clumsy lucky | 🔞
w / au's: optional female lead, mdni(18+only), witch!au, curses, fingering in the back of a magic shop
summary: she's the only witch in town that can and will help a clumsy witch like you...
words: 3,860
With your arms full of frayed, aged books and a determined gaze, you push open the glass doors to the potion shop with your hip. Marching toward the counter in the back where you know she will be waiting, you pass lines of study shelves filled with vials, and books, and a few questionable recipes along the way. When you reach her, she takes one look at you from head to toe, a smirk forming on her lips at your disheveled appearance and the fact that you managed to turn your hair two shades lighter than what is natural.
“I need help.” It’s all you can manage to whimper, gaze falling hopelessly to the floor, lip protruding in a pout that would make anyone feel sorry for you, even the experienced witch that owns the potion shop just a few blocks from your home.
“Wow, love the hair,” she giggles, and you aren’t sure if it’s truly a compliment or if she’s trying to mock you, but you decide you don’t care either way. You’re hopeless and pouting and after too many attempts at making good luck potions and having your hair change colors, giving your cat the ability to speak, and accidentally shrinking the majority of your wardrobe, you’ve done just about all except give up. Though you’re close to that, too. “Is this a rebellious new look after a toxic break-up or were you just bored on a Saturday night?”
You groan at the way she begins giggling, dropping the books down on the glass countertop you bought from her shop just a few weekends before. “Neither,” you tell her. “I’m just a terrible witch and I’ve decided to give up potion making, and spells, and trying to figure out how to ride that stupid broom of mine.” You keep it to yourself the fact that your last attempt ended up with you in your neighbor’s bushes at three a.m. The last thing you need is for her to have something else to tease you with.
“Oh, come on now.” Her tone softens as she tucks a few loose strands of hair behind her ear, uncovering the sparkling dangling earrings she always wears as well as the black, satin choker around her neck. Her red-painted lips turn in a grin as she leans closer and taps the glass with her fingernails, obviously trying to figure out the antidote to your hair problem. “Leave it to me, I guess. You’re lucky you have me, but you owe me for all the times I’ve fixed a problem for you, little witch.”
“Thank you so much.” You can finally breathe a sigh of relief. She begins to busy herself in the back of her shop, taking a large book with her with its edges frayed and a sparkling, purple crystal right on the cover. It looks old, and probably valuable, but you keep the comment to yourself while watching her work, happy enough that once again she decided to get you out of another mess you caused for yourself.
Being a new witch is hard enough, but only having one other witch to run to as well as to learn from gets exhausting on your own. Not to mention you’re sure she is no doubt tired of having you run to her shop when something’s gone amiss, whether it be ruined clothes, a talking cat, or your hair becoming a different color. The last thing you want to do is annoy the only person that is not only willing to help you, but actually can. If it weren’t for her, you aren’t sure what you would do.
“Here you go,” she interrupts your thoughts, holding up a crystal vial full of a pink, fruity smelling potion. “Drink this and your hair will be back to normal. It might take a few days, just like a bad dye job tends to fade after a while, but you’ll be good to go after that.”
“Thank you again.” Without hesitation, you grab the vial from her, not thinking twice about chugging the entire thing with your head thrown back. It even tastes sweet, you think, sometimes amazed at what a smart, powerful witch she is. You’re lucky to have her, you know it’s true. Which is why you want to give up being a witch because you can’t ruin the only semi-friendship you have in such a small town of mostly mortals.
“Wow, you drank that down like a champ.” She chuckles while taking the vial from you before closing up the book she was reading the recipe from and putting a few ingredients back on the shelf behind her. “What if it was poison or something?”
“Huh?” You blink.
“The first rule of being a witch is not to trust anyone, love. You really are a bad one.”
“I thought the first rule was to use my magic for good things because my powers are a gift… or something like that.”
“Sure, if you want to be a good witch.” At that, she winks to have an uneasy feeling creeping over your shoulders.
“Plus, I trust you.” Then your shoulders slump, your bottom lip pouts, and you feel defeated all over again. “You’re the only witch I know around here and without you…”
“You’d probably be accidentally raising the dead, or… I don’t know, giving yourself tie-dye panties or something.”
You can’t help but to grin at the image as heat fills your cheeks, but you know she’s right. Without her, you would be absolutely hopeless.
“Right, so like I said. I’m done being a witch. You can take these potion books back. Oh, and this one I borrowed about good luck charms.”
She turns to look at you with a snap of your head. “You can’t give up.” Then she steps closer, leaning over the glass countertop to narrow her eyes. “Being a witch isn’t something you give up, it’s who you are, you know. If you don’t get your magic under control now, well, I really wasn’t joking about raising the dead. Things will happen beyond your comprehension. So, it’s better to learn now.”
As she speaks, your gaze falls to the creaky, wooden floors of her shop. With a bitten lip, you listen to what she says as a heaviness settles in your chest. Of course, she’s right. She’s always right and always knows what’s best for you.
“All I do is screw everything up. My spells suck, my potions are a mess, and I am too damn clumsy to even complete a proper recipe.” With a sigh, your body slumps to the counter, head buried in your hands and she can’t help but to laugh at your hopelessness.
“That’s true,” she adds with a giggle, and you groan. “But you have me. Like I said, you’re lucky I like you so much.”
The words have your head popping up from being buried in your arms, looking at her with wide eyes to spot the smirk on her lips. “You do?” Then you gulp as you stand up straight to face her. “I figured you would be annoyed with me by now coming in and begging for help.”
“Maybe a little,” she teases. “But I understand the frustrations of trying to figure out powers. I was a young witch at one point too, you know.”
“Thanks. I really am grateful to have you, even if I’m a terrible, clumsy witch.”
She giggles, leaning forward to place her hand over your own resting against the countertop, offering a gentle squeeze. “You’ll figure it out one day.” Then she pulls away quicker than you would like, feeling your skin tingling where she touched while wondering if it’s a normal reaction, or her magic affecting you. “I’d love to chat and hear all about your troubles with that broom of yours, love, but I have a potion I need to prepare for a well-paying client.”
“Oh, sure,” you say nervously, laughing and grabbing the books you walked in with. Suddenly, you’re feeling more inspired to give it another try. “Thanks again. I’m going to work on my potions some more.”
“That’s my girl,” she encourages you with another smirk, and you swear any second your heart will burst out of your chest.
Giggling nervously, you back away from the counter, not wanting to look away from her smirk, her half-lidded eyes, or even leave her, but you know she has business to attend to. And in your mission to soak up the sight of her until next time, you clumsily bump into a dusty shelf full of crystal vials, knocking a few to the floor as the glass shatters into pieces. Instantly, you’re gasping as the sight and your mistake registers in your mind, quickly dropping to your knees to clean up the mess.
“Oh gosh, I am so sorry!”
She rushes to your side with a dustpan and wooden brush. “Hey, don’t touch that. You’ll hurt yourself.” She falls to her knees beside you, brushing the pieces in the pan after shooing your hands away.
“God, I really am the worst. Is there anything I won’t mess up?” Suddenly, the inspiration is gone upon getting a rude awakening of your own clumsy, careless self. However, she only chuckles and shakes her head.
“Accidents happen.”
“They happen so often I’m not sure they’re accidents. Maybe I’m cursed.” As you speak, your eyes grow wide as something suddenly clicks within you. “Was that potion you gave me a curse? Did you curse me?”
For a moment, she stops what she’s doing, turning her head to stare with a deadpan expression. “You think I would curse a cute little witch like you?” Then she bursts into a fit of giggles, causing you to release a hesitant laugh from your lips. “Please, there are so many more fun things I could do to you than curse you.”
“L-Like what?”
“Hm, I don’t know,” she hums. “Maybe a love potion.”
You nearly choke on your spit from her words. “Love potion?”
She can only laugh more, throwing her head back as the sweet sounds of amusement fill her tiny shop. “You’re really cute sometimes, you know that?” She rises to her feet as you do the same, watching her toss the broken glass in a bin behind the counter before placing the dustpan back in its place. “Honestly, I wouldn’t ever do anything to harm you, or trick you, or anything else to lose your trust. It’s important to me.”
You try to hide your bashful smile, but it’s no use. “Thanks.” You clutch the books in your arms tighter, looking at the now clean floor before glancing toward the spot where the broken vials used to be. “How much for those vials I broke?”
“Don’t worry about them. They’ve been on the shelf forever.”
“Are you sure? You already help me so much, and—”
“It’s fine,” she reassures you with a soft chuckle. “You… can pay me in another way.”
Hearing her suggestion, your eyes grow wide. “I’m almost scared to ask.”
She grins hearing your hesitation. “Nothing weird, you pervert, though now I am curious to what you’re thinking.” Immediately heat rushes to your face, turning away in hopes that she won’t notice. “I just meant… well, how about coffee sometime?”
“Coffee?” You slowly turn to face her, though your stomach does backflips and your heart pounds away inside your chest.
“Yeah, there’s this new shop in town and I’ve been meaning to try it. I just wanted the right person to go with.” Now she is the one to shy away. Once so confident, cocky, and playful, she now bites her lip in preparation of your answer.
“I’d love to!” You’re beaming as you answer her, and it eases the tension in her body.
“Great,” she says, making your heart want to leap out of your chest, “my treat.”
Even after all the help she’s given you, bailing you out of sticky situations, fixing your clothes and your hair, and telling you it’s no big deal for breaking her merchandise, she still wishes to treat you to coffee. You don’t want to get your hopes up and consider it a date, but from her nerves before asking you and her excitement when you agree, your heart is already convinced of it. You really do feel so lucky to have her.
***
Too bad you never made it to the coffee date you planned two nights later, considering luck just isn’t on your side and another witch stopping though town decided to curse you. It’s not your fault she was taking too long at the grocery store picking out cheeses, so you quickly snuck past her to grab some fresh gouda. You did say “excuse me” of course, but apparently she took offense to that and decided to whisper under her breath until you’ve left feeling giggly and light-headed. Gouda thought?
Now, it’s time for your date, or what you want to call a date. However, thanks to the curse, you’re too giggly to call and cancel. The last thing you want is for your witchy crush to think you’re playing a prank, or the whole idea of going out was a joke. Anytime you try to get up to go on the date, you feel all the air leave your body and you’re stuck desperately searching for the nearest surface to lay down on.
Needless to say, you’re more than bummed. Not only that, you have no idea how you’re going to tell her. She’s finally giving you a chance and you’re once again the clumsy witch that gets herself in trouble.
Still, you have to do the right thing and just be honest. Maybe you’re a clumsy witch, but you’re a truthful one, too.
“WHO IS SHE?!”
Safe to say, telling her didn’t go well. Not because she is upset at you. She made sure to show her appreciation for your honesty, but as you lean against a dusty shelf in her shop, she fumes at the news. Her hair is seconds away from standing on end at all the angry magic flowing through her veins. Any magic being within a ten mile radius could feel it, you’re sure.
“I-I don’t know,” you sigh tiredly, putting all your weight on the shelf and closing your eyes. Not before a sleepy giggle slips out, though. “Just some-” Yawn. “-witch.”
“You poor thing.” She stomps over to you, grabbing you by the waist so you lean your weight on her. With hands falling to her shoulders, you feel her support as she holds you. “You got cursed with the dizzy giggles. It’s a stupid curse young witches do, and it’s very reversible.”
“Oh, thank goodness,” you whisper, energy completely spent from the curse. You’re so thankful she isn’t upset or blaming you. This is the nicest she’s ever been, holding you to her in between the dusty shelves of her magic shop. Not to mention you can feel her magic swirling around you, almost in a protective shield only those with your gifts could see. There’s anger in the shield, yes, but there’s also concern, protection. Your witchy crush really does have your back.
“Come here, I’ll make it better.” You have no choice but to follow her voice. She gently guides you, palm against your own, to the back of the shop, into a hidden away room where she keeps all her most important spells, potions, remedies, and concoctions.
It’s very personal for a witch, and the fact that you can see her plants swirling around books and wooden shelves while inhaling the scent of rosemary, candle flickering shadows against the walls, means this witch trusts you fully. Even in your hazy state, you don’t miss the chance to lock away this memory of her.
Your body leans against a wooden desk with a black candle already lit. There’s ink and a quill on its surface with worn parchment scattered here and there. “This is actually so cute,” you mutter, eyes growing heavier before another giggle fills the small space. Meanwhile, she works at a table on the opposite side of the small, almost closet-like space. Vials clatter against one another, liquids poor and smoke billows in a poof of her powerful magic, all before she turns to you. “Drink this,” she orders, and you obey because what choice do you have? She’s never steered you wrong before. The liquid is pouring into your mouth, tasting a bit like fuzzy bubble gum. It’s sweet and you don’t mind it much.
In seconds, the haze begins to lift. Your giggles cease a moment later, and your eyes open wider as the curse lifts.
“Wow,” you exhale, shaking your head once, then twice. “You’re amazing. You knew exactly what curse and how to fix it. I’m impressed.”
“Hm,” she huffs, raising a brow and pursing her lips triumphantly. “Now, my little witch, you’re going to tell me who cursed you.”
“I said I don’t know…” You pout. You truly don’t know how to tell her. You aren’t sure why she’s so adamant on finding out. It’s not like it matters now. She came to your rescue, just like she always does. Your knight in shining armor. The thought makes your heart skip a beat in a way it never has when you’ve thought about her.
“You don’t have to.” She takes both your hands in her own, squeezing gently. “Close your eyes and think of her.”
The persuasive magic dripping in each syllable of her words gives you no choice. You’re thinking of the moment you were cursed. The grocery store. The aisle of delicious cheeses. The gouda. But then there she was. Her cart was in your way. She was on her phone, not even aware of her surroundings. If she was looking up a recipe, it would have been one thing, but she was watching a YouTuber…
“Got it!” Suddenly, her voice pulls you from your vision. Her magic is all around. It flows through you, through the room and the entire shop. It’s in her voice and the way she looks at you. This witch is so beyond powerful, you’re nearly frightened. It’s tingling, buzzing beneath your skin in a warm, comfortable reminder that she is there with you, for you. It’s a soft, calm presence that makes you feel so relaxed after feeling so sick and silly for days. You would hate to know what she makes it feel like for her enemies.
“Wow, I feel…” Her magic inside of you isn’t shy about searching around, being nosy and tugging at any feelings you might have with the crush on the witch. Not only that, but it ignites the own magic inside of you in ways you’ve never felt before. It’s hot, burning, desire flooding your body in a wave of need that shoots straight between your tights.
Her magic and your own start to play fight with each other inside of you, making you feel dizzy for completely new reasons. “I feel… odd.”
“Yeah, my magic can be pretty intense.” Intense would be an understatement. Your body feels alive in a way you’ve never felt before. An ache settles between your thighs, so wet and ready for the witch in front of you. It doesn’t help that the magic of hers is having a field day inside of you. It likes you. You can tell by the way it caresses you from the inside, making you drip against your panties for her. “I can help with that, too, if you want.”
You immediately nod. “Yes. Please. Yes.” You feel so hot. So needy. You’ve always wanted her deep down. Now that her magic knows it, it’s having its fun teasing your own magic that has rested dormant inside of you for so long. You've never felt like this. Your insides buzz. You feel nice and a little cocky and sexy and all the things the world told you someone shy and clumsy couldn't be. Her magic is pulling the confidence within you, talking to your own power, easing its wounds and softening the parts you’ve kept guarded. “I need it. I need you…”
It’s all you had to say. Her hands fall to your waist after pressing her body close to yours. Her lips find your own in seconds, a wave of heat washing over you at the moan she makes when she finally kisses you. And that’s how she kisses, and sounds, like she’s been dying for the moment ever since your clumsy ass walked into her shop.
She wastes no time slipping her hand inside your jeans after toying with the buttons. “I want to touch you,” she whispers, fingers pushing into your panties to find your clit. Without thinking, you push your jeans lower against your hips to give her access, gasping her name the moment the bliss surges to your whole body. “No one hurts my little witch, okay?”
Another gasp leaves your lips, listening to her promise as she circles your swollen, wet clit with gentle fingers. “O-Okay…” You can barely think. Her possessive tone does something to you. You want to give yourself to her. You want her protection, her magic, her everything. Arousal drips from your pussy to coat her fingers, moaning her name and rocking your hips against her motions.
“You are mine, little witch,” she nearly growls against your ear, leaning farther into you to bury two fingers inside your soaked, dripping pussy without warning. “You don’t have to worry. My magic still lingering inside of you knows what you need. I know you’re too shy to ask for it yourself so let me claim you right now.”
Your eyes screw shut, feeling a familiar tug as the heat swells between your thighs. You’re dripping as she pulls her fingers from inside you, returning to your swollen, aching clit to rub messy, wet circles into your flesh.
“I-I’m yours,” you cry out, so breathless, yet the moment overwhelms you. The pleasure swells, her magic right along with it, guiding you right over the edge of bliss. You lean into her as she tends to your clit, riding out your orgasm with hips rolling against her hand. She holds you through it all, listening to your breathy moans, the desperate whimpers. Watching your face twist in pleasure until it all becomes too much.
She’s gentle as she pulls away, pressing a kiss to your temple, then your cheek.
Then the situation dawns on you. The witch you’ve had a crush on just got you off in the back of her shop. Your heart begins racing just as it was coming down from the high. Meanwhile, she's giggling, licking her fingers, and telling you how good you taste. Maybe the curse actually killed you, because there’s no way you can believe this is your life now.
“Remember what I said, little witch.” She grins, leaning in to press her lips to yours after licking her fingers clean. “You’re mine now. No one can mess with you, or hurt you, and get away with it…”
