I keep fantasizing about how cool it would be if humans were supernatural creatures and their powers and physical features were based on their sun, moon, and rising sign.
Hear me out: sun signs determine the basic physical features like nails that are strong like claws or goat horns or gills that can be activated and deactivated. Moon signs determine what powers you have; Aries moon can have pyrokinesis, Gemini moon can multiply, Leo moon can manipulate heat and fire solar beams, etc. And the ascendant can determine your color scheme, physique, and secondary characteristics like hair and eyes. Hehe sorry, excuse my brain fart
If that were the case, I’d be a psychic centaur with water and empath powers with a gryffindor color scheme.
….Write a book about this. Now. I want to read it.
okay no maybe not a book but like make a chart!!!!! with all the stuff!!!! please!!!!!!!
Alrighty as promised I’ll make a chart of this
Aries
Sun: Ram horns regardless of gender, strong foreheads, and bones are stronger than average since they’re prone to injury
Moon: Pyrokinesis, quick self healing factor, or precognition
Rising: Red and orange color scheme, hair often curly but can be any “natural” color, eyes are either a warm red or a bright orange, most are average height or smaller
Taurus
Sun: Bull horns regardless of gender, large hands in proportion to their bodies, and stomachs and immune system allow them to eat anything without harm
Moon: Super strength, stone manipulation, or can communicate with any mammal
Rising: Brown and green color scheme, eyes could be either color, hair often thick and usually black, green, or brown, often either chubby or beefy physique (some more or less thick than others)
Gemini
Sun: Second set of arms, eyes can zoom in and out of long distant range, and have a much easier time learning other languages than others
Moon: Super speed, can shapeshift into any human form, or physical duplication
Rising: Color scheme is light blue and yellow, eyes can be either color, hair can be any “unnatural” color, physique varies but they have long legs proportionate to their height
Cancer
Sun: Hands can morph into crab claws (color determined by rising), skin glitters when exposed to moonlight, all of them are empaths
Moon: Lunar abilities ( produce and shoot lunar beams, control tides; however this can only be accessed at night), psychic absorption (can absorb and use one power at a time, this only tires the victim) , or producing force fields
Rising: Silver and shades of blue color scheme, eyes can be either color and are very glossy, hair is either blue or black, tend to be short
Leo
Sun: Feline like canines, nails are long and strong like claws, skin glitters when exposed to sunlight
Moon: Solar abilities (produce and shoot solar beams and control heat; this can only be accessed during the day), laser eyes, or sonic boom roar (explosive, can physically push away anything in its close range)
Rising: Gold and red color scheme, eyes are often gold, hair almost always big no mater the length, can be any “natural” color, either really tall or really short
Virgo
Sun: Large feathered wings (color determined by rising), they look human otherwise
Moon: Portal creation, telekinesis, or poison manipulation
Rising: color scheme is green and yellow, eyes can be either color, hair is either brown or black base with any second color, physique varies but all have longer than average fingers
Libra
Sun: Skin on the hands and forearms are metallic gold or silver, have glowing eyes (color determined by rising), can always tell if you’re lying
Moon: Plant manipulation, siren song, or sonic scream (not explosive but can stun any living being in its range and break close enough objects)
Rising: Green and pink color scheme, eyes are either pink or yellow, hair is either white, brown, or pink, are often tall with wide hips regardless of gender
Scorpio
Sun: Fully functional scorpion tail (proportionate to their body), can easily see in the dark, very silent walkers who can sneak up on anyone
Moon: Shadow manipulation, mediumship (includes the dead and powerful spirits), or selective mind reading (can’t communicate mentally)
Rising: Black and red color scheme, eyes are either dark blue or bright red, hair can be any dark color, can easily blend in with their surrounding
Sagittarius
Sun: Can switch from biped to centaur and back, keeps their tail in any form, hair grows long and fast
Moon: Can shoot energy arrows or spears, light manipulation, or power jump (can leap as high as 50ft off the ground)
Rising: Orange and brown color scheme, eyes can be either color, hair is red or dirty blond, often tall but short ones are faster runners
Capricorn
Sun: Goat horns legs and hooves, pretty much satyrs
Moon: Ice manipulation, telepathy, or temporarily slow time
Rising: Brown and black color scheme, eyes are any shade of brown, hair is black but can have any secondary color, often average height and have a very fit physique but that varies, they throw some of the hardest punches
Aquarius
Sun: Are the most human looking of the signs but they always have at least one robotic body enhancement, can retain more information than the others
Moon: Electric manipulation, technopathy, or wind manipulation
Rising: Electric blue and black, eyes are any shade of blue, hair can be any bright “unnatural” color, often tall but body type varies
Pisces
Sun: Can switch from biped to mermaid and back (scale colors determined by rising), have a set of gills that closes on land, often have scales grown on stray parts of their body that shows even on land
Moon: Water manipulation, aura manipulation, or invisibility
Rising: Sea green and lavender color scheme, eyes can be either color, hair can be any shade of blue or purple, physique varies but they have large glossy eyes
I went with the Magic!AU prompt because I can’t resist an excuse for glowy magic effects and Andrew in a big hat!! So here’s half-elf Neil and dark mage Andrew practicing some illusion magic probably at midnight on a rooftop.
I’m so extremely sorry it’s late! But I hope you enjoy it.
Pairing: Keith/Lance, Minor Adam/Shiro Words:17k Rating:T+ Warnings: blood/violence Tags: prince lance, cursed keith, fairytale au, gargoyle au, slow burn, light angst, angst and fluff, magic, curses, pining, mutual support, fantasy Chapter:4/4
Fic Summary:
In the land of Arus, the youngest Nalquodian prince—Prince Leandro—is hidden away in a little castle that overlooks the kingdom; a countermeasure to protect him from the Galran assassins that have sworn to take his life.
And in the tallest tower of the castle, behind a grimy rose window and under a dusty sheet, is an enchanting gargoyle that the prince finds himself compelled to visit every day.
Almost as if by a spell…
Chapter Summary:
Lance learns that breaking the spell will be even harder than he thought, but he’ll pay any price.
Incanta iacta est gen (Amis + Eponine + Marius) written by kerrypolka aer by cyan-013
Summary: Magic AU! Technically a crossover with Jonathan Strange & Mr Norrell, but you don’t have to be familiar with that canon to read this. Gen (Amis, Eponine and Marius).
***
“I’ve been bewitched.”
Courfeyrac looked up from his book. “Is it serious?”
“Her eyes,” said Marius in rapture, “spoke to me.”
“Don’t be metaphorical at a time like this.”
“I’m serious.”
“Literally?”
“In every sense.”
Courfeyrac closed the book. “Marius Pontmercy. Are you or do you have any reason to suspect you may be under a love spell, of the kind identified by Neuvillette or Villiers or any other yet undiscovered or unknown.”
“Would I know if I were?”
“Good point. Let’s go and see Combeferre.”
Let us take a moment to discuss French magic. For several centuries it was thought such a thing did not exist, but that was only because it is nearly invisible. French magic is in essence Parisian magic. Parisian magic is panache. What turns a gamin’s crust of bread into a feast? What makes the flower in a seamstress’s hair more radiant than the diamonds on a queen’s neck? What opens the locked door of a lady’s chamber to the gentleman thief? Magic, only, no one notices it. Paris looks at the exceptional, the superlative, the truly unusual and the genuinely supernatural, shrugs her shoulders and says “Yes – that’s me!” Only when the English magicians you have heard of became notorious did France lift its head to pay attention; and Bonaparte, though in every other way a genius, did not have any sense of magic. He had no use for anything that could not be known, and French magic is most of all in those four words: je ne sais quoi. That was in 1815. In 1831 France was in a prosaic mood with a prosaic king, and magic was being studied at the Ecole Polytechnique, which is to say, leaking out of the city. These are the circumstances in which Courfeyrac and Marius went to see Combeferre.
Combeferre opened the door. He was wearing flat spectacles with iron frames. Courfeyrac swiped them off his face immediately and pocketed them, saying: “You look ridiculous.”
“They’re supposed to see past any enchantments,” Combeferre said.
“Wouldn’t they need to be ferrous lenses, then? Anyway, the shape doesn’t suit your face.”
Marius had not even thought to open his mouth before Combeferre, very much failing to suppress a smile, said, “Don’t apologise for him, you know it only makes him worse.” He held the door open for them, and Courfeyrac entered with his nose in the air.
Combeferre’s front room smelled like cinnamon and gunpowder, and around it were basins of various metals filled with various liquids, mostly water, some not. Combeferre located two empty cups and one not empty, which he tipped away and sniffed, then filled all three with white wine. He handed the last to Courfeyrac, who wrinkled his nose.
“What was in this before?” he said. “Am I going to lose all my hair? Or become irresistible to women? Or both?”
“Rosewater for cleaning,” Combeferre said, “sit down and drink your chardonnay.”
There were only two chairs, and both were covered in books. The three young men sat on the floor.
“Marius is in love,” Courfeyrac said without further preamble.
“That’s unfortunate,” Combeferre said.
Marius was not paying attention. Combeferre’s wallpaper was the pale blue of a February dawn, which happened to be the exact shade of the dress She was wearing last Tuesday when Marius saw her at the Jardin de Luxembourg, and when he entered the room he had fallen into a reverie on this memory. When Courfeyrac pressed the wine into his hand he accepted it mechanically, lifting the cup to his lips. He swallowed and came back to life, a Romeo reviving rather than expiring by his draught. “Why, Combeferre, you know how to do magic!” Marius said.
Combeferre, amused and pleased, made only a modest demurral. “I’m really only a theoretical practitioner. Or a practical theorist. What do you want to know?”
“Is he under a love spell?” Courfeyrac said, stretching his legs out among the clutter. “He was behaving very vaguely this morning.”
“Behaving vaguely,” Combeferre said. “That sounds like cause for concern.” He turned to Marius. “Open your mouth and say ah.”
Marius complied.
“Is this necessary?” Courfeyrac said.
“Certainly not. But it is entertaining. Before anything else, do you have any reason to think the lady wishes to be found?”
“I’m sure of it!” Marius said. “Her eyes told me so.”
Combeferre looked alarmed and intrigued. “Literally?”
“No.”
“Ah.” Combeferre rose to his knees and began pushing through the books on the chair nearest him. “I’ve never tried to find someone I don’t know before,” he said.
“Oh.”
“Which means it will be a very interesting project.”
“Ah!”
He had found the volume he was looking for, a first edition of Mabeuf’s Incantata des environs de Cauteretz, and ran his finger down the index page. “Have you anything of hers? I expect not, but it would make things easier.”
Marius grasped in his waistcoat pocket and drew out a small piece of white fabric. “This,” he said feelingly, “is her handkerchief, which I found on a bench.” His tone and expression would have been the same if he had said, “This is Juno’s diadem, which I personally recovered from Mount Olympus.”
Courfeyrac looked at him sideways. “You keep it with you always?” he said. “Oh, Marius.”
Combeferre examined it. “Monogrammed, excellent,” he said. “Well, let’s have a go, shall we?”
“Now?” Marius sprang to his feet. “Here?”
“Why not?”
Marius looked from friend to friend, unsure where his good fortune had come from.
“There goes the rest of the chardonnay,” Courfeyrac said as Combeferre filled a basin with the end of the bottle. [Although most magicians use water, for reasons of cost as well as the obvious, but French magic, it has been found, is generally most effective with a good vintage. – Ed.]
The magic was not, as Marius had expected, accompanied by anything so prosaically romantic as bells chiming or the scent of roses; but a faint silver light did reflect from the dish onto Combeferre’s face when he leaned over it. Marius could scarcely breathe. “Do you see her?”
Combeferre frowned, and gestured, and frowned again. “I must have got something wrong,” he said. Marius could not restrain himself and peered over his shoulder.
“Oh!” he said. “Monsieur Leblanc!”
“You know this man?” Combeferre said.
“Yes – he’s her father, I think.”
“Hang on,” Courfeyrac said. “This girl you’re so worked up over is Mlle Lenoire?”
“Shut up,” Marius said. In that state at that time, he could have seen off a regiment of hussars if they had insulted her.
Courfeyrac searched his memory and said, “She does have very fine coloured eyes.”
This was intended to be pacifying, a confirmation of his friend’s good taste, but Marius bristled even more and said, “You shouldn’t even think of her!”
“Indeed I don’t usually,” Courfeyrac said amiably, and Marius somehow found himself more offended than before.
Combeferre meanwhile was taking notes in a small quarto with his left hand, while his right hovered over the basin, holding the vision in place in the basin. “At least it’s a family member, I suppose it picked up on the blood relation,” he said. “But why not her? Ah – he’s going to a row of houses. Maybe the illusion just has a dramatic sense of timing.” This was delivered dryly. Marius nearly knocked over the bowl as he looked again.
Monsieur Leblanc moved to a door and looked subtly over his shoulder, first to the right, then to the left, and it seemed to Combeferre he made eye contact with him, though he knew that was extremely unlikely if not impossible. Suddenly the image vanished, swiftly fogging over before the bowl went clear again. “Oh!” Marius said. “Oh, where is he?”
Having failed by magic, Marius went back to trying to find Her the old-fashioned way, but here he was disappointed as well. He went to the Jardin du Luxembourg for three weeks straight; but it was an unseasonably rainy three weeks, and he succeeded in nothing but developing a callus on his heel from wearing his best boots every day, and several on his hands from cleaning them vigorously every night. Courfeyrac, who was careful to say nothing to Marius on the subject, privately resolved to try his best to divert his flatmate from what was clearly a failing quest.
But unknown to Marius, help was near from a different quarter.
When Eponine’s father asked her to look into the house on Rue Plumet, she encountered the same difficulty as Combeferre had, and for the same reason. So when the sun set, she left the puddle she had been peering into and went to ‘scope it out’ in person.
The garden, which was overgrown, seemed abandoned; but there was light in the upstairs window, behind the shutters. Eponine sat and waited. It was darkening. The light went out.
Eponine was about to give up when Cosette appeared in the twilight, slipping out into the garden to sit on a bench. Eponine said nothing. She watched to see if anyone was with her. She watched to see whether it was really Cosette: she was wearing green, her hair was clean and her cheeks were pink, she looked like a wood nymph. And yes, it was the Lark.
Eponine watched her for nearly an hour and did not move. Cosette passed through the garden, humming under her breath, standing still to look up at the stars; and when it was too dark to see she returned inside. Eponine stood up slowly, then acted quickly. She pulled a rock out of the wall and a nail from her pocket, scratched “NO GO” on the rock, and replaced it, and fled down the street, away from the garden gate.
Across town, the words “NO GO” appeared in her writing on a stone in the wall of Thenardier’s cell at La Force. When he came back from dinner he saw the message. “Damn,” he said, “I could have used a good job.” He went to bed early, and in a mild sulk, but after that did not think any more about the house on Rue Plumet.
Because Eponine did not want to alarm Marius by communicating through the same means, which she thought he would consider very low, she looked for him to meet him in person. He was easy enough to find when she searched for him in a puddle below a street-light, near the river, and she spent a happy hour watching him and his friend, whom she thought very agreeable if obviously less handsome. They were dining on pain et vin in their shirtsleeves at home, and both were flushed and laughing. Eponine propped her chin on her elbow to watch. This is what she saw:
Marius, whose elbow had slipped off the table, steadied himself with a hand on his friend’s arm and protested again, “Courfeyrac, you know it isn’t that! Must you make me say it? I owe you at least six louis – no, your face just now says even more – “
“I haven’t been counting. It isn’t important,” Courfeyrac said.
“ – which is insulting in itself – ”
“Although now that I know it hasn’t been going on a mistress, I’m even more curious where it disappears to.” He finished his glass and reached for the bottle. “Clearly not waistcoats.”
Marius ignored this with the dignified enthusiasm of one who has consumed a half-pint of red. He continued, “It’s, you know. Drinking water while everyone else in the room drinks wine.”
“Are you being metaphorical again? I’d be happy to lend you anything to read up on – ”
“No! Actual water. Actual wine.”
“I’ll buy your wine!” Courfeyrac, having refilled his own glass, reached to top up Marius’, but Marius stopped him with a hand over the brim.
“Don’t be stupid, you bought tonight’s. And I owe you enough already.”
“It’s not only you – Enjolras always drinks water,” Courfeyrac offered.
“Enjolras does so by choice.”
“Marius.” Courfeyrac stilled him. “I’ve been joking but I mean this seriously: I’d rather have the pleasure of your company than not, particularly if the alternative is you sitting here alone by the light of a single wan candle getting boot-black all over the floor. If a few cups of wine is all it takes to secure your presence for the evening, I’m happy to do so. Truly.”
“No wonder you’ve got such a collection, if that’s the kind of thing you say to them,” Marius groaned, and allowed Courfeyrac to pull him to his feet.
Eponine watched them walk to the Musain; she was not well practiced at weather magic, but she amused herself by making a breeze blow and ruffle Marius’ hair, which was very becoming.
In the back room Marius and Courfeyrac found Grantaire and Prouvaire arguing. Marius could not tell whether they were in earnest disagreement or simply exercising. (This was a problem he often had. No one ever had this problem with Marius; Marius was never not in earnest.) Jehan had verses half-written and had evidently been reading them aloud to himself, prompting Grantaire to impromptu criticism:
“But your magical is tragical, no two ways about it,” he was saying. “Do not misplace me. When I say tragical, it is a great compliment. Most of us should be so lucky as to achieve tragedy, rather than the gods simply using us for tennis-balls, watching Oedipus blind himself with blind indifference. In fact, not even watching! That’s what I mean. Tragedy achieved is an opus, and nearly impossible for anyone lower than the third stratum of heaven. It means making a difference to the creaking clockwork of the universe, reaching into the mechanisms and setting something right or wrong, clicking the machine into place or out of joint, which for mortal men is out of our ken and beyond our capabilities.”
"But that’s exactly what magic isn’t!” Prouvaire said. “Just because something is beautiful beyond our comprehension doesn’t mean it’s beyond our power to achieve.”
"True, true!” Marius cried. Courfeyrac, who liked his friend very much, made a great effort to be silent.
Prouvaire continued, “I can think of no greater illustration of what we’re gathering here to work towards than magic. It is transcendent and ineffable – yet man can still channel it, it illuminates him. It illuminates the world! From the ancient masters to today’s workman magicians, and to the future’s – who knows? Magic is greater than ourselves, but it also belongs to us, every one.”
“So does Mlle Floraison at the Champ de Mars brothel,” Grantaire said.
Prouvaire shook his head, smiling. He lifted his hand and, concentrating, caused the wine in Grantaire’s glass rise like a vine and seem to bloom into a translucent, many-petalled blossom. “A rose from rosé,” he said. “There’s your floraison. Where’s the indifferent clockwork in that?”
Grantaire, with an identical expression of concentration so fierce it must be mocking, waved his hand in parody and reshaped the floating wine into an obscene gesture.
Prouvaire laughed and leaned forward, and as they both attempted to form the liquid into another joke, the glass shattered. Wine ran all over the table and their clothes. “Now look what your magic has done!” Grantaire said. “Your pantomime has ruined my trousers!” Prouvaire, still laughing, ordered another bottle of wine from Louison, who had appeared immediately with exasperated unsurprise at the sound of the glass breaking.
Bahorel entered at the same time as the new bottle. “Ah, a much-needed voice of earthy reason,” Courfeyrac said, commandeering the drink and pouring five even glasses. “Tell me, with the aim of starting or at least diverting an argument, what do you think magic’s for?”
“Winning fights,” Bahorel responded immediately. He considered. “And practical jokes.”
Grantaire clapped his hands. “No greater tragedy than that.”
“Or poetry,” Prouvaire said, smiling, and returned to his verses. He had dried his paper with a wave of his hand after the spill, though neglected to do the same for their clothes.
“Marius, what do you – oh, for heaven’s sake,” Courfeyrac said. Marius was staring at the table where the rosé had spilled, with a vacantly rapturous expression.
A half-hour later Combeferre and Enjolras arrived, talking low.
“No,” Enjolras was saying, “it’s simply too risky.”
Courfeyrac excused himself to join them; anything Enjolras thought was too risky was something he had to hear.
“It wouldn’t have to be a real dragon,” Combeferre said. “Just a moving image of one. I don’t know where we would get a real dragon. I don’t even know if they exist. There have been rumours of sightings, of course, but you know I don’t find those reports from the war in Spain very reliable for obvious reasons; and even if there were a dragon in Andalusia I don’t see how we could transport it here. Never mind that the climate is likely to be entirely unsuitable, unless we were to build some kind of – hothouse, or maybe a very large kiln, for it to keep warm, and that would defeat the point of bringing – Courfeyrac! Why are you laughing?”
"As ever,” Courfeyrac said, “I am simply genuinely delighted to call myself your friend.”
He returned to the table and brushed Marius’ leg as he sat down. Marius nudged him back playfully. The table’s expressions made it clear they had been listening to Combeferre too. “My father’s company was supposed to have seen a dragon once,” Marius said. “It was in Le Moniteur.”
“We are not,” Enjolras said, speaking slowly and with great precision, “using dragons to guard our barricades.”
It was one of their more pleasant meetings in months; the advent of summer had brought warm weather, the end of exams and the feeling of revolutionary consolidation, lifting everyone into a good mood. As Marius and Courfeyrac left, Marius stumbled on the stairs, and took Courfeyrac’s arm to avoid falling. He left it there. Courfeyrac enjoyed the weight and warmth of it. The night was clear and starry as they skirted the Jardin du Luxembourg and strolled towards their flat.
Just before they crossed the river, a figure slid out of the shadows below the bridge and stood before them.
“Good evening, Marius!” it said in a low voice. “I’ve been looking for you, and now I’ve found you!”
Marius’ fingers tightened on Courfeyrac’s arm. “Who’s there?”
She stepped forward, beaming and smudged. “Ah – Eponine!”
Eponine looked closely at him, and told him what she had discovered, and watched his face become luminous.
“Why – that’s – you’re sure? – Courfeyrac, do you hear? She’s – and so near – I’ll go at once! Who knows, she may be – oh, Eponine!”
And Marius was gone, bounding off into the warm night.
Eponine held onto his sublime expression, which she herself had put there. It was more than she could have imagined; she found it perfect. She wanted to close her eyes and never look at anything again.
“How annoying,” Courfeyrac said. He lifted his arm, the one Marius had been holding, and ran a hand through his hair. “Now who knows what hour he’ll come home, with that same ridiculous hangdog look. How incredibly annoying.”
“Don’t say that!” Eponine said. “It’s not ridiculous. It’s sublime.”
“Oh, don’t tell me you’re one of his string of silently pining conquests,” he said, mostly joking. “Honestly, you should see – ”
“As if you aren’t!” she said. She said it crossly, without thinking. But she watched his face fall, and then she remembered watching him and Marius together. Oh, she thought, maybe he hadn’t even realised it yet.
He stood still, very still, with only a breeze moving through his hair and rustling his sleeves. After a moment he whistled, then laughed, resigned and cheerful. “I suppose we’re both fucked, then,” he said. He held out his hand. “Courfeyrac.”
She hesitated, then shook it. “Eponine.”
“D’you want to go try to drown our sorrows in cheap wine?”
Lance is a prince that was looking for someone that would help him to break his curse he finds Walter a young wizard with peculiar powers and a sweet charm, he decides to help him and give him a job as his companion
Request: Anon: Hi! For your drabbles, can I request any type of magic au with Jinyoung from GOT7? Just for some Halloween fun :)
A/N: Its not Halloween anymore, but this magic au was a lot of fun to write! I might even continue this in the future if you all like it!
**
You tapped the tip of your finger against the side of the lukewarm glass of soda. Each contact flared a surge of cold through the cup to try and give the liquid new life. Tiny frost flakes appeared and disappeared like they were playing peek-a-boo. It was a small enough piece of magic to not worry about getting caught. From the hood pulled over your head to the way you were leaning back in the metal chair outside of the café, you felt you were safe, that your face was obscured.
The average people around you blissfully went on with their lunch. They smiled and chatted and scrolled through their phones without a clue of the war happening in their shadows.
There is no origin for humans like you. No one knows when magic entered the ancestors’ veins. But they do know when the rest turned on the magical. And for the past few hundred years, your kind has been hiding and running and fighting for the right to live.
Because of the Purgo.
Taking their name from the Latin word to cleanse or purify, the organization made that their sole mission, their sole reason for existing. They were determined to cleanse the Earth of magic. Funny how they had yet to succeed in that. But you weren’t too keen on dying so you kept your head down. No big magic, no attention seeking. Stay unseen, stay aware. A near flawless formula.
As a deep sigh left your lips, you decided it was time to move. Lingering brought attention. The plate in front of you was empty and the soda was flat. So, after throwing down a few bills, you stood, cringing at the loud, high pitch scrape of the legs against the concrete. Hands in your pockets, you walked down the street, away from the cafe and the traces of your existence.
You had no destination in mind. Only to keep moving.
A block up and across the road, a teenager refused to pay attention. Their eyes were glued to their phone which naturally meant that they barely glanced at the flashing crosswalk hand. Barely four steps into the street, the flashing hand became solid and a speeding car headed towards the newly green traffic light. You gritted your teeth and summoned a powerful enough wind that when you waved your hand, the teenager was pushed back, landing on their butt on the hard sidewalk. But they were out of harm’s way. And the vehicle rolled on through the intersection, completely unaware of the accident narrowly avoided. Hunching down, you continued on.
Acting out like that was dangerous. It brought attention and curiosity. But damn it, you couldn’t let someone get hurt - or even killed - when you could stop it.
Stupid moral compass.
While your thoughts were scolding your actions, a hand reached out and pulled you into the shadowy alleyway. Your head collided with the brick wall, sending your mind into a dizzying spin. Both arms were pinned by your side. No magic to get you out of this.
The idiot who thought he could take you stared you down.
“It’s not smart to do that out in the open.”
Your breath hitched in your throat. Your eyes were wide as you tried to play it off. “Do what?”
He smirked. “Really going to play that game?” His hickory brown eyes flickered towards the street. “Lucky teen to get knocked down by nothing before the car could hit.”
Not so lucky idiot.
When his eyes left yours, his grip slackened. Snapping your wrist up, you broke free and hit his chest, your palm sending frost across his shirt. The attack took him by surprise. It was enough for you to take off down the alleyway to safety. The hood slipped from your head, but you couldn’t risk the distraction of putting it back.
Dodging dumpsters and decaying crates, you ran for your life. The Purgo had found you. Stupid, stupid, stupid!
The Purgo was right on your heels. With the mere seconds you could spare, you turned and sent debris flying, aiming for his face. The agility of this guy was insane. He was able to jump out of the way before the garbage could knock him over. During one of your throws, a pipe leaning against the wall rattled and fell unnaturally into your path. Your foot caught the rounded edge and you slipped.
The Purgo lept at the opportunity, grabbing your arm and slamming you against the wall. You fought and kicked to try and get loose again, but he’d learned. Sweat dripped down the side of his face; his breath hurried and shallow. He leaned in and spoke in a low voice.
“Stop fighting.” He gritted his teeth and adjusted his grip. “I’m not Purgo. I’m one of you.”
The fight in you paused at that. But it could be a trick. “Prove it.”
He sighed. “I’m going to let your left hand go, okay? But please don’t hit me again.” A second ticked and you nodded. Like he promised, he released your left wrist. You waited for the blow, for the knife to slice through your stomach. It never came.
Instead, he raised his hand to your eye level, clicked his fingers, and sparked a flame, blue and brilliant.
Relief helped every one of your muscles relax. You weren’t going to die. Yet. Feeling your fight leave, he let go of your other wrist. It was a rarity to meet another person like yourself. All of you tended to isolate. Numbers gave way to notice.
Extinguishing the flame, he stepped back and smiled. “I’m Jinyoung.” He held out his hand.
You took it with a straight face, his fingers now cool to the touch. “(Y/n).” You dropped his hand and folded your arms. “You know, most of us try to avoid each other, not chase them down in broad daylight.”
“Yeah, you’re right, most do. At least, they used to.”
That comment made you frown. “Used to?”
“That’s why I was trying to talk to you.”
“Hell of a way to do it,” you snapped. He wasn’t fazed.
“Can’t be too careful.” Lowering his voice, he went on, “We’re gathering.”
You looked at him up and down, taking in his less than impressive stature. Still, he was handsome. The kind that got you into trouble. “Thanks, but I’m not interested in any magical convention to talk about our near death experiences with the Purgo.”
Hoping that would be the end of it, you started to walk away. But Jinyoung caught your arm after half a step.
“We’re trying to end this war for good.”
You still wanted to leave. However, you decided to hear him out. For a few more seconds, at least.
“I’ve been watching you - it’s not that creepy,” he jumped in when you opened your mouth. “I just needed to know where you stood.” The corner of his lip lifted. “You help people. You use your gift for good. People like us deserve to live. But we have to fight for it. Are you willing to do that?”
It was enticing. How could it not be? The idea of no longer running felt like a dream. One that you once thought impossible, always out of reach.
But your instincts since you were born were always to run. Could you change that easily?
Before you could answer, two silhouettes appeared at the end of the alley. Familiar sticks that sparked and spat out blue flickers of electricity sat threateningly in their hands.
“Time to run.”
Jinyoung took your hand as he waved his other through the air. Behind you, a portal opened up, stealing a gasp from your lips. Only the fully trained were able to summon a portal this steady. Jinyoung gave you no chance to take in. He yanked you through just as the Purgo pounced.
The portal closed, leaving you safe.
“Where are we?” you demanded, though you refused to let go of his hand.
He smiled at you fully as he said, “Our safe haven.”
Synopsis: If you think about it, it’s Chaeyoung’s fault for suggesting you do it in the first place. Magic AU. High school AU.
Warning: demons, fake witchcraft, possibly inaccurate tarot card readings, so much worldbuilding
Word Count:13k
Pairing: fem!reader x Changbin
There is a problem.
Actually, there are multiple problems, but the demon you accidentally summoned seems to be the most pressing one.
“I’m sorry,” you blurt out, hoping that the pajama-wearing demon with dark circles under his eyes does not blast you into oblivion. After four years of attending an academy for Supernaturals, Supernaturals no longer phase you, but this is a completely different case. Like regular Naturals, all bets are off when you wake them up at midnight during a much needed-sleep. “I really didn’t think that would work. Mina gave me the book, but she’s a diviner, so she doesn’t ever do this kind of stuff unless she really, really needs to, but she never needs to since she’s really good at divination and…” You sigh and softly add, “I’m really sorry.”
He yawns, and when he covers his mouth, you catch a glimpse of an unfamiliar sigil on his wrist. It doesn’t look like a disciplinary one, so maybe you won’t be turned into a pile of ash after all. You honestly didn’t think that you would be able to summon a demon. No modesty, it should have been impossible for you because:
Naturals have a two percent success rate in summoning them
You’ve learned how to read and write the Undead Tongue, but you still stumbled through the sentences and butchered about half the words involved in the ritual
This is a basic summoning; no respectable demon answers a general call
Even if one did, you highly doubt that they would want your finished set of balancing potion equations as an offering
However, for some strange reason, it appears that a demon actually is interested. Based on the Academy for Supernaturals gym t-shirt he has on, he’s a student and is in need of homework answers.
“So what do you need me for?” he asks as he glances around the circle you made out of shoelaces. Three candles of varying heights triangulate the center and are accompanied by the three different items required for this sort of summoning: an offering, a tie to the summoner, and a purpose. He picks up your equations and skims the answers. “Are these right?”
Still in a state of shock, you automatically answer, “They should be. I double-checked the math with a witch friend.” Not to mention, you’re actually good at Potions since it’s just magical chemistry.
“Great.” He starts folding up the paper until he notices your panicked face. “Oh, do you still need this?”
“Yes. I mean, I can just do the problems again or whatever, but I didn’t mean to summon you. You can go. I’m sorry for waking you. Good night.”
The demon crosses his arms and looks at you questioningly. “What did you summon me for?”
“Nothing. I just wanted to see if it would wo— Don’t look at that!”
You lunge for the creamy envelope on the floor before he can reach it, but by the time you have registered his movement, he has skipped past your stuffed rabbit and picked up the invitation. You have broken open the seal already, so you know exactly what its contents are. The student council sends out personalized invites to all of the students for whatever asinine reason—
Stars above, he knows your name now. It’s somehow gotten even worse.
You idly fan yourself, knowing full well that it’s not the small candle flames that are making you sweat.
“‘An Unforgettable Night,’” he reads. He reads aloud your name, and you burn hotter than Hell ever could. “You want a prom date?”
“It was an accident,” you hastily say. This is all Mina’s fault. After you lamented—her words, not yours—over not having someone to go to prom with, one of her diviner friends suggested that you make a deal with a demon, so being the caring roommate she is, Mina actually went to the store and bought a summoning book for beginners for you. You finally caved after weeks of incessant asking. You also made sure she would be at her star-reading class when you conducted the ritual. “Really. Just take the answers and go.”
“I can be your prom date.”
“What? Why?”
He shrugs. “I’m not going with anyone either. And you seem pretty good at Potions, so if I go with you, will you help me study for my Potions final?”
You had plans to study with Jihyo, the aforementioned witch friend, but you’re unsure if you’re allowed to reject a demon’s offer, especially since you’re the one who called upon him. Besides, this sudden idea of his feels like a trap. “You don’t want to ask a witch instead?”
“Aren’t you a witch?”
“I’m a Natural.”
You have no special powers or abilities, but the Academy admits a handful of Naturals each year to foster a sense of community with them and because they’ve learned that they’re actually pretty useful to have around as mediators, researchers, and inventors. As your principal frequently likes to remind you and your fellow Natural students, your innate ingenuity is what makes you so exceptional. Something about how Naturals overlook limitations that Supernaturals cannot, which explains why white shoelaces seem to be an acceptable replacement for chalk circles.
“As long as you’re good at potions.” He shakes his head. “Dumb question, my bad. Friend’s a witch, but he’s practically failing. But you’re a human. Cool.”
He smiles, showing off his pointy incisors that would be more fitting on a vampire or a werewolf, and you wonder if demons still eat their human sacrifices. Not that you’re offering yourself as one, but it would be nice to know if putting yourself into danger by agreeing.
“That’s all settled then. You should go,” you suddenly say, feeling a little embarrassed by your train of thought. Demons are perfectly nice Supernaturals. You wouldn’t have passed Demonic History if not for San, and he is way more intense than the one in front of you. “My roommate’s gonna be back from class soon. We can talk about… our deal tomorrow.”
He nods understandingly. “Call me whenever you’re free. Seo Changbin, iced coffee or culinary lavender, whichever is easier. I also answer to Potions answers.”
“Great, I’ll keep that in mind,” you reply even though you have no intention of ever summoning him again. A direct summoning like he’s suggesting is even more difficult, and the idea of even having to read that long page of the Undead Tongue is making you nervous. If the call doesn’t go through because of your lousy pronunciation, you’ll either have to ask Mina for help or beg San to give up Changbin’s contact information, assuming demons know one another that well. Hell is a small realm. “But could I just get your number instead? It’ll be easier for me.”
You hand him your phone and stifle a laugh when you see that he’s added the devil emoji after his name. He bids you good night and vanishes in a puff of fire and brimstone, blowing out all three candles. A heavy silence falls over the room as you finally begin processing what you just did.
By the moon, you made a deal with a demon. Over a prom date, of all things.
You bury your head in your head, trying not to let out the anguished scream that has been building up ever since Seo Changbin appeared. He set the carpet on fire momentarily. He left a scorch mark on your beloved bunny and on Mina’s bed skirt. He took your homework answers. That last one bothers you more than you expected.
You warily eye the time and the scene in front of you. You really ought to clean the room before Mina comes back. Maybe she’ll be too excited by the prospect of prom dress shopping to notice the smell of sulfur in the air.
No, she won’t, but some fresh night air will help your case.
Obviously, Mina finds out, not because of her bed skirt or the strange smell in the air but because you are delicately patting your bunny’s stomach with vinegar. Bun-Bun is sacred to you. Mina knows that you would never try to clean her in fear of messing up the de-stressing sigil Jihyo has sewn on since one loose thread could mean the sigil would stop working, and you would again be subject to nightmares where you have lost all your teeth.
When you inform Mina of your successful summoning, she nearly drops her star maps. “So he’s really going to be your date? I can’t believe Chaeyoung’s interpretation could actually be right.”
According to Mina, Chaeyoung, her diviner friend known for her rather unconventional mindset, pulled the Devil, the Wheel of Fortune, and the Lovers when she did a tarot reading for your future. Somehow, those cards translated into what you just did. You’re no divination expert, but that feels like a very surface-level reading.
“He agreed in exchange for help in Potions,” you sigh. Speaking of, you need to redo those problems since Changbin left with your paper. As you flip open the textbook again, you quietly ask, “Do you think this is a bad idea?”
“No, I think it’ll be fun. He seems nice enough, so what’s the harm? Prom doesn’t mean anything outside of school anyway, so it’s not like you’re committing to a relationship.” She glances over at Bun-Bun’s, and you protectively hold her closer, scrunching your nose when the smell of vinegar wafts upwards. “I think Jihyo needs to fix the sigil.”
“Yeah, I think so too.”
You unlock your phone and send a message to Jihyo about dropping off your bunny at her dorm room tomorrow. In the meantime, Mina sends you a link to a dress shop in town and a winky face even though she’s in the same room as you. She flashes you a conspiratory smile before she disappears into the bathroom to shower.
Wanting a distraction, you click the link. The dresses on the website look pretty, and the foggy green one is so alluring that you almost think a charm has been cast on the image. As you contemplate over it, Jihyo responds, affirming that she can restore your plushie to her usual nightmare-preventing self. You relay the happy message to Bun-Bun, whose big black eyes stare soullessly back at you. You pat her head for good luck, and after a moment’s hesitation, you text Changbin to ask if he’s busy at four in the afternoon.
His reply is immediate: “I’m free.”
You sigh and absentmindedly stroke Bun-Bun’s ears as you hurriedly complete your Potions homework. No dreams tonight, you plead, or at least ones where you still have all of your teeth.
After you leave Jihyo’s room, you head straight to the east side of campus. The stony outcropping there has a smattering of picnic tables shielded by tall evergreen trees, making it the perfect location for discussing potentially shady deals. Also, the vending machines there have the best selection of snacks, and it’s Thursday; they’ve just been restocked.
Changbin has already arrived and acquainted himself with the beverage vending machine, as evidenced by the open can of coffee he has. He looks marginally less sleep-deprived than last night, which could bode well or not well. Maybe he’s changed his mind. Deals with demons are binding, but the default binding is vague, and you didn’t have the foresight to extract a pint of your own blood to create a more specific one. Maybe you should pay more attention to Mina’s musings about divination.
“Hey.” He gestures to the empty seat in front of him, and you sit, trying not to stare at the leaf stuck on one of the horns protruding from his skull. “So, how should we go about this? Prom’s in like, three weeks. Did you buy tickets already ‘cause I’ve got mine.”
You have since you were planning to go, with or without a date. This year’s theme promises an unforgettable night, and since last year’s Enchanted Garden theme included everlasting corsages and boutonnieres, there must be something spectacular planned. “Yeah. How about your tux? I still haven’t gotten my dress yet, so if you haven’t, that’s fine. Are we gonna match? And then there’s the flowers and stuff since I don’t think they’re giving free ones out this year.” Stars above, why are you so nervous about this? It’s just a simple discussion, straightforward as can be. Should you draw up a written contract, or would that be even more awkward? Before you can stop yourself, you quickly add, “You’ve got a leaf on your horn, by the way.”
He pats around until he finds it and flicks it off. With an earnest expression, he says, “We can match. Black ties are boring anyway. Unless your dress is gonna be black, which in that case, will be cool. Everything kind of depends on your dress now, huh?”
It does. You can hear the crickets chirping as you try to come up with something to say that doesn’t fully embarrass you. Changbin sips on his coffee, and your eyes wander to his sigil again. You feel like you should know what it is, but you can’t exactly place it. In the world’s smoothest transition, you pull out your planner and say, “So finals.”
“Finals.”
The heavy word hangs in the air, but he says nothing more. You flip to your calendar to check your available times. “Should we do weekly study sessions? Or a giant cram session the night before? How do you wanna do it? Is there anything in particular you need help with?”
“I kind of need help with everything?”
“Weekly study sessions then,” you decide as you click your pen. You press it against the page, and a dot of inky black sits across the surface as you wait for confirmation. “Every Thursday at four? We’ll meet here for an hour and go over the material.”
A relieved smile crosses his face. “You’re a lifesaver. This was supposed to be an easy class.”
“You thought Advanced Potions II would be easy?”
He blinks. “Yeah, since one was.”
He’s got a point. You take out your textbook and open to the latest chapter, Night Vision, which makes Changbin groan and you sigh. “C’mon, we have a deal. Don’t you wanna pass the class?”
He relents and listens as you explain the different effects of using belladonna versus tomato as a brewing base. Teaching Changbin is actually quite fun, you discover, since he’s mostly engaged and doesn’t try to undermine your authority by proposing bizarre scenarios that would never happen.
Yes, Minho, this is about you.
It’s also a nice opportunity for you to review the concepts yourself. You buy a pack of sour gummies from the machine and share them with Changbin who appears to be eating them out of politeness rather than enjoyment.
When the hour is over, he offers to walk you back to your dorm since it’s “the prom date thing to do,” but you decline. Jihyo has finished sewing, so you need to stop by her room first. Besides, Changbin’s stomach has started to growl, and you don’t want to keep him from dinner. You’ve learned from San that hungry demons are pissed-off demons.
“I’ll update you about my dress,” you tell him as you try to shove everything back into your backpack in a nonchalant fashion. That crunching sound is definitely one of your notebooks being crushed. “I’m going shopping this weekend, so I’ll probably find one then. And I’ll handle your tie too, so don’t worry about that.”
“Thanks. Good luck.” He waits until you’re ready and walks you to the outer ring of the outcropping. Then he waves and says, “See you next week.”
“See you.”
As you head to Jihyo’s, you realize that Changbin’s actually a really nice person. Demon. Supernatural. Doesn’t matter. Prom with a stranger might be okay after all.
Mina and Chaeyoung accompany you to The Spiderweaver and make you try on a dozen different dresses for their entertainment. Mina looked into her crystal ball, her favorite method of divination because of its clarity, before leaving the Academy and apparently knows which dress you’re going to buy, so why not have some fun? She refuses to tell you which one it is though. Chaeyoung has opted to go for a sleek jumpsuit instead of a gown, so she’s having fun on the sidelines as well.
“What do the cards say?” you jokingly ask her as you delicately peel off the skin-tight mermaid dress. You hope that the next one she hands you is the foggy green one you saw on the website. When you walked in and saw it hanging from the rack, you grabbed it and didn’t bother with anything else. That has to be the one you’re destined to buy.
There’s the sound of a deck of cards being shuffled. “The Empress, so cape dress.”
You swap hangers with her and step into the flowy dress with the sheer cloak attached. The gold adornments are very pretty, and you’re certain the skirt has been imbued with a shimmering charm of some sort since light does not usually reflect like that. You draw the curtain back, revealing your friends’ appreciative faces.
“You look like The Empress,” Chaeyoung comments. She holds up the card, and you certainly do resemble her in your current ensemble. All you need is a crown. “Do you like this one?”
Mina has her secretive smile on, which makes you think twice. However, you ultimately shake your head and point to the green one still on the rack. “C’mon, I know it’s that one. Divination is just instincts, and Naturals have that too. Ask Miss Wang. I’m doing great in tea reading.”
Before Mina can go on her long spiel about the history of diviners, Chaeyoung cuts her off with a laugh. “You’re no fun.”
“You’re no fun,” you call back as you shut the curtain once more.
Cards get shuffled, and Chaeyoung makes a triumphant noise. “The Fool. You’re wrong.” She pauses, then says, “Am I allowed to gloat about being right about your date, or is it too soon?”
“Definitely too soon,” answers Mina. She approaches the edge of the changing stall and sticks her arm in between the wall and curtain, waiting for the exchange. “Try again after prom?”
“Can we not discuss Changbin?” you ask. There’s something a little mortifying that you had to strike a deal with an entity in order to get a date. Your natural charms and innate ingenuity just weren’t exceptional enough, probably to the displeasure of Principal Park. You suppose your intelligence was since you’re going to be studying with him but still. “Did you hear that we might have a Folklore quiz on Monday? Apparently, Chan overheard Miss Bae talking about it when he passed by the faculty room.”
“You’re the only one here taking Honors Folklore,” Mina reminds.
She hands you your foretold dress, and you hurry to put it on. The fabric ripples as you zip it up, and you smooth the silver brocade detailing on the bodice. You’ll need to get it tailored for it to fit properly, but it feels perfect. The incomprehensible noises your friends make when you show it off to them, confirm your beliefs.
“You look amazing!” Mina says. She’s been taking pictures the whole time, but she’s going all in now, making sure to capture you from every angle.
Meanwhile, Chaeyoung holds the Lovers card between her fingers, flashing it every which way. “He’s going to fall head over heels when he sees you in this.”
“We’re not talking about Changbin.”
“I didn’t say anything about him.” She flips the card around and pretends to admire the gilded edges. “You’re putting words into my mouth.”
“There was an implication! Who else would you be talking about?”
“Chan.”
While you sigh, Mina sends you the photos she took, which you send to Changbin so he can match his tie to your dress. Chaeyoung and Mina peer over your shoulder as they await his response. He doesn’t reply within ten seconds, so you end up leaving your friends unattended with your phone as you change back into your normal clothes. You come to a realization why that is a bad idea twenty seconds in and throw on the rest of your clothing in record time. Fortunately, they haven’t done anything disastrous, though Chaeyoung is shuffling through her deck like she’s consulting the cards for what she can do to tip the scales.
“He says you look nice,” Mina informs. Your phone chimes with another message. “And he loves the color, smiley emoji.”
That’s a relief. You’re not sure what you would have done if you didn’t, but that obstacle doesn’t even exist now. He could also be lying, but you’ll pretend that it’s not worrying you.
“The Spiderweaver can make matching ties to dresses, you know,” Chaeyoung says. She puts her deck away and starts gathering the other selections she and Mina picked out. “You can ask at the tailoring station.”
“Did the cards tell you that?” you say.
“No, the sign at the front did.”
She gives you a cheeky smile while you and Mina share exasperated looks with each other. Chaeyoung mouths, “The Lovers,” as she walks away before you can tackle her to the ground.
You know a little bit about tarot. The Lovers isn’t always associated with a romantic outcome; it’s about a choice in a relationship, and right now, you have decided that your darling friend Chaeyoung needs a few bone-crushing hugs.
The chapter after Night Vision is Sun Vision, which greatly confuses you as to why it exists since sunglasses fulfill the same purpose and are significantly less fiddly. It’s a uselessly complex potion, and Changbin is struggling.
“I have to brew a night vision potion before I can make a sun vision one?”
“Yeah. It’s a counter-potion, and counters need the thing it’s supposed to counter.”
He sighs so heavily he knocks over the little origami goat he made in despair. You offer him your mini bag of fruit gummies in sympathy, and he mournfully chews on an artificial strawberry. The upcoming test is a practical one. Based on the stories he has shared with you, Changbin’s practical skills are a smidge above his knowledge.
Much to your chagrin, he shuts his notebook of crossed-out equations. “Let’s talk about prom.”
“This really isn’t the time.”
You haven’t been able to escape discussions of prom, especially since the rumors about the memory potions started circling around. Memory potions are strictly forbidden at the Academy, resulting in expulsion if one is caught, but according to Chan’s werewolf pack, a select group of the top witches has been tasked with a modified version for prom. Jihyo, who tested out of the entire Advanced Potions series and comes from a long line of brewing witches, has become increasingly busy with “work,” and everyone has noticed. As one of her close friends, you have been pestered.
Nevertheless, he asks, “Are we taking pictures? My friend, the same one who sucks at Potions, he’s a photographer.”
It’s a good question, you admit. Do you want to memorialize that night forever? “Yeah, why not? Should we do it in front of the fountain like everyone else does too?”
“Yeah. I heard some of the mermaids talking about making the water iridescent so they can get nice pictures.” Changbin smiles dreamily as if he’s imagining the moment himself. Almost as an afterthought, he adds, “That green color is really nice. I might re-wear the tie for graduation.”
Stars, why are you so flustered by that remark? You have done a lot more mortifying things than for such a simple statement to warrant a reaction like this. You abruptly head to the beverage machine and select the first drink that catches your eye, blueberry soda. It sounds mediocre. At least it’s refreshingly cold.
“How do you feel about white for your corsage?” he asks, unaware of your current state. “I think it’ll match with the silver.”
“Sounds good,” you say as you twist off the metal cap with a pop. If he weren’t here right now, you would press the glass bottle to your flaming cheeks, but alas, he is, so you have to settle for drinking a quarter of the soda. It’s better than you expect. You remember that you have to buy a boutonniere for him as well, and you take another gulp. “Pop quiz: what happens to sun vision if you mix a night vision potion with sunflower oil before you reduce it?”
His hand trails towards his notes, but one pointed look makes him stop. “It increases the effects?”
“Decreases. Everything before reduction gets countered since…”
“Reduction is the first step,” he recites. You’ve been repeating the phrase constantly at him since the session began, but it appears that it hasn’t been embedded into his brain yet. “Potions is so much fun.”
You keep your mouth shut, lest you demoralize him because to you, Potions is fun. Instead, you direct him to the assigned homework problems and guide him through the more difficult ones as you work alongside him. A particularly tricky review question about how Scoville units affect fire resistance causes Changbin to let out a long swear in the Undead Tongue. His horns momentarily catch fire in his frustration.
“Sorry,” he mumbles. “Bad habit.”
You couldn’t care less about all of that. “You’re so fluent,” you blurt out. “I mean, you are a demon, so it’s not surprising, but that was so clean.”
Most Supernaturals learn the Undead Tongue first since it’s still the main language used in old texts and whatnot, but it still impresses you every time. Even with some speech therapy, you can’t quite manage to get the sounds right. And unfortunately, pronunciation is generally important in most spells and rituals. You’re usually exempt from those sorts of exams, but it still sucks that you’re noticeably not good at it.
He smiles, incisors on full display, and thanks you. “It’s nothing. I’m sure you’re pretty good yourself.”
You prove him wrong by parroting the swear back at him. You truly are doing your best, but the presence of him combined with your usual anxiety makes your intonation even worse than normal. Where is Bun-Bun when you need her?
“How was that?” you ask before taking a large swallow of soda. Why did you decide to do that? Really, these last couple of days have just been filled with questionable decisions.
“Better than me and Potions, that’s for sure,” he laughs. “It’s a little rough, but I can understand you.”
He’s being very kind. Mina has gently corrected you a multitude of times when you read aloud, and San simply accepted you butchering the names of prominent demonic texts after two weeks.
“How about this? You only tutor me in the Undead Tongue,” Changbin suggests. “You get some practice, I still get to pass the class. Besides, there’s not usually a lot of people here anyway, so no one will hear you.”
“This is not part of the deal.”
“I’m doing it out of the goodness of my heart.”
You click your pen as you contemplate. You do need the practice, especially since you’re planning to stay within Supernatural society after you graduate. A blush begins creeping up your neck when you ask in the Undead Tongue, “How many Scoville units is pure capsaicin?”
With perfect pronunciation, he correctly answers fifteen million.
Next Thursday’s study session is canceled in favor of a trip to The Spiderweaver. Your dress’s alterations have been completed, and Changbin needs to pick up his rented tuxedo anyway. However, you quiz him on the week’s material. The practical test is tomorrow, and since all of the labs were fully booked, this is the best you can do unless you want to get a demerit for stealing Potions supplies and equipment.
While Changbin tries his tux on one last time, you are on the other side of the curtain, flipping through your flashcards for new questions to ask. You are debating whether it would be cruel to ask him to balance equations with no paper or calculator on hand when he steps out.
He spreads his arms out theatrically and gestures at the properly knotted green tie at his neck. “What do you think?”
You didn’t realize he knew how to do it, so you were fully prepared to help. After an hour of practicing on a very patient Mina, you finally got the hang of it. Now that you’ve seen him in all of his glory, you don’t know if you would have been able to without fumbling. By the moon, the power formal wear holds—he looks very, very good.
With as much nonchalance you can muster, you tell him so. “But maybe you don’t wear sneakers on the actual night,” you hurriedly add to distract yourself. “I mean, you still look great, but you know. Just prom things.”
He kicks his feet up, eyeing his worn-out shoes. The white midsoles are more of a yellow-gray than a true white. “You’re probably right.” With a cheerful grin, he points at the black garment bag hanging on the hook. “Your turn!”
He doesn’t even bother changing out of his outfit first; he just takes your color-coded cards and nudges you into the other side of the curtain. Before you can protest, he shuts it close and asks you to tell him all of the steps of brewing a dehydration potion with a lemon juice base. As you slip inside the dress, you recite every single step, pausing in-between to allow him to check. And because you feel that it is only right that you get to be as dramatic as he was, the moment you name the last step, you pull back the curtain and immediately regret your decision when you realize how much of a femme fatale you appear to be. Nothing against that particular archetype; it’s just not you.
You release your grip on the curtain and sweep back your skirt. “Ta-da,” you shyly say, keeping your eyes on your flashcards. “I got that all right, right? Pronunciation okay?”
“Yeah. You… you look really nice. Like, pretty. Better than the pictures.”
Did Mina’s crystal ball predict this moment too? She saw you in this dress, but flashes of the future don’t always tell a linear story. Surely, she would have said some— No, interfering with the future usually doesn’t change much, so you would have wound up in the same position anyway: flushed and suddenly wondering if Changbin is saying those things because it’s “the prom date thing to do.”
“Yeah, the fit’s a lot better now.” After a pause, you say, “Do you wanna change first?”
“No, you go ahead. I wanna study a little more before you test me again.” He holds up the flashcards and selects an orange one. “What happens if you add peppers to a fire resistance potion before reduction?”
“You made that one up.”
“You know the answer, don’t you?”
You close the curtain and say, “It increases fire susceptibility.”
The triumph in his voice is clear when he replies, “Nope, I didn’t say what kind of pepper. Jalapeños and chili peppers, yes. Bell peppers, no.”
You should feel embarrassed, but a sense of pride wells up in you instead. Last week, he probably wouldn’t have known the difference between bell and chili peppers in potion making, but today he set up a trick question for you. He’s a quick learner. “Nice. You’re definitely up to speed about book-knowledge. Maybe we can find someone willing to split a lab room with us when we get back.”
“Maybe, but hey, I’ve had a good teacher. I think I’ll be fine.”
Somehow, you believe him. Your beliefs prove to be correct because Changbin texts you the next afternoon that he indeed passed the practical exam. With all-caps and multiple exclamation points, you congratulate him and fall back onto your school-issued desk chair with a jubilant squeal.
The following study session is extended because Jihyo needs you for some unknown reason. Actually, you have a pretty good idea what the reason is, but you’re stunned that the school is allowing the secret memory potions to be tested on students. It’s a trap, it has to be.
Nevertheless, you and Changbin grab snacks from the dining hall before meeting Jihyo at one of the research labs at the far back of the campus. She said that he was free to come with you, and you’re becoming more and more grateful for that. Dense forest surrounds the sleek modern building, and an electric generator softly hums in the background. It’s nearly sunset, and orange sun rays paint the walkway with shadows of tree branches, which resemble claws reaching out to snatch at your ankles. There’s nothing dangerous in the Academy except for its occupants, but there’s something unsettling about a secluded experimental zone anyway.
Once inside the safety of the compound, Jihyo hands you a paper cup with what appears to be water. The faint odor, however, confirms that it is not.
“Drink this. I promise it’s safe.”
“Remember when I almost died?”
She waves it off like nothing and gives you an encouraging smile. “That was an accident, and you’re still alive.”
“What about Changbin?” you ask, hoping that he, too, will be forced to participate. In return, he gives you a startled look, like you’ve just betrayed him. “He’s a demon. That has to be helpful.”
“If a Natural can take it, then it’s safe for everyone. I know it is—I double-checked everything, so I just need proof. After ten minutes, you’re free to go until tomorrow. I need to test the memory effects too.”
You warily gulp it down. While you trust her—she’s the best brewing witch the Academy has, with dozens of research institutions and business industries clamoring for her approval—Naturals are vulnerable to quite a bit of things, and you still remember when her now patented Silver Tongue Potion actually turned your tongue silver. It would have simply been an unfortunate side effect had it not also made you temporarily lose your sense of taste. And let’s not forget the time you had a phantom heart attack due to a finicky mixture that seemed to have a life of its own. You didn’t die—hence, phantom—but apparently you got close.
However, this potion seems to be working perfectly. Or at least, nothing horrible is happening.
While you fidget around, toying with the cuffs of your sweater as you prepare yourself in case something does happen, Changbin has a slew of questions for Jihyo. As it turns out, like Minho, he also had tons of bizarre scenarios in mind. He was just kind enough to not subject you to them.
In the midst of answering a question regarding salt crystals, she abruptly says, “That’s one of Jeongyeon’s sigils. For deep sleep, right?”
Your eyes fall to Changbin’s wrist where the faint markings are still visible. No wonder why you didn’t quite recognize it. Jeongyeon’s family has a tendency to create and use their own unique sigils, meaning that they are often not in your textbooks. You also haven’t crossed paths with her magic yet, knowing her only as one of Jihyo’s childhood friends.
“I literally lost sleep over Potions, so I paid her to do it,” he explains. “It’s been about a month, and it still works decently. I don’t really need it now, but it’s nice.”
While the two of them start to delve into the intricacies of your deal with Changbin, you try not to blush at the memory. Changbin recounts you as his savior, his ironic guardian angel. He becomes animated when he mimes the way you dove for the prom invitation, and Jihyo laughs so uproariously that you want to burst into flames. You doubt that’s a side effect of the potion. As you shoot her pleading looks, she gives you a studious once-over before declaring you fine to leave.
“Promise I’ll be okay?” you say. You stick your tongue out at her, and she assures you that your tongue is its normal color. Unaware of the inside joke, Changbin cautiously eyes Jihyo, searching for any signs of malice like he can detect such a thing.
“Of course. Don’t forget to stop by tomorrow. Drop in whenever.” At your visible anxiety, she pops off the cap of the pen in her lab coat and draws a tiny sigil on the inside of her wrist. “This is linked to Bun-Bun. A stress detector, kind of. If she starts glowing red, then I’ll come to you. If I’m not there in time, ask Mina for help. I gave her a few antidotes last year when she was my other guinea pig, but you should be completely fine. Deal?”
What’s worse, a deal with a demon or one with a witch? “Deal.”
When you and Changbin are in sight of the main campus, he asks, “Is Bun-Bun your stuffed rabbit?”
“You’re not gonna ask about the time I almost died?” you say. “But yes, Bun-Bun is my rabbit. If you make fun of me, I’ll…”
“Do nothing about it? Bun-Bun’s a cute name.”
It is, which is why you named her that in the first place, but it feels like teasing from him. You direct your attention to the swath of fallen branches ahead of you, stepping over them with as much as you can. The pine bristles brush against your ankle, and you keep yourself steady. “Prom’s on Saturday.”
He arches an eyebrow. You rarely talk about prom, preferring to pepper him with Potions questions instead, but you continue with the topic anyway when he says nothing. “Are we meeting at the fountain or somewhere else? It might be crowded there, and not to mention, we have to head to the hotel afterward. Should we do pictures tomorrow then? We can still take them at sunset as planned.”
“Saturday at sunset,” he confirms, “and then we’re going to the fast travel station at the main hall.”
He makes you take a detour at the stony outcropping and pauses in front of the vending machines. After a moment’s dilemma, he selects the sour gummies and places the packet into your hand. “Usually, sugar is not what you give to Naturals when they’re jumpy, but you seem like you need it. Jihyo’s a good witch, don’t worry.”
You decide not to mention that he’s only known Jihyo for about ten minutes. You rip open the bag and pop a gummy in your mouth, delightfully grimacing at the flavor. Regular gummies just aren’t as good as these. “I know, but I’d really not end up in the infirmary and miss prom. We have a deal.”
“Hey, if you’re not feeling well, feel free to summon me tonight. I probably won’t be able to help, but you’ll have moral support. Iced coffee, culinary lavender, or just a good old human sacrifice.”
If something does go wrong, he might accidentally receive one. However, you opt to ignore the last bit and hold out your snack. “Want one?”
Tonight is going to be An Unforgettable Night.
The modified memory potions worked so splendidly that you didn’t have to call anyone. When Jihyo tested the effects on Friday morning, you found that you remembered everything that happened with great clarity, minus anything you read for class or studied. How she managed to create a potion with those parameters, you have no idea. Sheer genius? Quite possibly. If she asked, you likely could have told her the exact number of times you checked Bun-Bun for a glowing red light.
Now, Chaeyoung is sitting on your bed, shuffling through her cards while simultaneously peering into Mina’s crystal ball. Her pointy heels peek out of her scarlet jumpsuit, and she annoyedly tucks a loose curl from her updo behind her ear as she leans in closer to the ball.
“It keeps showing me someone else instead of your demon,” she says.
Overwhelmed by the number of prom photo poses recommended by the internet, you only mumble back, “He’s not my demon.” Why are there so many arms around waists? Can an awkward side hug suffice if you don’t know your date all that well?
“Seo Changbin,” she repeats as she gently taps the glass with a fingernail. “C’mon.”
Mina comes out of the bathroom, the smell of hairspray barely masked by a flowery perfume. You look up from your phone and grin at the sight of her in a champagne-colored ball gown. “The Empress is here.”
She goes pink, mutters something about it being the same dress as last year, and then finally notices Chaeyoung staring intently at her crystal ball. Relieved for the diversion, she says, “You know my crystal doesn’t like you. Whose future are you looking into?”
“No one,” you interrupt. Although a part of you wants to know what’s in store for tonight, a larger part prefers to leave the future for the future. Besides, there are a lot of theories about self-fulfilling prophecies for important events, and prom night definitely counts as one. “Do you both wanna go ahead without me? I’m meeting Changbin at the fountain first for pictures.”
They exchange glances. Diviners can’t read minds, but a message has just been passed between them. Luckily, you are well-versed in reading Mina and Chaeyoung.
Mina:We should wait with her and walk her to the fountain to calm her nerves.
Chaeyoung:We should leave her alone with Changbin for as long as possible.
“Let me fix your eyeliner before we go,” Chaeyoung finally says as she sits you down on your desk chair. You’re unsurprised; she usually wins the staring contests.
“It can’t be that bad,” you reply as you double-check your reflection on your phone screen. “I bought a spell card for my makeup. Yeah, it looks fine.”
“Naturals have a tendency to make spells not work.”
A valid point. The unnaturalness of a Natural using magic usually leads to spells gone awry, weird, or wrong, but your eyeliner looks perfect. When you scan the room for any signs of trickery, you find Mina with her crystal ball, and Chaeyoung fans out her cards in front of your face like she can help you unsee. “Guys!”
“I won’t tell you,” Mina assures, “or anyone else. I just wanted to make sure you would be safe.”
It’s a flimsy excuse because you know the true one is that they’re nosy, but for your sanity, you accept it. They soon leave. Mina smiles assuredly, but that doesn’t relieve your anxieties.
You were the first to change for the night, so that leaves you some time to pace around and practice pinning Changbin’s white boutonniere onto Bun-Bun. Occasionally your phone chimes with updates from your friends—Mina and Chaeyoung have arrived, Jihyo is handing out memory potions alongside the senior witches, and Changbin is on his way.
At the last message, you walk from your dorm room to the fountain, which really has been dyed iridescent. Two mermaids pose at the bottom, the mist of the water creating little rainbows with the sunset. Your date and your photographer are waiting for you beneath the large tree nearby. There’s a black case in Changbin’s hands, and for a delusional second, you think he’s planning to propose marriage to you. Then you take note of Changbin himself, and stars above, if you were the swooning type, you would swoon.
He has always been good-looking, but he is devilishly handsome in his black suit and not-sneakers. His hair is styled but still retains its usual softness, and that small detail keeps him Changbin, your Potions study buddy and not Changbin, the Supernatural is obligated to go to prom with you.
You can’t get out the right words to compliment him, so you have to make do with raising your eyebrows and gesturing at him. He laughs, spinning around so you can take in all of him. As he comes to a stop, his eyes dance like fire.
“You look incredible,” he says in the Undead Tongue, like it’s a secret only the two of you know. After a breath, he nods at the person dressed in a navy suit and a camera bag. “This is Seungmin, who sucks at being a witch but is passable as a photographer.”
“I specialize in charms and hexes,” Seungmin corrects. “Nice to meet you. Now, not to ruin the moment, but I’ve got other couples to shoot after you, so if we could get going, that would be great.”
He’s all business, which you appreciate because you would be fretting over every little decision. As predicted, the fountain is a very popular spot for photos, so he has you two remain under the tree instead while he snaps candids. A crowd waiting for the fountain spectates the affair. It’s beginning to feel a bit like a proposal.
Changbin ties your corsage of white roses and star-shaped buds to your wrist, taking care not to rustle any of the flowers. His sleeping sigil flexes as he knots the bow, and you are so entranced by the way it moves that you nearly miss his inquiry.
“Do you like it?” he repeats. “If you don’t, I can probably get Seungmin to charm it into something else.”
“No! I love it,” you assure him a little too loudly. Stars, people are watching. “I was just lost in my thoughts. The little star ones are pretty, and the green leafy parts match us. You did a great job. Honestly, the one I got for you isn’t nearly as nice, but I did try my best to—”
“What’s the base for a cloud breath potion?”
“Dry ice,” you automatically answer, though you are confused. Cloud breath isn’t being covered until another week, and as far as you can tell, Changbin has been diligent keeping up with class, not staying ahead of it. “Why the sudden question?”
“Because it’s your turn.”
He points at his bare lapel, and you open your clutch for the box that holds his flowers. You weren’t trying to deflect when you said his boutonniere wasn’t as nice. It’s made of white roses as well, but the baby’s breath and greenery are simple compared to what he got you. When he compliments it, your fingers slip. The flowers are spared from any accident, but you are left gripping Changbin’s lapel like you’re about to pull him in for a kiss. Quickly and without any ceremony, you finish pinning the boutonniere and step away with your hands clasped in front of you. Someone wolf whistles, not at you, but the sudden noise makes you want to hide.
“Should we go?” he whispers, glancing at the onlookers and your flustered state. “It’s probably better if we’re not late, right?”
As much as you would rather leave, you can’t. “But you were so excited about the fountain. We can wait, I don’t mind.”
“Seungmin’s gonna be busy anyway.”
He’s dejected. He hides it well with poise and rationality, but there’s a layer of disappointment coating his words. Suddenly feeling brave, you ignore your instincts and take his hand. “Let’s come back when prom’s over then. The fountain’s gonna look dozens of times better at night. Everything does.”
When he smiles, you learn exactly how well you like those pointy teeth of his now.
Prom lives up to its theme, and not simply because of the memory potions, though they do help. The hotel ballroom has been decorated to reflect the luxuries of the world, from the possibly real diamonds hanging in strands from the ceiling to the multitude of gems that form the compass on the floor. With the bright lights in your eyes, you wonder if this is why sun vision potions were invented. Sunglasses would destroy your look, but this level of illumination may destroy your eyesight.
But as stunning as the venue is, the event itself is boring. You and Changbin mill around the edges of the dance floor, pointing out the hidden treasures in the room to each other and saying hello to friends. Judging by the way they duck into different groups, Chaeyoung and Mina are intent on avoiding you tonight, only communicating by text. Though Changbin notices this, he says nothing and introduces you to his friends instead. San, as it turns out, is actually his friend, so you really could have begged him for Changbin’s number if needed all those weeks ago.
When a slow dance number comes on, courtesy of the magical birds in the golden cages hovering in the air, you are tempted to ask Changbin for a dance. It’s the prom thing to do, isn’t it?
“I think your flowers got crushed,” you tell him, heart pounding so loudly that every werewolf in the vicinity can probably hear it. “Let me…”
He stands still for you as you try to breathe some life into the singular sprig of baby’s breath that’s beginning to wilt. If you were a witch, you could have literally done so, but propping it upright against a rose is the best you can do. Then you move the greenery around to conceal the gap made. Is it strange that you can feel your heartbeat in your fingers?
Yeah, definitely.
“All good now,” you say. You awkwardly pat his lapel, realize exactly what you’re doing, and quickly retract your hand as your face heats up. Changbin works out. A lot.
“Thanks.” He scans the ballroom, his gaze lingering on the dance floor crowded with couples, once more before asking, “I thought prom would be more fun than this.”
“Me too.”
“You wanna go then? We can go to the fountain and then head to San’s afterparty.”
The idea of an afterparty makes you hesitant, and a flurry of excuses rushes to mind, ranging from “I’m tired” to “My friends imposed a curfew on me to make sure I don’t do anything too debaucherous and get kicked out a month before graduation.” If anything, they would rather you stay out all night with Changbin. Chaeyoung’s card of the Lovers flashes behind your eyes, but you push it away.
“I’m not really a party person,” you slowly begin, “but I’m still down for the picture.”
He tries to convince you to come along, promising it’ll be fun, but eventually accepts your decision. However, he does make you agree to let him walk you back to your dorm because it’s “the prom date and gentle-demon thing to do.” The phrase has apparently been upgraded.
There’s no one at the fountain, which is still iridescent under the light of the moon, glittering like ground diamonds. Bracing yourself for the inevitable chill, you dip your hand into the water just to make sure it is real. Everything truly does look better at night.
Unfortunately, your initial plan has a flaw: no photographer. That results in a quick selfie, followed by you constructing a stand out of the rocks and branches littering the area around. You wouldn’t trust putting your phone on it, but Changbin doesn’t seem to care. While you remain in front of the fountain, moonlit water misting the back of your dress, he sets a timer and runs back to you, draping an arm around your shoulder just in time. Then he goes back to set another.
The second time, he says something to you, but you can’t hear him over the sound of the water. The moment you glance at him, the shutter goes off.
“Sorry, what did you say?” you ask.
Changbin looks at you now. If you tilt your head just right, the crescent moon fits neatly in the space between his horns, like it’s suspended above his head. Transfixed by the image, you barely register his reply: “I asked if you wanted to dance.”
The shutter goes off again, and you realize that he must have set it to burst mode. You resume a more posed position, and he does as well. He speaks through a smile. “So, you wanna dance? I think I owe you that at least.”
Your heart begins pounding again, and this time you have nothing to distract you. “Here?”
“Where else? Unless you actually do want to go to that party.”
No matter how hopeful he sounds, you do not. This is your only chance now, so with one last smile for the camera, you say, “Sure.”
The song he’s playing from his phone isn’t even close to audible, but swaying back and forth with Changbin to the music of a bubbling fountain and faint bat screeches may be the most romantic thing you’ve experienced. The delicate distance between your bodies makes your intertwined fingers feel illicit. You can hardly bring yourself to look at his face. He hums a melody, perhaps from the song he chose, and spins you around, catching you in surprise. A star-shaped bud falls into the water in the commotion. When you’re back in his arms, you softly say to the empty space beside him, “Thanks for being my date.”
“It was my pleasure.”
You wait for him to say something about helping him study for Potions, but he simply leaves it at that. Idle conversation feels out of place, so you add nothing else. You listen to his humming, watch the stars shift as you slow dance, and feel the warmth of his hand in yours. For once, you feel serene in his presence, not a hint of blush threatening to bloom. You don’t want the moment to end.
But all good things must, so you pull away when Changbin’s melody stops. He sighs but keeps close. “You sure you don’t wanna go to the party?”
“You can tell me all about it on Thursday.”
“C’mon, let’s get you back.” Though unnecessary, he holds his arm out for you, and you accept it since the night is scary and so you can savor the dance for a little longer. Your memory of tonight will be crystal clear tomorrow morning and forever, but there’s something special about now, when the world is still enchanted and when you’re still bewitched by its spell.
The walk back to your dorm is quiet, with only the sounds of footsteps against stony pathing as company. The night strips away the outer layers of people, both Supernaturals and Naturals. What made you daring three weeks ago, makes you modest this evening. Changbin has changed too. He typically always has something to say, no matter how insignificant. It’s only when he drops you off at your door does he finally speak: “Say good night to Bun-Bun for me.”
“I will. Have fun at the party.”
“Thanks. Good night.”
He leans in like he’s about to leave you a parting gift on your cheek but stops before he can get too close. Instead, he waits until you’ve fished your room key from your clutch and waves goodbye. As you shut the door, the hallway light falls in the space between his horns like another moon. It oddly reminds you of a halo this time, and you stifle a giggle at the irony.
Bun-Bun waits for you on your bed. You pat her head three times in greeting and relay Changbin’s message to her. As expected, she stares blankly back. After a moment’s hesitation and after ensuring that Mina and Chaeyoung aren’t hiding in the room somewhere, you recount the night to her, caressing the petals of your corsage’s roses as your heart pulses at every detail of the dance.
Thursday is weird. You hoped that you and Changbin would fall back into the usual pattern, but prom has made it difficult. He tells you about San’s party with much enthusiasm, possibly more than needed for what sounds like a bunch of tipsy people making pancakes in the middle of the night. He did mention a fire though, so maybe that’s why. Either way, a normal conversation is hard, even with an arsenal of sour gummies, blueberry soda, and Potions flashcards.
You’re flipping through your textbook, trying to find the exact volume of dry ice required for a cloud breath potion, when Changbin abruptly asks, “What are you doing after graduation?”
You haven’t thought about graduation in a while, but you’ve had post-grad plans since the beginning of the year. “Working for Jihyo’s family.”
He sounds surprised. “You’re not going to a Natural university or something?”
“No, I like doing this more. And they made me an offer I couldn’t refuse.”
If you were a witch, they likely would have offered an apprenticeship, but since you have no magical ability, you’ll be doing research for their family business and if your earlier incident with Jihyo is any indication, acting as a part-time guinea pig. While that last part isn’t ideal, working under a Park brewing witch is a huge resumé booster, especially as a Natural in Supernatural circles. Companies will be knocking on your door the moment you decide to leave, if you ever. Besides, the salary is really, really good. If you ever decide to go into academia, they promised that they would help fund your education, so really, how could you not work for them?
“What about you?” you ask. “Have you got a demonic kingdom to run like San?”
He shakes his head. “I’m gonna be a deal broker. Answer summons daily, make contracts, get paid in human sacrifices and money.”
How nice that demons now want sacrifices and money. If you ever need to summon one again, you’ll keep that in mind. “Well, you’ve got some practice with me already. If you ever need me to, I can write you a rec letter.”
He looks at the blank piece of paper he means to use for homework like he’s considering asking you to write him one now. You pick up your pen and diligently wait, but he just smiles wryly.
“I think I’ll be okay for now, but I’ll hit you up if I ever need one. And if you ever need special potion ingredients or a test subject, then feel free to summon me. No more lavender now though, just coffee.”
“What kind? Is it still iced coffee?”
He looks surprised that you remember. “Yeah. Put it in a potion bottle so I know it’s you and won’t decline the call.”
“Will do. Now,” you say, turning back to your beloved textbook, “back to studying. How much dry ice is needed for a cloud breath potion base?”
“50 milliliters.”
You finally turn to the correct page, and it is indeed 50 milliliters. As you jot it down, you tease, “Someone knows their stuff. Have you considered going into the potions business?”
“Yeah”—grinning, he stretches his arms over his head and around—“I did since I have a great tutor and all, but the lack of sacrifices made me rethink it.”
You crack open your bottle of soda, praying that the cold drink tempers how warm you are. You’re going to miss having a study partner when you start working. No more free compliments, no more fun moments like this.
Finals has approached, which means every student on campus is in a frenzy, and you are no exception. You split the weekend with Chan for Honors Folklore and Changbin. Folklore is right before Potions, and you’re less confident in that subject, so while you review Potions concepts with Changbin, you’re also skimming through the numerous texts you’re supposed to know by heart. The tales about werewolves and witches you’ve heard many times since Chan adores debunking them and since witch stories are one of the most prolific ones in the Natural world, but the alleged hierarchy of the faerie courts is driving you mad. Nearly everything is wrong, so it’s like learning fake history.
“… lung expansion?”
It takes a second for you to process Changbin’s words. “Two minutes?” you guess, hoping that he’s asking about duration. He asked about the effects of a lung expansion potion earlier.
“Yes, but only because you know my pattern of questions. Should we end early? You look stressed.”
You furiously shake your head. “I’m always stressed. Sorry, I’m just freaking out about Monday. It’s mostly short answer questions, but there’s an essay portion at the end, and there’s so much to memorize and so many things to get mixed up, so I’m pretty sure everything will muddle together, and I really don’t want to fail.” You shove your texts to the side and take a deep breath, inhaling the sweet smell of the evergreen trees.“What potions must be brewed during the full moon?”
“Any werewolf-related ones, like wolf suppression or enhancement.” When he sees your strained nod of approval, he reassures, “You’re gonna be fine, I know so.”
“That’s what you said about me booking a lab, and here we are.”
The Potions final consists of brewing three randomly chosen potions and testing them on yourself. If all three work as intended, you get full marks. If only two are successful, then you pass. One success or no success results in failure.
As expected, the moment the format was announced, everyone rushed to reserve a lab, and with the number of claws and hexes flying around, you never stood a chance. You thought demons were at the top of the Supernatural food chain, so maybe Changbin would be able to intimidate his way into getting a lab, but alas, no one is afraid of them anymore. Or they’re more afraid of failing, which is understandable.
“Is Potions the only class you’re worried about?” you ask.
“Pretty much. Siren Song should have been really difficult in theory, but music and composition just click for me, and the teacher’s lenient on grading. Guaranteed 100 for me.”
You wish you had his self-assurance. Maybe you should find Jeongyeon and pay her to draw a sigil on you as well, perhaps one for confidence. You scan Changbin’s hand for his sleeping sigil, but it has completely faded away now. Nonetheless, you watch it anyway as he reaches for a gummy. Though he won’t admit it, you’re pretty sure that he likes them now. You decidedly like him less when he asks you to recite all of the steps fo
It’s a Kakairu fanfic, there’s a little bit of magic and a little bit of High School AU, and there’s a misunderstanding, and omg, the story is so sweet (theres also a little bit of YamaGai !!!!)
Iruka is the seals and barriers teacher, and Kakashi is the illusions teacher, WHICH I LOVED and thought it was perfect and i couldn’t resist it, i had to draw them ✨ SO PLEASE GO AND READ IT
So, i asked Manda for a little info about how she imagined the characters and their aesthetics, and she said she imagined the teachers in formal suits, so i searched for Harry Potter (Which i don’t know anything about!) teachers, and i wanted some Snape plus Sirius Black vibes for Kakashi, and for Iruka, Remus Lupin vibes, i don’t know any of the characters, but i took inspiration from them for their clothes ✨
And it’s not stated in the fanfic, but Manda said the magic worked a lot like chakra, which i thought it was pretty cool, but i took liberties there and added a magic glow
