she’d seen him either. She’d unintentionally created a whole character based off Raul. The bad boy to the new story she was writing. Well, a bad soft boy. This time though Raul was sporting a new piece of metal in his lip, and it had her going crazy. She watched his mouth as he spoke to his brothers, the way he’d tongue at the curved jewelry in his lip.

One of the brothers, Shawn who she didn’t know was his name at the time, noticed her staring and nudged Raul’s arm and nodded in her direction bringing Raul’s attention to her fatuation. Causing her to go completely red in embarrassment and hide behind her laptop screen.

Raul on the other hand bit his lip in the smug way he does and saw this as his chance to ‘shoot his shot’.

“Couldn’t help but notice you stare.” His voice was so smooth but also rough and raspy. “Hope this doesn’t sound weird, but I’ve been staring too.”

“Really?”

“Yeah. Raul.” He offered his hand to shake, which she did with a nervous smile.

“Juniper, but my friends call me June.”

“Juniper? That’s really pretty, I’ve never met anyone with that name.”

“It’s weird I know.” She tucked her hair behind her ear.

“It’s not.” He shook his head, touching her fingers that were on the table to get her attention. “It’s truly beautiful.”

It was right then and there where they stole each others hearts.

**

“Juniper Baby?” Raul asked as he walked through the front door, throwing his keys and wallet on the table just inside the door.

“Living room.” She called out weakly from her camped out spot on the floor in the middle of the room. Surrounding her were books and loose pieces of paper.

“Hey Gorgeous.” Raul smiled as he walked in the room, finding his girlfriend in one of his sweatshirts with her hair in a messy bun.

He got a mumbled “Hi.” In return. He chuckled, knowing she was in a completely different world right now, with the way her fingers were flying across the keyboard. So instead of interrupting he’d wandered himself in the kitchen to make her a midnight snack.

With not having much talent in the kitchen he settled on grilled cheese with a granola bar and a glass of milk. He walked back into the living room, figuring out her maze to the center of her circle where she was sitting  pretty quickly. Slowly he pushed her laptop closed, giving her plenty of time to move her fingers.

She looked up with wide eyes and smiled sheepishly. “Hi.” She whispered when he pushed the plate that holds her sandwich and granola bar into her hands.

“Hi Baby.” He leaned forward kissing her cheek. “Did you have dinner?”

“Um,” She says while taking a huge bite of her sandwich, “I nibbled.”

“On?” He rolled his eyes.

She turns and holds up a bowl full of dry cheerios.

“Baby, I know you’re in crunch time trying to finish before you meet with the publisher this week but you have to take care of yourself. You can’t meet with the publisher if you’re in the hospital after passing out for lack of nutrition.”

She sighs and nods at him.

“It’s like a job interview Baby. You have to make yourself look good. And if you go in looking like a skeleton they’re not gonna be impressed.”

“Okay.” She whines, looking down at her lap.

“Hey.” He tips her chin up. “I know my Baby can do it. I know she’s the best, she just has to know it too.”

“Yeah.”

“I love you.” He smiles, leaning a bit closer.

“I love you too.”

He kisses her lips softly, giggling as he pulls away. “You taste like cheese.”

“You taste like milk.” She replies.

“So,” He takes the last bite of his sandwich. “Can I read it yet?”

“No.” She shakes her head.

“Am I ever going to get to read this masterpiece?”

“If I have a say then no, you won’t ever get to read it.”

“What?” He gapes at her, frown pulling at his lips.

“You will read it, I just. I have to make it perfect first.”

He sets her plate aside crawling up to his hands and knees, causing her to lean back until she’s laying on the floor and he’s hovering over her. “It is perfect Juniper Baby, because you wrote it.”

She shakes her head, tapping his nose. “You’re just a sweet talker, I know your games Mendes.”

“Come on,” He murmurs, pressing a kiss to her neck. “Let me read it.”

“No.” She lets out breathlessly.

“Please.” He groans as he hikes her leg up over his waist, lips sealed to the skin behind her ear.

“No but you can keep doing that.”

“Oh can I?” He grins, hand trailing up and into her shorts. “Can I do this?” He strokes her heat from the outside of her panties, causing a friction that has her tugging at his hair and moaning into his ear.

“Yeah you can do that.”

“Mmm,” He pulls back to look at her blissed out eyes. “Let’s see what else I can do.”

**

After their raundeveous on her brainstorm notes she was sleepy and dreary eyed. Trying to fight herself to stay awake with him, but she’d had an early morning while he had a late night so he put her to bed when she dozed off on his chest. Tucked her in and kissed her forehead before heading back to the kitchen. He was still pretty wired from his stressful day at work and poured himself a small glass of whiskey.

Catching sight of the mail on the counter he took a sip of his drink and then opened the few envelopes they’d received. He sighed, setting his cup down, when he saw the electric check he had written just a week ago had bounced. Pinching the bridge of his nose he read that the few other checks he’d written for bills had bounced as well.

“Fuck me.” He mumbled, checking the bank statement he’d been emailed last night and groaned when he saw that he hadn’t been able to pay himself last week, spacing it completely since he’d already sent off the checks.

He stared at his phone that was laid out on the counter and cursed himself as he did the last thing he swore he’d ever do. He called Shawn.

“Raul? It’s like 1:30 in the morning, what are you doing up?”

“What are you doing up?”

“I’m writing a song, and you? Since I asked first?”

He grins, biting his lip as he looks to the bedroom door that was open just a hint. “Well I had a rather pleasing romp in the sheets with my girl before putting her to bed.”

“Oh gross I didn’t need to know that. Are you still in bed?”

“No what kind of animal do you think I am?”

“I’m not sure you want me to answer that.”

Raul laughs in response, letting the conversation with his brother calm him for the time being.

“But you called for a reason so what’s up?”

“Is there a chance I could meet you for coffee tomorrow morning? I need to ask you something but I want it to be in person.”

“Um sure, are you asking me to be a groomsman because I already through it was decided that I was your best man, Peter is mine, and you’re Peter’s.”

“I’m not asking you to be my best man,” Raul shakes his head. “Well, yet.”

“Oh we’ll be talking about that tomorrow too. I’ll meet you at Amy’s at 8?”

“Can we do 9? I wanna make sure the shop opens just fine.”

“Yeah that works, see you then.”

“Okay thanks.”

“Love ya bro, go to bed.”

“Love ya too. Goodnight.”

With that Raul hung up on Shawn and shook his head as he downed the rest of his whiskey and headed to bed.

**

Raul walked in the door to Amy’s at 9:26 rushing in to find Shawn, who was seated at a table with two coffee’s.

“Hey I thought you were gonna stand me up.” Shawn smiled as Raul slid into the table.

“Sorry, had an issue with a customer who was upset about the price for an oil change.”

“Doing oil changes now?” Shawn questions, sipping at his coffee.

“Yeah I needed more business so I expanded the services a little.”

“So, what’s up?”

“Okay, I need to blurt this out because I absolutely hate myself for doing this. I mean you don’t know how much I’m beating myself up over this. I feel like such a-”

“Hey, blurt it out.” Shawn cuts him off.

“Can I borrow some money?” Raul blurts, cringing at himself.

Shawn sets his cup down, and sits straighter. “Are you okay?”

Raul sighs and hangs his head. “The business is struggling this summer, I haven’t been able to pay myself for like a month now? And Juni, she’s working on her novel and baby sitting on the side, but her gigs aren’t bringing in enough, you know? I thought I had enough in my savings to last us, but after last month's rent and bills I’m drained out man. I’m trying so hard, I’m pushing myself to the breaking point, and I wrote checks for this months bills and,” He sighs shaking his head. “They bounced.”

“Raul.” Shawn sighed.

“I know, but when I wrote them the shop was making money so I was planning to pay myself but then we lost a few solid clients and I wasn’t able too. So they bounced and I don’t want to stress Juni out, she’s just now found a publisher and I’d hate myself if she didn’t go through with it to find a job. Just this once Shawn, and I’ll pay you back I swear.”

“Raul, breathe.”

Raul takes a few deep breaths and nods at his brother.

“How much?”

“$700?” Raul whispers, shoulders slouching. “I have enough to cover half the rent, but then there’s-”

“Shh.” Shawn shakes his head, pulling his wallet out. “I don’t need to know your bills and all that. Take this,” Shawn pulls out cash from his wallet. “And don’t even worry about it. I want to see June succeed in her writing. I want you to succeed at the shop, you’re both in the struggle stage before you’re gonna take off. I can see it. So take it, it’s my support for both of your dreams.”

“No I’ll pay you back. Thank you so much Shawn. You have no idea how much this means to me.”

“I do, I love you Raul, and I want to see you successful and happy.”

“I love you too Shawn.”

“Now get back to the shop.” Shawn smiles, showing his brother away.

**

Sitting in his office on his ‘lunch break’ Raul is able to pay off the bills since he’d deposited the cash Shawn gave him into his account on his way back to the shop. The moment everything balanced he was able to breathe deeply and not stutter on it.

“Where is he?” He heard from just outside his office.

“On lunch.”

Raul looked up when he heard the sound of heels clicking on the floor and then stood when Juniper walked in. She had her meeting with the editor and publisher today, meaning she’d borrowed her sisters suit and heels to dress to impress.

“Well?” He asked softly, in case it didn’t go well, but by the smile on her face he’d say it went just fine.

“They wanna publish it!” She yelled, running and jumping into his arms, wrapping her legs around his waist and her arms around his neck.

“Oh my god Juniper Baby that’s awesome!” He cheered. She squeezed him tighter and squealed in his ear. “I’m so proud of you.”

“Thank you, thank you, thank you.”

“Why are you thanking me Baby?”

“Because if it weren’t for you I wouldn’t have gone for it. I wouldn’t have even started writing the book in the first place. I wouldn’t have had the chance to be able to write. I owe it all to you, so thank you. Thank you for believing in my dreams, and thank you for making them come true.”

“You made them come true Baby, I simply said that you could.”

She pulled back and held his cheeks in her hands as she kissed him passionately. “Any chance you can come home right now?” She mutters against his lips.

“You’re insatiable.” He grins, thinking back to the fun shower they’d shared this morning. “I would totally love to, but I kind of have to close the shop tonight. Connor’s Mom is throwing a surprise birthday party for his brother and he’s in charge of getting the cake.”

“Awe.” She whines, jutting her bottom lip forward. “Can you come right home after close?”

He sighs, looking at the stack of paperwork on his desk. When his eyes flick back to his girlfriend who is pleading with him. He can’t say no. I mean she’s getting her book published. “Yeah, the minute I close I’m out of here. Go home and get fancied up, I’m taking you to dinner.”

“Really?”

“Yes, my girl is gonna be a published author, she deserves to be wined and dined before she’s fucked and tucked.”

“Oh my god you did not just say that.” She hits his chest playfully, giggling as he tugs her close burying his face in her neck. “I hate you!” She laughs harder when he bites at her neck.

“You love me, don’t lie.”

**

“So tell me everything, start from the beginning.” Raul says now that the waiter has taken their orders.

She sits straighter, smiling at him with such hope in her eyes. “So the CEO of this small publishing company downtown emailed me about a week and a half ago about a manuscript I sent.”

“Mhm.”

“And she wanted me to come in with a second draft of the manuscript to meet with her and her editor. So that’s what my meeting was today. Her name is Carol Wilkins of Wilkins Stories. The editor, Jackson Perry was so kind about my work. He truly was able to grasp the essence of my characters and had wonderful notes that just expanded my work tremendously.”

“Wait so this is still your book right? You didn’t like sell the story?”

Her expression changes from excitement to horror so fast that he has to hold on to the edge of the table to stable himself.

“Why would you ever suggest such a thing? I’ve literally poured my heart and soul into this manuscript-”

“Hey,” Raul grabs her hand, bringing her back to him. “I’m not the bad guy, I’m just trying to understand this side of your world. My brain is wrapping around the idea of an editor. To me they just make sure spelling and punctuation is correct.”

“Well yes but they also help with subjects and making sure the flow of the book works.”

“Okay, I’m sorry I asked what I did, I'm just trying to understand. I’m going to have questions about this. I have no idea what you’re doing or how you do it. You’re magical to me.”

She blushes as she rolls her eyes at him. “I just see an idea and write it. Describe it. It’s nothing special.”

“I’d begged to differ. Although you haven’t let me read this certain book, you have let me read a few shorts you wrote and the fact that you can create another world, another timeline with just words is magic. It’s pure magic that you could make my heart race and break and sink to my stomach with the way a character felt.”

“You’re too much.”

“I’m not enough, clearly since I asked the horrid question I did.”

“Hey.” She squeezes his hand, brows furrowing. “Never say that to me again. You’re everything and more.”

He gives her the best smile he can, but he can’t help but feel pretty low about himself right now. The fact that he had to stoop so low and ask his multimillionaire brother for money is killing him inside. He wants to make her happy, he wants to support and take care of her. He just isn’t stable enough in the shop to do so yet. Once he’s able to be stable and pay Shawn back he’ll start to feel a little better but right now he’s feeling like a grade A loser.

**

Raul walks into the empty cold apartment with grease smeared along his brow. His strong jawline is clenched with the stress of the day he’s had, but he’s ready to shower and have a lovely dinner in with his girl.

“Juniper Baby?” He asks, not recalling if he’d seen her car in the garage.

Walking around noticing the lights are off he assumes she’s on her way from the publishing house. It’s Wednesday which was ‘Masked Singer’ nights, and also their designated date night. It’s a random day of the week to have a date night, but it’s the slowest day of the week for the shop therefore making it the only day Raul is comfortable having Connor close up for him.

He takes this time to jump into the shower real quick and get himself all put together for his lady, making sure to shave and add a little gel to his curls. He slips on a nice sweater, one of her favorites, and sets off to the kitchen to make her dinner.

As he’s plating the chicken alfredo and garlic bread he realizes how late she is on coming home. He checks his phone and doesn’t see any messages and that makes his heart beat a little quicker. Dialling her number he takes the plates to the beat up folding card table they have set as a ‘dining room’.

“Hey you’ve reached June, I’m not able to answer the phone right now but I’ll get back to you as soon as I can! Leave a message!”

He sighs as the tone sounds, “Hey Juni, just thought I’d let you know that dinner is served up for us. Um call me back when you get a chance. I can’t wait to see you, even though I’m sure you’ll walk through the door any minute. Okay I love you. Bye Baby.”

He clicks his phone off and goes to set the living room with a few blankets and pillows along with a few lit candles.

**

By 9 Raul’s pacing the apartment. He’s called her five times and every call has gone to voicemail. He’s scared because no one else has heard from her either.

When the sound of her key turning the lock on the door rings through the silent apartment Raul just about tackles her when she walks through the door. She yelps as he picks her up, sighing against her shoulder.

“Raul?” She asks confused as to what was going on.

“Are you okay?” He asks, pulling away to inspect her face. “Are you hurt? Was there an accident?”

“What?” She asks, “What are you talking about?”

“Why are you so late?” He takes a step back, arms flopping to his sides.

“I was editing with Jackson.” She takes her purse off and sets it on the table he puts his keys on. “He had this idea for-”

“But it’s date night.” He pouts. “I called you a bunch and texted you. You never responded.”

“You did?” She digs through her purse. “Oh Babe I’m sorry, I must have my phone on silent.”

“It’s still date night Juniper.” He crosses his arms. “You just bailed on me without saying anything?”

“It’s not da-” But when she looks at her phone seeing ‘Wednesday 9:07 pm’ flash on her screen she groans. “It’s date night. I’m sorry Babe. I had the days mixed up, I thought today was Tuesday.”

“I mean it’s cool if you want to bail, but at least tell me.” He says walking to the table and grabbing the two full plates of cold pasta.

“You made alfredo,” She whines. “That’s my favorite.”

“I know.”

“Raul I’m sorry.” She says grabbing his hand once he’s set the plates on the kitchen counter. “Honey I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay.”

“It’s not okay. I totally bailed on you and that’s not cool. I’ll make it up to you.”

“I need to go to bed.”

“No! Raul please.”

“Connor closed tonight which means I have to open, and I left a ton of paperwork because of date night. I need to make up that time I skipped tonight. So I have to go in early tomorrow.”

“How early?” She asks. “Because I have to go in early too. Let’s do a breakfast date, to make up for tonight.”

“I have to be in at 7.” He rubs his chin. “The shop doesn’t open til 9, but I could push to like 8 if you wanna do breakfast.”

She flops into one of the camp chairs that’s set up at the table. “I have to go in at 6, Carol wants to go over the changes before she leaves town for the rest of the week. But maybe lunch?”

“I can't, I have to work through lunch tomorrow because Connor has a dentist appointment.”

“Then can we do date night right now?”

“I have to go to bed Juniper.” He says putting his hands on his hips. “I’ve been up since 5 this morning, I have to be up at 5 again tomorrow.”

“Why?”

“I’ve started going to the gym with Shawn in the morning. We meet at 6 and I go straight from the gym to work. I told you this! I’ve been doing this for like 3 weeks now. Shawn’s only in town for so long.”

“You didn’t go on Monday, you stayed and we took a shower before my meeting.”

“Shawn had an early morning meeting, but we met for coffee.”

“You had time to meet Shawn for coffee on Monday but couldn’t leave early?”

“Yes I needed to ask him something.”

“What did you need to ask him?”

“Something about the business.” He waved her off, walking to the bedroom.

“What was it?”

“Does it matter?” He turns to her, watching the hurt flash across her face. “I’m taking a shower.”

“You took one when you got home. I can tell.”

“I want to take another, is that a crime? This gel shit makes my hair all gross, and I’m starting to become upset and need a moment to collect myself.”

“Okay, well, I’m gonna eat real quick and then can we talk about your day?”

“Sure.” He mumbled as he goes into the bathroom, shutting the door behind him.

“You never shut the door.” She whispers, staring at the closed bathroom door that's working well to divide them.

**

Raul only takes long showers when he’s upset or stressed and right now Juniper is worried it’s a combination of both considering it’s been almost an hour and a half and Raul is still in the bathroom.

She doesn’t want to invade on his personal time, but she’s really starting to worry.

“Raul, Baby?” She asks, knocking on the door softly.

“Yeah?” He croaks.

“Are you okay?”

“Yeah.”

“Can I come in? Join you maybe?” She asks, holding out hope that he’ll say yes.

“Um,” She hears him shuffling. “Sure.”

She smiles, knowing that her boy is still there. That he’s still with her, no matter how much she fucks up. She steps into the room quickly, stripping and slowly opening the curtain.

The sight she sees is like a sucker punch to the gut. Raul was standing under the shower head, curls stuck to his forehead, eyes red and puffy as if he’d been crying and his skin was bright red from the heat of the water.

“Baby.” She sighs, stepping in with him and turning the knob to turn the heat down a bit. “You’re gonna hurt your skin.” She whispers, hesitating to touch her.

“Okay.”

“Raul, what’s wrong?”

“Nothing.”

“Please don’t lie to me. We’re already in rocky territory right now, let’s not make it worse.”

“We’re in rocky territory?” His voice cracks as he turns over his shoulder to peer at her.

“Are we?”

“You tell me?”

“Raul,” She sighs, shaking her head. “You have to tell me. I’m the one who fucked up here. I’m the one who forget about date night, I’m the one who ditched you. I’m the one beating myself up, so please tell me, are we?”

“I don’t think so.” He shakes his head. “And you don’t need to be beating yourself up. It’s okay Baby. I understand that you got caught up, and there’s been a lot on your plate suddenly. I’m so proud of you for doing this. There is just a lot going on at work right now, I’m struggling with the shop and I’m not dealing with it well.”

“What’s going on at the shop?” She asks, touching his bare back.

He relaxes at her touch, melting back into her. She slides her hands from his back around to his chest, stepping forward to hug him from behind. Resting her head between his shoulder blades, kissing at the red skin for a moment.

“Business went down when word spread that my dad retired. No one thinks I can handle the shop the way he did. No one thinks I can run the place. They all think I’m some delinquent, and not the one who was running the place a full year before Dad retired.”

“You are not delinquent.” She gasps, slipping around him to be face to face.

“Yeah well tell that to my tattoos and piercings.”

“What do tattoos and piercings have to do with how well you can work? With how successful you are?”

“I don’t know!” He cries. “Ask the fucking boomers.”

“Okay, boomer.” She snorts, remembering a reference her nephew said when she’d gone over to borrow her sisters suit. “Honestly Babe,” She plays with the slight dusting of chest hair he has. “I think you’re amazing at what you do. You understand everything with engines and motors so perfectly. You haven’t seen one car that you haven’t been able to fix. If your Dad’s old clients can’t see that, then they’re not the clients for you. It’s time to go out and find your own. I know you can do it.”

“I love you.” He sighs, tucking his face into the crook of her neck and shoulder. “You make everything better.”

“I love you too. I’m sorry I wasn’t here tonight to say this sooner. It won’t happen again.”

“It’s okay Baby.” He gives her a peck. “But I seriously need to go to bed. Shawn’s gonna kick my ass tomorrow if I’m dragging.”

She laughs and nods, turning the water off and stepping out of the shower, wrapping a towel around herself before wrapping one around him.

**

With the persona Raul gives off to the public, no one would peg him as the jealous type. He just holds this confidence in the way he goes about his life. To truly know Raul, you know that he deep down has a hint of insecurity that can manifest and spin out of control.

He’s slowly starting to spin.

He’s yet to be able to pay Shawn back, and he knows within the next two weeks another bout of bills is going to roll in. If he doesn’t hit some sort of luck of gold he’s not gonna have enough to pay them again. He won’t go back to the bank of Shawn.

Peter has just been accepted into an internship that will, within a few years, lead him into the doors of Nasa just like he’s always dreamed off. Shawn’s been nominated for a Grammy, again, and his third world tour is almost over. Aaliyah has been accepted into University of Toronto to study Cinema Studies. Juniper is editing everyday, now seeing plans for book jackets and talking about a book signing tour.

While Raul, well Raul is resorting to handing out $5 off slips in the local grocery stores to drum up more business. He’s just feeling less and less of himself, watching those most important around him start to grow while he’s plateauing.

With all of this going on, it doesn’t help that his girlfriend comes home late at night after spending the day with Jackson. He’s all she can talk about now. ‘Jackson this’, ‘Jackson that’, Raul is slowly starting to lose his goddamn mind.

Peter sits in his office while he waits for him to be done charging a new client for the rock chip fix they completed on the front windshield. When he goes to his office he feels like he can breathe deeply again when he sees his brother there.

“So how are you doing?” Peter asks when Raul sits. “I haven’t heard from you lately.”

“Um, I’m really fucking stressed out.”

“What do you mean?”

“There is so much going wrong that I can’t keep up.”

“What do you mean?” Peter asks, sitting forward. “Why haven’t you asked for help?”

“I have.” He groans, pinching the bridge of his nose.

“You have?”

“I asked Shawn.”

“Oh.” Peter leans back, a bit hurt that he wasn’t asked.

“No Pete, not like that. It’s not like that.” Raul shakes his head. “I couldn’t pay rent.” He mumbled, not making eye contact with his brother. “And as much as it disgusted me, I felt more comfortable asking Shawn for money.”

“Oh Raul.” Peter leans forward to squeeze his brothers hand for a brief moment, letting him know that he’s there for him. “Are you okay?”

“I mean no, I’m not. It fucking sucked. It fucking sucks that I might not be able to pay rent next month either.”

“What’s going on? Are you not making money?”

“Well we lost a lot of clients when Dad announced his retirement, and because of that business dropped significantly. I’m working on bringing some back, but it’s taking longer than I expected.”

“Can I help at all?”

“Know about $4000 worth of cars that need fixing?”

“Well no,” Peter shakes his head. “But like, can us as a family help?”

“Well,” Raul rubs the slight stubble on his chin. “Loretta is planning to retire,” He says, talking about the front desk receptionist. “I was thinking of asking Li if she’d be interested. I mean, she could work around class, and I’d be real flexible, school comes first.”

“Totally, and if you need another mechanic I can jump in and help. More hands mean more cars right?”

“No, Pete you just got that internship.”

“Yeah, on Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays.” Peter shrugs. “I ain’t got nothing going on Tuesdays, Thursdays and Saturdays.”

“Are you sure?”

“Totally, and like you can pay me minimum, I don’t need a whole lot. Plus I know you hate the new kid you hired. Brock right?”

“Yeah,” Raul sighs. “I mean he shows a bit of potential but like he’s so arrogant, and rude to customers. He’s driving away business.”

“So get rid of him, bring me on, keep Connor. And we’ll make it a family business again.”

“Are you sure Pete? Because I don’t want to overwhelm you, you’re dreams need to come before the shop.”

“No don’t do that.” Peter shakes his head. “The shop is your dream. My dreams aren’t superior to yours.”

“Let me talk to Li before we make any final plans okay?” Raul says, standing to hug his brother, because it feels like a weight was just completely lifted from his shoulders.

**

“Hey!” Aaliyah cheered when she looked up to see Raul walking into her bedroom. She hadn’t know he was coming over.

“Hey Kid.” He smiled, catching her as she leapt into his arms for a hug. “How you doing?”

“I’m good, staying busy.” She laughs, sitting back on her bed while Raul sits in the chair that sits at her vanity.

“How busy?”

“Um, just school and hockey.”

He nods, and looks around her room to stall.

“What’s up Raul? Why’d you stop by?”

“Can’t want to see my baby sister?” He asks looking back at her again.

“You can, if you ever did.” She giggled. “So what’s up?”

“Hey, I want to see you all the time.” He objects.

“Raul, you’re stalling. I know you, what’s up?”

“You want a job?” He blurts, eyes wide.

“What?” She breathes out.

“Fuck me,” He groans. “Okay what I meant to say is, Loretta at the shop is retiring, but she told me she’d wait until I found her replacement before she left the shop. She’s all worried with Dad retiring and now her that I’ll be left alone and screw the whole shop up. I know that’s not the case, but as I was thinking about replacing Loretta, I realized that all the people I’ve had to replace doesn’t make the shop feel like home anymore. It doesn’t feel like a family. I’d like to get back to that. So,” He shrugs, “If you’re looking for a job, that you can have through college, I’d love for you to join me at the shop as the receptionist.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, I think you’d be really good at it. You know everything there is to know about the shop already, you know most of the customers. I’d be there with you everyday, Pete a few days out of the week.”

“Wait, Pete?”

“Yeah Pete talked to me about taking Brock’s shifts because his new internship is only three days a week. He’s willing to help out, and it’ll give him practice on working on motors before he goes all pro and starts working for Nasa.”

“I hate that Brock guy, he’s a creep.”

“He is, he’d be completely gone if you join us. I don’t want you around him, or really vice versa.”

“But I’ll have class.”

“And as your super proud older brother I’d much rather you go to class than to the shop. So if you did decide to join us, I’d be totally flexible to your schedule. We can switch it up anytime we need to, like if you feel you need more time to study one week that’s perfectly fine. If you want more hours because you don’t have so much going on, then you’ll have them. Whatever you want, I'll give you.”

“Really?”

“Yes, I want you Li. I miss seeing you everyday, and I think you’d be a great asset to the shop I’m trying to run.”

“Okay, yes. I’m in.”

“Oh my god!” Raul cheers, jumping up to hug his sister. “Yay! I can’t wait.”

“So what else is going on? I saw June like two weeks ago and she seems busy.”

“She is.” Raul nods. “She’s really busy.”

“You sound, bitter? About that.” She says, trying to figure out what the right word is to describe Raul’s reaction.

“I just,” He sighs. “I just feel a little jealous I guess. She spends so much time with Jackson, her editor. He’s literally all she talks about when she’s home. I can’t go two sentences without the guys name being in there. I love her to death, and their closeness scares me a little.”

“Raul, no, she loves you.”

“Lately, I’ve been worried about that. I just feel so inadequate. This Jackson guy has so much to offer her. I mean he’s her editor to start, but like he also knows what the fuck she talks about 99% of the time. While I’m over here floundering because she’s talking hyperbole's and foreshadowing. I mean I stay up late just to look those fucking words up because I don’t remember jackshit from school.”

“But you care Raul, I mean you’re looking the words up for heaven's sake.”

“I’m just a mechanic Li, not even a good one at that. How am I any help to her. I don’t read, ever, and I can’t proof her shit because I don’t know what that entails. I mean she doesn’t even let me read her work anyway, that’s how ashamed she is.”

“She is not ashamed of you Raul. You mean so much more to her than you even know. It’s astounding the way she speaks about you. I can’t even begin to do it justice because I can’t. You’re everything to her, you just need to listen when she tells you so.”

“I don’t know Li.”

“I think you need to talk to her about this. I think she needs to know how you’re feeling. How is it supposed to get better when the person you’re stressed over doesn’t even know your stressed about them?”

“Yeah I guess you’re right.”

“Then go home and talk to her, please.”

“It is date night, maybe I’ll talk to her tonight.” He nods, kissing his sisters cheek as a goodbye as he starts to leave. “I’ll text you when I’ve fired Brock, I don’t want you to start until he’s gone.”

**

Raul checks his phone as he gets in his car, noticing he’s got a few texts.

iMessage from Superstar Shawn: Okay loser, Petey’s coming by tonight for pizza and beer to watch the game. Be there or be square.

iMessage from Pete’s Dragon: What did Li say?

iMessage from My Juni <3: Hey, sorry honey I can’t make it home in time for date night tonight. Carol wants to talk book jacket bio

Raul rolls his eyes, replaying her ‘it won’t happen again’ back in his head. He knows he shouldn’t be upset and grumpy over this. Her dreams are coming true and that’s all he’s ever wanted for her. He just didn’t realize for her dreams to come true, their relationship would be put on hold.

iMessage to Superstar Shawn: I’ll be there

iMessage to Pete’s Dragon: I’ll tell ya tonight.

**

Raul has distanced himself a bit from Juniper, not wanting to ask the dire questions he needs answered in the slight chance that he won’t get the answer he wants. The ‘what if’ is too grave for him to risk.

Since she’s cancelled on him twice now for date night, in favor of working on her book he just feels like right now that’s the most important thing in her life. He’s trying to allow her to let that be important without her having to worry about anything else that’s going on in their lives at the moment.

The distance is something that’s taking a toll on Juniper. She’s been asked to write a more in-depth version of one of the last chapters of her book, and since the inspiration for the book seems to be super far away, she’s in the worst block she’s ever had.

“Juniper, go home.” Jackson says. “You need the night with him, actually you need like a week straight alone with him.”

What Juniper didn’t expect to find when she walked in the door was Raul hunched over the table, head in his hands as he reads through a bunch of paperwork.

“Hey.” She says softly, hoping not to startle him. “What’s all this?” She asks, referring to the opened envelopes all over the table.

“Nothing.” Raul grunts. “What’s wrong? Why are you home?”

“Hi, nice to see you too Dear.” She pokes his shoulder, teasingly. “I wanted to spend some time with you. I miss my boyfriend.”

“Well he’s always here Juniper.” Raul spits, shrugging off her hands that had started to massage his shoulders. She stares at the back of his head appalled that he’d called her Juniper, not Juniper Baby.

“I know, and I appreciate that. I’m always here for you too.” She plants a kiss to his mop of curls.

“No you’re not.” He stands, grabbing the papers in a rush. As he turns to walk out of the dining room area that leads to the kitchen, he drops a paper. Juniper reaches down to grab it for him, but looks at it first.

“What is this?” She gasps. “A final notice?”

“Give me that.” Raul turns on his heel in a hurry to snatch the paper form her.

“Wait, is this our phone bill?” She steps out of his reach as she continues to read the bill.

“No!” He reaches for it again.

“Wait-” She stops him, pulling the other bills from his hands. Watching as he sighs in defeat, hanging his head. “Almost all of these are final notices.”

“Yeah well.” He scratches the back of his neck as she siffles through papers.

“Raul,” She looks up at him. “Why didn’t you tell me about this? I thought we were in this together, no?”

At this Raul snaps, his spin spins out of control and he loses it all.

“Me too!” He raises his voice. “But lately you haven’t been here! I’ve been here,” He points to his chest. “Me, I’ve been here. And guess what Juniper, we’re fucking broke. News flash, you’re 16 hour days of editing are unpaid.”

“Hey.” She says softly.

“I can’t do it on my own anymore. I mean fuck, the shop is just now starting to make money again. This is the first month I’ve been able to pay myself since I took over. We can finally make this month’s rent by the skin of our teeth.”

“Wait.” She stops him, now starting to ramp up to his anger. “If you’ve just now been able to pay yourself, then how have we paid rent the four months we’ve lived here?”

“Well the first two months totally drained my savings, and last month I had to go to Shawn.”

She gasps as she looks at him. She takes a step back, eyes wide, mouth agape. “You what?”

“I had to, what else was I going to do?”

“Talking to me about it would have been a good start. You didn’t Raul, you didn’t drain everything?”

“How were we going to pay rent?” He exclaims, waving his hands around. “Hate to say it, but this hellhole we live in that barely has heat and no dishwasher is expensive.”

“Raul,” Her eyes go misty. “I can’t believe you.”

“What? What did I do now? Sorry I’m not fucking perfect okay? I was just trying to be enough so you could live out your dream. But I couldn’t fucking do it on my own, as much as I wanted to, I couldn’t.”

“We were supposed to do it together Raul.” She sighs, shaking her head.

“How?” He laughs desperately. “How was I supposed to help make your dreams come true in any other way? Hmm? I’m not Jackson, Juniper. I can’t edit your writing, I mean you won’t even let me read it. I get it, I’m not smart like you. I don’t read and write, I understand you don’t want me to read your work. The least I can do, to feel somewhat adequate in this relationship was to make sure you weren’t worried about money.”

“What?” She stares at him. “What do you mean feel adequate in this relationship?” She stands appalled at the words he’s just spoken.

“I mean, what else am I to you?”

“The love of my life.” She cuts him off. “How could you think otherwise? Raul I don’t need you to be able to edit my work. I don’t need you to read or be anything you aren’t. I need you to be you. I need you.” She wipes away the tear that’s rolling down her cheek. “I can’t believe I’ve made you feel that way. You’re everything to me. I haven’t let you read my work, but not because I don’t want you to. Or that I think you’re not smart enough, or some bullshit like that. Because that’s, that’s utter bullshit. Raul I haven’t let you read my book because it’s about you, and I’m scared that it’s not perfect enough to show you yet.”

“It’s what?” Raul deflates, falling back into the counter a little.

“It’s about you. It’s a love story between a young author and a mechanic.” She digs through her backpack that she set next to the table when she walked in. She grabs a book and hands it to him. “This is the first printed copy. It’s not the actual copy we’ll print because we’re still adding scenes. But this was my manuscript I sent in. Carol printed it for me so I can have both this copy and the edited copy to compare.”

Raul stares at the book in her hands, at the book jacket that reads ‘Gears of Love’. She holds it out to him, and gently he takes the book. He turns it over to read the back summary that reads.

A love story like no other. Can dreams really lead you to the rest of your life? Follow Katie Fallon, an aspiring author who meets Bryce Mills when her car breaks down on her way home from the library one night. Bryce is the local mechanic who tows Katie's car back to his shop. It’s a tale for the ages as Katie consistently bumps into Bryce around town, and Bryce falls head over engines for the cute girl that dotted her I’s with hearts.

“You dot your I’s with hearts.” Raul looks up, staring into Juniper’s eyes.

“When you read the book you’ll find out that Bryce has a head of brown curls, and the most annoying brothers Katie’s ever met. It doesn’t mention it in the summary, but Bryce is a triplet.”

“You wrote a book about me?” Raul whispers, eyes lighting up.

“Yeah, you inspired me the first day you ever walked into Amy’s. I started writing this book then. After our first date the whole idea just took off, and with every day I’ve spent with you after this book has grown more and more. Honestly, I’m writing the sequel right now.”

“A sequel?” He smiles.

“It’s why I’ve been spending so much time with Jackson, rewriting the end of this book so I can lead into the sequel seamlessly.”

“Oh Juniper Baby.” He coos, bending his knees enough to pick her up and hauled her into his chest. “You’re amazing.”

“I love you so much Raul. I’m sorry I’ve made you feel otherwise.”

“No Baby, I should have talked to you about it sooner.”

“I should have been talking to you about all of this from the get go, and I shouldn’t have cancelled another date night.”

“Stop.”

“No you stop, I’m apologizing.”

“I don’t want it.”

“Raul.” She pulls back to look at him. “I want-”

“If the next word out of your mouth isn’t cuddles then you might as well just not say anything. Because I’m gonna take you into our bedroom, and cuddle the shit out of you while I explain to you all the changes I made to the shop, and how we need to, as a couple, figure out our saving plan. Okay?”

“Okay.” She nods.

“First give me a kiss?”

“I thought you’d never ask.”

**

This book is dedicated to my amazing boyfriend Raul. He’s my daily inspiration and without his love and support this book would have never happened. This is all for you Honey, I love you!

Raul cried when she gave him his very owned signed copy, reading the dedication in the front broke the tears from his eyes.

“Oh Juniper Baby.” He whined, turning around hugging her as she hands the rest of his family their copies as well. “I can’t believe you.”

“Ha! Raul you’re the dedication.” Aaliyah laughs, reading the page. “That’s so sweet.”

“It was the least I could do.”

“Babe,” Raul shakes his head. “You just bought us a new TV.”

“Well, I mean you needed something to go with your new Xbox.”

“You got a new Xbox?” Peter pipes up.

“Yeah was gonna invite you over for a game night this week.” Raul smiles, wiggling his eyebrows at Peter. “Since she’s forcing me to keep it after I’ve told her a thousand times to take it back.” He gives Juniper a look.

“I wanted to get you something, now shut up about it.” 

“I’m in.” Peter nods dumbly.

“Y’all I better have an invite, it’s been awhile since I beat your ass at Fifa.” Aaliyah shoved her brothers shoulders.

“Will Shawn be in town?” Juniper asked.

“Um, I think he gets back in town Wednesday.” Peter said. “So does Thursday work?”

“Works perfect for me.” Aaliyah speaks up.

“Yeah we can hang after work.” Raul nods.

“How’s the shop Raul?” Manuel asks.

“It’s going really well, we made almost $6000 more than we were projected to this last month. Was able to give everyone a bit of a bonus for hanging in there and getting us through the tough times. But it’s good. Business is racking up for holidays.”

“Yeah we have like 6 oil changes scheduled for tomorrow and Peter’s still working on that Jeep while Raul’s working on a Motorcycle for some primo guy from the Hamptons right?” Aaliyah smiles.

“Yeah shipped his bike all the way here because I happened to work on one of his buddies bikes a few weeks back. He’s paying top dollar for parts and labor. It’s a good deal, and it’s a nice bike to work on.” Raul nods.

“I’m proud of you Raul, you really turned the shop around. I knew you were the perfect fit.”

“Hmm,” Juniper smiles, rubbing Raul’s back. “I feel like I’ve said that a time or two.”

“I know,” Raul nods. “Thank you for believing in me.”

“Thank you for believing in me.” She smiles.

[ivyisms]

       - ̗̀ NOW INTRODUCING:  IVES ❝ IVY ❞ SERRANO !

( DANNA PAOLA, 24, CISFEMALE ) I just bumped into IVES "IVY" SERRANO the other day while walking down NORTH Kingsboro, where SHE lives. I hear they can be SEDUCTIVE and MANIPULATIVE, but when I think of them I immediately think about ROSE PETAL BLUNTS, STRAWBERRY CHAMPAGNE, AND SIX INCH STILETTOS.

hi hello it’s tay back again w another one of my demon spawn muses !! apparently chaotic bisexuals w fcs from elite is just my brand™️ but anyway ivy is probably my favorite oc i’ve ever made so i have A Lot to say abt this messy bitch !! if u go H E R E i have a very long stats/bio page with pretty much everything i could think of BUT i will try to summarize the main points semi-concisely

- ̗̀♡ — › background !

the main thing u need to know about ivy is that she is lying ! always !! her real name isn’t even actually ivy smh

she was born natalie rose serrano, to two working class parents in new york city. she knew from a young age that she was just supposed to be rich and famous, and that something had gotten mixed up somewhere and she was put in the wrong life.

in high school she got a scholarship to a fancy private catholic school, and that’s where she started to hone her craft of manipulating rich people. she would befriend all of the richest bitches at school and take advantage of everything that came along with it: vacations to far away places, stays in the family’s cabins and lake houses, even designer clothes that her friends no longer wanted and would gift to her, thinking it was their idea all along

as she grew up and got better at getting what she wanted out of people, her entitled attitude only got worse, driving a wedge between her and her parents, who kept waiting for her to develop a work ethic and kept being disappointed. a few months after she graduated high school, on her 18th birthday, her parents kicked her out of the house and cut her off, hoping that it would force her to grow up and take on any responsibility

but that plan backfired for them, her parents underestimating how truly stubborn natalie was. the day after her 18th, she wandered into a local strip club and got a job, figuring it’d be the easiest and quickest way to get some cash, and she took to it naturally and actually really enjoyed stripping

she started to embody an entirely new persona that she had created for herself, dancing under the name poison ivy and telling everyone she was a trust fund baby that had been cut off from her rich parents, needing to dance to supplement her income, and her lies just continued to spiral out of control until she almost started to believe it herself. she had never told anyone at the club her real name, not even the other strippers, just going by “ivy” for a while.

she had learned to weaponize the power she had over people by being pretty and charming, using her looks for absolute evil and doing whatever it took to get money—from straight up pickpocketing, to making men buy her expensive gifts, to blackmailing, to sugar babying, to getting patrons wasted and manipulating them into tipping her absurd amounts... she did it all, very quickly earning enough to live the life she had always dreamed of, that she felt she deserved for whatever twisted reason.

she started posting on instagram with the name poison ivy generally just flaunting her carefree, extravagant life, often exaggerating or down right lying just to really dazzle her quickly growing audience

as she started to go down the influencer route, she realized she needed to do something to hide the skeletons in her closet ( the fact that she didn’t actually come from money and was making far more than was normal for even the best of dancers, a couple of small possession / shoplifting charges, and just generally anything that could lead people to her real identity ) so she started to tell people her name was ives, fully taking on the new identity. she even went so far as to make some of the people that had been closest to her sign NDAs about her real identity, making sure that no one could sell info about her should her plan of being famous work out

and it did work out !! at first she was definitely buying followers/likes to boost her likelihood of brand sponsorships, but eventually she faked it until she made it and actually attained influencer status

she also started sleeping around with pretty much any famous person she could, having very public relationships and breakups and scandals to keep her name in the press, which ultimately lead to more exposure/people following her, if only to see what she did next, which lead to even more sponsorships

she’s probably been in kingsboro for a few years, living in a super fancy one bedroom apartment that she definitley doesn’t pay for ( she doesn’t even know how much her rent is tbh )

eventually she stopped dancing and just focused on her influencing or whatever, but she never stopped sugar babying and scamming rich stupid men, still very much using that as a means to keep up her lifestyle. she’s also done a few modeling things, but it’s mostly just like catalog work or being the face of a trendy campaign bc she’s way too short for the runway

she also recently made an only fans account bc she was bored one night and was mostly planning on posting once as a joke but then she made a bunch of money / got a bunch of subscribers and was like oh word ? i can do that ! so she will post on there from time to time but she’s not like... super serious about it ya know ?

so basically she’s jus here making money being pretty and pulling a long ass scam on... everyone

- ̗̀♡ — › personality !

she’s a real two faced bitch... she has perfected the art of becoming whoever she thinks other people want her to be, quickly adapting her personality to get whatever she wants

she’s usually pretty friendly actually, really charming and outgoing and just trying to have a good time

she has a pretty short temper tho and holds grudges like you wouldn’t believe, so once you’re on her bad side... good luck lol she is so ruthless

she’s like... deeply, deeply selfish and will always put herself first, but she’s so manipulative that she can make people do things that they think are their idea, but it’s really just something she planted in their head so it’s not always obvious

also very spoiled and will throw a mf fit if she doesn’t get her way or u say no to her

always going out !! always doing the most !! she’s the type to show up randomly at ur door at 8pm on a tuesday with a bottle of tequila and make u party with her whether u like it or not

she’s a lot smarter than she lets on sometimes, like she knows people expect her to be stupid and ditzy and shallow and she’ll let them underestimate her when it’s beneficial 

always looks perfectly put together— her nails are always meticulously manicured, usually w stiletto shaped acrylics, and you’ll literally never see her outside her house without makeup and a perfectly composed outfit. it’s also a rare occasion that she’s not wearing at least six inch heels, trying to make up for bein so mf short ( she’s 5’3 )

she talks A Lot but is really good at saying a lot of words without actually saying anything, like you can be best friends with her for months and then just be like “i don’t actually know a single thing about her”

always up to no good and sticking her nose where it doesn’t belong !! she’s always got some sort of scheme going or getting in to some kind of drama

v much a hoe and v much proud of it, will sleep w just about anyone especially if she can get something out of it

also a serial dater !! she’s always hoping in and out of relationships and being rumored to be with a dozen people at once

most definitely calls paparazzi on herself, especially when she’s around other famous ppl but will never admit it

compulsive liar, she will literally lie about the dumbest things like she doesn’t even need a reason to lie she jus.. does

- ̗̀♡ — › wanted connections !

hookups / flings / one night stands / fwbs all that shit !!

exes on bad terms ... gimme drama pls

enemies / ppl she’s stolen from maybe... she would definitely deny it and say they’re jus jealous of her or smth stupid but that could make the feud worse

party pals !! like i said she goes out a lot and always somehow manages to make new friends and drag them into her shenanigans

on again / off again exes... i want the Angst so bad..

unlikely friends !! like ppl who are nice and sweet and Pure, she could use a lil good energy in her life

neighbors ... mb they hate her for always being loud n throwing mini parties OR maybe they join in

mean girl rivalries !!

someone she’s taking advantage of / stealing from without them knowing .. oof

partner in crime !!!

one sided crushes or like someone she’s stringing along smh

sugar daddies mb 😇

someone to put her in her mf place JDKDKD like they call her out on her bs and are like “i see what ur doing bitch stay away from my friends” type thing

idk anything really !! gimme all the messy plots ok :~)

[osmiumamygdala]

Dandelion

Colossus X @boneeating--baastard 's oc, SFW, fluff, Petey being a mother hen, as always.

I used some Russian in this (please do correct me if you see anything wrong so I can fix it!) So some translations:

Lapochka= darling/dear

Milyy= sweet/cute

volzlyublennyy= beloved 

A-one, a-two, a-one two three four!

The heel of Balea's sneakers squeak upon hitting the floor, but their tempo remains impeccable as always. Their fingers dance across the strings of their axe, the pluck-pluck-pluck shooting through the guitar's body and causing their chest to hum.

They aren't performing with their band right now-- no, this is all them, all alone, practicing in the empty art studio of the X-Mansion. Even so, they can imagine-- no, hear, hear as though it were right there-- the rest of the band, playing in synchrony, filling this small room with loud, delicious sound rather than the semi-awkward twang of them, solitary, with their guitar.

Yes, instead of this dark, cramped room, lined wall to wall with easels, paintings, sculptures, and paper mache, there is the steady beat of the drums, the thrill of the bass, the scream of a second guitar. Old, amateurly-made masks that line the wall opposite to them are screaming fans, faces drawn open in cheer. A poster to their left featuring a chameleon grasping a branch bids them "hang in there!" And so, they do.

They've been "hanging in there" all day. All week. All their life, really. Between University, general anxiety, and the normal daily grind-- which is to say, the abnormal shit-storm their life has become since squeezing themself into a superhero uniform-- they really can't seem to catch a break.

Music is a whole different ballpark. Can it be hard work? Yes. But the satisfaction they know they'll feel the second they play the rep right just once, godammit, will be worth it all. They've been working so hard already. The minutes have blurred together into one gross, energy drink infused nightmare. Their fingertips are numb, and they're pretty certain their throat has been torn up so wretchedly that lemon juice won't help it now.

One more rep. Just one more rep.

.

.

.

Piotr finds them at a quarter to midnight. He hears them before he sees them; their voice casting down the empty hallway and echoing back. He stops and listens before trying anything. One part of him feels bad for doing it. After all, he wouldn't want anyone sneaking up on him and stealing peeks at his unfinished artwork without his say. But he can't help himself; hearing his dearest's music in the air is a cause for pause, and so he stops in front of the door, hand hovering above the doorknob, and sighs happily as their melody ebbs and flows and weaves throughout the air.

They're doing a cover of a song right now. He's never been up-to-date with music (he's a little old school, and he'll be the first to admit it. He spends his time listening to classical piano and Neil Diamond), but he thinks he knows this one. It sounds like...oh, what was it called...Creep? By...Radiohead!

Their voice wavers out on the last "I don't belong here," and they let out a nasty sounding cough. He ducks his head down to peer into the slim, rectangular window on the door. He sees them. Balea. That sweet, steadfast, optimistic soul that managed to capture his heart and all of him with it. Their back is facing towards him, their shoulders are sagged as they lean forward, perched on a stool (poor posture, he thinks. We should have a word about that), they're still wearing that same flannel from way earlier in the day (sweat-soaked. Poor thing must be exhausted) and he sees them take a swig of--

Monster. At midnight? Oh no.

They start plucking at the guitar strings again, this time starting up an Insidious original, but he doesn't allow himself to be distracted.

He swings the door upon gently, right as the opening verse begins.

"Balea," He says.

They startle, kicking some empty energy drink cans that were in front of them and nearly dropping their guitar.

"Are you aware of the time?"

"Jesus, big guy! You about gave me a heart attack!" Balea says, their voice raspy. They nervously push their glasses up the bridge of their nose.

Piotr picks one of the energy drink cans--Rockstar--off the ground, wiggles it, and grins, amused. "You mean, before these do?"

"Hah. Hah." Balea laughs humorlessly.

"Balea, my dandelion. Time?"

Balea blanks. "Err…uh...eight, right?"

"Lapochka," he says, sadly and softly, "is midnight.”

They look at the floor, stunned. "Oh."

"How long have you been playing?"

Balea scrubs at their eyes for a moment. "Ah, uh, four hours I think?"

He tsks and walks farther into the room until he's standing right in front of them. He kneels down, places their guitar lightly on the ground, takes their small hands, and rubs his large thumb over one of their bandaged fingers.

"You need sleep," he says gently.

"I need," Balea says, with a hint of annoyance, "to get better. I keep messing up this one song. Just the one! I HAVE to get it before I sleep tonight! I've almost got it!"

Piotr chuckles and moves his right hand to their left cheek. He smiles as he scans over their face, which is pulled into a scowl at the moment. Regardless of the expression, he finds them to be gorgeous, handsome, stunning-- any combination of words he can find to explain the joy he feels upon seeing them.

Even here, in this dark room, and even sleep-deprived and sweaty and peppered with Spiderman band-aids as they are, he sees a piece of art. No person could ever hope to capture their beauty in ink, he thinks, and neither in clay or stone, nor paint or pixels. They are ethereal to him.

Which is why seeing the bags under their eyes and smelling the caffeine on their breath makes his heart clench.

"Please dandelion, you've been working so hard already. You need some rest."

Balea thinks it over for a minute, biting their lip in thought and gazing up into his eyes. "Why do you call me that?" They ask. "Dandelion?"

"I call you "Dandelion" because-" he pauses to plant a kiss to one of their bandaged fingers "-you are like dandelion!"

They frown. "I'm like a weed?"

Piotr is taken aback. He hadn't been expecting that. "Weed is...is just concept people came up with because they are annoyed when plants grow where they don't want them." He laughs at that internally; he was a farmer, and he's dealt with his fair share of 'weeds'. His point still stands, he thinks, because even those 'weeds' can be breathtaking, in his mind.

"You are like dandelion because you are so bright." He says. "And determined. And brave."

"How are dandelions or me brave or determined?" They ask incredulously.

"You stand apart from everything else," he explains. "Like dandelion. Bright and bold. When you perform I...I feel so proud of you. Seeing you, on stage, surrounded by so many people? I could never! But you, you stand there, head held high, and take it in, like flower taking water from soil!

And dandelions grow wherever they can. Even through concrete! You do, too! Whatever life throws at you, you fight through it, and if someone tries to pick you off, well, you just pop right back up, as hopeful as ever!"

Balea grins at that. They are one tough cookie! Many an enemy has learned about their quick regeneration too late.

"I remember the first time I saw you," he says. Balea fidgets in place. They don't really like to remember that day very much. They hadn’t really been themself that day. Not quite. "Before pulling you from the rubble, I thought 'there is no way anything could have survived this'. And then I found you, and pulled you free, and it was like seeing a flower raise its head on the first day of spring. Bright, brave, determined, bold--" he places a round of kisses on their hands "--beautiful."

Balea finds themself shivering under all the affection. "Shuddup, you're making me blush!"

Piotr grins and places a kiss on their cheek. "Milyy."

They giggle before being overcome by a large yawn.

"Sleepy little flower," Piotr comments. "See? Time for bed."

"Noooo," Balea moans. "Just had a Monster. My skeleton is VIBRATING."

"If I had my way," Piotr says sternly, "I would lock all Monsters in a safe and drop them in a bottomless pit."

Balea opens their mouth in mock horror. "That would KILL ME babe! I would die! How EVIL! And here I was thinking the X-Men were the good guys!"

"It is a necessary evil," Piotr says solemnly.

Balea harrumphs and folds their arms.

Piotr's face is beginning to hurt from smiling so much at his beloved, and that fact only makes him smile more. They look so cute when they pout.

"If you come to bed, volzlyublennyy, I will massage all your pain away. I know you get, ah...achy back after practicing too long."

"Just a massage?" Balea asks, wiggling their eyebrows.

Piotr deadpans. "It's midnight. I am tired, love. And you look half awake as is."

Balea shrugs. "Eh, worth a shot."

They bend over to pick up their guitar, placing it neatly in its case. At the same time, Piotr sets to work gathering up all the cans and tossing them in a bin by the door.

Balea stands up, almost falling over themself due to their tired, cramped legs and sudden light-headedness.

"Babe," they say. "Did you see that cool magic trick? I just, like, hopped dimensions."

"No," he says firmly. "You had too much monster and too little movement in four hours."

"Shhhh, no, babe. I've unlocked a secondary mutation!"

He sighs good-humoredly and watches for a moment as Balea attempts to put on their guitar case. Their joints keep popping as they get used to movement again, and they wobble back and forth on their heels unsteadily. Piotr intervenes quickly and takes the case from their hands, slinging it around his own shoulders.

"Honey, wh--" before Balea can finish their question, they are scooped up in a pair of big, strong arms.

That sends them into a fit of laughter. "Babe, babe!" They squeak breathlessly. "You aren't gonna carry me to the room, are you?"

"That is the plan, yes," Piotr says, hugging them close.

"What if someone sees us?" They ask, suddenly timid at the thought of anyone catching them like that.

"Everyone else went to bed at a reasonable hour, love." Piotr scolds, pinching their cheek.

Balea blows a raspberry at him. "Midnight is reasonable for me! I'm a busybody and a night owl, okay!?"

Piotr chuckles and walks out of the art studio, making sure to lock the door behind him (which, he realizes, is difficult when your arms are full of your giggling, squirming lover).

As he makes his way back to their room, he watches the drowsy face of his dearest. He finds it endearing, how they fight to stay awake just so they can have that promised massage and spend more time with him. He hums a little song to himself. Something rock, the title of which is lost to him. All is good

[southsidexslytherin]

Dirty Laundry--Sweet Pea & OC (Part Two)

Summary: October Addams is the new kid in RIverdale. She has no friends, no family, and a dark past she tries to keep hidden. But as she starts to make new friends with the South Side Serpents, secrets start to be revealed, and October isn’t certain that she’s ready to let them see the skeletons in her closet.

Warnings: language, mild violence

Word count: 4,434

Author’s note: So I thought I had finished this last night, but then when I started editing it this evening, I wasn’t happy with it. But after some tweaking I think it’s pretty good. Obviously it’s a lot longer than the previous chapter, and I’d like each chapter to be roughly this length going forward, but we’ll see what happens. Please let me know what you think! I love getting feedback, even constructive criticism. Constructive being the keyword.

Taglist: @the-greatt-perhaps @misskarynie

Part One

When the bell rang, signaling the end of first period, I gathered my things back into my bag and stood to leave.

“What do you have next?” Toni asked. I pulled my schedule out of my back pocket and we made our way into the hall.

“English with Caruthers.” I responded.

Toni frowned and nodded at Cheryl, “We have math. Sit with us at lunch?”

“For sure,” I smiled brightly. They walked off, leaving me alone with Sweet Pea. He smirked down at me. I turned on my heel, walking quickly away from him without a word towards my next class.

In a few long strides he had caught up and threw his arm around my shoulder. “Wait up, gorgeous, I’ll walk you to class.”

I shrugged him off forcefully. “No thanks, Soda Pop, I think I can find it myself.” I picked up my pace, trying to leave him behind, but he followed along behind me. I wished he could take a hint. I gripped my hands tightly around the strap of my messenger bag and tried to ignore the feeling of being watched.

I entered the classroom and headed straight for one of the empty desks in the back. Sweet Pea followed right behind, once again taking the empty seat in front of me. I glared at him. “Are you even in this class?”

“I am, actually.” His grin was gleeful. I rolled my eyes and pulled a notebook out of my bag. Soon Mr. Caruthers was walking past each desk, handing out paperback copies of Romeo and Juliet. As he set a copy on my desk, Sweet Pea was still turned in his seat, watching me intently.

Mr. Caruthers made his way back toward the front of the classroom and announced, “I want each of you to find a partner and pick a scene. You will all be performing whichever scene you choose for the rest of the class on Friday. Since we have an uneven number with the arrival of our new student,” I sunk lower into my chair as all eyes turned to me, “we will need one group of three. Please let me know which scene you’ve chosen by the end of the period so we don’t have duplicates.”

Sweet Pea winked at me. “Meet me at the Whyte Warm tonight at 8. We can run lines for the balcony scene.” I stared at him blankly. “Unless, of course,” he continued, his voice as smooth as dark chocolate, “you’d rather do the scene where Romeo and Juliet make out.”

Face unflinching and without breaking eye contact, I shot my hand straight up. “Mr. Caruthers? I prefer to work alone. Would it be alright if I did Mercutio’s Queen Mab monologue from Act 1, Scene 4?” Sweet Pea’s confident face fell slightly.

“Yes, that’s fine, Miss Addams,” Caruthers agreed. Sweet Pea pouted at me with big, brown, puppy dog eyes, feigning heartbreak. I sneered at him and buried my face in the text. I heard him chuckle softly before getting up and walking away. I glanced up at him only briefly, to see that he was talking to another boy a few desks away. Unfortunately he looked back over at me just at the same moment. Before I could avert my eyes, he caught my gaze, and winked again. I wanted to smack him.

When the bell rang, Sweet Pea was back at my side, picking up my bag from where it sat on the floor next to me.

“Hey!” I exclaimed. He walked out into the hallway and I hurried after him, gripping my copy of Romeo and Juliet tightly. He was waiting right outside the door. I grabbed for my bag but he jerked it out of reach, holding it high above his head. He was roughly a foot taller than me, and I wasn’t going to demean myself by trying to jump for it.

“What is your problem?” I demanded.

“Come to Pop’s with me tonight. I’ll buy you a milkshake.”

I hissed, “If this is your way of flirting, it’s not working.”

“Come on, it’ll be fun,” he insisted.

“Not interested,” I snapped. “Give me my bag back before I hurt you.”

“Feisty. I like it.” He grinned down at me devilishly. I reciprocated with a look so filled with hate it would’ve made the devil run like a bat out of hell. He sighed and lowered my bag. I snatched it ferociously and stomped off.

After English I had Algebra and Chemistry, neither of which I shared with Sweet Pea it appeared. I relaxed slightly and took solace in my silent note taking, grateful that both lectures kept me from having to interact with my peers.

Soon enough the bell rang for lunch and I made my way back to my locker to drop off my bag. After grabbing a bottle of water and a pre-wrapped turkey sandwich from the cafeteria, I headed outside to the courtyard where Toni and Cheryl had said they would be.

I sat down next to a boy I hadn’t met yet who was also wearing a leather jacket with the South Side Serpent logo. He nodded at me in greeting.

“October, this is Fangs Fogarty,” Toni introduced. I tried to smile warmly, but was afraid it came out more grimace than anything.

“Is your name really October?” Fangs asked.

“Is your name really Fangs?” I countered.

“Touché.” I laughed as I began unwrapping my sandwich. I’m not sure why I was surprised when Sweet Pea walked up and straddled the section of bench next to me so he could look at me head on.

“Just can’t get enough of me, can ya, babydoll?”

“Oh my god!” I practically shouted in exasperation. “Can you just fuck off?”

“What’s the matter? I’m just trying to be friendly. They don’t call me Sweet Pea for nothing.” Cheryl and Toni rolled their eyes in unison and Fangs let out an amused snort.

“Is that what you call it? Because I would call it sexual harassment,” I snapped. I took a ferocious bite out of my sandwich and chewed angrily.

Sweet Pea clutched a hand to his heart in mock hurt. “Me? Never.” I opened my mouth to tell him off but Cheryl cut in.

“You should come hang out with us tonight, October,” she offered eagerly. Fangs nodded in agreement. “Mon cher is bartending, so you can keep me company.” Cheryl placed a perfectly manicured hand over mine. I pursed my lips and thought for a moment, side eyeing Sweet Pea and debating whether or not is was worth it to subject myself to more of his obnoxious, misogynistic behavior.

Toni noticed the look. “Sweet Pea will be on his best behavior. Won’t you, Pea?” She growled.

“Scout’s honor,�� he promised. He drew an X over his heart with his index finger.

“That’s not—“ I started. I stopped and shook my head. “Yeah, okay. Where at?”

Fangs chimed in, “Whyte Wyrm. 8 o’clock!” I nodded and returned to my sandwich as the conversation shifted. They spoke of people and places I hadn’t heard of and, though they tried to fill me in and and include me in their discussion, I found myself zoning out, wondering if it wouldn’t be better if I got up and walked away. Did I really want to make friends here? I mean sure, everyone needed friends. And it couldn’t hurt to have some people to spend time with. But after what had happened before I couldn’t bring myself to let anyone that close to me again.

As lunch ended I stood from the table, lifting my leg over the bench and accidentally, though unapologetically, kicking Sweet Pea in the shin as I did so. I tossed my trash in a bin a few feet away and walked back into the school with the people I was trying to decide if I should call friends. And Sweet Pea.

I chatted quietly with Toni at my locker as I retrieved my bag for the next period, art. Fangs and Sweet Pea leaned against the lockers across the hall from us, absorbed in their own conversation.

As I slammed my locker shut I was approached by a guy in a blue and gold varsity jacket. He flashed a bright grin at me and placed a hand on my waist, pulling me close to him. Only halfway through my first day and I was already so sick of the boys in this school.

“Hey new girl,” he greeted. His voice was as slick as his dark hair. “Name’s Reggie.” I placed a hand on his chest and shoved him backwards. Toni was tense, beside me.

“Back off, Mantle,” she barked.

“Come on,” he whined at me, “ditch the Serpent scum and let me walk you to class.” He reached out and twirled a lock of my hair around his finger. I slapped his hand away, rage filling my belly like molten lava. I was about to snap, but I clenched my teeth and tried to brush by him without a word.

He grabbed my forearm roughly as I began to walk away. “Hey, I’m talking to you.” That was the last straw. I barely had time to register Sweet Pea shouting as he crossed the hallway. I swung my fist at Reggie’s face, colliding with his nose which began to spout blood down the front of his jacket.

As I turned around Sweet Pea was right behind me, eyes wide in shock, fists clenched tightly, ready for a brawl. He took a step towards Reggie, as if he wanted to finish him off. I scowled. “Let me make one thing perfectly clear,” I growled at him fiercely, ramming a finger into his chest, “I don’t need you, or anyone else, to fight my battles.” With a flick of my hair I stormed down the hall alone.

I wasn’t surprised when I got called into the office during my art class. I waited impatiently outside Weatherbee’s door, ready to defend myself against expulsion. The door opened and Reggie walked by, an icepack held against his face, eyes already rimmed in purple and black bruises. I tried to hide a smile, proud of my work, and entered the principal’s office.

I took my seat across from Weatherbee’s desk while he glowered at me. “Is it true you punched Reggie Mantle?” He inquired.

“He touched me inappropriately,” I said sharply. “I have witnesses.”

“Be that as it may, we have a zero tolerance policy for violence here at Riverdale.” I bit my lip in an effort to keep from rolling my eyes. It was starting to give me a migraine. “I’m willing to let you off with a warning this time, since you’re new, but don’t let me hear about this happening again, Miss Addams.” I nodded and stood to leave.

“One more thing,” Weatherbee called, stopping me in my tracks, “it’s been made apparent that you’ve been spending some time with a few members of the South Side Serpents. I would advise you to reevaluate your choice in companions. You have a lot of potential, Miss Addams. Don’t let your past corrupt your future.” I turned sharply on my heel and walked out without a word.

I made my way to the gymnasium for sixth period P.E. where I was given a standard set of gray athletic shorts with the school seal on the front left corner and a white Riverdale High athletics department t-shirt, along with the combination to a gym locker. There was an old hooded sweatshirt inside, leftover from the previous occupant. I changed amongst the other girls in the locker room and stowed my regular clothes in the locker beside the sweatshirt. I hadn’t thought to bring gym shoes and wasn’t given any, so I was forced to wear my combat boots which looked absolutely ridiculous.

The gym coach made us run a few laps to warm up before dividing us into four groups, two on each half of the court, to play basketball. As I joined my team on the court the door to the boys’ locker room opened and slammed shut as someone entered.

“You’re late,” Coach Wadell called. “Pick a team.” I turned to see who she was speaking to. Of course, it was Sweet Pea. Why was he always around? Was this school really that small? I knew immediately he was going to pick my team, and were unsurprised when he made his way over to my side of the court. Instead of joining my team on offense, however, he took up a position on the opposite team for defense.

Coach Wadell blew her whistle. “Addams, Keller, take point,” she shouted to me and the preppy boy I had met in the lounge this morning who was on the opposite side of the gym. She threw each of us a basketball. I began dribbling the ball at the top of the court and made my way towards the basket. Suddenly Sweet Pea was blocking my path. I turned away from him, trying to protect the ball and keep it away from his batting hands. I tried to find someone to pass to but no one seemed to be open.

“Why don’t you guard someone your own size, you oaf?” I bit.

“This is more fun, princess,” he chuckled. He moved closer to me, chest nearly pressed to my back. I could feel his breath on my hair. Frustrated and tired of his bullshit, I threw all my weight backwards, barely managing to stay on my feet as I knocked him to the ground.

“I’m nobody’s princess.”

Coach Wadell blew her whistle sharply. “Foul, Addams. SP, take your shot.” Sweet Pea made his free throw, sinking the ball directly into the hoop. The rest of the class period went much the same way, with Sweet Pea invading my personal space, and me throwing elbows at him to get him to back off. I could tell it was a game to him, which only made me dislike him more.

By the end of the period I was tired, sweaty, and pissed off. I quickly rinsed off in the cold water of the girls’ shower before changing back into my school clothes. I decided to take the old sweatshirt from my gym locker and shoved it into my bag. Though one of the other girls had offered to lend me her hair dryer, there was no time. I towel dried my hair as much as I could and tied the wet strands into a bun on the top of my head.

Seventh period history was uneventful. I sat next to Betty with whom I shared the class and studiously took notes. We chatted briefly after class as we walked to our final periods. She was a nice girl. The type of person I probably would’ve been friends with had I not come to Riverdale. But she made me uneasy. I knew she shouldn’t, but she was just so familiar. Too familiar. She was too much a reminder of my former life. She was a cheerleader. She had top grades. She was an overachiever. I wanted—needed—to distance myself from her as much as possible. For my own mental stability.

My last class of the day was study hall. As soon as I took my seat I pulled out my laptop and plugged in my headphones. I opened youtube and started searching for videos of the monologue I was to perform at the end of the week. As I pulled out my notebook to take notes, Fangs and Sweet Pea sat in the desks to my left. “That was badass.” Fangs said excitedly.

“What was?” I asked in a bored tone.

“You totally fucked up Mantle’s face!” Fangs grinned.

I shrugged. “He shouldn’t have touched me.” I paused. “Why are you even here? Betty said you guys usually duck out last period with Jughead.”

“Easy, Killer—” Sweet Pea started.

I flashed him an evil look, eyes bright, and hissed, “Do not ever call me that again.” My heart was beating fast and it took everything in me to keep the memories at bay. I breathed in deeply through my nose in an effort to calm my nerves.

He raised his hands in surrender.

“We don’t usually bother, but we wanted to congratulate you.” Fangs explained.

I shook my head. “But how did you know I’d be here?”’

“Fangs insisted on stealing your class schedule from the office during sixth,” Sweet Pea explained.

“I sweet talked the secretary lady. She thinks I’m pretty.” Fangs announced proudly. Sweet Pea patted his cheek fondly. I couldn’t help but laugh.

“Why did you steal my schedule, Fangs?” I asked with a smile.

“Well you see, October—if that is your real name—“ I cocked an eyebrow at him, amused. “We’ve decided to recruit you.”

“Recruit me into what?”

“The Serpents,” he stated matter-of-factly.

“And what exactly are these Serpents I keep hearing about? Some kind of school club?”

“Something like that,” Sweet Pea said, a wicked grin plastered across his face.

“We’re a gang—“

“A family, really—“

“Of bikers. You do ride, don’t you? Or was that not a helmet I saw in your locker earlier?” Fangs asked.

“Yes…” A biker gang? Really? I supposed it explained the leather jackets.

Sweet Pea swooned exaggeratedly, “I love a girl with her own bike.”

“Shut up, West Side Story.” I snapped. “Why do you want me to join your biker gang?”

Fangs answered, “Because you’re a badass.”

“Because you’d be perfect,” Sweet Pea offered.

“You’d fit right in.”

I pursed my lips, brow furrowed. “I don’t know. I’m not really the gang type.”

“We’re more than just a gang—“

“We’re a family—“

“So you said. I’m not really the family type, either.”

“Just think about it,” Fangs said. I nodded my agreement and placed my earbuds in my ears, finally returning to my work.

The halls were crowded as school let out, everyone in a hurry to grab their things and get the hell out of there. I pushed my way through the throng of students to get to my locker. I grabbed my helmet and a couple of textbooks and prepared to head out. Toni walked by then, lifting her hand in a wave.

“8 o’clock, October. Don’t forget!” She called, bouncing away. I waved in acknowledgement and headed for the exit.

Once home I set about doing my homework and making dinner. As seven o’clock rolled around I cleaned up and started touching up my makeup. My black lipstick had held up pretty well throughout the day with only one minor touchup after lunch. I wanted something fresher, though, so I wiped it off and applied a forest green metallic lipstick instead. I sharpened my eyeliner wings, added a little highlighter to my cheek bones and called it good. Then I took my hair out of its bun and ran my hands through it. It was mostly dry by now, damp only in the places where the air couldn’t reach it. The tight bun had left gentle waves in my hair and I decided to leave it down.

I opened my bedroom closet to find a change of clothes, peeling off my shorts and cropped hoodie, and throwing them in a corner of my bedroom. I shuffled through skirts, dresses, and tops of various materials before plucking out a gray plaid button up, a black fishnet top, and my leather vest. I chose a black bandeau bra and gray moto skinny jeans from my dresser and got dressed.

At 7:55 I slipped my feet into a pair of studded, scrappy biker boots with chunky three inch heels and tied the plaid button up around my waist before slipping out the trailer door into the night.

I arrived at the Whyte Wyrm a little after 8pm. It wasn’t much to look at—a dingy looking brown building with an awning above the door depicting a large snake next to the name of the bar. I pulled my Harley Davidson to the end of the row of motorcycles and removed my helmet. I quickly ran my hands through my green hair, shaking out the kinks, then pulled a compact from the black heart-shaped mini backpack I was wearing to check my makeup.

Once satisfied, I tucked the mirror back into my backpack and hung my helmet from one of the handle bars by its strap. I took a deep breath, and walked inside. It was dim inside the bar, a light fog of cigarette smoke blurring my vision slightly. There was a stage with two dancer poles on each end to the left of me, and a long bar to the right. There were tables and chairs scattered throughout. Across from the stage there was a pool table and an old Mortal Kombat arcade game.

The bar was busy, full of men and women in leather or denim Serpent jackets and vests. What was I doing here? I didn’t belong here. I didn’t need these people, didn’t need friends. Letting people in was only going to make it easier for them to walk away like all the others. I could feel the panic bubbling in my chest, constricting my airways and making my heart race. I was about to turn around and go home when Toni spotted me.

“October!” She shouted and waved me over to the bar. I was caught like a deer in the headlights. I could run, but that would probably only make things worse. I took a few deep, calming breaths, and walked towards the petite, pink-haired girl.

I took the stool next to Cheryl, who was sucking on a straw. She set her drink down and smiled at me brightly. “Well don’t you look… fitting.” I couldn’t tell whether or not this was a compliment, but I cautiously thanked her all the same.

“What’s your drink?” Toni asked.

“Whiskey and coke.” I answered. She pulled a bottle of Jack Daniels off the shelf and started pouring me three fingers over ice. She topped it off with coke and slid it to me. I pulled off my backpack and started to reach for my wallet but she she shook her head.

“First one’s on the house.” I smiled in thanks and took a sip. Fangs and Sweet Pea joined us a moment later. Toni placed two beers on the bar in front of them. Sweet Pea leaned in closer to me than was necessary to grab his, close enough that I could smell the scent of motor oil and cigarettes on him.

“Glad you came, sweetheart.” He said sweetly.

��I’m not your sweetheart, Grease Lightning.” I snapped. “And I didn’t come here for you.”

“She came here for me,” Fangs pronounced, wrapping an arm around my waist.

“Back down, leather-clad losers,” Cheryl interjected, “we all know she came here for me.” She flipped her long red hair over her shoulder like a shampoo model.

I laughed and nodded. “She’s right.” Fangs pouted and I ruffled his hair.

Sweet Pea slapped Fangs on the chest, “Pool. Let’s go.” Fangs grabbed my hand and pulled me along with them.

“Come on. You’re gonna be my good luck charm.” He called over his shoulder.

“Uhh, and why is that?” I asked.

He grinned. “Green’s my lucky color.” I laughed and let him pull me to the pool table, drink in hand.

I took a seat at a nearby table while the boys racked the balls and chalked their cues. Just before breaking Sweet Pea walked over to me, placing a hand on the back of my chair and leaning over me. “Kiss for luck?” He cocked an eyebrow.

“I have a better idea,” I retorted, “Why don’t you take that pool cue and shove it up your—“

“Come on, Pea, just break,” Fangs called. Sweet Pea grinned down at me before returning to the table. He lined up his shot and broke the balls with a loud crack, sending the green 6 and red 3 balls into two of the corner pockets.

I watched as they played a couple of rounds, Sweet Pea kicking Fangs’ ass each time. Toni brought me my third drink of the night as they finished their third round of pool. Fangs handed over another twenty dollar bill while Sweet Pea grinned triumphantly.

Fangs collapsed in the chair across from me, sighing. “I’m done emptying my wallet for the night. You’re turn,” he said to me, slapping his hand on the table.

“And why would I do that?”

“What’s wrong, sweetness? Afraid to lose?” Sweet Pea called from the pool table.

“Are you seriously trying to goad me into playing pool with you?” I raised an eyebrow dubiously.

“Is it working?”

“No.”

“How about we make it interesting?” Sweet Pea asked, walking over to me. “If I win, you let me take you on a date.” There was a gleam in his eye as he said it.

I thought a moment, weighing my options. “Fine. And if I win, you leave me alone.” My eyes sparkled with fire. “No more pet names, no more hitting on me, and you stay out of my personal space.”

He stuck his hand out for me to shake. I took it. “Deal. I’ll even let you break.” I grabbed the cue from his hands, leaned over the pool table, and sent the white cue ball flying into the group of colored balls. Three different striped balls sunk into pockets. Sweet Pea’s jaw fell open.

“Oh shit!” I heard Fangs exclaim behind me. Toni and Cheryl joined us, curious about what was happening. I took my next shot, sinking two more balls. “Are you seeing this?!” Fangs shouted. I leaned low over the table, lining up my last shot. With a loud thwack the last two striped balls fell into pockets.

“Eight ball, center pocket.” I called, hitting the black ball into the exact pocket. I laid the pool cue on the table and walked back to the table where Fangs, Cheryl, Toni, Sweet Pea, and now several others had gathered, eyes wide and mouths agape. I threw back the rest of my drink and picked up my backpack.

“She’s like the lady version of Sweets,” Toni said to Fangs.

“Wh-what just happened?” Sweet Pea asked, confused.

I patted his cheek. “Stay gold, Pony Boy,” I said condescendingly.

As I walked out the door of the bar I knew every eye was on me.

[waterloou]

Hello I missed you

So this is a v v v v late bday present for Vannah @sweetpeas-sweetpea and it features her OCs and Queenie and I really hope I did them justice!

Queenie approached Mabel at lunch and sat down across from her before she took her bag out. Mabel stopped mid-chew, and gave the taller girl a questioning look.

“Um…” Queenie looked up after she had pulled out her sandwich.

“Oh, hey, whats up?”

“I was about to ask you the same thing?”

“Oh, well, you looked like you could use some company” the girl smiled and took a bite out of her sandwich. The two hadn’t really talked much since they got to high school.

“Oh! I do have another motive. I was wondering if you were free to hang around sometime this week, maybe after practice sometime?”

“Why?” Mabel gave her a wary look.

“Just because we haven’t talked in a while? Also Omi won’t go to the aquarium with me and I need someone to babble to.” her expression softened, “Also, I figured we could catch up.”

Mabel narrowed her eyes for a minute before sighing, “Yeah sure”

“Great! I’ll pick you up, say, tomorrow after practice?”

“Sure”

“Awesome!” Queenie took another big bite of her sandwich with a big smile.

==

After soccer practice that day, Maddox ran up to Queenie.

“Abrejo!” she turned around and smiled.

“Heya Harlow”

“You played good today” the boys and girls varsity teams played against each other in a scrimmage that day.

“You too. Glad you didn’t kick me in the face again”

“That was one time!”

“I know, just givin ya shit” she propped her ball on her hip, “Whatcha need?”

“Mabel said you asked her to hang out with you tomorrow?”

“And?”

“That was nice. She needs someone right now” Queenie shrugged and smiled.

“You coming over for dinner tonight? Atzi misses you”

“She does?”

“When is Maddox coming over? Are you hiding him from me? I need to see him and give him sweets. Is he eating enough?” she imitated her abuela’s voice with a giggle.

“That’s a good impression.”

“Thanks I’ve been working hard on it. You comin or not?”

“Yeah yeah” he shoved her lightly before heading to the locker room.

===========

The next day, after soccer and vixen practice, Queenie was waiting for Mabel, trying a few tricks with her ball, when it went flying and nearly hit the blond in the head.

“Sorry!”

Mabel went to pick up the ball and handed it back.

“Its ok. You said we were going to the aquarium?” Queenie’s face brightened.

“Yeah! I’m driving!” she took her hand and pulled her toward the parking lot.

“Fair warning, everyone has affectionately dubbed my car hot wheels”

“Hot Wheels? Why?”

“Oh you’ll see” a mischevious grin spread across the taller girl’s face. A grin Mabel remembered from when they were younger when Queenie was about to get into trouble.

“I don’t like that grin”

“You never did” when they got to the car, Mabel hesitantly hopped in.

“Buckle up”

“Queenie-SHIT!” Queenie peeled out of the school parking lot, Highway to Hell blasting through the speakers.

“WOOO!!!” she whooped, and drummed her hands on the steering wheel as the car sped down the road.

“WHY DO YOU DRIVE LIKE THIS?!” Mabel tried to yell over the loud music. Queenie just hummed in response.

Soon they pulled into the lot

“Here we are” the car screeched to a halt and Mabel immediately stumbled out of the car.

“Fuck” Queenie got out and knelt next to her.

“I did warn you.”

“You drive like that everywhere?!”

“Mostly, unless my abuela is in the car. Its fun, living life on the edge”

“I’m surprised you never got into an accident”

“Everyone says that” she patted the shorter girl on the back before helping her up and leading her to the sad excuse for a building.

“It looks a lot better on the inside, come on” the two entered and walked up to the desk with a plump woman with bright purple lips and grey hair pulled into a bun.

“Evening Marie!” Queenie let go of Mabel and leaned on the desk, “How are you this lovely today?” she winked. The woman smiled in response.

“Evening dearie, I’m fine. Who is this?”

“Mabel! She’s a good friend of mine. I wanted to show her around the place, that ok?” Marie smiled and nodded.

“Have fun you two!” the older lady gave the two a happy lil wave before going back to her work.

“Over here, this is the big tank” Queenie grabbed the other girl’s hand and pulled her over to a dark room, only lit from the light blue glow of the large tank.

“Woah” Mabel looked up in awe. The light filtered through the rippled water at the top beautifully, casting a textured shadow on the floor below. Bright green kelp littered the tank, as well as various other aquatic plants. Fish of various shapes and sizes swam throughout the large enclosure.

Queenie had sat herself in front of the tank, fingers splayed over the glass, staring in awe at a small little shark that swam up to the glass.

“Hello beauty” she greeted as the animal nuzzled the glass.

“Who’s this?” Mabel sat next to her.

“Her name is Guinevere. I named her myself” the taller girl leaned in closer to the glass.

“What kind of shark is that?”

“This lovely lady is a spiny dogfish. Usually bottom dwellers, females usually outsize the males. The way to tell a female from the male sex is that males have pelvic fins, while females don’t. Their lifespans are crazy long, usually up to 100 years. I believe they have one of the longest lifespans of any creature in the ocean, but don’t quote me on that” she paused, her smile turning somber, “Unfortunately their numbers have decreased due to overfishing and bycatch of these beauties.” Mabel gave her a confused look,” Bycatch is when there is extra catch in the net or trawl or line or whatever fishing method is being used. If it doesn’t match the size, gender, or species that they’re fishing for, it usually gets thrown back, or it gets thrown away as soon as they get to shore. It can destroy whole environments, and some people refuse to pull back on their way of fishing because it’ll take longer with more ethical fishing methods. They set a limit for fishing them but, unfortunately, it hasn’t really been enforced, so the shark still rests on the red list due to its late gestation period, as females don’t become sexually fertile until they reach 18-21 years old” she finished as the tiny shark glided away from the glass. After a minute, she turned to see Mabel looking at her, gobsmacked.

“Um”

“Sorry, sometimes I get carried away” she looked back at the glass, smiling as the dogfish swam back and bumped its nose against it.

“Calm down guinny” she giggled.

“You really like this stuff?”

“Yeah. It makes me happy. Gives me hope I can someday get out of here and then come back to fix up this place” she looked around, “it deserves it. I just hope lodge doesn’t get his sticky fingers on it” the two were silent for a moment.

“So, you said there were some exciting exhibits?” Queenie’s face instantly brightened.

“Yes!” She scrambled up,”The octopus and the prehistoric sections are my favorites” she leaned in close, “I also might have stolen some skeletons but what they don’t know is plaster won’t hurt them.” she giggled and pulled the other girl towards an archway covered in tentacles.

“Martha is a firecracker. She’s escaped so many times we’ve literally had to seal the top off. She’s still managed to get out even then. Lets see if she’s on the floor again.” they entered the enclosure, and low and behold, the octopus was crawling out of her tank.

“Stand back” Queenie grabbed a pair of long gloves from the stand, and put them on, before grabbing onto the creature.

“Come on baby, I know you need a bigger tank, we’re working on it I promise, you need to stay put a little bit longer” she cooed at the large tentacled creature as she slowly coaxed it back into the tank before securing it again.

“Do animals escape often?”

“Only martha”

“She’s beautiful” the shorter girl approached the tank and the octopus moved towards her.

“Yeah she is. Wish she didn’t try to eat the other fish though, we feed her a lot” Queenie sighed.

“I think she likes you” the octopus had made her way to Mabel.

“You think?!”

“Oh I know”

-

“You wanna look at the prehistoric section?”

“Sure?” Queenie grinned and pulled her over to the bones.

“Which ones did you stea-” she slapped a hand over Mabel’s mouth.

“Not so loud Mabes. Gotta keep this job” she let her go.

“But you see the small ones over there?” she whispered

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. You can’t tell the difference” she smiled.

After an hour, Marie came in.

“Alright dears unfortunately I have to kick you out”

“Awwwww MarieeeE” Queenie whined.

“Sorry to ruin your fun but I did give you an extra half hour.” she winked and lead the two out.

“Thank you for today, that’s the most fun I’ve had in ages!” Mabel laughed as the two walked to Queenie’s car.

“I’m glad. It’s good to see you smile again”

“I smile!”

“And I drive slow all the time-no, I mean a real smile” Queenie poked the side of the shorter girl’s mouth, “Looks nice on you”

“Thanks” they got in.

“Are you going to drive fast?”

“Nah, I’ll go slow” the taller girl winked and pulled out of the lot, much slower than she had before.

“You’re actually a good driver?”

“Yeah” Queenie turned on the radio to a jazz station, “When I feel like it”

“I’ve missed you, Abrejo” Queenie spared a glance at the other girl.

“You flatter me”

“I have.”

“I guess I’ve missed you too” she laughed and they drove the rest of the way in comfortable silence.

[ourkarlanicoleuniverse]

Sweet Nothing (MHA Staff AU Fanfiction)

Chapter 17 

Warnings: None, swf. 

Pairing: Shouta Aizawa x OC (Mai Montoya, Pro Hero Zion) 

If you want to read of the events before this chapter here is the Master List 😊

"I want you to train me to use One for All, especially since Gran Torino can't." Midoriya's words rang through like a gong.

"I don't have a teaching..."

"A teaching license, I know. But Gran Torino told me that it would be best if you trained me because of how much you struggled to control your own quirk. Plus, apparently, you can reverse any injuries I might get from training." The boy mumbled the last part. His freckles a bright hot pink as he bashfully interrupted me.

"He told you I could do that?" I raised my eyebrows and crossed my arms as he nodded. I let out an annoyed sigh, "I don't use it often because it drains me the most. It's pretty much Recovery Girl's quirk. I've had it since I was fifteen. But why she let me have it isn't that important."

"It's because she was afraid that one day you would be in a situation like All Might's, and she didn't want to worry about you not being able to heal." I am going to kill Gran Torino because of his big mouth.

"Is there anything else the old man mentioned to you before I continue to tell you no to training you?"

"No, not really. He said that I would have to pester until you said yes. And to tell you that you were the same way as me in high school, so it's only karma that I am in your life now." He let out a breathy nervous chuckle while shifting between feet and scratching his head.

My mouth was left slightly agape, "I was not! I can't believe he said that! I was a very responsible kid." I folded my arms and started mindlessly tapping my foot.

"You know your reaction doesn't help you, Ms. Montoya..."

"Yeah, yeah, whatever. I am not training you. I already told All Might that I wasn't going to, and Gran Torino can't think I am going to change my mind because he said so." I turned my nose up, trying to stand my ground.

"Is that a bruise on your neck?" I opened my eyes and realized that Aizawa's capture weapon fell a little from where it covered my hickey.

I quickly went to cover it, "Nope. It's a burn from using my curling iron when I was getting ready for my date."

"Date? With who? Mr. Aizawa?" Midoriya gave a little mischievous smirk and crossed his arms in a cocky manner. This was a different light this child normally stood in.

"No, not Mr. Aizawa." I glared.

"Could've fooled me. You guys seemed really close earlier." His smirk grew once he thought of an idea. "If you train me, no one will know about your 'burn,' and I will never bring up your date to the class."

"You're not going to sucker me into training you by blackmailing."

"Okay, then I'll tell the class about your hickey and have Mina pester you about it when you get back on campus." He shrugged and gave off an innocent smile. This brat is evil. "And on a final note, my mom trusts you a lot, so who better person to have train me than someone my mom knows won't have me in danger?"

I can't believe I am going to let this boy blackmail me... I sighed and gave him a playful shrug while making a mental note not to underestimate the kid. "Fine, I'll do it if it means that it keeps your mom sane. BUT you have to do as I say, and we train before or after school hours on campus, so no one finds out that you are getting extra help from me. I can't risk getting in trouble training All Might's successor."

The boy gave me a gleeful grin with excitement in his eyes, "Thank you!"

He went for a hug, and I simply patted his soft forestry hair, still slightly annoyed, "Yeah, yeah, you're welcome. For a nice kid, you can sure be evil if you want to be."

"Gran Torino said it was the only way you would respond with a yes if I had something I can use against you. But I couldn't think of anything until I saw the hickey. Don't worry. I wasn't going to say anything anyway. Can I write all the information about your quirk in my notebook while we train?"

He pulled back from hugging me slightly to look at my face waiting for an answer, "All Might and Gran Torino hinted a few times that your quirk was a touchy subject for you, so I wanted to ask before."

"Let's train first, and I'll see what I think after the first few sessions, okay?" I pulled his hair back out of his face to see his emerald eyes.

He brightly smiled and nodded while pulling me in closer to show his gratitude more. "Thank you again. I am going to go back to the room with Todoroki and Iida, okay?" I simply grinned and nudged him that way as we started to walk back. Now how am I going to tell Toshinori that he got his wish? I can already hear him saying, "I told you that it was the best thing for you to train, Young Midoriya. I'm glad you came to your senses." Ugh...

_________

"I'm glad we came to an agreement about Young Midoriya. He was pleased to have you train him, Mai." My old mentor smiled brightly and pridefully as he went in for a sip of his tea.

"Yeah, did he mentioned that Gran Torino told him to blackmail me," I grumbled on the couch in the teacher's lounge while munching on some cookies.

"You needn't pout, sweetie. And yes, he did. He also mentioned the hickey." I nearly choked. I looked at Toshinori, mortified how all the wrong people know about the stupid hickey Vlad left. I was met with a raised eyebrow with the side of knowing sunken blue crystals staring at me. "I am not judging. I am actually glad to hear that you and Aizawa made amends and moved past what happened in high school..."

"He said it was Aizawa?!" I half shrieked half coughed because of the cookie still lodged in my mouth.

"Was it not Aizawa?" The skeleton of a man before me scrunched his eyebrows. He then leaned over to pat my back lightly to help with the coughing.

"No, it wasn't." I grabbed hold of his arm to let him know I was okay and wasn't choking anymore. "I went on a date with Vlad. We've been having a thing for a little while, so we decided actually to go on a date, and it almost went further, but then I had to go to the hospital. The hickey was just..."

"I got the memo. You don't need to explain any further. Please." He grumbled the 'please' part, probably hating this as much as I do.

"Can we just agree to never, and I mean NEVER speak of my love life or anything like that? I was already embarrassed enough when Aizawa and MIdoriya mentioned it at the hospital." I puffed my cheeks out and mumbled.

"Yeah, no, never again." And queue the awkward silence.

We were avoiding eye contact. Suddenly our cups of tea became the most interesting thing ever. "So, I heard that Nezu wanted to revamp the final exam... I hope he's not planning anything too difficult for the students."

"The teachers are supposed to have a meeting about it later today, so I'll keep you updated about what happens. Do you want any help with how to train Midoriya?"

I shook my head, "No, I have a few ideas up my sleeve. But thank you. If Nezu or even Aizawa, try and make the practical part of the exam harder than it already is, please make sure that the counselors and parents won't be happy." Toshinori simply just nodded.

Suddenly my phone kept buzzing in my pocket. I looked at it, and luckily it was just a video call from my mom and not any unwanted callers. I answered and immediately was met with, "Wow que milagro that the great Mai Montoya finally answered her mother's calls." There she was, the curly-haired doctor, Mia Emily Montoya.

"Hi, mom. Sorry I've been really busy with my students." I sighed as the woman on the screen did nothing but glare. "I'm with Toshi, see!" I moved my phone to show Toshinori to my mom, to which he reacted with a small blush and wave.

My mom's glare didn't subside. "Mai, I called you to see you, not Toshinori Yagi. Please move back to your face."

"That's a little harsh, not even a little hello to him." I gave a little playful pout, which made my mom more annoyed, "Okay, fine, here's my lovely face. What do you want to talk about?"

"Oh, nothing much. I recently got a new tv for the living room... What do you think I want to talk about, Mai. I want to know what has my one and only daughter has been doing since she doesn't respond to me ever."

"Well, I am at work right now."

"You don't look busy."

"That's not... you know what, nevermind. I have been counseling a class of 20 wonderful students that are aspiring to be pro heroes. I have also been sightseeing in the city since I haven't been here for years."

"Is that it?"

"Pretty much. Nothing too scandalous sorry."

"How are my boys? I miss Hizashi and Shouta." Why am I not surprised that she would ask about them?

"They actually work at the school as teachers. Hizashi teaches English." I gave a tight lip smile.

"And my pretty boy? What does he teach? He's always been so good with children." My mom's eyes lit up, just mentioning Aizawa. It was a little sickening.

"He's one of the homeroom teachers for the first year hero course students."

"So that means you guys work together? Since you counsel the hero course students?"

"Yes, I counsel his class specifically."

And with that, my mom had a Cheshire smile all over her face. "That's good to hear. You guys were always the pair. I don't know why you guys stopped being friends, but it's good to see that you are back together. Tell him I said hi and that I miss him, will you? I would love to hear from him. Is he still as handsome as he was when he was a boy?"

"I wouldn't know, mom. But I'll let him know that you still like him a lot. I'm sure it will brighten the grump's day."

"You're not blind, Mai. I am sure you can see if Shota was good looking or not. You just don't want to say he is." She pursed her lips, vexing me.

"That's not true. I just don't pay attention to people's looks, and he's a coworker, so it's unprofessional nonetheless. Right, Toshi?" I looked over to him and silently pleaded for him to agree and switch the subject when the topic of discussion walked in.

"Ms. Montoya, Sero taped up Mineta again, and I don't want to deal with it, so can you go tell him to take him down?" The man walked past us and went straight to the coffee machine.

"Was that my boy?" My mom perched up, "Shota, come over here. I want to see your face!" Aizawa stiffened and then hunched over, slowly turning to look at me with an annoyed face.

I gave him an innocent smile, "My mom called, and I wasn't doing anything, so I answered."

He blinked a few times before taking a deep breath and walking over to the couch, and leaned over my shoulder. He masks his annoyance with a charming grin, opposite to the creepy, sadistic smile he gives the students. "Hello, Dr. Montoya."

"Hello, dear! How are you? I hope my daughter hasn't been giving you a hard time?" Excuse me?

"No, she's been treating me well. If anything, I'm the one giving her a hard time. She's always working with the students because of me." He admitted, "But she and my students adore each other, so I don't think it's a big issue."

"I see you still have your hair in your face. It got so long! And now you have facial hair! You look like a grown man." My mom clicked her tongue.

"He is a grown man..." I pointed.

"I'm just saying he looks old. I remember him having such a bad case of a babyface. So it's odd to see him look his age." She defended. "You also don't look like you get a lot of sleep. You better be sleeping, sweetheart."

"I get enough sleep, but thank you for worrying." I couldn't help but scoff. Aizawa then glared at me, "Did I say something that amused you?"

"Yeah, you saying you get enough sleep. Mom, this man teaches, but he does patrols at night, so he takes naps in a sleeping bag at work. I'm normally the one that has to wake him up." Aizawa flicked my forehead, "Ow, what was that for?"

"No one likes a snitch." I stuck my tongue out at him, "Stop acting like a child. You're almost thirty." He shook his head and turned his attention to my phone, "Okay, maybe she does give me a hard time sometimes."

From the corner of my eye, I saw Toshinori looking at us with a warm grin. Both Toshinori and my mom began to chuckle after a few seconds of silence, "I'm glad you guys can get along so well." My mom finally said after catching a breath.

"This is them on a daily basis, Mia," Toshinori spoke up. "Your daughter tries to act like she's a mature adult, but once she's with her old friends, she reverts to her fifteen-year-old self. And then the rest of them start to do the same. It's contagious."

"That's cute." My mom smiled. "Well, I am going to let you go since you're at work. It was nice to talk a little finally. And Shota, you grew to be a very handsome man like I suspected. But please dress less like a homeless man."

"It's..." I moved my left hand in front of his face and shook my head, motioning him to stop before saying anything because I knew that it wouldn't stop my mom from calling him a hobo.

"I'll talk to you soon, baby. Please be careful. I don't want to see you getting hurt like Shota and your other coworker did when those villains came onto the school. I am grateful to see you are well, Shota sweetie."

Aizawa gave my mom a tight lip smile and put his right hand on my head, "Yeah, that's mostly due to Mai being on my ass 24/7 during my recovery. I have her to thank along with the doctors and Recovery Girl."

"Like I said, Mai. Always the pair. Toshinori, take care of our girl, okay? Don't let a thing happen to her while she's there! Bye te quiero, mi Sión."

"Love you too, mom." I breathed out a content sigh once I ended the call.

"And you kept complaining about not wanting to talk to your mom." Aizawa patted my head and went back to the coffee machine.

As he left me, it finally dawned on me what he came in here for in the first place, "Mr. Aizawa?"

"Yes, Mai?" His tone was mixed with a sing-song voice and an exasperated voice.

"SERO TAPED UP MINETA AND YOU JUST LEFT THE ROOM!" The six-foot-nothing man's eyes widened while Toshinori just awkwardly sipped his tea.

Aizawa then activated his quirk for some unknown reason, "Why are you using your quirk?" I tilted my head and scrunched my face in confusion.

"You turned on yours first!"

"No, I didn't."

"Yes, you did, Mai. Your eyes were blue, and your hair was starting to glow." Toshinori calmly said, still drinking his tea.

"Oh." I shrugged calmly, deactivating my quirk, "Oh well."

Aizawa looked astonished, "Oh well? You should have a better handle of your quirk by now!"

"Well, I can't help it if someone pisses me off and I let my control go. Anyhoo, I'll go help Mineta out since you won't." I got up from the couch, smoothed out my skirt, and started to make my way over to the class. Not without a final word to Aizawa, "I don't feel comfortable being the one that has to deal with Mineta all the time. He's always drooling and staring. You should be the one dealing with him."

"I figured one of these days you'll blow up on him the way you just did with me. But I guess not." Aizawa shrugged and sipped his coffee while heading over to his desk. Yeah, sure. Like that will stop the little pervert.

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

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