#all the smart people i know who are actually pleasant and well-rounded people

[clouds-of-wings]

Well, Sheldon has already learned one thing from his trip to Heidelberg before he has even left: unlike Sam, he doesn't actually need to make an effort to advance his career because he's already got the most important job skill: being personal friends with a well-connected older person in his field. With whom he became close mainly because the friend used to date his grandma. This show is too realistic occasionally.

To go off on a tangent from this, it makes me want to tear my hair out sometimes how Sheldon's development into a well-rounded individual is constantly sabotaged, sometimes by good intentions or "coddling" as he put it recently, sometimes by bullying or - most often - by lack of effort and interest from those around him. It would be VERY good for him if he had problems he couldn't solve with just his intellect (like having to actually apply for stuff like a peasant without being treated like a celebrity) and hobbies that he can't get good at by thinking really hard. He should have stuck with the violin. Or the acting club. He shouldn't have been fired from his museum "job" for making some rather harmless mistakes. He should have continued to take non-science college classes. I can't blame him for this, he's a child who's responding to what his environment rewards. The adults around him should encourage his development more. Sheldon is curious about the world, even outside of science, even the areas of life he's bad at. He could learn and develop so much if he weren't locked in this "nerd box" the whole time.

At least Mary tries to get him to have a social life, but things just never go well and the people he's around are too easy to look down on. Except for Paige, and with her he can't handle the fact that she's on the same level as him precisely because he thinks his intelligence is all that makes him special, it's what makes him him, it's the only part of him that's valued. I often feel like the writers actually undo his character development once an episode ends because they need him to be this one-sidedly intellectual person for comedic value. But I would love for him to develop other sides of himself.

I mean, come on. Child Sheldon has religious visions! He has perfect pitch and a talent for dancing! He has the craziest synaesthesia! He remembers his time in his mom's womb! Adult Sheldon is wicked funny, casually saves Lennard's life at one point, and gets positively psychedelic even on rather mild drugs. I still remember the time he dressed up as the Doppler Effect. Which, yes, is nerdy, but it also shows a sense of humor and outside-the-box thinking that isn't limited to his work. He's actually a super interesting person regardless of his IQ, and if only the development of any part of him except his intellect had been consistently encouraged when he was a child, he'd probably have a much easier time in the world. I haven't watched the later seasons of TBBT except for some clips and it seems like he actually catches up a bit thanks to Amy and his friends, but things could have been much easier and more fun for him and everyone else.

[athenodora-sulpicia-writer]

Morgan Pendragon: My Fair Maiden Pt 2

Request: Hi! i really love your morgan pendragon fanfic! can you make part 2? if thats ok. Hope you are doing well! @shobi-enzo

A/N: I really wanted to write a part two and your request has only made me want to write it quicker, so let's see what happens next with Morgan and Emmery, and how quickly will word travel of this new alliance.

Warning(s): discomfort around eating in front of others

When Morgan had dismissed everyone not even two minutes after her grand display of acceptance, many left either confused or almost troubled by what they saw.

The evening had certainly not been what anyone had expected it to be, least of all Morgan herself but she had hardly seemed startled by the sudden events, if anything she accepted them with open arms and open lips it would seem.

It wasn't even Morgan who had dismissed everyone from the meeting hall, it had actually been Vivien and the Nun sybil who Morgan kept around, they both felt that privacy was necessary.

Both already expecting that rumours would quickly spread and in Sybil's mind in particular they didn't want to add, public displays of something more sensual then the already shared kiss to reach the ears of the unwanted.

Yet even with the room now clear of all people, Morgan didn't want to pull away from that sensual kiss, she wanted it to continue forever feeling as if she'd entered heaven with the tender and firmness of the embrace her mouth had received.

She'd only pulled away when the very real and human need for air was burning away at her lungs, yet the action of pulling away was done with much disappointment.

Then as her eyes regained the ability to see clearly and the air was quickly filling her lungs, Morgan surveyed the woman before her who she now could only describe as something ethereal and other worldly, with the way that she to caught her own breath and the pink tint that now covered her cheeks.

"Now, as much as I would greatly love to continue," Morgan began, the ability to speak quickly returning to her as she gazed upon the copper haired woman standing before her, "The night has become quite late and I do believe a proper nights sleep would be prudent, we can discuss the nature of your proposed agreement in the morning."

Emmery's gaze then fell upon Morgan in an almost grateful yet bewildered look and she wasn't the only one even Morgan was shocked by the words that had just left her mouth, it was certainly the smart decision but it was quite different to what Morgan actually wanted to do, sleep being one of the last things.

"I do believe that would be prudent, My lady." Emmery spoke with a formal tone accompanying the end of her sentence with a simple curtsy towards the Pendragon royal.

"Perfect, now if you'll follow me," And then before Emmery could even respond a second time, Morgan had turned round and began walking off to the side of the hall, exiting via a side door and quickly Emmery gathered her wits and quickly followed the brunette.

Morgan lead the two of them down several corridors before stopping in front of a dark wooden door that she gestured to with her hand whilst looking at the woman standing beside her.

"This will be your room," Morgan said tilting her head to the side encouraging Emmery to open the doors to the room, which she soon realised and did as instructed.

As Emmery stepped into the room and quickly familiarised herself with the space and all its possessions, Morgan stood their watching as the woman dressed in green, gracefully walked from one side of the room to the other, every so often picking something up and looking at it thoroughly, whether it were a book she was reading the spine of or a perfume that she wished to know the scent of.

Morgan watched the woman's actions intently with a pleasant look resting upon her face, her thoughts constantly switching but each one had the same topic of focus and that was the beauty who now inhabited her castle and very soon would be her own possession.

Ten minutes later Morgan begrudgingly excused herself to retire to her own room for the night, though at first her body wouldn't follow instructions from her mind and it took her yet another minute, to get her legs to follow command and leave the room.

It wasn't even a ten second walk to Morgan's room, a purposeful decision on her part as she wanted to keep Emmery as close as she possibly could to herself but the thought of offering for them to share a room on the first night, though a certainly delicious idea to Morgan, she didn't want to risk scaring the woman away.

Morning soon rolled around the next day and for Morgan the night itself had almost been completely sleepless. Yet for Emmery sleep had come easily and a sense of comfort soon washed over her after she'd changed for the night and gotten into bed.

Now breakfast time Emmery had been instructed to quickly get dressed in a gown she had been offered from one of the servants and to immediately meet Morgan in a smaller banquet room for breakfast.

The gown Emmery now wore was a beautiful red with full sleeves and an incredibly intricate skirt. Only the scent that clung to it wasn't her own and though she'd only met the famous Morgan Pendragon yesterday she could recognise the woman's perfume lacing the garment and couldn't help but allow the scent to consume her.

When she'd arrived yesterday with her offer, she'd had little hope that Morgan would say yes. Emmery had heard stories that had reached her in the North about the new King and how he'd 'rightfully' taken the throne from his older sister.

Then from hearing this one story Emmery was eager to hear more about this sister to the King, and soon she heard all that could been known up in the North about Morgan Pendragon and her ridiculous plan had soon followed.

Emmery was quick to follow instruction and soon entered the small banquet hall, to already be greeted with Morgan's radiant face. The Lady Royal had settled on a gown of purple and a simply circlet crown of gold and Emmery couldn't help but stare intently at her beauty.

"The foods here," Morgan spoke breaking Emmery's intent stare as she gestured to the selection of foods on the table and then she continued. "Not here, Darling," then Morgan made a gesture to her own face where Emmery had been staring, purposefully adding the 'Darling' to see the reaction she would receive.

And true to what Morgan thought, she did receive a reaction from the copper haired woman, who's face quickly brightened with a blush and her eyes shied away from looking anywhere near Morgan. To this the brunette was only encouraged further as a taunting smirk rested upon her lips.

Quickly, Emmery took a seat at the table trying to recover at least some of her lost composure, using the food laid out in front of her as the perfect excuse to not have to look at Morgan.

Though the uncomfortable feeling, at the idea of eating in front of someone else, made its self apparent to Emmery, as she only allowed herself to take a bit of bread not daring to reach for the bowl of honey that sat at the centre of the table for fear of ridicule for eating something so sweet and, well, just for eating at all.

A palpable silence fell across the room and though she were momentarily distracted by collecting her own food, Morgan soon looked over to the other woman and saw the lack of food on her plate and a lack of eating said food.

"Why aren't you eating?" Morgan asked afraid there were something wrong with the food or even worse, with her. Now Emmery couldn't avoid her stare and even when she did, Morgan's piercing gaze felt like a weight hitting at the back of her head.

"I'm... I'm just not hungry," Emmery spoke her voice wavering slightly as she met Morgan's piercing blue eyes, her first words coming out as a stutter as her confidence wavered if only for a moment.

"Nonsense," Morgan quickly and dismissively ignored the copper haired woman's poor excuse, not believing what Emmery said to be the truth for even a minute.

Then Morgan began to lean across the table and took a piece of bread and tearing it in half before dipping the smallest piece into the bowl of honey, then she said "Here," and held up the piece of honey covered bread to Emmery's lips, encouraging the woman to eat.

At first Emmery refused, saying it felt childish, but when she caught on to the fact that Morgan wasn't going to back down, she soon relented and opened her mouth, a playful look of disdain playing on her features as Morgan placed the sweetened bread into the green eyed lady's mouth.

After Emmery had taken the piece of food, Morgan retracted her fingers, sticky from the honey, then slowly she placed the two digits into her mouth, tauntingly sucking them clean.

Emmery watched the Pendragon woman's little display her eyes following each movement of Morgan's fingers as she cleaned them free of the honey, her thoughts if only for a moment went to something darker and certainly not something of pleasantry for breakfast.

The two noble women finished their food in a non-awkward silence, as Emmery quickly gained confidence with eating in front of Morgan and soon she'd had enough food to keep her full until dinner. ______________________________________________________ I think this will end up being a multi part story because I have a few ideas for it and the parts are ending up being really long.

[unforth]

Oooo, can I scratch at your door like a hungry cat and yell for Dean/Cas/Jimmy? As prompt, waking up hungover/disoriented after a night out partying and puzzling out wtf is going on and who all those limbs are attached to.

always for you, hun. <3

oh and wait this is poly, and today is free day for @polyshipweek! I am totally going to pretend this is intentional. It's been so long since I've managed to do ANY prompt days, much less two for one event!

(twincest tw, incest tw, deanjimstiel, modern au, rated Mature. unedited.)

Dean woke up slowly, squinching his face to try to remember how his muscles worked. Judging by the disgusting, cotton-mouthed feel in his mouth, he was somewhere between still drunk and hungover, and judging by the roilly, crampy feeling in his stomach, he had the worst sensations of both states. The only good thing was that the bed was warm - not too hot, but definitely not cold. His body ached in pleasant, familiar ways; an unfamiliar hand rested on his hip and two bare legs were sandwiched between his knees. His memory of the previous evening was blurry, but sensation was enough to tell him that he hadn't come home alone, and whoever it was hadn't left yet.

Awesome combination.

Maybe they could wake up to round 2?

Finally, reluctantly, Dean opened his eyes.

Surprise - not his home. His vision was a little fuzzy but unless he'd developed spontaneous colorblindness, or Sam had come over in the last 24 hours and done a surprise remodeling of Dean's bedroom (which. possible.) there had never been a time when his walls were this shade of yellow and his bedding was red.

A blanket-draped mound beside him shifted, rolled a little, and made a muttering sound.

Oddly, the legs Dean could feel didn't move.

Frowning, he forced himself to consciousness enough to catalog his surroundings more thoroughly.

Unfamiliar decor: check.

Last night's one-night-stand-possibly-also-morning-after-fuck lying before him: check.

Hand on his waist, fingers curling as the person before him shifted: check.

Legs against his legs... the knees would be backward if they belonged to the person before him? No check. Definitely uncheck.

Wait...he SHOULD check.

Whatever were words?

Twisting to look behind him dislodged the hand on him, but Dean couldn't spare it any attention as he stared, wide-eyed, at the sex god lying behind him. The blankets were tucked beneath his shoulder, giving Dean a clear view of ruddy skin, morning stubble, and dark hair a mess of spikes and loose tendrils, the remnants of what must have been an actual style the previous evening. Dean was hot - he knew he was - and that he'd find a hot partner wasn't a surprise, but fucking damn, this guy was incredible.

And was only one of the two other people in the bed.

Drunk Dean had scored a threesome.

Way to hit it out of the park, me.

Dean turned back toward his other partner, and was greeted by brilliant blue eyes blinking back at him. The formerly blanket-cloaked figure was now clearly a man, propped up on an elbow, bleary gaze stunningly beautiful as he looked Dean up and down. From his sun-kissed cheeks to his dark hair to his well-past-five-o'clock shadow, he was indistinguishable from the guy lying behind Dean.

No. That couldn't be right.

Dean must be more still-drunk than he realized.

He looked back over his shoulder at hot-as-fuck dude one.

Still looked the same.

He turned back to hot-as-fuck dude two.

Also the same.

The two were so similar that if Dean didn't know better, he'd think the fucking bed had been bisected by a mirror.

But if that was the case, then I'd have been bisected by a mirror, and ew.

Though...if I was getting bisected by him...by THEM...at least I'd die happy.

No wait, what the fuck, brain no.

"Morning, Dean," said sex god the second and hell that voice was incredible, raspy and deep.

"There are two of you?" Dean managed weakly. Very smart. Great job. A+. Definitely perfectly on track to get fucked by the gorgeous guys...the gorgeous identical twins???...again.

"There are," muttered the same voice from behind him. "Is that a problem?"

"You didn't seem to mind last night," said the one in front him. "I'm Cas, by the way."

"Not even when he was dick-deep in me," added the other one. "And - Jimmy."

"Which is honestly unusual," admitted...hell, Dean couldn't even keep track. They traded dialogue between them so easily that he felt like he was in the world's best fucking echo chamber.

Fucking echo chamber? A chamber of fucking echos? An echo that fucks?

Oh hell, I am definitely still too drunk for this.

"That sounds hot," Dean muttered in a low rumble. "Wish I could remember."

"Really?" Whichever one had spoken sounded genuinely surprised.

"I mean, we could arrange a replay if you mean it..."

"You don't know how fricken rare it is to find a partner who is truly cool with it... with us..."

"I'll own, I was a little worried you were only so into it because you were so smashed that sometimes you seemed to think you were seeing double."

"Waking up with you still here is. reassuring."

"And--"

"Stop talking," Dean groaned. It was too much goddamn noise, beautiful, spectacular, tempting, perfect noise. "So, you fuck each other."

"Frequently."

"And...who fucked me?"

"Both of us," came the smug answer.

"And you're cool with, uh, 'replaying' that this morning?"

"If you are," they agreed simultaneously.

"Oh, hell yeah," said Dean. "Hell, if you want, maybe we can put this show into syndication..."

The laughter that surrounded him was gorgeous.

"It's a little early for commitment..." allowed...Jimmy? Maybe? Was Jimmy the one behind him?

"...but I think I speak for both of us when I say, there's at least a chance for renewal..."

And four hands enveloped Dean, touching his face, his back, his belly, his ass.

"Fuck yeah...let's get this show on the road..." he groaned. His half-drunk hangover was suddenly a world away.

"On one condition," said maybe-Jimmy.

"Anything," Dean said breathily.

"Drop the episode jokes..." maybe-Cas said.

"So...this gig has jumped the shark?"

"Just. Stop. Talking."

"Make me."

And they did.

And, fuck, was Dean sure he was in for the run of his life with these two...

(Oops this got long. *sweat drop*)

(send me a ship and a very short prompt like a genre/trope/kink/setting and I'll supposedly write a three sentence ficlet that'll actually be way longer than three sentences.)

[aureatescars]

Sasha gives a small snort of amusement as he wheels himself past Leon, but doesn't comment beyond a wry. "Unlikely." He isn't entirely certain as to why, but at this point he doubts there is anything Leon could do to have him feel the need to tell him to leave, after all pointing a gun at him — multiple times — wasn't enough to have Sasha do so.

When they make their way outside, Sasha turns his face to the sun and closes his eyes for a moment to appreciate it's warmth. Considering the season it is surprisingly pleasant as they make their way outside. It's easy to maneuver the new wheelchair, easier than the ones he's been provided during his stay here. Stil, he hands his bag over to Leon when he offers to carry it, appreciating the way it gives him more range of movement when it is not sitting in his lap.

Wheeling over to the car Leon points out Sasha takes the vehicle in with open curiousity, taking in the broad doors, which would make it easier to maneuver the wheelchair close to the car. As he pulls at the handle to open the passenger side door, he wonders if it's part of the reason Leon chose to buy this car, or if it is mere coincidence.

"So, I suppose he never said anything about it also getting us back from there? Smart man." He answers, but it's mostly teasing. At first glance he can't find anything wrong with their ride either, but he's well aware that there are people who would take advantage of a foreigner's need for a car and tell him just about anything to make a quick buck.

"Can't get much worse than last time," he adds then, referring to the bumpiest of rides he's ever had, mostly owing it to his own driving skills, but then again, he had never driven a tank before then. He still can't quite believe he actually got that thing moving in the first place during the fight with those... Titans as Leon called them.

He pushes the memory aside and focuses on the task at hand. With the door opened Sasha can align the chair with the side of the car and grasp for purchase at the seat and door to pull himself up. He makes certain to put at least some of his weight onto his legs, tries to use their muscles as the doctors adviced him to occassionally try and see if there is any change at all. But he already knows today isn't a good day for it, since he feels little beside a dull throb at the base of his spine as he tries to move.

Sasha can hear Leon move round the back, stowing away their bags with quick movenents. He could wait for Leon to come help, to offer a steadying hand or even to lift some of his weight as Sasha climbs in, but pride has him grit his teeth even as he feels himself slip and he is forced to balance himself out fully with his arms and back after all.

The dark t-shirt he is wearing bunches uncomfortably around his biceps as he flexes his muscles and hoists himself up, telling him that the physical therapy at least did pay off in some regard. It's not as taxing as it was a few weeks ago to hold his own weight up, but there is still a slight furrow to his brow as he thinks about how this will be his life from now on; how he will only ever sit on the passenger's side from now on...

Leon's comment pulls him from his thoughts and Sasha meets it with an amused huff as he leans back into the seat, meeting Leon's eyes with a raised brow. "Watching me get in and out of this thing is going to get old very fast." He warns, but can't help the slight upwards curl of his lips either. He gives a small shrug. "But it is progress, I suppose."

When Leon joins him in the car Sasha is briefly surprised by how relaxed he already feels; how normal and even right this seems to him. As if they're just two friends on a trip, and he supposes they are now. Friends. Even though not so long ago he had considered Leon an enemy, and an annoyance at that.

If someone told him during the civil war he'd actually look forward to spending time with Leon in an enclosed space he'd likely dismissed them outright, but now...

"Sure," he says in answer to Leon's words and then begins telling him where to head next as Leon puts the car in drive, only belatedly realizing just what Leon means when he says these things. It's the first time Leon even alluded to anything concerning his life or work. Aside from that first time they've not talked about what happened before at all, not about the war, or the Plaga, or anything of that magnitude. Sasha knows little more than his name.

Well, that's not entirely true. Sasha knows Leon has a dry, at times even morbid sense of humour and that he has a thing for hospital pudding apparently. He also realized sometime during Leon's fourth or fifth extended visit that he's exceedingly loyal, even though Sasha isn't entirely sure he deserves that loyalty, nor the care Leon continuously gives, not when the only thing Sasha offered in turn were mediocre desserts that come with his meals.

It must be guilt, he thinks not for the first time, but once again can't bring himself to care. It makes all of this easier to bear, to have someone at his side throughout this, no matter how little they know of eachother. He doesn't dare think about how he'll manage once Leon leaves, doesn't want to think beyond any day but the current one, because in truth he doesn't yet know how to consider any future at all.

Ah, but how do they say?

It is what is.

And at the moment, Leon complaining about rush hour traffic and someone cutting him off is a welcome distraction from the tight feeling in his chest, especially when Sasha mumbles: "That wouldn't have happened in that tank." And his heart gives a confusing little flutter when Leon laughs.

When the day of leaving finally comes, Sasha finds himself oddly reluctant to go. Not because he particularly likes his current surroundings — in fact he cannot wait for a change of scenery — but here he has had routine, certainty. After the worst of the swelling went down and the wound healed over to a point of being considered little more than a prominent scar and tender skin he was assigned a rather strict schedule of therapy by his own wishes, both physical and psychological and the days began to blurr into hours upon hours of pushing himself to his limits to regain at least some function of his legs and moments of despair, realizing he would never walk again like he did before.

Both of these things were regarded with worry by his nurse and doctor, and both advised him on taking it slow, on not overexerting himself, for it could worsen his condition rather than further his recovery.

But because of it, or maybe despite it, he made more progress than anyone thought possible, given the severity of his injury and while Sasha knows he should be grateful for the fact he can keep himself upright at all, can even take a few steps on a good day, he cannot quite fight down the utter despair that grips him whenever even just getting dressed leaves him winded and aching.

He's heard the word miracle thrown about concerning the way his nerves knitted themselves back together well enough for him to feel anything below the spinal injury, which still sits much higher than one would think given that he retained feeling in his upper body and limbs without fail. (Although there was a rather embarrassing incident where he went through panic attack in the middle of the night after waking up to his left arm feeling numb after having slept on it for too long, thinking his condition to be worsening.)

Strangely, the doctors aren't entirely sure why his legs are so much worse off, but with everything in mind, especially that he could have died, it is a small price to pay that feeling in his legs remains muted at best... or so he is told. And while he thinks the doctor meant it in a reassuring way, it only deepened the pit in his stomach. He's lucky to be crippled in this way only, lucky to be able to move at all. It could be worse. So much worse. It's a surprise to anyone that he is capable of moving around on his own.

It doesn't change that every day feels like a new battle of its own, the outcome of which affected by his mood which seems to travel up and down a scale. Weirdly enough he is almost grateful for days were the aching is worse, since it makes him feel ...more of himself. Against all advice on the contrary he foregoes his medication on these days, grateful for anything beyond numbness in his legs after sometimes going days without any feeling at all.

How much he feels from the chest down is vastly dependant on how he is feeling on every given day, and sometimes, in his darkest hours, he almost wishes for the Plaga to return, for a true miracle to rid him of this aching or the numbness to make him whole again, dark and twisted as the thought may be.

He hasn't told anyone about this. Of course not, the doctors would think him insane and Leon—Well, who says that afterwards the next time he visits wouldn't entail him bringing his gun with him after all.

But then again, he is maybe the biggest surprise: Leon has been there throughout it all, the bad and the worse and while he wasn't there for the very worst of it —as Sasha managed to hide the panic attacks and his breakdowns so far — he has commented on Sasha looking like shit the next day each time without fail, and somehow, it always helps to lighten his mood.

Sasha cannot put into words how grateful he is for Leon's mere presence at the hospital, which has become a fixture nearly every day now. He hasn't quite found a means to thank him beyond giving him every dessert that comes with his meals just to see him smile and offer a dry comment in return, but he hopes that one day he will think of something.

Sasha craves these moments most of all. They adds a sense of normalcy to his fucked up life. They quieten his thoughts, chase away the aches of his body and his mind whenever he huffs out a laugh at one of Leon's oneliners—

—The nurse commenting on his solemn mood suddenly startles him from his thoughts and Sasha realizes he has been quiet for quite some time, the pen he is holding hovering over the last line to be signed before he can leave. He looks up at her and apologizes, and he knows her well enough by now to recognize the look of genuine concern on her face. However, before she can say anything else to him, or he can offer any reassurance in turn, the door opens and Sasha turns his head towards it, smiling when he finds Leon greeting him with a small wave of his hand before pushing in the wheelchair he agreed to pick up for him.

It hasn't quite occured to Sasha yet that he finds himself smiling more often at Leon than he does for any other reason and so he can't place the look the nurse gives him after he quickly signs off on the last of the papers before handing them back to her.

He does catch the slight upwards curl of her lips as if she knows something that he doesn't, but beyond a furrow of his brow there isn't much time to do anything before she wishes him all the best and then says her goodbyes to both of them.

Leon's words pull him from his confusion and he shifts to pull his legs over the edge of the bed with one hand curling into the fabric of his pants. He leans forward to grab his shoes from the floor to put them on, surpressing a grunt of discomfort as he straightens himself up again.

"More than you can imagine," he says and means it, even though seeing the wheelchair, his wheelchair, infront of him after he is done with his shoes still makes a lump form in his throat.

Until now it seems he has existed in a form of limbo, but now reality comes knocking at last. The rest of his life is ahead of him, uncertain and daunting.

He swallows thickly, then inhales and exhales slowly before reaching for the chair and pulling it up beside the bed more securely to be able to maneuver himself into it.

He's done so over and over with other wheelchairs issued by the hospital over the past weeks, but its immediately clear that this one was specifically made for him, fitting and accommodating him far better than any of the others could, taking some pressure off his injury by the way the seat is cushioned.

The sense of relief that comes next surprises him. And he finds himself thinking, that maybe doing this isn't as daunting after all.

He looks up at Leon and once again finds himself smiling. "Thank you," he says, as he has done many a time before and still it doesn't feel adequate in light of everything Leon has done for him. He wonders sometimes if his staying, his spending time with Sasha is motivated by guilt, but whatever the reason, and selfish as the thought may be, he hopes it lasts for a little while longer.

"Come on," he says and has to clear his throat to keep the waver out of his words. "I believe you still owe me a drink."

[strawberri-blonde]

Lip - Eli Moskowitz

Summary: Kyle picks on Eli declaring that no one would ever kiss his lip. You prove him wrong.

Warning: bullying, cursing, and kissing

this is part one of a two, three part series

Masterlist

You let out a sigh of frustration as you flipped through your biology book trying to understand the basics of anatomy but nothing seemed to stick. Closing the book to relieve some stress, that’s when you leaned back in the blue chair and closed your eyes. As your vision held onto the black that resigned behind your eyelids, your ears traveled along the library expecting to be greeted by a silence whisper; however you were so wrong.

“We’ll take a look at this.” Instantly your eyes shot open once you heard the voice that caused you such disgust. “If it isn’t the freak himself.” Furrowing your eyebrows, you were quick to standing up, leaving your bookbag on the table to inspect who Kyler and his goons were terrorizing this time. “What? Even your friends left you because you’re nothing but a freak, lip.” Dread filled your soul as you rounded the corner to see Kyler gripping onto Eli’s chin, laughing in his face causing tears to form in his eyes. What made it even worse is that Brucks and the other goon chuckled at the boy even more. “I mean you’ll never get a girlfriend let alone anyone to even think about kissing you.”

Tightening your fist to your side, you let the anger set in as you thought of all the times Eli has helped you out by giving you the answer on a test or when he’d smile your way, even when he thought you went looking. He was just this nice guy who really didn’t deserve the crap that Kyler and his friends threw his way and he wasn’t ugly. You didn’t know why people thought the mark above his lip made him that way cause they were so wrong. “Kyler.” As your voice rang in the boys ears. The older boy let Eli go causing the boy to back up but Bruck grabbed his arms keeping him in place. “Get your pathetic excuse for friends and leave him alone.”

“We’ll look at that.” Kyler laughed out making the boys snicker. “Maybe the freak does have someone crushing on him.” Rolling your eyes, you strolled over to them pushing, Bruck off on the Moskowitz boy.

“Oh don’t be jealous Kylie.” The boy sneered at the nickname you’ve given him over the years. “It’s not my fault I don’t date losers.” Wrapping an arm around Eli’s waist pulling yourself into his body, the boy began to turn bright red being in your presence. He had the biggest crush on you but of course you had no idea.

Kyler and his boys laughed out in disbelief at what they were seeing. They couldn’t believe that one of the hottest girls at West Valley High School was clinging to this freaks arm. “Oh come on Y/n. You can’t be serious. I mean he’s a freak.” Feeling Eli wince from the harsh words, you rubbed his back and glared at the older boy with the upmost hatred.

“Oh I’m serious, Kylie.” Moving to stand in front of Eli, you moved away from his side but continued the physical contact, by grabbing his hand; holding it behind your back. “If you think I’d rather kiss, a loud mouth asshole who reeks of axe body spray then a cute guy who is ridiculous smart and has amazing sweaters.” You turned to Eli offering him a smile. “That I’d like the borrow by the way.” Blushing again, Eli looked down at his feet making you smirk at yourself for causing this reaction. Turning back to the goons, you continued. “Then you have to be more stupid than I’d already excepted.”

Letting out a deep huff, Kyler stepped closer to you making it so his chest was touching yours. “We’ll, I don’t think you’d actually do it.”

You let go of Eli’s hand to push the boy off of you and moved to the lighter skinned boys side. “Oh I would.”

“Well, I don’t believe you.” Gritting your teeth at his words, you felt Eli grab your hand in his which didn’t really settle your nerves but the feeling of his soft skin touching yours was definitely pleasant. Clicking your tongue against your teeth, not sparring Kyler or his friends anymore attention you moved your left hand to cup Eli’s face still holding onto his much larger hand into yours. Caressing his lips with your thumb, instantly he went to pull away from you, thinking you were going to pick on him as well but you did the complete opposite. With kind eyes you pulled his attention towards you once again. As his ocean eyes lingered into yours you motion to his lips, causing nerves to spread through you both like a wild fire. Swallowing the last bit of your pride, you stood on your tip toes and pressed a kiss to his scar that resigned just above his top lip.

Both of you froze for a moment not believing, that you had actually just kissed him. But as you got used to the rough texture of the scar, Eli moved his lips upwards onto yours causing a squeal to escape from your throat. Hearing the high pitch sound leave your mouth, Eli backed off quickly instantly causing your lips to turn cold missing the contact. “I’m sorry.” Without giving you time to respond, the boy grabbed his book bag and took off.

“We’ll look at that.” Kyler laughed along with his friends. “The freaks gets a freebie and runs away.”

Pushing past the goons, “shut up.” You mumbled out before grabbing your bag and chase after the sweet boy with the scarred lip.

part two red faces, part three funko pop

Hoped you guys liked it ~ Caroline

[olivia-anderson-fanfic]

soulmate au?????

Soulmate Au where things that people love/hate appear tattooed on their soulmate’s body. If they love it it’ll be on their front, and if they hate it it’ll appear on their back. The more important it is the closer it is to the heart. They can also move around/disappear over time.

Tim Drake is two years old when he receives his first soulmarks. There are two: the names Sabine Cheng and Tom Dupain are found in elegant script over his heart.

He was alone when he’d found it, attempting to learn how to button up his shirt, and they’d sprung from his skin. He didn’t bother crying. He’d long since lost hope that someone would come for him if he did.

Instead, he’d waited for a maid to come into the room on her rounds and called her over.

The woman had smiled kindly as she explained soulmarks. How they were actually a good thing. How they meant that he was going to fall in love one day and one day he could get married! Like his mommy and daddy!

He’d seen how his mom and dad were sometimes. He wasn’t all that impressed.

Tim decided that the whole ‘soulmate’ thing could wait. He had a shirt to learn how to button.

~

On the other side of the world, however, Marinette Dupain Cheng is born without any tattoos on her body. Her parents don’t think much of it. She was just older than her soulmate, then. Or maybe she didn’t have one. That was fine.

But then, three years later, a computer appeared over her heart.

Marinette didn’t even notice until she was pulling off her shirt for a bath.

She hadn’t been shocked or scared like Tim had been, instead she’d beamed and waddled over to her mother with the widest grin on her face.

“Maman! Maman! Look! I have a soulmark!”

Sabine had smiled and turned to look but, much to Marinette’s confusion, it quickly morphed into an anxious expression.

Then her mother brought the smile back and she figured it must have been her imagination. The woman had reached out to ruffle her hair.

Marinette had finished getting ready and gotten in the bath, and her mother looked her over for a soulmark as she cleaned her. But there wasn’t one. There wasn’t one on her back and, outside of the one that had just formed, there wasn’t one on her front.

Then what was going on? Even abused kids tended to have their parent’s names somewhere on their bodies. But there was nothing.

The next guess was that her soulmate’s parents were dead. Usually, orphans had their housemates’ names on them, so the kid would have to be on the streets. Could a street kid really get enough access to a computer that it appears over their heart?

Sabine finished toweling off her daughter and pressed a kiss to her head after pulling her shirt on.

“Want to watch Pere bake some?”

The little girl’s eyes lit up and she nodded.

~

Whoever Tim’s soulmate was, they were really good at making friends. His chest was littered with names by the end of their first year of school.

And then there was one name on his back, right over his heart: Chloe Bourgeois. He frowned when he saw it.

For the first time since his first soulmark had appeared, he found himself curious about what was going on.

He pulled out his computer and looked up the name, not expecting to find much.

But, it turned out he did. After running an article through google translate (which didn’t work great) he managed to gather that she was the daughter of the mayor of Paris.

So... his soulmate was French.

(Unless they just had a vendetta against a random 3-year-old. Unlikely, though.)

He pulled up a new tab. It never hurt to learn a new language.

~

Their likes and dislikes slowly cropped up on their bodies as time went on.

Tim had smiled despite himself when he saw the pictures cropping up. A whisk was found on his shoulder, and then a video game console popped up on his stomach, and then a sewing needle and buttons could be seen under their parent’s names. On his back, he could find what appeared to be homework and broccoli. Whoever his soulmate was, their life seemed quaint and pleasant.

Marinette had been happy to see all the little things popping up over herself as well. A circus tent on the sole of her foot, a skateboard on her neck, a camera by the computer. On her back, she could see what looked like playing cards. She thought all their hobbies sounded cute (if a bit random). She was just concerned about the distinct lack of names on her body; she hoped that they were at least getting enough social interaction.

~

When she was twelve, it finally happened: a name appeared!

She stared at the script that had displaced the computer and her eyebrows knit together.

Batman.

Maybe a pet’s name? Human names tended to give a first and last name, so...

She typed it into her phone to try and translate it to French and her eyes widened when it actually gave information on someone in this place called Gotham.

A vigilante?

She laid back in her bed and frowned to herself.

In order for a person to show up as a name, there had to be a personal connection. If there wasn’t, like a celebrity crush, it would show up as a picture. But this was text, so…

Well, she hoped that her soulmate was safe.

Over time, more names appeared. They were all just as odd.

Nightwing?

Batgirl?

A simple google search showed they were vigilantes, too. She frowned slightly.

As long as they were okay, she supposed she should just be happy that they were talking to good people.

Besides, being friends with vigilantes seemed kind of cool. She could understand the appeal. She wished that Paris had something like that.

~

When he was fifteen a polka-dotted yoyo appeared over his heart, displacing their family’s names slightly. He stared at the yoyo for a minute in the mirror and then snickered to himself.

“Damn. They must really like yoyos.”

He laughed to himself and glanced at his back to see if anything changed, and was surprised to find that Chloe’s name had been moved away to make room for…

Was that a butterfly?

“And hate butterflies, apparently.”

~

She stared at the tiny bird over her heart.

Computers, skateboards, circuses, photography, and… birdwatching?

Whoever her soulmate was, their hobbies had range.

~

Tim had been changing out of his Robin costume when the names started disappearing.

Panic filled him. He’d heard before that, when your soulmate dies, your tattoos start to disappear.

But a few stayed, as did their hobbies.

He looked over the remaining names.

Their parents were still there, right next to the yoyo. Their family life was okay…

He stared at the other name and his eyebrows knit together.

Who names their kid Chat Noir?

He shook his head slightly. Maybe his soulmate had a black cat and wasn’t good at naming things.

Tim checked his back, mostly out of habit more than anything, and frowned to himself.

The butterfly had disappeared, and in its place were two names:

Lila Rossi and Hawkmoth.

~

She grinned as she twirled around in the dress she’d made. She was rather proud of it, it had a nice red and black color scheme.

She started taking it off, only to realize something.

Everything was gone.

She looked over her skin, running her fingers over where all the tiny tattoos had once been and felt tears form in her eyes.

Her soulmate was…

And then, slowly but surely, something appeared on her chest.

She wiped her eyes and looked at it, only to frown.

A gag gun that said ‘BANG’.

Nerves rattled around inside her. Something was definitely wrong, she could tell. But how could she fix it?

Maybe she could convince Master Fu to give her the horse miraculous? She could drop into Gotham as Ladybug for a little while and check up on them? Sure, she had no idea who her soulmate was, but she knew who they hung out with. She should at least make sure they’re okay.

A few hours later she was dumped unceremoniously onto a Gotham rooftop.

She looked up at the portal Master Fu had dropped her through and made a rude hand gesture, then pushed herself to her feet. She walked to the edge of the roof, dusting herself off as she went, and looked over the side.

Wow, this place definitely looked like the most dangerous city in the world. She could see a guy holding a gun while walking an old lady across the street it was so bad.

She pulled out her phone and looked up a picture of the vigilantes that she’d seen on her chest. Nightwing… Batgirl…  Batman…

Man, did they have to wear such dark colors? It was night! How dare they do the smart thing and make it hard to see them!

Fine. Time to wonder around and pray, she supposed.

She had been considering detransforming and seeing if she could buy a coffee when she heard a click behind her head.

Ah. Fuck.

~~~

Part 1/21, 34k words in all

Next

The version on AO3 was edited by me to make it better (in my opinion) but this is the original version if you'd prefer that

You didn’t really give me any specifics so I’m sorry if this didn’t turn out like you wanted. You were probably expecting fluff but uhhhhhh,,, don’t know why you were asking ME for that --

[maemi324]

Mafia

Hey there friends! It’s been a hot minute since I’ve actually posted something. 

Let me just say, Happy Holidays! I hope you are having a wonderful and safe holiday. 

This fic was inspired and written for @butterscotchbaku​ and @in-this-house-we-stan-izuku​ based on some requests I had written in, as well as just ideas passed back and forth. 

I hope you two are having a wonderful day and may that continue into the new year! Thank you for all you’ve written and done!

Pairing: Izuku/Fem.Reader

Warnings: mentioned beatings, mentioned assault but nothing described in detail. all very vague. uhh violence, or hinted at violence. Edited only by me, so i may have missed something.

 I think that’s it. 

I hope you two enjoy this! 

Cigarette smoke hung heavily in the room, walls filled with generic knickknacks and warm colored walls gave the meeting a false sense of pleasantness. To any unsuspecting person, this was any other meeting room, one long table with rounded edges and somewhat padded chairs, the head of the table having the one most plush. 

Hell, even the people occupying them would have anyone turning up their nose in disinterest. Nothing but business men and women in dark, smart looking suits.

But you knew better. Sitting at the head was the infamous Izuku Midoriya, known under the name of Deku, direct descendent of the greatest Mafia leader Japan had ever seen; All Might. 

And here you sat, comfortably in Izuku’s lap, your temple pressed against his neck as you listened to his voice rumble on towards the other members. You were hardly paying attention to what was being said as you glanced around the room to the others.

Katsuki Bakugou- Dynamite, or TNT if you were feeling particularly cheeky. He was head of interrogation, finding out who knew what and definitely had too many ways of making people talk, and only one sure fire way of keeping them quiet. 

Todoroki Shouto- Bakugou’s counter in interrogation. He was mainly there to keep Bakugou from killing every target. He could control his temper, sure, but Todoroki added a sense of cold unease to their targets. He was effective against the folks who didn’t rise to Bakugou’s jabs and threats. He tapped the ashes of his cigarette into the small dish provided.

Kirishima Eijirou- Red Riot-another strong man and a third in the interrogation squad. He kept Bakugou from grousing the entire time, as well as leveling the two tempers in the group. Though he was a strong man, he was also incredibly sweet. You recalled that, while dealing with some unsavory characters that had children- typically rescuing the children at the other parents pleading- Red Riot was a favorite with them, his bright smile and charm keeping them distracted as Bakugou and Todoroki dealt with the problem.

Iida- Ingenium-was the getaway driver, best out of the best. He somehow always managed to get them out as quickly as possible while still following the law. It made losing the police all the easier. Ochaco Uraraka, or Uravity, was the treasurer, in charge of keeping account of all of the mafia’s funds, who owed them money and why. For more problematic clients, she was a stickler down to the very last penny. 

There were others, but those were just the ones in the room at the moment. You sighed softly, adjusting in Izuku’s lap. Someone at the end of the table was pleading for something. You could tell by the unimpressed glare on Izuku’s face that it was going south for whoever this was- a blond man with an inferiority complex for certain.

You glanced down at your left hand, engagement ring shimmering brightly despite the warm fluorescent lights. It wasn’t very large, an emerald surrounded by diamonds. He’d only given it to you a few days ago. On a rare day, you were able to go out with him in public-the benefit of a mask and some contacts while on the job- you had decided to flit about a few museums. The ring caught your eye immediately, the prized possession of some rich so and so, dating back who knows how long in their family.

Maybe it was because of how brightly it matched your lovers eyes, but the ring called to you. You didn’t mention a peep to your lover however. You knew he would have taken it right then and there. You rather liked coming to this museum, with added security after a robbery, you would have to frequent it less.

Your lovestruck fool of a man decided to do it anyway. He’d said that the plan went off without a hitch, though the smudges of dirt and a bit of blood- not his own- said otherwise. At the time, you had to question why, sure he’d robbed plenty of other places, gifts for trips that took longer than expected, but a place that you favored going?

“I’m just crazy about you doll, You deserve the best of the best. The way you eyed that ring, I knew there’d be nothing else that would be more perfect for you. But, it’s not just because you fancied it that I got it for you. We’re together, we always will be...but I want to make it more official. I wanna be yours forever, and I want you to be mine. What do you say doll? Marry me?”

You couldn’t say yes fast enough.

A gentle nudge to your shoulder brought you out of your daze. You looked up to the love of your life.

“What do you think dollface? What should we do with Monama?” 

You sat up in his lap, watching as the blond shivered in his spot, a smirk on your fiance’s face hidden by his fist as he leaned against it.

“Monama, what is it he did again?”

“Well Doll, he owes us money. He swears he’s good for it, but this is the third time he hasn’t been good for it.What should we do with this foolish, foolish man?”

Monama...ah yes now you remembered him! A little wanna be Mafia leader who went under when he ran out of money. He placed bets with other rival gangs against Deku, proclaiming that not only could he and his group get it done, but get it done better. 

There were times when they had, though just barely. It was hardly enough to keep a betting pool aimed against Deku however. Everyone but him seemed to know it. The overconfidence in his group and underestimating Deku lead to his downfall when Deku pulled off an impossible mission without even having to undo his tie.

When these gangs came to collect, he begged Deku to allow him and his group safety, help paying off the debt. Deku agreed, but in return, he had a year to earn the money back, only adding interest when the blond began getting too cocky. 

“I just need a little more time! A day, give me a day!” he pleaded, voice shrill and desperate. 

You winced, brows scrunched in annoyance.

Honestly, you didn’t care for Monama, and weren’t all too excited for his continued presence in the gang. You looked down at your nails idly.

“Have Dynamite follow him for a day then. If whatever magic he seems to think he can pull off, doesn’t in fact pull off, then he can have fun beating the change out of him. Or, whoever he’s seeing to get the money can pay it” You figured, even though he’d be annoyed at the idea of tailing that worm, Bakugou would have a good time beating it out of him.

Izuku gave Bakugou a look, who only snarled in response. A tilt of his head and Bakugou got up from his chair, footsteps heavy as he grabbed Monama by the arm, “Let’s get this over with you pathetic extra,” rolling his eyes as Moana sagged in slight relief, gratitude spilling from his lips.

Izuku held up a hand, “Let Red Riot escort him out for now. We have some business that you’d like to be here for I’m sure”

Bakugou’s eyes widened a fraction, a grin making its way onto his face as he shoved Monama towards Kirishima.

As Bakugou took his seat and Kirishima exited with Monama in tow, another man entered the room, a small man with purple hair. You recognized him as Mineta’s father. His son’s invention, a sticky substance that rendered anything in its grip as good as stuck, was what kept him in the group. What had him on thin ice however, was his treatment of the women in the group, all things he learned from his father. Izuku left Iida to beat it out of him however he saw fit. All it would take is one more strike. 

His father, however, was all out of strikes. The way he leered at you and the other girls had you all walking on eggshells around him. You only came forward to Izuku about it after you and the others had confided in one another. He had groped at you after a party the gang had thrown. It was the first and last time he’d ever made a physical move towards you.

You could feel the man's lecherous eyes on you, making you lean into Izuku, his body blocking the man's gaze. 

While you told him your story, Izuku’s face had remained calm, though the cup he had been holding shattered into thousands of pieces. He knew there were rumors about the senior, but to have it be found out as fact, and not just rumors from other gangs... He was furious, you knew that, and you knew somehow, someway, that Minoru senior would pay.

“Doll, why don’t you go talk to YaoMomo about wedding dresses, hm?” You nodded your head, though hesitant to leave the safety and comfort of his lap. You knew you were safe with Izuku by your side, but that didn’t mean you were comfortable passing by this...Disgusting being. His gaze softened and he hooked his arm around yours, escorting you personally towards the door.

Izuku tilted your head into a sweet kiss, his thumb rubbing comforting circles onto your side.

Izuku opened the door for you, but before you left, he kissed you again, deeper, sweeping away the sickly feeling of being watched with his tongue as it danced with yours, one hand cupping your jaw to pull you close.

He pulled away all too soon for your tastes, hand leaving your jaw, “Actually, maybe talk with her about the cake too, this may take a bit...” he turned away from you, eyes turning cold and jaded as the door closed.

“It’s about to get ugly in here”

[a-simple-imagine]

Look Pretty

Requested by anonymous: “Would you please write something with Hermione x reader where they are at slug horns party and the reader is trying to help Hermione escape Cormac and the two are dancing around their feelings for each other or something?”

Pairing: Hermione Granger x fem!reader

Words: 4k

A/N - I’m not sure how i feel about this one tbh but I hope you enjoy it

You had never been one for parties; large social gatherings where people just stood around and talked? What exactly was fun about that. You'd much rather spend your evening in the common room but alas you find yourself stood before a full-length mirror inspecting your outfit for any imperfections. It was considered a privilege to be invited to Slughorn's Christmas party; it was only for esteemed guests and high achieving students. Each student was also supposed to bring a date; this could be anyone the student saw fit. High achiever or not. After some convincing from Hermione, you had agreed to attend the party but now your nerves had you feeling like you could throw up. Outfit number five was beginning to look worse by the second and you wanted nothing more than to just snuggle up in your bed. Y/E/C eyes stare back at you and a defeated sigh slips past your lips. How you wished Ginny or Hermione were here to fight your doubts with their uplifting compliments. Maybe you should change? The first outfit you tried on had been nice.

"How much longer are you going to be?" An impatient Harry Potter calls out to you; it was surprising that his voice carried so well from the common room. Then again, it was rather quiet this evening. With one final glance over your chosen items of clothing, you reluctantly commit to outfit number 5. With a quick spray of something flowery as a finishing touch, you descend the stairs to join your fellow wizard.

"Calm down, Harry. I didn't know you were in such a rush."

"I'm not," He turns around just as you reach the bottom step, his smile beginning to fade. "I just never expected you to take so long- you look nice."

"Really?" You look over yourself with a grimace. It didn't feel nice. "I'm not too sure I like it anymore. Maybe I should have worn something else."

"I honestly think you look lovely," He assures you with the kindest of smiles. Such a genuine boy, you have no reason to doubt him.

"Then thank you," It was hard not to feel a little embarrassed. "You look... rather dashing yourself, Mr. Potter," His dress robes were nothing to write home about but they suited him well; sleek black paired with a reddish shirt and a black bow tie.

"Shall we head out?" Harry holds out his arm in offering to which you gladly accept. Looping your arm through his before leaving the Gryffindor common room together.

It was a pleasant evening as the two of you wandered through the corridors. The quiet corridors a stark contrast to the normal hustle and bustle of Hogwarts School for witchcraft and wizardry. You rather liked how peaceful it seemed. The looks of strangers, on the other hand, you didn't appreciate. Don't these students have better things to do?

"So who did you end up inviting to the party?" Harry asks, relieving you of your increasing self-consciousness that came with the silence.

"No one," Your first choice hadn't been available so why bother with another. It just seemed like an unnecessary task. "Everyone had dates already- Who did you ask?"

You knew whoever it was they were just a substitute for who he really wanted to go with. Otherwise, he probably wouldn't have agreed to let you tag along. "Luna,"

"Loony Lovegood?" It was a nickname that often drifted around the castle for the unique Ravenclaw. And not always with the nicest intentions but she welcomed it like it wasn't supposed to be an insult which you found rather intriguing. "interesting choice."

"I wasn't sure who to ask, honestly." He defends his choice. Harry Potter was the chosen one, he could have invited just about any girl to this party and they probably would have said yes. Not to mention that you had overheard that Romilda Vane was hoping he would ask her. She's basically obsessed with him. "And she's my friend so why not?"

"Oh it wasn't an insult- I actually adore how weird she is," Perhaps Harry had been wise to bring his eccentric friend; she'd surely liven up any dull party with her unique tales. "She's like the perfect dinner guest."

You look to him from the corner of your eye wondering what exactly he is thinking. You probably would have asked him if he hadn't already arranged to go with Luna. "You should have just asked Hermione," Harry says after a moment bringing a sour taste to your mouth. Your relationship with Hermione could be easily summed up in one word; Complicated. She was one of your best friends and you wouldn't change that for the world but you also couldn't deny that you had begun harbouring feelings for her as well. "She would have said yes."

With a heavy sigh, you let your arm drop from around his. From the moment you heard about the Christmas party, you had been under the assumption that you'd go with Hermione But when the time came to actually ask her, Harry informed you that she had a date already. Which was fine. She was allowed to go with whomever she likes. "How do you know?"

You hadn't expected to sound so bitter but it couldn't be helped. His shoulder bumps against yours and you weren't sure if it was intentional or not. "Call it a feeling."

"You know what potter? I don't remember asking for your opinion," you huff defensively, storming off just a few steps ahead. "You can't talk anyway- why isn't Ginny your date tonight?"

"Why would Ginny be my date?" You have to stop yourself from laughing. He couldn't be serious. Anyone with half a brain could figure out that he had a thing for the Weasley girl and honestly who could blame him; Ginny was a talented young witch, very smart and beautiful.

"It doesn't take a genius to work out you have a thing for her." You continue with a roll of your eyes. "I know it. Hermione and Ron know it. Everyone knows it- even slug club thanks to you making a fool of yourself during that dinner party."

"I didn't make a fool of myself."

"You did though," You chuckle, thinking back to the night in question. It was a slug club dinner party and Ginny had shown up late. She may as well not have come at all considering you were eating dessert by the time she arrived. Hermione suggested it was because of Dean and you wouldn't be surprised if that was true. "You basically leapt out of the chair, Harry. It was really awkward to watch."

"I was just being polite," You highly doubted that. "And she is with Dean anyway so I suspect they'll be attending together."

"I guess... Dean's cute but Hermione says they're always fighting," Extra emphasis on the always. It wasn't really any of your business but as a close personal friend to the youngest Weasley, it was hard not to get involved. "You two, however," you glance towards the chosen one in all his glory. You come to a stop before him, adjusting his crooked tie so it sat perfectly straight. "Would make quite the pair."

All talks of crushes were lost among the wind as you rounded the corner almost crashing into the young Ravenclaw that stood waiting patiently. Catching yourself before the collision, you take a few steps back. "Hey Luna," Her outfit could not scream Luna Lovegood more if it tried; it was silver and reflective. "Don't you look... shiny."

"Thank you," Had you meant that as a compliment? You weren't too sure but she took it as one. Falling behind, you listen to Luna’s ramblings during the short walk left to Slughorn's office. The ceiling and walls had been draped with emerald, crimson and gold hangings which resembled a tent. There were way too many people here for your liking which made it awfully hot and stuffy. You almost instantly found yourself alone within the crowd feeling terribly awkward.

When with friends like Harry, Ron and Hermione, you could talk forever given half the chance. But being put into a situation surrounded by complete strangers and you'd freeze up; it was hard talking to people you either didn't know at all or only saw in passing. Hiding away in the corner of the room, you search the room for someone you knew. You spotted Neville walking around offering drinks to the guest from his silver Tray. Ginny was halfway through a conversation with Dean; thankfully she seemed to be smiling. Meanwhile, Snape was looking very bored as Slughorn drones on about one thing or another. You never expected to see Snape here but apparently he had been a past member of the Slug Club. No surprise there considering he went on to teach potions. After what felt like a lifetime of standing awkwardly on the sidelines, you finally spotted Mr. Potter just outside the makeshift walls. "I told you not to leave me alone with these people," You whisper-yell as you push the fabric aside. Harry seems surprised by your sudden interruption but all attention has turned to his companion. It was none other than Hermione Granger in a little pink dress; she looked beautiful even as she shoved something into her mouth. "What are you two doing?"

"Hermione is hiding from Cormac," Harry answers, signalling towards the other girl with a flick of his wrist.

"McLaggen? That's who you came with?" Cormac McLaggen, in your less than favourable opinion, was as sleazy as they come. He had shown interest in Hermione but she had never shown any in return. So why had she chosen him over you?

"I didn't have a lot of other options," you share a look with Harry who looked almost sympathetic towards the situation. He was the only one who knew that you had planned to ask her and was also the one to crush your dreams. "Oh god, he's coming over here," She quickly reaches for your hand which brings heat rushing to your cheeks. "Come with me,"

Following her lead, you crouch down and allow her to drag you back into the crowd leaving Harry to deal with McLaggen. "Why are you here with him if you don't even like him?"

"Because he actually asked me." Her words felt like they were directed at you but maybe you were just trying to make something out of nothing. You wanted to tell her that you had planned to ask her from the start but you don't. Now safely on the other side of the room, her hands slip away from yours. "But he's so bothersome. I don't think I can put up with it much longer."

It was her fault but again you keep that to yourself. "Why did you drag me along? I'm not trying to avoid him."

"As a distraction so look pretty." Look pretty? Before you can ask what exactly she meant by that, her hands are against your arms, spinning you around quickly to face a rather irritated McLaggen. This didn't feel right but it was too late to pretend you hadn't seen him now.

"What am I supposed to say?" Your whispers for advice are ignored or more accurately unheard. This conversation was destined to be very awkward.

"Where'd she run off to now?" He comes to a stop before you, running his hand through his dusty blonde hair.

"Who?" He had obviously meant Hermione. But it seemed you were running on autopilot as the word drifted off your lips before you even had a chance to think. He probably thought you were rather idiotic now but then again did you care what this slimeball thought about you?

"Your friend?"

You swallow a lump in your throat. Guess the plan now was to continue playing dumb in hopes of him giving up. With your bottom lip wedged between your teeth, you pause in thought for just a moment. "You mean Harry?"

"I'm obviously talking about Granger? She was just with you?"

"Was she?" Surveying the room, you pretend to search for the girl in question. Luckily enough she was nowhere to be found so your act must look rather convincing.

"So where did she go?"

"Who?" Fighting back a smile, your attention returns to McLaggen; his growing annoyance was evident in the creases forming across his forehead. If it had been anyone else, you'd probably feel bad for them. Although, you will admit that it was rather harsh on Hermione's part to be leading him on like this instead of making her intentions clear.

"Hermione Granger?"

Your shoulders rise in a quick shrug. "I don't know what to tell ya mate."

"Nevermind- I'll find her myself." With a sharp spin, he morphs back into the crowd finally leaving you in peace. You let out a breath you didn't realise you'd been holding as the pressure to cover had been elevated.

"So where is Hermione," This time the source was none other than Harry Potter; who was now standing by your side watching the party unfold. Neville seemed to have bumped into someone who was now causing quite the stir.

"No clue, she ran off somewhere," Stopping a waiter as they pass by, you take a small glass off his silver tray. The contents were golden yellow and you weren't quite sure what it was exactly.

"I don't understand why she agreed to come with him anyway." Sure, he had asked her but that didn't mean she was required to say yes. That had been her own choice which no longer made sense considering she was actively running away from him.

"Who knows," Harry muses aloud. "maybe it's because Cormac doesn't try to hide his interest in her."

"What's that supposed to mean?" You look to him with a scowl. You had never tried to hide your feelings for Hermione but the same could be said about trying to show them. It wasn't exactly something you went around announcing to everyone.

"Nothing," He offers you a flash of a smile as he slinks away to save himself from the upcoming argument. "If you'll excuse me."

Harry scurries away leaving you alone at the party once more. It seemed only fitting for you to take your leave now and head back to the dorms; you hadn't wanted to come in the first place. Plus you didn't feel like having to deal with Hermione and Cormac anymore. The commotion drew your attention for a moment but with a heavy sigh, you head for the exit. Why on earth would Draco Malfoy of all people gate crash such a lame party?

"Thank you," Remnants of your drink now spilt down your chin as you coughed in surprise. Hermione Granger has suddenly appeared once again bringing with her an aura of sweetness.

"Don't- do that," you swat her arm playfully, wiping away your flavoured drool. "You- almost- killed me."

"You're being a little dramatic," a gentle smile paired well with a roll of her eyes. "What did you tell him?"

"Cormac? I decided to play dumb and act like I had no clue."

"Must have been rather easy for you then," You raise a brow; was that a joke?  

"You do realise that agreeing to be his date, has probably given him the wrong idea?" You muse, placing the now empty glass down. It was feeling sticky between your fingertips, "And as his date, you shouldn't be running away from him. It's awfully rude, miss Granger."

"I had to bring someone," Hermione looked away from you, a heavy sigh drifting into the crowd. It seemed whatever had happened regarding Draco had sorted itself out. "And he just so happened to ask me."

"You can't avoid him forever," You wonder where the man in question has wandered off to. He couldn't have gone far. Catching Luna Lovegood's gaze for the first time since arriving, she gave you a little wave.

"That's part of the problem."

"Maybe you shouldn't have come with him in the first place, Hermione." You insist sharply, glancing back at her. "You always had other options."

Had you not spoken about the party beforehand than perhaps you wouldn't be filled with such bitterness.

"I would have said yes," Hermonie gently takes your hand in hers. Her thumb dancing delicately over the back of your hand; your entire body seemingly relaxes. "If you asked me, I mean."

Her words felt invasive; as if she had somehow managed to read your mind. Recoiling from her touch, you step away. Crashing into a rather tall lady with deep dark brown hair. She shoots you a less than favourable look before moving on. "Who said I even wanted to ask you?"

"Harry," Seems Mr. Potter had decided to try and play Cupid where he wasn't wanted. You make a mental note to talk to him about it later.

"You could have asked me," you throwback sourly. "Instead you chose McLaggen- someone you don't even like," A harsher tone but you remain quiet in order to avoid drawing unwanted attention. Heading for the exit, Hermione trails after you like a little lost puppy. Why couldn't she just leave you alone? "Maybe next time you should stop playing games."

"Who did you come with?" Hermione asks softly. It's almost drowned out among the noise. 

"No one." Your head drops. "I thought about asking Ron but he was busy with Lavender." The sound of the party grew distant as you stepped into the empty hallway. "Stop following me 'mione, go back to the party."

"I'd rather stick with you," Hermione brushes up beside you, falling in line. It was cooler out here and you were grateful for it.

"What about McLaggen?"

"All the more reason to leave," An uncomfortable silence falls over the two of you as you head back to the dorms. You never realised how eerie this place was when it wasn't full of students.

"Did you know Lovegood sleepwalks?" A harmless question to fill the void. "So she sleeps with shoes on although I think slippers would be the smarter choice."

"What?"

"She's an odd one," you smile softly at her. "But interesting,"

Speak of the devil, Miss Lovegood rushes past the two of you. Her dress twinkling in the moonlight.

"Heading back too, Luna?" You call out bringing her to a stop. The blonde turns back to the two of you.

"I am," She nods offering up a tiny smile as she waits for you to catch up. If it wasn't already awkward before it definitely was now. Nobody was speaking to each other so it was just like some weird silent adventure back to the dorms.

"Did you enjoy yourself, Luna?"

"It was alright," The blonde responds quietly. "I did manage to lose Harry a lot."

"Typical Potter," you shake your head in disapproval. "I was thinking..." You bump your shoulder against Luna's. "we should have tea together sometime?"

"Tea?" She muses out loud, "That sounds lovely."

"Great. I will send you an owl," Then Luna just up and turns down the corridor to your right. That wasn't the way to the Ravenclaw common room but maybe she wasn't heading back? With a little wave, you watch her skip away.

"You can be quite forward it seems,"

"What?" Your brows furrow.

"I just don't understand why you didn't ask me? We could have gone as friends?"

"I don't see why you're so mad at me when you're the one who had a date," you fight back.

"You're so oblivious,"

"Enlighten me then,"

The girl comes to an abrupt stop making you slow down. Turning to face Hermione, she seems unable to meet your gaze. "I wanted to ask you but I heard that Zabini was going to,"

"Zabini?" Never, in a million years, would you have thought that Blaise Zabini was interested in you. It was not a bad thing; Blaise was very cool and mysterious but also like too cool for you. Way too cool. "I wonder why he didn't."

"You would have said yes?"

"Better than going alone." You shrug a little.

"There you go then," Hermione huffs, storming past. Was she angry at you for considering another date when she herself attended the party with someone else? "Next time you need a date, go with him."

"Passive-aggressive much,"

"Forget I said anything,"

It was a silent walk back to the common room other than the moment Hermione had to say the password for you to get inside. The problem now was that you happened to share a dorm room with Hermione so there was no way to escape her judgemental eyes. After getting changed, you decided it's best to just retire for the night.

"I would have liked to have attended with you this evening had you actually asked me," Hermione expresses quietly. "When you didn't, I made other arrangements."

"I don't understand why I have to be the one to ask?" You respond. "You're perfectly capable of doing it. And besides, you didn't have to go with McLaggen, Hermione. That was a choice so you clearly didn't want to go with me that badly."

"You can't be serious," She groans loudly. "Why should I have to go dateless because you can't be bothered to ask me unless you don't have any better options."

"That's not even accurate," you growl back. "You're just making stuff up now."

"Will you two shut up," Ginny Weasley interrupts, leaning against the doorway. 

Heels held in her hands suggesting she had also just returned. "Everyone can hear you arguing."

"It's-" Ginny glares at you; shutting you up. Falling against your bed, Hermione sits upon her own as the youngest Weasley enters the room. "It's not fair that you insist on playing games and then get mad at me."

"It's not fair that you're mad at me because I found another date when you didn't ask me,"

Ginny sighed loudly. "Hermione. She didn't ask you because by the time she worked up the courage you already had a date. She was always going to ask you, she just thought you'd wait for her." Then her eyes fall to you, she looks very unimpressed. "Hermione on the other hand, heard you'd be attending with Zabini and so she was planning to make you jealous by going with McLaggen okay? you both like each other so either sort this out and go to bed or go argue somewhere else."

Ginny leaves you alone with Hermione and neither of you seems to know what to say. You were just a little surprised she would go out of her way to make you jealous, it seemed a little childish which wasn't her style. "Who knew Ginny could be so scary?"

The two of you share a smile which transforms into gentle and very quiet laughter. "You were scared to ask me?"

"I wouldn't say scared just... I didn't know if I had to ask officially. I kinda just expected us to go together but then Harry said you had a date." You shrug, fiddling with your hands. "You tried to make me jealous?"

"Don't," Hermione buried her face in her hands. How sweet she was. "I'm embarrassed enough."

"I still think you should have asked me," you lay down against your bed, snuggling against the sheets. "But I'll make you a deal. Next time I need a date, we shall go together okay? No matter what it is, you will always be my first choice."

"Alright, deal," you try to look at her but it's hard from your position. Listening as she climbed into her bed and switches off the light.

"You looked really pretty tonight."

"Thank you," she mumbles. "As did you."

[deja-you]

times new roman | episode two

t. jefferson x reader

summary: Y/n needs a date. Thomas would be more than happy to oblige.

trailer | previous | next

George Washington’s law firm had offices in 30 different countries. Y/n had spent most of her childhood traveling with her dad. The office in Dubai was her favorite, but the New York headquarters building was a close second. The Washington Tower was a modern building with touches of neoclassicism here and there. It was almost as if the Sydney Opera House had been mixed with some kind of ancient Greek temple, but somehow it worked. 

Y/n was enjoying her ride to the 76th floor. The view from the glass elevator was spectacular, the kind of view New York tourists would pay good money to experience. Why hadn’t Y/n visited her dad’s office more often? It wasn’t too far-

“Y/n!”

Charles Lee. That was why. 

“Y/n, it’s been months since I’ve seen you. Why didn’t you tell me you were stopping by today?” Charles asked.

“It must have slipped my mind.”

Of all the people she could have run into at her dad’s office, she just had to run into Charles. Every time she ran into him, he would try to ask her out. Every. Single. Time. And frankly, Y/n was running out of creative ways to tell him no. 

“Well.” Charles ran a hand through his greasy hair. “I’m glad I ran into you.”

Y/n glanced from Charles to the elevator, raising an eyebrow. “I bet you were on your way to do something important. I don’t want to get in the way of your work.”

“No! No. I mean, it can wait. I wouldn’t want to miss out on an opportunity to catch up with you.”

“Great.” She groaned inwardly.

“You want to grab lunch with me? I could take an early lunch.”

“I actually have plans for lunch today.”

Charles frowned. “Well maybe tomorrow? Or we could get dinner tonight. I’d have to move my plans-”

“I wouldn’t ask you to do that.”

“It wouldn’t be a problem, really.”

“I have a big test I have to study for tonight, otherwise I would love to,” Y/n lied.

“Then how about tomorrow night?”

Y/n opened her mouth to come up with another lie, but she didn’t have to.

“Ah, there you are Y/n. Your father sent me to come find you.” Thomas Jefferson appeared at Y/n’s side, and offered her a charming grin. 

“Jefferson,” Charles gritted his teeth, “you’ve just interrupted us.”

“Did I?” He feigned guilt. “My apologies, Lee. Now, Y/n, we’d better be going.” Thomas offered Y/n his arm.

“But wait, Y/n, we never figured out when we would get dinner!” Charles protested. 

“I’m sorry, Charles,” Y/n said, taking Thomas’s arm, “but I really shouldn’t keep my father waiting. I’ll see you around.”

Charles was left behind a sputtering mess as Y/n and Thomas rounded a corner. When he was out of sight, Y/n couldn’t help keep a grin off her face.

“So where’s my dad?” She asked, noting that no one was in the office Thomas had led her to. 

Thomas went to the bookshelves on the side of the room and began sifting through books. “He’s in a meeting right now. Might be occupied for a bit longer.”

“Then why did you tell Charles my dad sent you to get me?” Y/n asked.

“Looked like you needed to be rescued from Lee,” Thomas said simply.

Y/n furrowed her eyebrows. “I don’t need you to rescue me, Mr. Jefferson.”

He glanced back at her, smiled, and returned to going through his bookcase. “I’m aware. And call me Thomas.”

“So who’s office are we in, Mr. Jefferson?”

If he was facing Y/n, she would’ve seen him roll his eyes at her insistence to call him Mr. Jefferson. “You can’t tell, angel? It’s my office, of course.”

At a second glance, Y/n could tell it was Thomas’s office. Why would he bring her into someone else’s office? She had read somewhere that people who had lots of books on display wanted people to think they were smart. Or maybe he just had lots of books because he read them. Because maybe if you were going to be young and hold a senior position at a top law firm, you actually had to be smart. Maybe. 

The wall opposite of Thomas’s books was covered with a plethora of vinyl albums. Most of the albums were from the 60s, some were more recent, some older. There was a good number of Sam Cooke and Otis Redding on the wall, which came as a pleasant surprise to Y/n. She couldn’t help herself, and removed Ain’t That Good News from the wall and turned it over in her hands. 

“Sam Cooke, huh?” She asked.

Thomas turned to face her, leaning back against the bookshelf. “Ah, I see you’ve found the good stuff.”

“I didn’t really take you for a fan of R&B.” Y/n admitted.

“No? What did you take me for, then?”

“I don’t know,” she shrugged, “something more pretentious, I guess.”

Thomas laughed. It was a warm sound that started somewhere in his gut and traveled out past his lips. Warm, yes, and also comforting. Y/n immediately wanted to say something funny or amusing just so she could hear his laugh again. It was the kind of sound that she would’ve liked to record on vinyl and display on a wall next to the greatest albums of jazz and R&B music. 

“Is that really what you think of me, angel?”

“Well, not anymore. This office isn’t quite what I had imagined,” said Y/n.

“I wasn’t aware that you had imagined what my office looked like. Should I be flattered?”

She rolled her eyes. “No. God, no.”

“Well here’s a question for you.” Y/n hated the way he looked so cocky. “Am I anything like you imagined?”

Y/n set the album back on display and sized Thomas up. “A little taller than I had imagined, if I’m being honest. But, Mr. Jefferson, you seem just as arrogant as I thought you would be.”

“Aw, angel,” Thomas held a hand to his heart, “that’s hurtful.”

“Stop calling me angel.”

“Maybe I will when you start calling me Thomas.”

Y/n crossed her arms. “That’s not going to happen.”

“Well, if you’re going to be difficult,” Thomas sighed, “I could think of alternatives.”

“Like what?”

Y/n immediately regretted asking.

“I was thinking ‘babe,’ or ‘handsome,’ or, and this is kind of out there, but maybe you’re into it, I swear I won’t judge-”

“Jefferson-”

“-you could just call me ‘daddy.’“

“Who is calling who daddy?”

Thomas and Y/n jumped at the sound of George Washington’s voice. He stood in the door to Thomas’s office looking between the two of them suspiciously.

“You!” Thomas said quickly. “I was just suggesting to Y/n that she should call you, because you’re probably out of your meeting now. And here you are, so I was right, wasn’t I?”

Washington didn’t look convinced, but Y/n interrupted before he could ask anymore questions. “You ready to head to lunch, now, dad?”

“I suppose so,” said Washington. “I’ll see you later, Jefferson.”

Tags: @a-hopeless-fan @fanfic-addict-98 @justahappylilblog

[kuroos-moon]

with all that’s left, kenjirou

pairing: med student shirabu x hospital patient reader

summary: apparently, you’ve got limited time left. with that in mind, you don’t see a point to living through everyday, but changes in hospital rotations occur and a cold med student wounds up in your hospital room.

warning/s: hospital setting, terminal reader, pessimistic/apathetic thoughts

a/n: i might do a part two idk i lowkey could see this as a series just for the fun of it

wc: 3.4k 

Slowly blinking away the sleep from your eyes, you instantly recognize the absence of sunlight that’d normally leave you huffing and groaning by now. Your room was gloomy and dark, you realize, but it had to be daytime, as confirmed by the bland mechanical clock across from where you lay on your bed; you’ve grown accustomed to looking at it as soon as you woke up.

7:30 am, it read. 

Normally, you’d be up by seven sharp in courtesy of that psychotic nurse of a friend of yours, the room would be bright and sunny too unlike now. 

Plain white curtains were still over the window to your left, a few steps from your bed—it wasn’t wide, in fact, it was stupidly small considering that it was the only window in the room—but you’ve long ascertained that two people could stand together close enough and see through it comfortably.

Your days were uniformed. Your nurse would wake you up too damn early in the morning, try to radiate some happiness into you—not that you’re depressed—and then she’ll proceed with giving you your medication even though you could do it yourself, then she injects that stinging, numbing liquid in the tube that always made you feel sleepy, and lastly, she checks your vitals—your current state, your response to the treatment. 

You always loathe that part the most, although you appreciate her trying to ease it away with chitter chatter. She wouldn’t pass as an actress though even if her life depended on it, she couldn’t contain what she truly felt. It was painfully easy to tell you’re getting worse by the look on her face and her frightened, disappointed eyes—and it made you feel bitter, what else did you expect, Yui?

But of course you loved her too much to actually voice that out, she’s the only one who stuck around; and even if she denies it every single time, you know she gave up her dreams to live abroad to keep you company until your last breath. 

It’s neither a pro nor a con, but considering the lack of life in the room, you succumb to the emptiness, idly laying on your bed and getting stuck in a daze of nonentity as you stare up at the ceiling. It’s neither peaceful nor lonely either, it’s just reality. 

Hearing fast approaching footsteps getting closer, you know it could only be Yui, and for a split second you consider locking your door, her personality would only brighten up your room which was dark and gloomy for a change, and you wanted to leave it as it is.

Maybe she’ll let you keep the curtains closed if you begged enough. Maybe.

The door, which was to your right, slides open and you sigh—here we go. 

“Good morning y/n-chan!”

“Morning Yui,” you try to sound cheerful without looking at her. 

“Sorry I’m late! Had to take care of some things and I have sad news for you!”

You jokingly glare at her, “what do you mean you’re late? You don’t need to be here at all every 7 in the morning like a living alarm clock. I’m still a patient y’know, need sleep and all that.”

She only chuckles at you, heading for the windows to tie your curtains. 

“Can you leave them like that? I actually like it this way,” you mutter.

“Nope, let’s live in a vibrant environment shall we,” she muses, proceeding to open the curtains much to your distaste. Fortunately, even when she had them opened, the sky was covered with thick dark clouds—it would rain later on, but more importantly, your room remains bleak and lifeless.

“Why do you look so pleased?” She scowls at you and you grin. “My room reflects my withering life for a change.” It’s far too late the moment you realize you’ve said those words out loud. 

You don’t even need to sit up or turn your head to look at her to know she’s crying right now. Keeping your eyes closed, you listen to her mutter curses at you and how you should cherish the time you have left. 

It’s not that you’re depressed or bitter about how your life’s apparently fading away. But you’re much too realistic and you’ve long accepted that your life is fading away. There’s nothing you could do about it. You couldn’t bring yourself to be someone who appreciates every single second left or one who starts crashing out things from their bucket list either (you’re not even sure if you have one).

To you, your life is as good as gone. If it ends, it ends—it’s no big deal. And the fact that your mindset is so dull, your life painfully as monotonous, it’s not too much for you to ask for that your room should be the same. This sunless, dreary environment is greatly to your taste. Having it lit up so brightly, to add to that, Yui’s cheerful attitude, leaves you feeling like there should be more to your life than what it actually is: short and numbered.

“Said I was sorry,” you mutter, still lying on your back with closed eyes. She only sniffles, “try to lighten up the mood, will you? As I said I even have sad news.”

“Which is?”

“I’m not assigned to check on you anymore. There’s been a change in rotations with the increasing med students around.”

While it isn’t exactly sad news to you, it’s not pleasant either. It means that someone completely unknown to you would check your condition twice every single day.

“Who gets lucky enough to take care of me in your place then?”

She huffs and you could already tell she despises the person.  

“A fifth-year med student. He’s such a stuck-up, smart-mouth imbecile just because he gets stupidly good grades.”

“What? Don’t tell me you fought with him already or something,” you joke.

“Duh! Why else do you think I wasn’t here early? Like he’s apparently really smart, he undermined even his previous seniors that’s why they hated him and doctors here favor him too.”

“Thank you, though I don’t really think my wits and brains are as extraordinary as you make it out to be,” eloquently says a smooth, soothing yet distant voice to your right.

Your heads turn to the tall guy who stood by your doorframe. His disinterested eyes were on Yui and you could assume she was glaring back at him because that’s just the way she is—you’re simply too preoccupied with taking in the sight of him to confirm what Yui’s facial expression is right now.

His eyes are an even shade of brown, and brown was too warm a color for them to look so cold. The absence of any apparent emotion on his facial features made him appear so unapproachable and intimidating—not that you’re intimidated—and there was something in the way he carried himself and stood so upright that makes him seem so authoritative and composed.

“You!” Yui hisses, you slowly sit up, reminded of the awkward situation you’ve been put in all because she had to talk bad about someone without closing the door first. “Nurse Sato, was it? It’s a pleasure to be of your acquaintance again. Do you mind leaving so I could tend to the patient?”

Similar to his eyes, his hair was a coper brown, and you could tell he took good care of his hair from the way it seemed so well-combed and soft. How could one even look so good and smart in a white coat? And here you thought you’ve seen enough doctors in this lifetime to be at awe from the sight of someone with the same attire, holding a similar clipboard.

“You’re an annoying little br-

“I’m older than you, Nurse Sato. And professionally, you shouldn’t be losing composure in front of a patient, let alone be raising your voice.” He is simply so blunt and cold; you’re torn between snickering at Yui for getting dissed or remaining silent because he might have something to scold you for too.

Before Yui could say anything else, you intervene. “Hey, you still have your rounds to do, okay? I’ll be fine, go do your job or something,” you chuckle a bit as she grits her teeth, glaring at Mr. Icy Med Student by the door then at you.

“Are you taking his side?”

“If that means you’ll leave, then yes, I’m taking his side,” you grin at her. She leaves with a huff, attempting to bump his shoulder but he dodges with an unamused look pointed at her.

Now that you’re alone with him, you suddenly want Yui back. Why are you feeling so awkward anyway? You’ve met tons of doctors and hospital personnel. 

He closes the door behind him the moment Yui disappears, your eyes remaining focused on your hands at your lap as you hear the slow clicking of his shoes making its way to your bedside. The footsteps come to a halt, and you couldn’t tell if you were nervous because you haven’t seen much new faces for so long or because he himself just made you nervous like a natural law. 

“Good Morning, I’m Shirabu Kenjirou, a fifth-year medical student and I’ll be the one to monitor and tend to you on weekdays,” he says, and as you’ve observed, he had such a soothing voice, it could only be because he was training to be a doctor and patients had to be comfortable around him.

Right, why would you not look at him? He’s just another one of many whose job is to look after you until your last day. He isn’t special. Like it was some easy feat, you finally look up at him, a part of you wishing you hadn’t as you feel your breath getting caught up in your throat upon meeting such far-off yet captivating brown eyes. 

He looks at you expectantly, and you get that it was because he’s waiting for you to introduce yourself. “You already know my name,” you mutter, looking away from him. He slightly raises his brows in surprise, in fact, he does know your name already, but that was an unusual response said with an undoubtedly lifeless accent—not that he cares—he’s just observant and sharp-witted.

“Y/n L/n, is that correct?” He momentarily looks down on his clipboard although he memorized your name the first time he heard it; he’s gifted with ridiculously sharp memory too. You nod, looking outside the window, surprised that it was raining. 

“Then if you don’t mind,” he says under his breath, putting down his clipboard on the table beside you before grabbing an injection and some bottled stuff you still don’t know the name of from the metallic cart by the foot of your bed. Your eyes are locked on him, injecting that stuff from the bottle seemed like a small thing to do but he still looked so focused.

The same goes for when he injects it to the tube connected to the needle in your left hand and the liquid-containing bag that serves as your daily needed life savers so that you could still walk and move around. You wince a bit, feeling the all-too familiar sting of the process.

Normally, doctors or nurses would ask you if you were okay and if it hurt when you winced like that. Not him though, and you narrow your eyes at him in curiosity. “You’re not gonna ask it?”

“Ask what?” It’s crazy how his voice does things to you you can’t quite explain, and you reason that it’s maybe because he doesn’t speak much.

“If it hurts,” you shrug. “Don’t move,” he snaps, sharp eyes finding yours before they look down on his busy hands again. Even his hands were pretty, and for a moment you wonder if they feel as nice as they look.

There’s a moment of silence before he walks away from you, checking your vitals and scribbling who knows what on his clipboard. You eye the two extra pens in his pocket, and you reckon he really is uptight with himself as he looks and acts so disciplined. Why would he need that many extra pens? 

and why should you care? an inner voice asks.

He may be fixated on what he’s doing, but he could tell how intently you stared at him. Perhaps you were waiting for him to answer your question? He doesn’t want to. He’s not one to engage on conversations that are trivial—he knows better than to actually know more than what’s necessary of someone dying. 

Shirabu certainly gets the vibe off you that you cared about nothing anymore, and he’s not exactly empathetic enough to actually feel sorry about your limited time alive. 

Still, it was slightly getting to him how your eyes never left his figure though he never pegged himself to be easily self-conscious. “Why didn’t I ask if it hurt,” he mutters and you look at him in surprise. “I know that it hurts, and if I were to ask and you were to say yes, I wouldn’t know what to say other than meaningless encouragements. I don’t like saying things I don’t mean and I assume you don’t want to hear them either.”

“You’re right.” He looks at you from the corner of his eye for a while, you’re just staring out the window. “Do you want me to close the curtains?” He asks, but you decline and he doesn’t talk anymore after that.

“That’s it for now, thank you for your cooperation, Ms. L/n. If you ever need anything else, tell me now.” When you don’t say anything, he doesn’t spare you a second glance before he turns on his heel, about to make a leave.

“Wait,” you call, and he stops, turning around to look at you. “I’d prefer if you don’t call me miss.”

“Shall I call you mister then?”

You blink. “Is that what you call a joke?” 

You could make out the slight knitting of his brows. “I was being sarcastic. It’s only professional to address you formally as you are a patient,” he strictly says, a small frown on his lips.

So you do know how to make faces, that’s the only thing on your mind as you both look at each other in silence for a mere short seconds before you speak again.

“Then is it professional to be sarcastic, Kenjirou-san?” You don’t notice the small smile on your lips but he does. Are you having a kick out of prolonging his stay in your private hospital room? He somehow dislikes it here, it made him uneasy and deep down he knows it wasn’t because of the room itself and more so because of you.

“It isn’t. My apologies, Miss L/n.”

“I said not to call me that,” you unintentionally snap. There’s no reason behind not wanting to be called that really, it just doesn’t sound right. “If you say so, y/n-san. Anything else you need?”

A grin accidentally slips out, he sounded casual and that, plus his voice, was the most pleasant thing ever. You can’t explain why you’re feeling something other than emptiness, nor are you aware that you’re somewhat giddy—you’ve far long thrown away feelings in order to survive daily with your sanity intact.

“Could I borrow a pen?” You ask him. 

He sighs, stepping close to your bed and grabbing a pen from the pocket of his coat before handing it to you. You look at it for a few seconds before taking it in your own hand, your skins barely untouching but somehow, at the back of Shirabu’s mind, he ponders if your fingertips were cold to touch considering how cold your room is.

“Thanks, I’ll return it to you later.”

He nods, putting his hands in his pockets, only realizing how cold they were when he looked at yours and wondered the same. Upon much deliberation, he looks sideways, much too prideful to look at you. “Are you feeling cold?”

You could only smile, unconsciously that is, but it surprised him still. “Now that you say it, yeah, it is quite cold.”

Before you know it, he’s walked out the door and you scoff loud enough for him to hear before he closes it. “What was the point of asking me then?” You mutter under your breath, already feeling drowsy from the injected thingy. 

The moment he was out of your sight, he stands still, his back leaning to your door. You confused him somehow, because he did hear your conversation with Yui. You totally struck him as someone who’s come to terms with their fate however ill, you’re not exactly depressed but you’re not what he considers a living person either. 

He shakes his head, what am I saying? He’s training to be a doctor yet he thinks someone breathing isn’t living—it just doesn’t make sense. But except for the fact that it does make sense. He’s heard of your name a couple times before, nurses and med students like him preferred to be the ones in charge of you because you were neither depressed or too friendly—you didn’t take a toll on their energy, they say.

That’s entirely untrue for his case. Sure, you weren’t a talker nor were you especially gloomy for someone ill, but there’s something completely and inexplicably unusual going on from the moment you evaded his mind more than necessary. He should think about what he does after he finishes with one thing, he should think about what you need—what a patient needs. 

Instead, he secretly wondered why you smiled at him so genuinely when you seemed so disconnected and disinterested with everything. Deep down, he wanted to know what was on your mind when you were staring at the rain through that small window of yours. 

What’s more to that is he doesn’t know why he wasn’t as focused on the task on hand as much as he liked, was it because of your conversation? If so, at which point did he feel so compelled to ask you more—to ask you why you needed his pen? 

Looking at his watch, he grits his teeth, disappointed in himself. It took him way much more time than it should for him to be done with you, and to think he prided himself for being someone efficient.

The moment you wake up, your eyes land immediately on the clock. It’s a quarter past noon, and it was still raining outside, the rain only getting heavier and louder. Your room still looked as dark and bland as when you first woke up this morning and you’re thankful that the icky bright sunlight didn’t creep in while you were dozed off. 

Sitting up, you finally notice the thin blanket you slept in folded neatly at the foot of your bed yet you feel so warm—at peace and relaxed even. You clutch the thick blanket over your frame, looking at it in surprise and a long forgotten feeling—happiness.  

It feels weird but unknowingly, you had the urge to go out of your way and thank him for it. It is his job to do so after all, still, if you’re grateful, you’re grateful. 

In honor of the thick blanket, maybe you should eat on time. You’ve been far too rebellious and uncaring, at least for today, you should be good. As you were about to pick up your tray from your bedside table, something caught your eye. There were pieces of paper beside it, the pen you borrowed atop the papers.

You tilt your head in wonder. There was surely not a single paper in sight earlier, it’s the reason why you haven’t started writing yet. It’s not like the lady assigned to give you meals suddenly decided to give you papers as well as if she knew what you were up to.

Could it be Kenjirou? Just the thought of that possibility has your lips curled up in a smile all day—as you finish your meal, as you took a bath, changed clothes, and watched television on your bed.  

“Geez, you seem so happy today of all days when the weather’s bad,” Yui gives you a look, sitting on the small couch beside your bed because she was apparently on break. 

“Hmm?”

“Nothing. I’m saying you’ve been so dead lately—and I meant that figuratively—despite my best efforts to lighten the mood and let some sunlight in your room. Now that the weather’s bad, your room’s dark, and that annoying Shirabu replaced me I…”

“What?” You mindlessly glance back up at the clock at the mention of his name, the fuzzy feeling back at the pit of your stomach all over again. At 7 pm, that distant smart-mouth brown-eyed medical student would walk right in again. 

“I’ve never seen you look so alive, y/n.”

General Taglist [Open]: @noyasbitchh @dinablossom @haru-the-secret @strayczennies @lalisbitch @tinymidgetsstuff @animebs @astrealia @kittykitkatstrawberry @hajimesbbygrl @kellesvt @24hr7dysdizzy @arnxldss @elianetsantana @vicassa @floraraine @beanst0ck @leinnah @kageyamasgirl @deafeningart @minibobabottle   @franko-pop @moonlightaangel @throughtheinterstices @micasaessakusa @dixonsbugaboo @thevillagehiddenintheinternet @ultzuko @yappychan 

[fellowstrangetownappreciator]

Playing Favorites (part 2)

Here we go again! Another 4 TS2 premades that really strange my town! (I’ll see myself out.) Anyway, I have to preface this with saying that so far I’ve only played the 3 base game hoods and although I really enjoy PV and VV, I added them to Strangetown just recently, so I’m still getting acquainted with their casts. That’s why my Playing Favorites posts are so dominated with desert-dwellers - but I definitely plan on including more non-ST Sims once I got to play with them more!

And I also low-key love everybody in Strangetown.

TOP 15 TS2 Premades (according to my personal tastes somewhere in May 2021) (not in any particular order) (and I can’t guarantee I stop at 15 either)

Tank Grunt (Strangetown)

Yes, I am one of them. I am a Tank Grunt apologist. Brace yourself!

Similarly to the Pleasant twins, I view Tank as a victim of his father (Buzz Grunt, the esteemed Strangetown's Worst Parent Award nominee). Of course, that's not to say he's innocent. He is absolutely guilty of bullying Ripp and Johnny and equally guilty of being a bigot. And, most importantly, totally guilty of casually wearing camo face-paint. (that he canonically gets tatooed on his face down the line, which is... its own kind of tragic.)

But that is exactly why I like him so much!

Let me elaborate.

Tank is a very multilayered character, albeit a bit cliché. He is very artistic a eager to always do his best, whether that is in school or home where he competes for his father's affection and approval. Buzz provides both of that but it always feels conditioned – if Tank was to stop getting A+, stop parroting his opinions, stop working out, stop following in his footsteps, would that go away? Even though the answer depends on your interpretation of Buzz and his levels of horrible, Tank definitely thinks so. Just take a look on how his father treats Ripp!

I read Tank as somebody who believes firmly in order and good but has a very twisted understanding of both given his militaristic and hyper-masculine upbringing. He has an enormous potential for character growth. Can he gain (psychological) independence of his father? Can he follow his dreams and become a dancer? Can he free himself of his father’s biases now that he’s out on his own? Can he mend his relationship with Ripp and Buck? (...or maybe even Johnny?) It makes him so fun to play.

Also, I think that it was indeed very cowardly of the developers not to set his gender preference as gay.

Conclusion: Tank is fun! (Although he would probably resent me for saying that.)

Dina Caliente (Str- wait, Pleasantview)

Finally someone who doesn't live in the desert! Both Nina and Dina are such interesting characters, with their connection to Bella’s disappearance, their alien bloodline and their opposing personalities and ambitions.

I feel like the sisters are often getting unjustly demonized. (or mixed up together, I’m looking at you, TS3 and TS4) They’re young, very attractive and in unconventional relationships, thus often labeled as predatory. They’re not.

Dina is a very nice Sim, with Nice points above the average and many Playful points and she tends to roll wants to start a family by the start of the game, although she is not a Family Sim. She’s actually a Fortune Sim, smart and business-oriented. She’s a widow who wants to remarry and has her sights set on the husband of her missing former sister-in-law.

I know that doesn’t make her sound that nice but there is nuance. First of all, the man in question is Mortimer Goth, well in his twilight years, a father of two, simply an adult. He is not a hapless trophy, the decision to start an affair with Dina not long after his first wife got pronounced missing, is his own. He knows he won’t be here for long and doesn’t want to die alone, he wants someone who can make him feel young again and loved once more. Dina, on the other hand, pursues a shotgun wedding to take an advantage of the Goth fortune that will kickstart her business ventures but she is ready to provide what Mortimer needs. She canonically loves him. (proven by the love flag in her relationship panel)

In my personal gameplay, I had Don take Dina on a date before their marriages to their respective Goths, and Dina kept rolling wants to flirt with Mortimer instead. Later down the line she also helped out the Brokes financially, and after her close friend Brandi died young in childbirth, she took in her youngest children, so that her oldest son Dustin could go to college and not worry what’s gonna become of his younger siblings in his custody while he’s gone. I figured it made sense because of Dina’s Nice points, her relationship with Brandi and her now being partially in charge of so much money it isn’t even funny.

In conclusion: I support and condone Dina! Even if it’s somehow implied that she and her sister might’ve just staged her rival’s alien abduction.

Circe Beaker (Strangetown)

Circe is yet another... unwholesome character on my list. She canonically tortures people, namely Nervous Subject, and her bio eludes to there being more in the past or the future. She's cunning, ambitious and very mean.

But she is also very fun to play! Her aspiration being Fortune (not Knowledge) puts an interesting spin on the whole evil scientist routine. She doesn't do it for the love of discovery like the Curiouses and she doesn't care about credit as her husband does. She's out for power and she may as well get it.

Her rather extreme personality would lead one to think she has to be rather disliked around the town but her default relationship panel says otherwise. She doesn't have any close friendships except her husband, though. That makes me think she is superficially charming and tends to act diplomatic to obtain people's loyalty without necessarily caring about any of them. It makes playing her unique from most other Sims.

She is also canonically bisexual! I personally have a deep appreciation for each and every Sim that Maxis sneakily preset to be LGBTQ+. I may not seem like a big deal now but it is.

Conclusion: "She could gaslight, gatekeep and girlboss me any day.” - half of Strangetown’s population

Lazlo Curious (Strangetown)

Lazlo is a ray of sunshine in the Curious household! A very sloppy ray that makes messes wherever it goes, true, but sunshine nonetheless.

I’m very fond of Lazlo because he’s the type of person that looks like he can barely count to five with his easy-going and messy nature but is in fact very clever and, by some measures, the most competent Curious brother, since he is the youngest and it seems like he’s fresh out of college, yet holds a higher career position than his older brothers. “A smart person that doesn’t necessarily seem smart on the first glance” is a trope I have a big soft spot for. (...and it shows)

In my current gameplay, Lazlo wanted to resurrect Vidcund (who died in childbirth), so he switched from Science to Paranormal to swipe a Resurrect-O-Nomitron and, like the madlad he is, succeeded before their round was over (in a span of few days). It was a combination of dumb luck and him having a compatible degree that gave him a hefty bonus but it still made me realize Lazlo could achieve whatever he sets his sights on.

Luckily, his sights are generally set on pizza and video games.

(relatable)

Anyway, I find Lazlo somehow cute, most probably for his constant and very unfruitful attempts to make Vidcund laugh, and in general, how friendly and easy to get along with he is. While he doesn’t have that many Nice points (5, which is a pretty average number), combined with his playfulness he usually tends to act very amicable.

In conclusion: I simp for Knowledge Sims and it shows.

Ok, I’ll be back with another 4 when my horrible procrastinating gruel of a brain feels like it. See ya!

[weasleydream]

The wolf of my life

This is for @summer-writes​ 200 followers celebration! Once again, congratulations love!!! My prompts were “You don’t get to die today” and “You’re beautiful and I’m not the only one who thinks that.”

This is also my first Bill imagine and I’m sooo excited!!! I hope you’ll enjoy!

Masterlist

“Why do they have to hide in such an isolated place?” I muttered. “I thought these Death Eaters weren’t the sharpest tools of the box, couldn’t they find a five star hotel?”

“If you keep complaining like that they will hear us.” replied Bill. “I swear we’ll spend the night in the luxurious hotel of Luxor if you shut up.”

“Deal.”

Bill chuckled and I was pretty sure he had also rolled his eyes. It was a full moon night but the latter was hidden behind dark clouds, very practical when we were looking for potentially mortal enemies in the middle of the Valley of the Kings in the heart of Egypt. Surrounded by silencious animals, under the threat of an imminent attack we couldn’t anticipate, I was bitterly regretting having involved the both of us in such a suicidal mission. With each unknown sound around us, my grip on my wand tightened a bit more, and I subconsciously walked a bit closer to Bill. Hard to believe that there was a time Egypt was my home, and this same Valley was one of my favourite places in the world. 

“Did you hear that?”

Absolutely all my body hairs suddenly stood on end and I stopped breathing. I listened attentively, my blood freezing more and more with the seconds, and I was on the verge of sighing, thinking it was a false alarm, when an almost imperceptible noise arrived in my ears. I hadn’t even identified it as sand being removed that I had turned vividly and blocked a green flash of light. 

“Bill!”

Somewhere on my right, Bill was busy fighting two Death Eaters. Relieved to see he was doing well, I muttered a spell to send red sparks in the sky, a few friends of us patrolling in other parts of the Valley. I also had two people in front of me, but strangely, only one of them was fighting against me. The other was too far for me to see who he was. Before sending us here, Moody had told us they weren’t very smart, but they were certainly vicious as hell. They used all the weapons they could, without hesitating one second to blow sand in our eyes. Soon, the man in front of me became my only concern, and I didn’t even notice we weren’t six anymore, but about fifteen. 

I got read of the Death Eater after what felt like hours, and as it seemed, all the fights were over. My wand projecting enough light to see clearly around me, I frantically looked for Bill and finally spotted him helping Alexander, an old friend who had been the first one to volunteer to help us tonight. 

I was glad our mission was finally over, as it consisted of verifying the presence of Death Eaters in the Valley, but I couldn’t help but think something was wrong. A greatly appreciated wind pushed the clouds, and the moon illuminated the Valley. 

“Y/N!”

Before I could process I was in danger, someone grabbed me, and an excruciating pain exploded on my abdomen and my left shoulder. 

My sight became blurry, and the only things that helped me identify Bill when he leant over me were his touch I knew by heart and his voice.

“Y/N? Y/N? Love, do you hear me?”

My brain was cloudy as it felt like all my energy was getting drained, and it was like if another person was thinking in my own head when the thought came up that Bill was completely panicked. I felt his hands on my body, getting closer and closer and too close to my wounds. I heard my own screams as he was trying to stop the blood from flooding. And as my eyes were fixed on the sky, on the perfectly round moon that had betrayed us tonight, as the same word echoed in my mind - werewolf werewolf werewolf - everything around me disappeared. In my world, there was just me and my pain. And Bill’s voice echoed far from me, so low I didn’t really understand what he was saying, and if I hadn’t been so dizzy I would have known he was trying to reassure me and himself.

“Stay with me, love. It’s okay, you’ll be okay. You don’t get to die today, Y/N. You hear me? You’ll be okay.”

Third POV

Harry understood something was wrong as soon as he opened his eyes. Something had woken him up in the middle of the night, and after a few seconds, he understood it was Sirius’ mother’s portrait. It was screaming, its piercing voice crossing the floors, yet no one else seemed to have heard it as the screams didn’t stop. Ron moved in his bed and grumbled. 

“The hell is happening?”

As if they had heard him - and it wouldn’t have surprised Harry that much - Fred and George suddenly appeared in their room. A split second later, the door opened and Ginny and Hermione appeared. 

“What are you all doing here?” asked Harry, confused. 

“We wanted to ask you if you knew who came back, but it seems like you didn’t even know someone was gone.” replied Hermione. 

“The extendable ears-” began Ron. 

“Are useless.” finished George. “Plenty of spells have been cast. I wouldn’t be surprised if we couldn’t even go downstairs. Something grave is happening down there, if you want my opinion.”

“Did you even try?”

“Who do you think we are?” hissed Ginny. “Of course we tried! It’s a true anthill, everyone is running and Mum threatened to stupefy us if we don’t stay in our rooms.”

“I hope it’s not Bill or Y/N.” suddenly said Fred. “They are on a mission, somewhere in Egypt, right?”

“Yes.” confirmed George. “But there’s no way they’ve been surprised by anything. They are too skilled.”

“Yes, but this is Death Eaters in the other camp.” said darkly Hermione. 

And it appeared that their fears were founded. The next morning, the six of them got downstairs and the first thing they noticed was that no one seemed to have slept the previous night. They stumbled upon Mad-Eye Moody who grumbled louder than usual and Arthur who had dark circles under his eyes. None of them bothered to say anything when Fred and George harassed them with their questions. 

As the Weasley siblings were trying to get Arthur to spill the beans, Harry noticed the door of the living-room. It was slightly open. He glanced at Hermione, who shook her head vividly. 

“What if they don’t want us to know what’s happening yet?” she murmured. 

“Since when do we wait for people to tell us what’s happening?” replicated Harry. “Usually, we get the answers ourselves, no?”

Hermione rolled her eyes and followed him. 

The first person Harry saw was Mrs Weasley. She was giving him her back, whispering something into Tonks’ ear. When she heard Harry and Hermione approaching, she sighed. 

“I thought I told you to stay in your room?”

“Mrs Weasley, is it Bill or Y/N?”

And her eyes filled with tears. Harry stepped forward. 

Y/N was leaning on the couch, her skin paler than ever and sweaty. She was slightly moaning, and Harry could tell it was because of her pain just by looking at her face. Bill was kneeling next to her and slowly stroking her hair. 

“Are you sure we have to wait?” he asked Lupin, who was standing behind him. 

“Unfortunately, yes. You said the werewolf was transforming, there’s no way we can know if he was transformed enough for Y/N to become one.”

Bill slowly leaned over her and laid a kiss on her forehead. He was completely oblivious to Harry and Hermione’s presence, and he didn’t react either when his siblings entered the living-room. His face showed such a despair that it was quite painful to see. No one knew what to say, and Harry was sure that it wouldn’t change anything. Bill was totally terrified, holding onto Y/N’s hand like a lifeline and constantly murmuring in her ear. 

“Come with me. Hurry up, in the kitchen!” ordered quietly Mrs Weasley.

Throwing a last glance at the injured girl, Harry followed her in the kitchen and sat between Ron and Ginny. As soon as the door closed, everyone pressed Mrs Weasley on questions. 

“What happened?”

“It was a werewolf?”

“Will she be okay?”

“Yes, it was a werewolf,” answered Mrs Weasley, “and yes, she’ll be okay. The only thing we don’t know is- it’s if she’s gonna become a werewolf or not.”

“How is it possible?” frowned Hermione. 

“The werewolf who attacked her was transforming when he hurt her. No one knows what will happen, Remus says it’s a unique case.”

“That’s a chance the Wolfsbane potion exists.” muttered Fred. 

Mrs Weasley’s eyes darkened.

“That’s the point.” she said. “We have to wait before giving her such a potion. It can have nefast effects if she isn’t actually a werewolf.”

“Does that mean she’ll have to transform?” asked Ginny, horrified. 

Mrs Weasley nodded and left precipitately, Bill’s voice having echoed in the silent house. Harry, who had stayed silent since the moment they had entered the kitchen, was so lost in his thoughts that Hermione pronounced his name three times before obtaining a reaction. 

“Harry, you okay?”

“Mmm.”

In fact, he wasn’t that okay. He had first met Y/N the previous summer, during the Quidditch World Cup, and he had immediately found her really cool. She was a curse breaker, like Bill, and passionate about Quidditch, without mentioning that she was funny and really smart. Harry had seen how adored she was by everyone in the Weasley family, and he had completely understood the depth of Bill’s love for her a few weeks ago, just before the third task of the Triwizard Tournament. 

Harry was still wondering if it was really the Dursleys that were waiting for him when he opened the door in the back of the Great Hall. Much to his surprise, Mrs Weasley, Bill and Y/N were waiting for him. The three of them were smiling broadly and greeted him warmly. They had a really pleasant morning and Ron, Fred, George and Ginny joined them for lunch. Harry was stressed, and it felt like his stomach was forming big knots. 

“It’s so strange to come back here after five years!” exclaimed Y/N. “Everything seems identical, yet it looks different.”

“Look at him.” whispered Bill with a small smile. He was looking at Filch, and Y/N chuckled. “You remember the night he caught us coming back from the forbidden forest?”

“The one that ended with us being pursued by centaurs or the one Charlie found us fighting with two woodsticks?”

“What does that mean?” asked Mrs Weasley, probably horrified at the thought that they had gone in the forest more than once or that Charlie used to go there too (even though it wasn’t a big surprise, in Harry’s opinion). 

“You have your secrets, we have ours!” Bill winked at his mother. 

“You were already together back in Hogwarts?” asked Hermione. 

“Yes, since our fifth year.” said Y/N. “He asked me out between two classes, Charms and Potion if I remember correctly.” Bill nodded to confirm. “I said yes and we were both so excited during the Potion class that Snape excluded us.”

“And what did you do after that?” asked George with a big smile, which led Harry to think that he knew the answer. 

Both Bill and Y/N blushed furiously and Bill stuttered a few words among which Harry heard “alone” and “common room”. 

“And you've been together since?” Hermione asked dreamily. Probably imagining Ron asking her out, thought Harry. 

“Not exactly.” Bill, who hadn’t stopped grinning until then, looked down before grabbing Y/N’s hand.

“We broke up when Bill left for Egypt. At the time, I wanted to be a healer at St-Mungo’s and it had led to an argument. But I realized that it was not what I wanted, and a month later, I was packing my things and joining him.”

“Happiest day of my life.” added Bill. 

Harry smiled with everyone around the table. Bill and Y/N were really happy together, everyone could see that. And, all absorbed by their story he was, he had forgotten about the knots in his stomach and was eating his plate with envy.

  Y/N was a good person, and yet she was suffering because she was on a mission for the Order. The only thing Harry hoped was that she wouldn’t become a werewolf, because he had seen the effect of lycanthropy on Lupin and never in a million years would he want to see Y/N so sad.

“She doesn’t deserve that.” said Harry. 

Hermione nodded sadly.

Y/N’s POV

I woke up in the room I shared with Bill at Grimmauld Place. I felt like my body was burning and sent the sheets that covered me flying. The sudden movement caused my abdomen to ache and my shoulder to feel like it had exploded from pain, and my groan made a human form moving on the chair next to the bed. 

“Y/N, you’re up love?”

His voice was hoarse, as always when he was still sleepy. He opened an eye to see me struggling to sit and immediately helped me. 

“You shouldn’t force, love.” he recommended in a somewhat condescendant way that would irritate me soon if he kept using it. “The wounds could reopen themselves.”

“The wounds?” 

For a second, Bill seemed as confused as I was. Then it came back. I remembered cursing the moon and myself for having forgotten the mysterious enemy. I remembered my skin being torn and Bill’s hands hurting me while trying to save me. I remembered having been attacked by a werewolf. The shock of the realization was probably visible on my face, and even if it wasn’t, Bill knew me by heart. 

“Oh love, it will be okay.”

He wrapped me in one of these warm embraces he had the secret, careful not to hurt me more than I already was. The tears that escaped my eyes soon soaked his shirt. Bill was gently caressing my back and my hair, murmuring words of comfort in my ear and slowly rocking me back and forth, but nothing could have suppressed the thought that I was now a werewolf, that once a month I would turn into a monster, that the only way for me to not kill anyone would be to drink a potion. My sobs probably alarmed everyone in this bloody house and soon Molly barged in, followed by Remus Lupin. 

“How are you feeling, dear?” she asked sweetly while removing my bandages. 

I didn’t answer, focused on Bill’s face. When he saw my shoulder, he winced and looked away, and no matter how hard I tried to reason myself, I was fearing that he would leave me. 

“Y/N, are you okay?”

I mumbled a positive answer and decided to stay silent, in the very same way that Lupin. He was on the corner of the room, looking by the window and the fact that he didn’t bother to bring me any information was beginning to get on my nerves.

When Molly eventually finished changing my bandages, she didn’t say anything and left, followed by Bill who seemed particularly reluctant to let me alone. Lupin didn’t move for a few seconds, and he only sat on the chair when the door closed. 

“Come on,” he said with a gentle voice, “tell me what’s on your mind.”

“Am I really going to be a bloody monster?”

I realized one second too late who I was talking to, and if I hadn’t been so angry I would have probably apologized. However, he didn’t seem upset by what I had just said.

“We don’t know.”

“What? We don’t know? How can we not know?” I exclaimed.

“The werewolf was transforming when he bit you. The only way to know if you’re infected is to wait.”

“And what will happen if I transform?”

“Then you’ll have to learn how to prepare Wolfsbane potion. You won’t be able to take it next month though, it can-”

“Have dangerous effects on someone who’s not a werewolf, I know. I’ve had Outstanding at both my OWLs and my NEWTs in potion.”

We stayed silent for a few minutes, and I wondered where I would have to hide to be sure I wouldn’t attack anyone. 

“I don’t know yet where you’ll go, but Sirius will be there to make sure you won’t hurt anyone.” It was as if he had read my thoughts. “Don’t worry, he’s used to do that.” he added when I frowned before explaining how Sirius, along with James Potter and Peter Pettigrew (“The traitor?” I exclaimed in disbelief) had helped him during their Hogwarts years. 

After that, he patted my shoulder to show me he knew what I was feeling and left me alone with my thoughts and the disgust of myself that was slowly but surely installing in my mind.

Two weeks had passed since this night in Egypt. Two weeks during which I had isolated myself, the shame of what I possibly was preventing me from seeing that everyone wanted to support me. Molly and Bill were determined to crack my shell but all they could do was enhance the anger I kept bottled up. I didn’t even know who I was angry at, probably the werewolf responsible for this, but he was too far away from me to get my revenge. It was easier to snap at Molly when she tried to help me or Bill whan he wanted me to talk to him. It didn’t make anything better though, just added to the shame that was consuming me. 

To make matters worse, I had received the autorisation to get rid of these stupid bandages, and I was now facing the old mirror of my room. I only wore my underwear, and all the scars that covered my body were visible. The marks left by the claws on my abdomen started just underneath my chest and stopped after my belly button. The bite mark on my shoulder was surrounded by a purple bruise, and it was still quite painful, especially when I wanted to lift my arm. 

“What are you doing, love?”

Bill had opened the door and passed his head inside. In the mirror, I saw his expression turning from restraint to genuine worry and he closed quietly the door behind him before making his way to me. He stopped a few steps away from me, his eyes never leaving mine through the mirror. 

“Tell me what you’re thinking.”

And for the first time, I didn’t even think of refusing and I realized I needed to talk to him. If there was one thing I missed more than the times I didn’t have to fear for my humanity, that was my relationship with Bill. I wanted to tell him so many things yet not a single word came from my mouth. Only a loud sob. Without hesitating, Bill wrapped his arms around my waist and tightened me against him. I didn’t feel like I deserved such a proof of love and stayed in the same position, only turning my head to rest my forehead against Bill’s one. 

“Shh, it will be okay, my love.” he whispered before kissing lightly on my shoulder. “Everything will be okay, I’ll be with you. Always, I promise.”

When my tears finally dried, I looked up again to see Bill smiling. His hands began to move from my waist, caressing my skin in the most tender way possible. 

“You know,” he began with a quiet voice, “you’re beautiful, and I’m not the only one who thinks that.”

“And who else thinks I’m beautiful?” I asked with a slight smirk.

“A lot of people. I’m quite sure Ron and Harry have drooled more than once thinking of you.” he laughed.

“I’ve never heard such a thing.” I whispered. 

“Because everyone knows better than claiming my girlfriend is gorgeous right in front of me.”

“That was before…” 

Bill’s eyes followed mine and fell on the scars on my stomach. He grabbed me shoulder and gently yet firmly forced me to face him. He put a hand under my chin and lifted my head to make sure I looked him in the eyes. 

“Listen to me, Y/N. You’re a beautiful person, inside and out, and these scars will never say the opposite. Okay? It only shows how strong you are, it claims that you’re a brave warrior who fought for her convictions. And, if my opinion matters, I think it’s sexy.”

I let out a watery chuckle, and Bill’s eyes shone with love. 

“Here, you’re so much prettier when you smile.”

But my smile didn’t last for long. 

“Bill, if I happen to be infected…” he knew what I would ask, I saw it in his eyes, but he didn’t say anything, waiting for me to formulate it out loud. “If I’m a werewolf, will you still love me?”

“Of course I’ll still love you Y/N. They won’t separate us that easily, and you won’t get rid of me that easily either. You’re stuck with me, love.”

“And I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

I would love to say that my doubts and anger disappeared after this discussion, but it would be a lie. In fact, it was quite the contrary: the closer got the next full moon, the more I was on my nerves. Bill tried everything to help me relax, Lupin gave me a few advices, but I was so terrified that nothing helped me. The fact that I was more and more tired and sick and that everyone was worried wasn’t very helpful either. 

The day before the full moon, an argument exploded between Bill and Sirius. Bill wanted to be with me during the night and Sirius had refused, saying he couldn’t protect him if I transformed. I tried to tell Bill I wanted him to stay safe but he didn't listen. 

“I don’t care if I’m not safe! You’re more important!”

But he eventually gave up, and after a passionate kiss, I left with Sirius and Remus to go to an old house they had found. 

“You’ll be okay?” asked Remus. 

I nodded weakly and glanced at the window. The sun was almost down. 

“Remus, I need you to be honest. Do you think I’ll transform?”

His sad gaze told me what I wanted to know. To him, I was infected. He left without a word and locked himself in a room, leaving me alone with Sirius. 

“If you could be gentle on me, that would be awesome. My bones are rusty.” he winked before smiling sympathetically. “Listen Y/N, everything will be okay. I won’t let you hurt yourself, don’t worry. It will be over before you know it.”

The sky became completely dark, and an excruciating pain invaded my body.

  Once more, I woke up in my room of Grimmauld Place, but this time Bill was anxiously pacing in front of my bed. When he noticed I was awake, he literally threw himself on me and crushed me in a strong embrace. 

“Thank god you’re okay… Oh love, I’ve been so worried…”

I hugged him back, gladly melting into his touch and kissing his soft lips as if it was the last time.

“What happened?” I whispered a few minutes later, as we were cuddling in the bed. 

“Sirius says you were quite easy to control. You didn’t hurt yourself, he has just a few scratches - nothing bad, don’t worry - and you didn’t try to leave.”

“I don’t remember anything.” I murmured. “I would like to know what I do when I’m not myself.”

“For that, I can’t do anything, unfortunately.” said Bill while tightening me a bit more. “But I have a good new! Yesterday, I needed to keep my mind occupied, you know, as I was really fucking worried, and I studied the Wolfsbane potion. With a bit of training, I’ll be able to prepare it myself just for you! If that’s all I can do to help you, I’ll-”

“Don’t tell that.” I cut him before leaning in, stopping when my lips were a few centimeters away from him. “You help me so much, Bill. Without you, I would still be considering myself as a monster and… And if you want to help me, just keep loving me.”

“That won’t be a problem.” 

He smiled and pressed his lips on mine. 

[seventfics]

Prickly Urchin

Written for @witcher-rarepair-summer-bingo

Prompt: Cursed Relationships: Emhyr var Emreis/Sigismund Dijkstra Rating: T (Swearing Language) Content Warnings: None Summary: Few people still alive can say they've met the emperor before his ascension to the Nilfgaardian throne. A young Count Sigismund Dijkstra is one of them. It's just that neither of them knew.

Read on AO3

* * *

“Ah, my friends. Let me introduce you to Count Sigismund.”

Three old gentlemen turn from their muted conversation to look at him—look up at him. Rare to find a man taller than himself, and today is not that day. Dijkstra keeps his smile pleasant as the eldest of the bunch gives him a firm handshake with a not-so-kind side-eye to his build.

This is the first of his ‘courtly’ parties.

In Dijkstra’s mind, the party is merely reconnaissance. In such small and comfortable confines, he can overhear the concerns of the noble elite as they are being spoken aloud, and not from a spy’s penned cipher. He can make note of their political conflicts with each other, their plans for retirement, and if any of it involves the Redanian crown.

He is an agent first. Count is just what the king has chosen him honorable of, and one more weapon to add to his slowly-expanding network.

Of course, attending personally means actually having to mingle and talk with the peacocking arseholes, which is a fucking pain in the bollocks.

He hates the attention his height affords him in times like these. Being noticed means more people bother him with questions and curiosities. But, it also brings whispers to him, names to remember and investigate later.

Adapting is part of a spy's job.

“I’m a humble servant of the king,” he tells the few who look to be snooping too closely at his unfamiliar presence.

“I am a lettered man of Oxenfurt,” he tells the ones who are searching for a status to preen about.

The rest simply get his name, and the evening fest continues.

He doesn’t care about what the evening is about. The important people, the connections, the information—that’s all that matters. Not the distasteful night’s attraction.

"You must stay for midnight, Sigismund. I've a delightful surprise planned for rare auction."

"Is that so?"

The rich love their parties, he knows, and oh how they love a little risqué presentation to end the night.

He is aware of what attending such a fete would also do to his reputation, but that is why, just as they bring out the girls who look too young to be drinking the chilled wine, he slips away into darkened hallways. No one will remember his face among the partying crowd. After a few rounds of drinks, no one will remember the face of the person that sat next to them all night. And he is counting on that.

Most of the guests have been asked to stay confined to the great hall, with servants moving in and out of special doors that connect to the residence’s kitchens. Dijkstra had been tracking the timing of the servant rotations, waiting for the right opportunity to slip through so his evening could start.

The manor is enormous, full of halls and a dozen small rooms, each with their own designated purpose. A book reading room. A letter reading room. A room that appears to be a library, with all of its books covered in dust as if no one’s moved them in a decade. Certainly the lord of the house has too much time in his fucking hands to have a room dedicated to books he won’t read.

Still, Dijkstra makes note of everything in his mental map. Such a place would rarely get visitors, none but a snoop like him on a night like this.

How strange though. A useless, dusty room for a dozen and more servants to ignore. The rest of the house looks so spotless. Smells like secrets get whispered inside these walls.

As he runs fingers through the spine of a book he recognizes from his old Oxenfurt days, he notices the uniform arc of furniture scraping the floor from repeated movement.

He never could resist a secret.

* * *

Of course he also hates musty cellar air worse than dust.

The side of the library’s shortest bookcase gave way to a slim doorway, one he had to squeeze through with effort. “Of–fuckin’–course there’s a bloody fuckin’ cellar under the fuckin’ richman’s house,” he says, mostly under his breath in case there’s someone at the other end of the sconce-lit hall. “It’s practically required decor. Need to make bloody note of that when I hire a mason for my own godsdamned manor...”

He slows at the small cells that emerge between shadows. There is a bear chained against the floor in one of them.

No—not a bear. Dijkstra squints in the lowlight. It’s long-limbed and man-shaped, with a net of spikes, or quills, sprouting out of its head and back.

Well, well. What a curious prize to have stashed away, is his intrigued train of thought.

The lock clicks when he inspects it, but the thing snaps its teeth at his fingers—suddenly close enough to grab him through the bars—and he is forced to push back to avoid losing a healthy digit. He can’t help the angry, “fuck off,” that comes out of reflex.

After its failed lunge, the creature assumes a defensive crouch. Although the chains keep it from scurrying to a dark corner, it still manages to create a significant distance where Dijkstra cannot touch it or its chain.

Strangely sharp eyes never move off of him, even from behind the shield of a wooly arm.

Dijkstra sniffs, and immediately grimaces at the damp, underground smell attacking his senses. “You’re a cursed thing, aren’t you. Smart. Maybe human once. Well,” he scowls harder at the grime and the pitiful secret inside a richman’s cellar, “you’re lucky I've no interest in mangy pets. I’ve also no taste for pointless cruelty and by the look of things upstairs, that's what's going to happen. So if you’re smart enough to understand a single fucking word I’m saying, get your spiney arse over here so I can pick the bloody lock of that chain.”

The creature stares at him for a gobsmacked, godsdamned minute. A minute that he feels inch by with building sweat, dreading an eavesdropper or worse, the lord coming down to poke and prod at its prize before his little midnight 'auction.'

Slowly, the creature slinks closer, the chain rattling as quietly as chains allow.

Dijkstra blinks to himself. So it is smart.

“I was never here,” he starts, turning the picks almost blindly, “I got lost on the way to the fucking loo, did three circles around the central room. I didn’t see or hear anything about a prickly arse man kept in a basement. I’m not a party person, and I hate competition.”

He mutters his alibi uselessly to the mute creature, with no sarcastic input or snappy retort. It's surprisingly trusting and patient, for an overgrown urchin that has no reason to trust a man he’s never met, especially given the circumstance.

“Phil is going to laugh at me,” Dijkstra continues under his breath anyway, “I came for intrigue and left because the most interesting thing in this house will probably get me killed to have discovered.”

“Thank you.”

Dijkstra raises his hands in mock surprise. “So it speaks.”

As if to be contrary, the urchin man keeps his silence again. Now absurdly sardonic of him. He should be kissing Dijkstra’s foot.

“If that's all, scram.”

The urchin man stands to its full height, which is considerably tall among most men, though not even close to Dijkstra’s imposing build. Not that it seems to be intimidated.

“I won't forget this,” it says, voice heavy with gravitas.

Dijkstra snorts. “You should.”

* * *

Years down the line, Karma finally catches up to the great Redanian Spymaster.

It was only a matter of time. It caught up to Radovid first. Now the Black Sun flies over the Redanian capital.

As a self-serving man, Dijkstra worked for and against both sides of the war. He held no regrets, certainly not for any kings whose heads might have rolled and paved way for better allies and stronger ties to him. He is aware of how an emperor might find that threatening. He’s not like Vernon fucking Roche, who is the most loyal, most frustratingly oath-keeping man he's met.

An enemy to the empire’s will, Dijkstra is brought before the emperor himself. In chains, of course. Can’t have an audience without fucking theatrics. He would do the same.

As he is herded through Foltest’s halls—bastard rest in peace—he is brought to a small staircase, one he takes slowly for his bone-aching leg.

“His Imperial Majesty Emhyr var Emreis, Deithwen Addan yn Carn aep Morvudd, Lord of Metinna...”

Dijkstra zones out half through the list. He is the tallest man in the room and still his eyes fix themselves on the ground, weary from being herded around half the damn Continent only to be sentenced to death the proper bureaucratic way. At the marked end of the final title, he bothers to look up and sees an ordinary man emblazoned in black robes, red brocade, and gold chains.

And strangely sharp eyes.

He’s hit with a feeling like he’s seen them before, even though it should be impossible. A faded memory nearly rewritten itself into uneventful obscurity crawls out of the abyss.

The emperor stands. An unusual occurrence, going by the startled attention of the guards.

He looks at the spymaster but doesn’t say anything besides a short, apparently cut off, “you.”

Dijkstra has got to give it to him. The bastard gathers himself to gesture naturally really well. He might have even fallen for it, if he hadn’t already caught the wide look in those familiar eyes.

“You are the infamous Sigismund Dijkstra. Or is it Sigi Reuven now?”

“I like the sound of Reuven better.”

The dead silence tells him he broke protocol by not finishing with the obligatory, ‘your imperial majesty.’ More bureaucratic bullcrap that will get him hanged faster.

But the emperor simply blinks. And rounds the table to stand before him.

Dijkstra carefully keeps still, his back straight as it can be with how his busted knee bothers him. Then the emperor says something in Nilfgaardian, and the guards holding his arms behind his back retreat to the doors. Finally, he can put weight off of his cursed leg.

The room wordlessly clears at the emperor's raised hand.

It’s only in the forced privacy that he is spoken to again, with a very cryptic, “I never forget the favors I owe.”

The memory barrels through his tired brain like a horse-drawn carriage without a rider.

“You don’t owe me shite,” he says with a sniff. That urchin—that fucking urchin man he spared one ounce of pity that night. Became emperor of the godsdamned world.

From rags to riches, he thinks almost hysterically.

Emhyr lifts an eyebrow. “Are you sure you do not want an emperor’s favor?”

Well. When he puts it like that.

"Considering what these fun little trinkets promise," Dijkstra emphasizes with the rattling of chains, "I'm not so sure what I can do with that favor."

Now they're in familiar ground. Deals and offers and counteroffers—and the urchin emperor speaks the language like a fluent native.

Dijkstra keeps his eyes level with Emhyr's as the man circles him round calmly. He doesn't turn his head to follow where he steps. He doesn't need to. It's his ears that must stay alert and attentive to the words chosen for delivery.

“You danced around my agents and my own spymaster like they were children fumbling in the dark." Emhyr pauses to round him again but in the opposite direction. His profile is the very portrait of his imperial likeness painted and sold across the Continent. The artist of those really captured his stare. Respectful and arrogant at the same time. "You made a powerful enemy, Mister Reuven, and you've made yourself quite the competitor in the Redanian scene. But perhaps we can talk and see where our disagreements lie.”

“Disagreements? Light way to put it.” He scoffs, but there is no denying how bloody curious he is to test how far a favor from the emperor will reach. “Sure, I'll be amenable to a talk.”

* * *

When he tells Roche, the fucking vassal lord of Temeria just standing around the corner of the throne room, he laughs at the answering disgruntled, constipated face.

“You saved the emperor when he was a cursed urchin, and now you’re the collared prick at his beck and call?”

“Says the whoreson who gave him Temeria wrapped in a pretty bow.” Dijkstra sighs. Roche sighs too, but his is more soulful. “Ah, fuck it. We both gave him the rest of the world on a silver platter.”

“You don’t sound that angry about that.”

There is a creeping truth to those words. A spy adapts, and he is adapting to the current lay of the land and its rules.

Dijkstra taps his newly acquired cane on the polished floor, remembering a shady party and the cellar with an urchin man with too-sharp eyes. What would have happened, had he not freed the beast? Would the world be under a different iron fist, a crueler fist? Would it have all burned down already, with neither him nor Roche alive to bicker about it? Would it have been peaceful, with no room for spywork like his?

“Maybe I wanna see this through.”

He always did love the challenge of an abstruse, unreadable mind to win over. Kings were one thing, but an emperor?

His thoughts must be written plain as day on his face, as Roche looks at him like he's struggling between throttling him, or diving neck first into a clear bottle of Nilfgaardian Lemon.

[thisiswhatshefelt]

For Olivia | Chapter Two

Summary: Line cook Johnny “Coco” Cruz has made many bad decisions in his life, but his biggest regret is not being a part of his children’s lives. He reconciles with his teenage daughter, Letty, so he’s hopeful when he shows up on his four-year-old daughter’s doorstep. Shanice Hunter, a newly-appointed guardian, is determined to protect Olivia from anything— even if that means her own father.

Pairing: Chef!Coco x Black!OC Previous Chapter: One Warnings: This chapter kind’ve deals with a deadbeat parent, but we’re still in fluffy territory for now. Word Count: 2.7k

Chapter Two

~Six months ago~ Mel calls from outside the apartment the night. She’s at the door wearing the same smudged eyeliner she left with two days before, but she’s replaced her party dress with cheap, baggy clothing that are three times too big for thin frame. Her once flat ironed hair is reverting at the edges of her hairline. Shanice quietly eases outside so they can sit together on the steps.

“Do you remember when I first had her, and I begged you to take her? You promised me that I would learn. That I would get it right.” Mel rings the sweatshirt between her hands as if squeezing water from the fabric. Her hands become dryer between her fingers and at the knuckles the more she works her hands. “I’ve never gotten it right, ‘Nice. Not one time, so I’m asking you again–Please. Just until I get it together. I have to figure something out.”

Shanice sees how exhausted Mel appears in this moment. The weight of something more than two sleepless nights darken under her eyes. She’s never looked this tired. “What happened over there?”

She smiles even though there are tears falling from her eyes. “What happens in Vegas…” Shanice just stays silent, looking at her friend. Seeing the fracture splinter out even more. When she reaches out to pull Mel’s hand away from the bedraggled clothing, Mel’s lip begins to tremble. “He took everything, ‘Nice. Maxed out all my credit cards before I even realized he wasn’t coming back to the hotel room. A-All my jewelry, I don’t…”

“Oh, Mel,” Shanice says, and it’s all she can say as she moves herself closer to embrace the scared woman. “You can stay here with me until-”

“No, I can’t,” Mel objects, shaking her head and pulling away like she’s been burned. Shanice is about to insist, but Mel’s hand between them quells anymore protests. “I can’t. I have to do this on my own. Will you take her? It would just be until she starts Kindergarten–”

“Of course, Mel. I love her.”

The wrinkled paper, which she realizes is torn from a roll of receipt paper, now sits taut between her pinched fingers. It had his name and number scrawled on one side in handwriting that didn’t look that much different from the scribbling Olivia brings home from preschool.

Shanice doesn’t sleep well after Johnny appears on the doorstep. She doesn’t even leave Olivia’s bed when the bedtime stories end. For hours, she lays beside the girl, recalling past conversations she’d had with her best friend.

It feels strange to still call her ‘best friend’ now, though. Life divides Shanice and Melanie’s paths after college, but they regain closeness once Mel suddenly becomes pregnant and names Shanice the godmother. Shanice plays guardian even before Olivia is born, making sure Mel takes her prenatal vitamins and makes sure she keeps up with her doctor visits.

Now Shanice lays beside the girl so that their noses are almost touching, but her legs are too long for the mattress, so she has to tuck her knees up to fit. Loose strands of Olivia’s tight chestnut curls fall onto her eyelashes and Shanice tucks the strand back into one of her plaits.

Most people assume they’re related in some way because of how superficially similar they appear in passing. Shanice’s deep skin is just a few shades darker than Olivia’s tawny complexion. Their dark hair zig zags in soft, defiant halos when let out of the confines of twists or braids, but Mel is right there at the middle of Olivia’s face.

The bridge of her nose slightly widens before sloping into a rounded tip and it’s all Mel. Shanice leans in close to take in all of her scent before kissing her between the eyes and watching her breathe until sleep finally claims them both.

In the morning, Shanice is uncharacteristically sluggish, but that changes with her first cup of coffee. The morning ritual is completed with most of her mind on autopilot as Olivia talks at a million miles an hour through outfit changes and getting her hair styled into two French braids.

Shanice doesn’t realize she hasn’t been listening to most of the little girl’s one-sided conversation until the waffles pop up in the toaster. She juggles the hot waffles out of the machine and onto a plate before adding syrup and sliding it across the counter.

“Can we go?” Olivia taps her fingers on the counter, strumming her stubby fingers against the countertop.

“Wait, go where?” Shanice’s eyebrows knit together. She tries to recall the last few moments, but her mind is still on last night. The man at the door, and the panic she feels even as her face remains even. Coffee is a bad idea, but she’s now on her second cup.

“Can we go to the big park today. Please?”

“Funny,” Shanice says sarcastically. “I told you we could go this weekend, Mushroom, and it’s still–” Shanice makes a show of looking at her smart watch before her eyes land back on Olivia. “–yep, just what I thought. It’s still Thursday morning.”

Olivia clasps her hands together and squints her eyes as she squeaks out, “Pleeeeease-”

“Hey, hey, hey…ma’am.” Shanice isn’t very loud, but her words cut through just sharp enough to make a point. Olivia knows Shanice doesn’t tolerate whining and begging, so the little girl does the next best thing. Her shoulders slumped exaggeratedly, and like a sucker, Shanice falls for it as she quietly sighs. “If I get a good report from Ms. Wendy today, we can go to the playground at your school.”

“Kay!” Olivia’s eyes widen excitedly. “Can you tell mommy to come too?”

She can’t say that she’s been trying to call Mel all night, but the phone rings until the automated voicemail picks up. She wants her to pick up and ask how Johnny has her home address. It was better that the phone did go to voicemail because the conversation probably wouldn’t have been pleasant.

“I’m sure she’s gonna try her best to make it,” Shanice tells her just as her own waffles finish in the toaster. As she sips her coffee, she watches in slight disgust as Olivia smashes her bananas into each crevice of her waffles. “What’re you doing?”

“Makin’a waffles smooth.” Olivia fills some of the squares with the mashed bananas and takes a bite. “Want some?”

“Noooo thank you,” Shanice says, fervently shaking her head with a laugh. “I like my waffles with all the holes.”

After dropping Olivia off at preschool, Shanice makes her way to Damon Pope High School where she spends the first two periods with 9-12 graders, teaching them about the Harlem Renaissance before analyzing some poems by Countee Cullen and Langston Hughes. Teaching is exciting because she is always amazed at how astute these teenagers were with their analyzations. And their poetry is often some of the most beautiful she’s ever read. She’s excited to see the entries for the poetry contest this year.

At a free period, she shuts herself up in her classroom and tries Mel’s cell again. It goes straight to voicemail, and Shanice’s anger transforms into concern. She leaves another message, hoping for the best but thinking of the worst.

Shanice makes her way to Olivia’s preschool twenty minutes after the last bell rings and is there just as the first parents are leaving with their children. She’s soon inside and makes small talk with some of the parents and grandparents.

Olivia spots her and yells across the room of children and adults. “Aunty ‘Nice!” Olivia rushes over and grabs her hand before pulling her back over to the teacher, Ms. Wendy. “Tell her I was good, Ms. Wendy! Tell her!”

“Olivia…” Shanice tries to reprimand, but she finds herself biting her bottom lip to keep from smiling.

Ms. Wendy doesn’t hold in her laugh, and her wavy blonde hair dances with every shake of her shoulders. “Well, Olivia is always good, but she was extra special today.”

Olivia is beaming, but Shanice tries not to roll her eyes as she sees the little girl grinning. They say their goodbyes and walk outside to the playground where Olivia runs immediately to the slides. Shanice picks up Olivia’s backpack from the grass where it sits abandoned in the excitement and stands off to the side to make another phone call. The phone doesn’t answer but she gets a text message a few minutes later.

Hey girl. Got your messages! Been really busy lately but I’ll be over ltr tonight. Tell Liv I got her a present!! Xo

Shanice decides not to tell Olivia about the text message because she’s heard this before. She spends time with Olivia who looks up every time someone walks near the playground, hoping one of them will be Mel, but she doesn’t actually ask about her mother. There’s a destructive amount of hope in her eyes that dies with every passing moment.

There’s that hope Mel will show even at eight that night when Olivia is fast asleep. Shanice still has hope, but she knows it won’t happen.

I have something important to talk about, Mel. It’s about Olivia’s bio dad.

At ten, Shanice’s phone buzzes in the middle of grading assignments.

Sorry! Forgot 2 tell u I gave Johnny yur address! I didn’t know what to tell him. figured you would know what 2 do??

Is Liv upset I didn’t show?? Tell her I’ll be there in a couple days xo

Shanice is so angry that she only replies with

She’s fine.

before tossing her phone on the other side of the couch.

It’s more than sending a complete stranger to her home. It’s more than ignored calls.

Figured you would know what to do.

But Shanice doesn’t know what to do. She really wants to keep Mel included in their life. Keep her included in the decisions she has to make for Olivia, but Shanice is slowly accepting that she’s alone in this now. She can’t keep playing the role of a glorified babysitter.

The piece of paper is still on the night table when she goes back to retrieve it. Her emotions are driving her as she paces back to the couch to retrieve her discarded phone, so she doesn’t realize how late it is until she hears the groggy voice pick up.

“Yeah, hello?” he answers.

“I-I’m sorry,” Shanice says now caught off guard. It’s nearly midnight. “Is this Johnny?”

“Yeah, who’s this?”

“It’s Shanice,” she tells him. “Can we meet?”

Shanice pulls her car into the Tres Reyes lot during her a free period the next morning. It’s a quaint white building with a terracotta roof that looks almost like someone’s home, if not for the large sign on the face of the building in bold letters.

Once inside the diner, she can feel the warmth from the kitchen blanket every bit of her skin, but it isn’t as oppressive as the heat from the California desert. The white from the outside also paints the wall inside, but there are bright Spanish tiles on the floor which makes Shanice feel like she’s stepping on artwork. She also now feels wildly overdressed in her pencil skirt, blouse and heels.

A few older Latino people are scattered throughout the diner while some college kids occupy most of the other tables.

“Cuántos personas?” a teenage girl asks, coming from behind a desk near the door. Shanice fights the teacher in her that wants to ask, Shouldn’t you be in class?

“Uh, dos personas, por favor,” Shanice replies, quickly recalling something from her Freshman year at college.

The girl asks in Spanish, gauging whether or not she speaks the same language and by her accent, the girl nods. With a quick, disapproving twitch of her eyebrows that only a teenager can manage, she says, “Right this way.”

“Are you waiting for Coco?” the girl asks, nonchalantly placing two menus on the table.

“I…I mean, I’m waiting for Johnny?”

She nods again then turns slightly in the direction of the service window that separates the kitchen from the dining. “Coco!”

A few of the guests jump at the girl’s voice. Johnny walks from the kitchen, chastising her with his eyes. She shrugs back with an impressive lack of enthusiasm. “My bad, alright?” she apologizes, returning to her hostess spot behind the counter.

It makes sense now why Johnny wants to meet here. Shanice had assumed he’d be a guest, not an employee. He sits at the table across from her with a shy smile. He’s wearing a short-sleeved white t-shirt, so she can clearly see that his tattoos wrap the full lengths of his arms.

Unsure of how else to begin, Shanice opens with, “They call you Coco?”

“Only people that really call me Johnny is my mom when I piss her off,” he says, smiling slightly. “Thanks for meeting me, I really appreciate it.”

“Don’t thank me yet,” Shanice mutters.

“You want something to eat?”

“Thanks, but I have to get back to work in a little bit.” She sighs then decides to do away with pointless small talk. “She’s four years old now. Where’ve you been?”

Straight to the point. The question visibly unsettles him, but she’s past caring.

Johnny–or Coco sits up a little straighter in the seat. “I’m gonna keep it real with you. I been in and outta prison most of my life–nothing violent, but I got locked up a couple months before she was born and was in for the first two years of her life.”

Shanice suspects as much, so she isn’t shocked when he admits this. She’s more concerned with what lands him there. “Define…‘nothing violent?’”

He clears nothing from his throat, “Possession.” The words roll out of his mouth like a secret, but it falls between them like an anchor at the bottom of a chasm.

She nods once. Coco’s anxious, almost like the kids she has to chastise for not doing their homework. The fact that he’s been to prison doesn’t exactly make her flinch. She has a few relatives that had been incarcerated at one point in time and others that are still in jail. Had it not been for pure luck, she could have ended up the same way at a young age. Especially during her college days with Mel.

Shanice can’t help but be hard. It must feel like an interrogation the way she fires questions and sits emotionless on the other side of the table. “That’s still two years unaccounted for.”

“Honestly,” he said with a wince, “I thought she’d be better off without me there. Being a good father isn’t something I know how to be.”

“What makes you so sure you can be a good father now?”

“Nothing,” he says plainly. “But I remember how I felt growing up without my dad. I didn’t feel wanted. I don’t want her to feel something like that. Especially not ‘cause of me.”

“There’s an audience,” she notes with her gaze set upon the service window.

He turns to the men. One is older with white hair and shadows of old acne scars on his somber face. One of the younger men sports an undercut while the other has his hair shortly cropped. By the downturned eyes the three share, it’s obvious that the three are father and sons.

The older man adjusts his glasses and disappears into the kitchen when he realizes he’s been caught leering. The other two put their heads down and start scrubbing away at the tiles in the window with small towels.

Shanice focuses again at her table mate and stares at him for just a moment much too long for it to be deemed comfortable. She notices his fingers are tapping against the table, and she suddenly recalls a moment from that morning when Olivia does the same.

It’s a different beat, but it has the same heart.

“Okay,” she tells him, looking up, and she watches Coco break out into a boyish smile. “Let me get something straight, though. There’s no ‘try’ in this. She’s had people in her life disappoint her, and at her age, she hasn’t really learned to stop being hopeful.”

“Thank you,” he smiled, revealing a familiar dimple.

“We’re going to the park downtown this Sunday. You can meet us there if you don’t have to work.”

“Yeah,” he said, still smiling. “Of course, I’ll be there.”

Shanice is driving back to school a few minutes later, chewing on the realization that it will most likely be another sleepless night.

_______

Next Chapter: Three

[octanesimp3000]

The Bunny, The Decoy and the Apex Games #8

AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/32034451/chapters/80096569

Summary:

On the morning of the next game of the season, Elliott shares some intel with you that leaves you questioning Octavio's commitment to your fake relationship.

Chapter 1 / Chapter 2 / Chapter 3 / Chapter 4 / Chapter 5 / Chapter 6 /  Chapter 7

————————————————————————–

One month later, it was time for the next round of the Apex Games to commence.

Your relationship with Octavio away from the eye of the public had been distant and cold, with him refusing to spend any more time than he had to with you. Although the Syndicate had permanently moved him into your dormitory a few weeks ago as it ‘made sense’, Octavio now only ever came to bed long after you’d fallen asleep.

The morning of the game, you got up bright and early to find Octavio having left the dormitory already. He no longer left his plush bunny Navi on the bed anymore, instead resorting to stuffing it into one of his cardboard boxes he’d brought from his old dormitory. After getting dressed and grabbing a quick bite from the cafeteria, you headed to the centre of the dropship to find out who your squad members were.

You scanned the screen for your name and found it placed next to Ajay and Makoa. It would be a solid team with people you liked and could work well with. You had good feelings about winning this game. Loba walked into the room, the sound of her high heels clicking loudly on the metal floors. “Good morning, beautiful. I hope you’re having a good day?,” she said to you with a casual smile before turning to the screen. “Ah, Blóðhundur and Anita. How...pleasant.”

You couldn’t help but smile at the annoyance clear in her voice. Anita and Loba didn’t get on too well due to their vastly different personalities but there was something between them that you suspected could blossom, given the right time and place. You and Ajay had made a bet on how long it’d take for either one of them to crack and ask the other out. Loba suddenly turned to you and asked “So, how have you and that little green menace been doing?”

“We’ve been fine. Octavio and I have just been arguing a bit so we’re just spending some time apart,” you said, trying to force a smile onto your face. Although you’d been putting on a brave face around the other Legends and a nonchalant one in front of Octavio, you’d actually been feeling quite miserable. No matter how hard you tried, Octavio would not speak to you unless you two had to put on a show in front of the public.

Loba raised an eyebrow and gently cupped your cheek with her right hand, saying “You deserve someone who will treat you as the treasure that you are, not a child who simply throws his toys away when he’s done playing with them.” She sounded so sincere that you didn’t have the heart to tell her that she’d got it all wrong and this was mostly your fault. You didn’t think that you should take full responsibility for it though because if Octavio would just listen to you, maybe the two of you would have made up by now.

You thanked her for her kind words and was wondering whether you should try asking her for advice on how to apologise to someone who didn’t want to be anywhere near you when other Legends began filing in. “Y/N, we’re finally on a team again! Let’s win this!,” Ajay greeted you with a friendly slap on the rump, grinning at you happily. Makoa was right behind her and gave you a quick smile before busying himself with putting on the last bits of his elaborate suit of armour.

As you spoke to Ajay about the game plan, you stole a glance over at the other side of the room where you could see Octavio chatting animatedly to Natalie. Natalie was smiling and nodding her head but you knew her well enough to tell that she’d stopped paying attention a long time ago, probably busy dreaming up new upgrades she could make to her kit. You strained to hear what Octavio was talking about but could only catch a few words here and there.

As you watched them intently, Octavio suddenly turned and locked eyes with you. You felt your heart begin to race and not knowing what to do, you decided to wave. Octavio frowned but remembered just in time that you two were still meant to be seen as the epitome of a happy couple to the others. He waved back with the fakest smile you’d ever seen anyone pull before he went back to his one-sided conversation with Natalie.

You didn’t know why but you began to feel tears pricking your eyes, threatening to fall at any second. You quickly brushed them away with the back of your hand and tried to put Octavio out of your mind. It was then that you noticed Elliott was walking towards you. Once he was close enough, Elliott put his hands on your shoulders and spoke to Ajay “I’m sorry but do you mind if I steal Y/N away from you for a minute? Gotta talk to her about something super top-secret.”

Ajay glanced from your face to Elliott’s before nodding with a casual shrug. You knew that she’d be grilling you later on even during the game about what you two had talked about. Elliott guided you out of the room and as soon as the doors closed, he put his hands on your shoulders and looked you intently in your eyes. “Listen, Y/N. I’ve been thinking long and hard about this and I’ve decided that you deserve to know the truth,” Elliott began, a frown creasing his forehead.

“What are you talking about, Elliott?,” you said with a laugh. You’d never seen him so serious before and you were sure that he’d reveal soon that he was just pulling some sort of prank on you.

Elliott glanced back at the door as if he was making sure that no one was eavesdropping on your conversation before explaining “So I was over at the Paradise Lounge on Saturday for a couple drinks. My fans always hang out there, hoping to bump into me and I never like to disappoint, ya know? And I was wondering whether I should get the Hanky Panky or the Gold Rush because while I do like whiskey a lot, sometimes I just wanna kick back with some gin. I was talking to the bartender about…”

“Elliott, please just get to the point. We don’t have much time before the game starts,” you said after a nervous glance over at a nearby clock. It was lucky that you’d already put your jump gear on ahead of time because there was no way you were going to be ready to jump with your squad otherwise with how long-winded Elliott’s stories could be. The man liked talking about himself and you did enjoy listening to him do so, except during times like now.

“Right, right! Where was I?,” Elliott paused for a moment as he searched for the piece of information that he’d wanted to tell you. When it finally came to him, he said “Ah, that’s it! I’d just gotten my drink and was heading to where my fans were eagerly awaiting the company of the great Mirage when I saw Octavio! He was there with some woman dressed in this smart looking suit. I didn’t think anything of it at first cause maybe they were just friends but the next time I glanced over...they were holding hands. I thought you should know, Y/N. I’m so sorry.”

You felt taken aback at this information. A part of you wondered whether what you were feeling was just plain anger that Octavio was risking messing up your fake relationship that you two had worked so hard to maintain in front of the public for some random woman you’d never heard of, or whether you were feeling jealousy that he may have been spending his time with this woman when he’d been avoiding you?

You however didn’t expect Elliott to continue with “So, I know this is a bad time to ask but there’s this event they’re holding this weekend at this underground bar I go to sometimes. I’d like to take you there with me if you’d be up for it?” You couldn’t find the words to respond with. Was Elliott asking you out on a date? Not knowing what to say, you nodded. Elliott grinned and said “Cool, cool, cool. I’ll send you the details tonight!”

Before you could ask any follow-up questions however, you could hear the announcer announcing that there was 15 seconds left, signalling that you had exactly that time to get back to the centre of the dropship before the jump commenced. You and Elliott quickly dashed back through the doors and found your places by your squads. While waiting for the announcer to count down from 5, you found yourself staring directly at Octavio standing on the opposite side of the large exit of the dropship, who had put on both his signature mask and goggles for this game.

You felt your heart sink, recalling what Elliott had just told you about Octavio. As the announcer finished counting down from 5 and you dove down towards the opulent floating city of Olympus, you silently hoped that you would see Octavio on the battlefield. Maybe he didn’t want to listen to your words but he sure as hell was going to feel your bullets.

[draco-kasai]

Hero Collaboration Program

Chapter 2 pt. 2 of 2: Welcome to The Program -->

Chapter 2 pt. 1 --> Chapter 1

Miss. Frizzle turned on her heel and walked over to a rack of dodgeballs that Mr. Jones hid from view behind him. Taking a few balls, she began placing them on the white chalked line on the grass. The field was marked out for them to play almost any sport. The ends were marked out as makeshift nets and the edge of the middle had poles protruding out the ground with the volleyball net tied snugly to one, in case they decided to play. The storage room contains the actual soccer nets and all the sports balls as well as chairs, and foldable tables. 

“The rules are pretty simple. You’ll be placed into two teams and are allowed to use your quirks in any way to help you. You are not allowed to step over the line to the other team's side. You can't leave the court unless you grab stray balls, at least until you have 'dead' players to retrieve them for you. If you attempt to catch a ball only to drop it, you are out. No headshots, you'll be eliminated if you do. If you are hit by a fly ball, you are out, even if it wasn't intended for you."

"The point of this activity is to get you all used to one another’s abilities right off the bat. You’ll have to remain as coordinated as possible and have faith that your teammates will work with you. As far as I know, just about none of you have a proper understanding of each other's abilities. Heroes fight alongside heroes they’ve never worked with, this is how you learn to adjust to that.” He bounced the ball in his hand a few times as he spoke, his eyes scanning the crowd of students before him. The moment he was done talking, he threw the ball at a girl with dark hair that shines blue in the sunlight. She squeaked at this sudden action, but caught the ball with no problem. 

“Marinette, come on up.” A little nervously, the girl walked around the crowd and made her way to stand next to Mr. Jones. Her free hand fiddled with the base of her loose over the shoulder pink top, dark pink sweatpants shifted as she moved to face the students. Her dark hair was tied back into a neat bun. Before she could ask Mr. Jones a question, a ball flew in between them. Turning her head, she spotted the moment a dark skinned male with braids caught the ball. 

“Very good Virgil! Please, make your way up.” Miss. Frizzle giggled, suddenly standing on Mr. Jones’s other side. The male shrugged his shoulders and made his way over. He wore a loose white tank top that showed off his toned arms and khaki sweatpants. “Ladies and Gentlemen, meet your team captains.” 

Mr. Jones pulled out a quarter, “Heads or tails?” he asked the two teens. 

“Heads/Tails” they responded in unison. Looking over to one another, they laughed softly. 

“Great! Virgil will be heads and Marinette, tails.” He flipped the coin in the air. In a fluid motion, he caught it and flipped it to rest on the back of his other hand, “And the person to choose their teammates first is…” He moved his hand to reveal the coin. “Tai-” Before he could even say the word, the coin flipped itself over. 

“Heads.” Virgil smirked smugly as he brought his hand back down into his pocket. Marinette’s eyes widened in realization at what had just occurred. “He said we could use our quirks to help us. He never said it had to be during the game, so I’m taking advantage to get the first pick.” The young girl’s eyes narrowed slightly. So he’s going to take the game seriously, fine, she will too. Virgil has just unlocked her competitive side, and from the fact that his smug smirk widened, that would mean he was hoping for that. 

Oh, game on.

“It’s good to know you know how to read between the lines and find loopholes.” Many of the students straightened up at his words, Mr Jones grinned widely, “Virgil gets first pick! Take turns, you two!”

“Cool, I pick,” He looked over at everyone. He spoke with some of the guys during foosball, they seemed pretty skilled, “Manny.” A boy with curly hair, wearing a loose gray T-shirt and cargo shorts, let go of his girlfriend's hand and walked over to his new team captain. 

Marinette’s eyes scanned the crowd, “Um…” Her eyes landed on a boy with messy black hair. His brown eyes were busy scanning each of the students. She recalls him speaking to her in French as she sat outside sketching, a rather pleasant surprise and conversation. When he had left she had noticed that he was making his rounds speaking to everyone, even during breakfast he bounced around. Maybe it’s just her competitive side hoping, but he just might know what everyone's skills are, he just might be useful. “Hiro.” She said, pointing to the boy with a red graphic T-shirt and knee-length shorts. He gave her a sly smirk and casually made his way over.

“Whatcha think man?” Virgil asked Manny as they both scanned the crowd.

“I don’t really know anybody’s quirks or skills… Frida is quirkless but has killer parkour experience.” Manny spoke with a pretty heavy accent. He crossed his arms over his chest,  “Um, Billy seemed pretty cool too. So did Gar.” Virgil nods to what his partner said.

“Then we’ll just have to get all three of them.” He spoke up louder, “Gar.”

“Glad I was a first choice.” Hiro spoke quite fluently in French as he walked over to her. Marinette smiled kindly. 

“I noticed that you were going around speaking to everyone this morning and during breakfast. Quite the social butterfly, aren’t you?” 

Hiro chuckled softly, “Ah, and here I thought you realized I was actually gathering information on everyone.” 

“No, but I was hoping you’d have some to help us. Good to know I wasn’t completely off."

“Right! Well, I suggest the Possible duo. Kim is quirkless but has cheerleading and acrobatics skills. That will definitely be useful for us. Her partner, Ron, has a quirk that turns any of his bad luck around into good luck. That would be useful to us, oh! And Damian would be useful too, I’m pretty sure he also noticed me gathering information. He seems smart and observant, don’t know what he can do though, I couldn't get anything out of him.”

“Still impressed, you gathered a lot of information.”

“Of course I did. Just ask people about themselves, and they’ll reveal information without realizing it.” Now that she thinks about it, Marinette does recall being the one to do most of the talking. Oh, this guy is cunning. She smirked.

“Oh, I like you. Glad to have you on board.” They exchanged a handshake and a mischievous smirk before the female turned to call out a name, “Kim.”

Virgil’s eyes narrowed slightly as his opponent’s gave one another a handshake. “Whatcha guys think? Frida, or Billy next?” 

“Oh! Actually, before we choose one of them, I suggest Damian. He’s quirkless, but he’s a force to be reckoned with!” Garfield eagerly put in his opinion, “He’s really smart and calculating. He’s skillful in fights, too.”

“Whatcha think?” Virgil looked to Manny.

“I don’t really got a problem with it.” Manny shrugged, “If he’s that good, he should not go to the other team.” 

“Gotcha. Damian.” 

Marinette almost cursed. There goes one of their choices. Oh well, they still have other players to choose from.

“Hey I think we should get Ron on our team, his quirk would probably come in handy for this, its-”

“Karmic Luck. Any of his bad luck is countered with a burst of good luck.”  Hiro cut Kim off, catching her off guard.

“Yeah, how did you…?”

“He’s quite the social butterfly.” Marinette smiled before calling for Ron. It took a moment before Kim realized what she meant by that. He had come up to them while they were playing 8ball and got Ron talking and talking. 

A smirk crossed her lips as she cocked her hip out and placed her hands on them, “Oh, you are sneaky. This will definitely make things interesting.” Hiro gave her a thanks in response.

Damian wanted to roll his eyes at the current conversation happening in front of him. The idiots seem to just be gathering people they have spoken too. He does not want to be on a team of incompetent players. Finally, having enough on rather or not Frida or Billy would be a good fit he butts in. “Why not select Lee. She seems fairly competent and skilled. She also seems to have quick reflexes, from the way she easily caught Parr’s tray when she slipped this morning.” Garfield, Manny and Virgil all stared at Damian in silence. 

“What?”

“I mean, like, I don’t disagree with what you said and all, they sound like a good fit but like…”

“Maldita sea, no sé ni la mitad de lo que dijo.” Manny mumbled under his breath as he ran a hand down his face. As if knowing his struggle, Garfield pats his back reassuringly.

“Dude, who’s Lee and Parr?” Garfield asked for them. Damian almost rolled his eyes.

“Juniper and Violet. It’s their last names.” he stated as if it were obvious.

“Dude… you call people by their last names? I mean, like no offense, but like… why?”

“It’s just a thing he does to people he doesn’t really know.” Garfield shrugs, “It's weird, but it’s his thing.”

“It’s simply polite to call an individual I am not close to by their last names,” Damian crossed his arms over his chest.

“Alright Mr. Fancy, but I would prefer it if you just went by our given names, you dig?” Virgil gave him a half smile  

“I do not, but very well. I shall compromise, when I mention someone to you, I’ll use given names, however I will not do so when I speak to people directly.”

“I mean… that works?” 

“On that note. We should be vigilant with the other team. Hama - Hiro has gone around to speak with everyone in the group. He has information on everyone. It will make it easier for them to choose worthy opponents.” 

“What!? Hiro? But he was so nice!” Garfield frowned, his pointed ears drooping.

“Yes, well do tell, what did you talk about with him?”

“Oh! I told him about my diet, my girlfriend, my quirk, and what hero training is like in my school!” 

Virgil clicked his tongue when he realized he just about spoke about the same things with the guy, “Oh man,… he knows our quirks and experience level.”

“And he went around speaking to everyone.” Manny added with a sigh

“If we wish to win, we have to take into consideration what we know of everyone and choose wisely.” 

“Gotcha. So, Juniper right?” Virgil calls out her name the moment Damian confirms it.  

“Zachary”

“Jenny.”

“Danny” 

“Frida”

“Violet”

“Miles”

“Betty”

“Rudy”

“Fiona”

“Billy” Marinette mentally fist pumped as Jake walked over to her team. Virgil took some of the people she wanted, but she got some of the players she was hoping for. Miss. Frizzle gave them all a ten-minute period where they could discuss. Going on their own side of the field, the teams began explaining their skill set to one another, as well as coming up with possible strategies.

______

Teams: 10 v. 10

Virgil(electromagnetism), Manny(Tigre), Garfield(shape shift), Damian(quirkless), Juniper(Detect), Jenny(Cyborg), Frida(quirkless), Miles(spider), Rudy(Chalk Art), Billy(Shazam)

Marinette(lucky Charm), Hiro(Prodigy), Kim(quirkless), Ron(Karmic Luck), Zachary(Magic), Danny(Ghost), Violet(Flyrogensis), Betty(Self Gravity), Fiona(Hair Manipulation), Jake(Dragon)