#it immediately gives you more information about stuff you'd be asking and introducing more characters

[sunshineneedsaplacetokeephernsfw]

After starting William's route, it's clear that it was meant to be the one you start with

[famouskittychild]

Cheeky Mandos - ...and we're off

(Sorry I had a terrible writer’s block in the past 6-ish weeks - I went from reading fanfiction and being inspired by other’s visions to “I’ll never be able to write anything like these and I’m useless” in a single day :( I’m getting back into the groove finally, so I’m hoping to post more soon.)

There will be 18+ content (in the coming chapters soon) so if you are a minor, please don't read further.

Also the characters will be quite open and relaxed about things like gender, attraction, sexual activities, relationships etc, so if you prefer your Din (and their partner) possessive and/or monogamous , this won’t be a good read for you!

***

This pairing is  Din Djarin x gn reader / tall reader.  I’m short (and cis and woman). There’s so many short (and female) reader stuff out there, I wanted to write for people on the other end of the “why is your height not normal” / "definitely female" spectrum. If I make mistakes or you have advice, or ideas you'd like to see, please tell me!

Word count: 4267

Summary: You’re an armourer and some shiny guy just showed up.

First full piece/chapter/course! In which people seem to catch things. Thoughts? Viruses? Dropped facts? Who knows!?? Also contains a dilettante’s attempt at space electronics and some barely-canon-reminiscent Mando world-building. Still no spiciness sorry, marinating is a long process :P

Rating: T for some mentions of heavier topics.

CW: Mentions of mandalorian history, playing somewhat loose with canon lore (as in, my SW knowledge is patchy. sorry.)

Author’s note: I tried to find more info but it seems like the mandalorian alphabet doesn’t have names for the individual letters so I used aurebesh (also I liked the little Dorn(e) meta in there). And sorry for the bad puns. They’ll keep coming.

Prologue

One - ...and we're off

***

You aren’t worried about taking a stranger on board, you’ve done that plenty of times before. You hope he’s willing to put in the effort himself, too, just as he promised at the assembly.

The stranger leaves behind his ship, saying a friend will come to pick it up together with whoever might want to join the cause. You spot him from the cockpit as he walks over with a repulsor pallet in tow. He stops for a moment when your droids surge past him, busy at their pre-flight tasks, before moving on towards the ramp.

All his baggage is a satchel at his hip and a small bag on his shoulder, and two large crates of weaponry. You put him up in the spare cabin, the one that had been Sal’ee’s, your former apprentice, before she went on to be a journeyman. He stands in the middle of the room, staring at the two cots on opposite sides of the room, the lockers, the fresher in the corner.

“All mine? Where will you sleep?”

You don’t understand the surprise in his voice.

“Over there” you show him, pointing at the cabin opposite from his. It’s much more lived in, some of the blankets and trinkets and pillows visible through it’s open door. “There’s a third cabin that I mostly use for storage but has more fold-up bunks in case I need to transport more people. That’s rare though.”

“Ohh.” He nods, then turns to look around his room again. “Okay. I thought all of these rooms were cargo space.”

You smile, and quickly think through your to-do list. You’ll have to rearrange your schedule somewhat but it’s not that big of a bother.

“Come on, I’ll show you around the ship.” Before he gets lost in its cavernous interiors, you might add - but you don’t. If his reaction to a separate cabin and his current ship - an old ARC170 - is any indication, he must be used to very cramped quarters.

***

Your trusty Brick, a beat-up YV 929, is armed to the teeth and ugly, just as you like it. The ship is a scavenged one, gutted from most of its original factory issue armaments, engines, and even wiring. It was perfect for your former master when she found it at a scrap heap: she wanted to rebuild it herself, deliberately piecemeal; panels sourced form here, engines from there, concealments added. She modified the inner workings of the engines so that the power lines could be redirected to a concealed forge.

That forge is your pride and the main reason you haven’t settled at a permanent place yourself. When your master retired from travelling, the ship passed to you, and you continued her mission of offering your knowledge and expertise to those of your people who otherwise had no access to an armourer.

…

The next standard month is spent with adjusting, both for yourself after getting used travelling alone again since Sal’ee left, and for the stranger who found himself a passenger on someone else’s ship. Apparently he used to live a very similar life to yours, with the exception that he was a hunter not a craftsman.

You travel together, share meals, research the places you are directed to. He joins in the effort that is maintaining the ship. Still - he is very taciturn at the beginning, keeping his words to the bare minimum. The first few days it feels as if you are still on your own aside of your droids. By the middle of the month, he progresses from short answers, through sharing information, to willingly starting to tell stories; but you know that chatting will never be his defining feature.

His armour seems to fill the spaces of the Brick’s corridors. You feel as if it’s not him who has the presence, but that set of glinting, perfectly made handwork of an armourer you already admire. Some of the pieces were sourced elsewhere, you can tell by the different shapes and designs; they seem haphazard and mismatched compared to the rest. Most of the set is the work of a single person. On those, there’s not a single uneven line, a broken curve, an edge at the wrong place. The angle of the panes of the metal, the ridges, the simplicity and elegance of them all - you have to hold yourself back from touching them, to admire them. You would give a lot to hold those pieces in your hand, to study them, to analyse them with your eyes and hands and with your tools.

You’re a master, yes. But so much knowledge was lost. So many masters gone, with their knowledge and their workshops. Apprentices became heads of Forges in the absence of the more skilled. The survivors still to this day have to piece together half-remembered lessons and forgotten details, experiment with techniques that were known before but the methods got lost as decades of civil war and occupation and murder kept eroding your heritage.

Sometimes a set of armour comes along that is just made in a way you never had an opportunity to learn. Often the person who forged them is long gone. Not the stranger’s armourer though. As far you can tell, she’s alive. Or at least was, when he last saw her. Not too long ago; though your usual method for guessing forging dates is mostly useless as it is based on the condition of the suit’s paintwork. Which he doesn’t have, so you can only guess from the small amount of scratches. You try to ask once, but whilst he’s forthcoming with general stories, he doesn’t go into details.

It’s a common theme with him. He talks about people and planets and events, and leaves out a lot - and you don’t even notice it first. Only when you try to glean information about his armour do you realize how well he fuzzes over those facts and nuances. It’s only up to the peculiarities of Basic and its use of gendered pronouns that you know his Armourer is a woman, or at least he considers them so. He doesn’t even tells you his own name, and when you ask your Elder in one of your communications, she tells you he didn’t gave it to them either. You keep introducing him as a friend, and that is the end of it for a while.

***

The visits to this first few coverts with him are… interesting. You can see him fidgeting from the corner of your eye. He always follows half a step behind and off to a side, as if not wanting to be in your way. He keeps quiet and doesn’t mix much, and around small children and droids, he is positively withdrawn. He only comes alive when he talks about his mission.

You had learned early on during your apprenticeship that keeping the helmet on is a safe bet when meeting with unfamiliar mandalorians. That led to later getting in contact with his type of believers too, despite their notorious secrecy even from the rest of the People. When you tell the stranger about that, he immediately showers you with questions, but you can’t give an answer to most of them. You never met with anyone from his particular covert, or heard of it. No name, no description seems familiar. It’s painful to watch his shoulders slump after daring to hope.

During the course of the month spent travelling, he gradually comes to be more social. He starts to stand and walk beside you. He doesn’t withdraw to the background anymore; he can actually be quite chatty if approached the right way. Droids still make him stop, though he warms up to kids in his own way. He’s good with them, at least in your opinion, though you know some would still call him aloof and distant. He isn’t a cuddler, nor does he crouch down to ask cutesy questions. He juts sits nearby them, and in that way of children having a good sense about adults, they know he’s trustworthy. They go up to him to chatter, to hand him a toy to hold, to ask him to fix a latch on their boots; than they go back to play.

He teaches you too, inadvertently at first during everyday conversations and later by his own volition, about his Way. About his Creed. It keeps throwing you off how much it differs from most that you had met before. Not even meeting briefly with people who followed the same Way as him could prepare you for the details that he does share. The degree of strictness, the loyalty, the barest bones Old Tradition beliefs and their willingness to follow them is very rare amongst the People as far as you can tell. Their devotion earns your respect.

At other times, your jaw hangs open and you can’t believe you are talking to an adult roughly around the same age as yourself, who by his own admission had spent three decades living as a follower of the Creed - not knowing about things children are thought through plays and songtime. His ignorance is so staggering, your admiration towards his unknown Armourer wavers. How could she keep so many things hidden from them? Why not talk about your own history? Your greats? Your artefacts?

About the many other who would call them vod’e, siblings?

You are an armourer, a craftsman, a person who makes a living by making things with your hand. You’re not a leader, or a scholar, or someone who decides what to tell your people. You do have a status within the community, but that is a status of service. From what the stranger says, their Armourer was a leader in every aspect: elder and lorekeeper and moral guide and more. All in one. It is something you can see developing from the old songs and histories amongst groups who take tradition more literally.

You are good at observing people, even at copying their habits to make them feel more comfortable with you, but less good at determining their underlying motives. The reason you think of him as “the stranger” even after travelling with him is because it’s so hard to figure out what drives him. There’s a melancholy to him that overrides the more typical mandalorian fight-readiness or aggression. You see how he gazes off to the distance sometimes, turning his head to the side and freezing. How he keeps to himself when he can. But you can’t tell why. Grief? Regrets? Determination to change? Planning something greater and being preoccupied with that?

He doesn’t pick fights to test you. He spars with you when you invite him to, he helps when you ask, and often even without it. He’s polite and considerate; he keeps conversation to practicalities and interesting stories, and doesn’t bother you with anecdotes or insistent questions about trivialities or your private life. He even does the dishes.

He’s deadly boring in his reliableness.

You are used to being on your toes around people all the time. When you meet a new group, it’s all unknown people. With ones you had already visited, the problem is having to remember them. They remember you of course, the ‘wandering armourer’; and surely you remember them too.

What is worse, when people stay the same but you don’t remember them, or when they change and you just can’t place them?

He becomes a good excuse after you’ve been to several coverts together. It’s interesting to notice how your dynamics change even further once you two get into a comfortable routine. You start to retreat to your forge and tools, and let him take all the attention. And he doesn’t just talk about his mission anymore, or lets little ones play around him whilst he’s quiet. He converses with people about news, about their children, about weaponry. You have more time to focus on your work.

Sometimes, people ask you what do you think of his mission. You tell them that you will follow what your clan decides, and that’s mostly true. It is something people don’t often debate, at least.

He quickly becomes a part of your everyday life. You are content with your usually solitary travels. You know that your family, your clan and your friends wait for you at home. They message you and you can find the time that suits you to message back. You don’t miss the constant hubbub of the covert most of the time. But now that you have someone that is not a droid, someone who is your equal in every aspect, on board again, it’s not even lonely anymore.

***

“So what’s up with you and droids?” you ask one day, after you got back from a covert and are safely in hyperspace to the next destination. You tinker with your astromech’s navigational systems. Poor 2-T keeps bumping into walls and crates. Again.

The stranger looks at you and your droid, than over at Mouse who for a change isn’t zooming around at foot level.

“Bad memories.”

“Gunk sat on you?” You tease. You hope it’s just something silly and not him having some sort of snobbish organics-are-better philosophy. He is quiet, and you focus on your work. He’ll talk if he wants to, that much you know already about him.

Inside the body of your astromech, a rivet from stars knows where is stuck between two circuit boards and blocks the access to a short-circuited piece of wire.

“Kriff. Toots, this will take a while, sweetie. Can’t access that kriffing panel.” He chirps back something and you read the translation on the small display. “No, it’s not that. My hand can’t fit in that small space. Let me find those pliers… should be in that other drawer somewhere.”

You search in the chest of tools, and despite your usually good organization, you can’t find them amongst the droids’ tools where their place is.

“Let me help.” The stranger’s voice beside you makes you jump. He can be awfully quiet. “Sorry. I think I might’ve put them back into the wrong drawer. I used them the other day when I fine-tuned that scope.”

He points at another drawer, where you keep your fine electronics stuff. No wonder he mixed them up. He stands beside Tootee a bit awkwardly until you find the tool.

“Here! No problem by the way. “ You turn back to him and to the droid, than have an idea. “Do you mind a bit more help? You can say no if you don’t want to work with the droid, I’ll understand.”

He doesn’t object yet, so you go back to 2-T and show the stranger the area you’re working on. You see him lean closer in your peripheral vision.

“That’s where I need to get that burned piece of wire out and install a new one, but first, I need to get that rivet out of the way.” You point at the root of the problem, than explain your plan, pointing out each part in turn. ”If you could hold those using this, than I could get here, remove this, with that tool, than have to get those bundles out of the way too, so than that wire there could come out. Easy.”

You look up at him, and his helmet is way closer than you expected. You can almost see your reflection in that black visor as it stares back at you for a second, and you almost apologize again, when the stranger starts to speak.

“Just have to hold the wires to the casing, or pull them like…” he moves his hand in the air, showing what he means.

“Hold them to that panel, there, with the pliers, so I have room to access the rest.”

He thinks for a moment, than he starts to tug one of his gloves off.

“You don’t need to take that off, just hold the pliers” you tell him, but he shakes his head.

“No, I can fit my hand in there, I’m pretty sure. If not we can try it with the tool.”

You realize that this is the first time you see his skin. Than it occurs to you that he might very well misunderstand this whole situation. You just asked him to hang his hand inches from yours in an enclosed space; inside a droid nonetheless, just after you basically told him you noticed he has a problem with them. It would be so easy to get caught up in there, to touch his hand, and hush it up as coincidence. Especially now that he took his glove off as well. He might even think that it was a careful plan of yours: have an area to work with were your slightly larger hands don’t fit but his might.

Your fingertips already tingle from knowing you can’t make mistakes. Which means you’ll probably do. He reaches between the panels and gets to the part where you got stuck. He wiggles his fingers a bit and scrapes around.

“Ha, found some wires. Are these the ones you need out of the way?”

You peer down into the quagmire of electronics, trying to find the best angle to see everything.

“Yes, those are the ones. Just hold them like that.” You try to focus on what you are doing, but after those earlier thoughts, your hands are jittery. You somehow manage to remove the obstructing rivet, than find the burned out part and replace it without accident, the stranger patiently holding things out of your way. You direct him here and there, occasionally stumbling as it’s a lot of instructions, or at least a lot of “could you please” and “thank you”. It gets particularly awkward when you stumble over the lack of name spectacularly.

“Could you pull those the other way, so they aren't that taut, please? Thank you, you. I mean thank you.”

“Din. Din Djarin.” Your head snaps up while the rest of your body freezes. “I should have told you my name sooner, but I’m so used to not telling it… and it just became more awkward to bring it up as time passed. I apologize.”

You close your mouth that of course was hanging open in surprise, than shake your head.

“I thought at first that I missed it when you said it so I was ashamed that I didn’t remember.” That did happen before, and it was one of your greatest worries about meeting new people. “I actually asked my elder. Sent her a comm. So when she told me you went nameless, I didn’t wanted to demand it.”

He doesn't answer right away. His voice is softer when he speaks a bit later.

“Thank you. For being considerate.”

You smile and try to wave it off. Which results in your hand slipping and pawing at his, still motionless and stuck in the inside of the astromech.

“Oh shucks, I’m sorry… didn’t meant to.” You withdraw your hand quickly, and start to look for your tools to cover your mistake.

He doesn’t seem bothered, luckily. You calm down, reminding yourself not to behave like you drank one too many glasses of your cousin Ree’s home-made tihaar, and finish the repair.

“You can let those go now, I’ll finish from here. Thanks for your help.”

“You’re welcome, any time.”

He sits back on a nearby crate and watches you work for a while, ignoring Mouse zooming around the room. You’re surprised a bit: you didn't expected him to stick around. And than he starts to ask about 2-T. How long you had him, is he temperamental, can you install a vocoder on astromechs, and why not. His tone is somewhat cautious, his voice stiff, like someone asking about a dangerous predator. You remember how you asked him about his distance with droids, but don’t want to push that question. He already told you his name today.

…

By the time you finish with the rest of the repairs, clean Tootee up and tidy around your workplace, interrupted by having to leave hyperspace and land at a spaceport, it’s the middle of the night in local time. You planned to have a nap and search out the local covert just before dawn.

You go to the galley to have a bite before turning in, and the stranger - Din, you remember, although his last name is less clear - is cleaning up some dishes. There’s another bowl in the middle of the small table, covered by a plate.

“That’s for you, if you’d like to have it. Used up the last of that spice mix we got” he tells you as you enter. You sit down and stretch your legs out one side. As you take the plate off from the steaming bowl, you think about how nice it is to find warm food on the table and not having to cook your own all the time.

“Thank you.” You pull the bowl close and take the spoon that he put beside it. You swirl the soup - it looks very good: clear broth with lots of veggies and other fillers in it - and gather your thoughts. “So ummm… I want to ask something before it gets awkward again.“

He finishes piling the bowls and cups and sits down on the seat opposite. You blurt the question out before you might change your mind.

“What was your name again? Din, that was clear, but the rest… sorry but it sounded something like “jarring”?”

He chuckles, and it’s a clear sound even with a vocoder, no snort or sigh to distort it.

“It’s Djarin. Dorn-jenth-aurek-resh-isk-nern. Djarin.” You nod, a bit embarrassed, and he continues. “Don’t worry, you aren't the first to ask. Probably not the last either.”

“Thanks for being patient. I’m not the best with names, to be honest.”

He tilts his head.

“Is that why you are always so focused when someone introduces themselves? I can ask them to repeat their names for me too if you want to, than both of us can try to remember them.”

You blink at him.

“That’d be…” Unnecessary, and don’t bother, and it’s not your job, you think - but stop yourself. That would actually help. No shame in accepting it. ”That would be nice. Thanks.” You are good at a few things, like making things with your own two hands. Not gaping when something surprises you, or remembering faces or names, any names, not just people? Nah.

You tuck into your soup, and the two of you sit in companionable silence. You wander if Djarin sits there because he wants to, or if he’s waiting for more questions from you. You asked a lot from him during the last few hours, and he was really kind with all his help and telling you his name and not being bothered when you misremembered it.

You are halfway done with your meal when he stirs. He leans forward with his lower arms on the table, and takes a deep breath. You wonder what his question will be - you commit to answer whatever it might be. He deserves that after today.

“So you asked earlier about me and… droids, right?”

Your hand with the spoon stops in the air. You weren’t expecting this question, at all.

“Yes…” You want to say he didn’t have to answer. But you already told him that. You’re sure he remembers that too - since he brought the topic up again. “Yes, I did.”

He shuffles on his seat a bit, and looks out to the side like he sometimes does. You lower your spoon and eat, letting him gather his thoughts.

“When I was a kid… I don’t know how old you were then, but during the war. The Clone wars.” You nod, understanding what he’s getting at, and he continues. “We were… the place I lived came under attack. Some separatist battle droids. Mandalorians saved me.”

You swallow your soup. That was the shortest possible description of someone having their entire life and probably everyone they knew ripped away from them and finding a new way of life for the decades to come.

“I’m sorry” you say, because really, what else is there to say. He nods, and gazes off again. Than he shrugs his shoulders, as if he wants to shake the weight of the past from them.

He gets up, and walks around the table on his way out. He stops beside you for a moment and hesitates, and you almost turn towards him to ask what he needs when you feel him squeeze your shoulder. Than he straightens and steps away.

It’s warm where he squeezed it, and you remember how long ago it was that someone touched you.

You need to talk to your friends asap, and hug at least some of them. He turns back from the door.

“Get some sleep before dawn, all right? Have to be sharp to remember all those new names.” You don’t see him wink but you’d bet he does behind his visor. You scrunch your nose at him and pout before smiling, and he dips out of the galley.

Your hand is still hovering in the air, holding the spoon, while you listen to his footsteps getting more distant as he walks down the corridor to his cabin.

It’s just your luck that you don’t need your wits the next place. It’s only two people with the same, simple name and you met both of them before.

[squadrablog]

hiiiiiii! Could I please request f!reader and Abbacchio in a fake dating situation? Any style you'd prefer :) thanks!

Abbacchio isn’t exactly a fav, but I hope I was able to do him some justice?

Abbacchio x F! Reader

Ao3 Mirror Here.

Word Count: 2752

Warnings: You have an ex who is mildly creepy, but Abbacchio deals with him. Alcohol.

Under cut for length!

“Abbacchio,” you hissed quietly, leaning closer to your teammate’s ear. “We might have a problem.”

The two of you were currently in a crowded bar in the seedier part of town to receive intel from one of Bruno’s informants. You were both at the bar, pretending to take your time enjoying some cheap wine. It was a lively enough atmosphere and no one had paid the two of you much mind. You’d use the cover of anonymity to secure whatever it was your source had to give you.

But things never go smoothly for you, so why would they today?

“Greasy looking guy in the white button down,” you murmured. “Don’t let him see you looking.”

At his leisure Abbacchio cast a glance behind him before returning to his drink. “Enemy?” he said quietly, careful to keep his laidback appearance.

“Something like that,” you sighed. “He’s my ex.”

You heard Abbacchio give a mean chuckle beside you as he took a sip from his glass. Clearly the fact you had dated someone so dull and washed-up looking amused him. You shot him a glare. It’s not that you wanted to defend your ex, heavens no, but you didn’t need his judgement right now.

“Laugh it up, buddy.” You took a sip of your own drink as you found it harder to keep up your calm and collected demeanor. “But if he sees me then it’s over. The informant won’t come anywhere near us with him as a hanger-on.”

“I don’t see the problem. You distract him and I stay here. Isn’t that why there’s two of us?” he said matter-of-factly.

“Abbacchio, please don’t make me talk to him alone,” you begged. “He seems harmless but he’s a real creep.”

“I’ve seen you take down men twice his size with four times as much mental fortitude without batting an eye,” Abbacchio replied, raising an eyebrow at you. The last thing you wanted to do was disappoint Abbacchio, but you wished he’d show some compassion just once and back you up on this. It might not be ‘professional’ to get worked up over your ex, but Abbacchio was your friend just as much as he was your colleague, right?

Although he could really be so cold when you tried to rely on him for any sort of emotional support.

“I’m asking you as a friend, Abba,” you tried again, pouting out your lip, giving him the most doe-eyed expression you could muster. He didn’t usually care for nicknames like that, but for some reason when you used them he let you get away with it. “If he comes over here then scare him off. He’s afraid of tough guys like you.”

He looked away from you, his face still set in its business-like neutral as he turned towards a television set playing a football game with feigned interest. When he looked back at you his sunset eyes were a bit more gentle. “Fine.”

You thanked him as you peered over your shoulder again to try to locate where your ex had gone, but it seemed as if he had vanished. You relaxed your shoulders a bit until you heard a familiar voice calling out your name beside you.

“Damn, it’s been ages!” your ex’s grating voice called out as he reached in for a one armed hug, his other hand holding a glass of beer. You awkwardly reciprocated to be polite.

“Yeah, I know, haha,” you said with a forced smile. “Funny how time flies, huh?”

“Y’know, there’s not a day that goes by where I don’t think about how I was a fool to let you get away,” he said bluntly, followed by a chuckle. God, what an inappropriate conversation starter. His eyes checked you out shamelessly, making no effort to hide the action, and you had to take a deep breath to keep yourself from reacting. He raised his beer glass to gesture in your direction and flashed you a big grin. “So what are you up to nowadays?”

“Well...” you trailed off hesitantly before you felt an arm sling over your shoulder from your side.

“Aren’t you going to introduce me first, bella?” Abbacchio asked you, and as you turned to look at him you noticed an uncharacteristically sweet smile on his face. You blushed just a bit. While you had no doubts about how effective this method would be, you definitely were not thinking Abbacchio would go to playing the role of protective boyfriend for you. He really didn’t have to do that, but you’d be lying if you said you weren’t a little excited about the idea of being his fake girlfriend, if only for the night.

Wait, did he call you bella? He was really getting into character, wasn’t he?

“R-right!” you said, a bit more flustered than you were hoping. “Enzo, this Abbacchio! He’s my… boyfriend!” The last bit came out a bit more squeaky than you had hoped. You didn’t think you’d have so much trouble saying the word boyfriend out loud.

Your ex looked Abbacchio up and down, appraising him, before shooting you a quick (and not so subtle) look as if to say, ‘Really? This is what you’re into now? Goths?’ But soon he had his fake smile plastered back on his face.

“It’s a pleasure. So, how long have you two been going out?” he asked.

“Oh, it’s so hard to keep track, isn’t it my little snickerdoodle?” Abbacchio said, voice filled with a false doting lilt. You had to work hard to keep yourself from balking at that nickname as you turned again to look him in the eyes. While he had a professional smile on, his eyes revealed a playful smugness. If you wanted him to help you fend off your uninvited guest, he could at least have a little fun, right? You shot him a quick glare before turning back to your ex.

“Almost two years now,” you said firmly. It had been roughly two years since you and this guy had broken up, and that fact was certainly not lost on him as his smile faltered a bit. You knew that implying you hadn’t needed any time to get over him before entering a new relationship that had managed to last way longer than anything you and this creep had would be a major blow to his ego.

“Wow, really?” he said, his disappointment barely concealed. “Glad to hear it, you two.” He scratched the back of his head before gesturing out towards the pool tables. “I was going to go a few rounds, did you maybe want to come over and cheer me on? Catch up some more? You know, you always were my good luck charm.” No… you’re pretty sure he just made that up. He had never called you something like his good luck charm before right now, and you’d know because you had every annoyingly agonizing conversation you’d ever had with the man on constant repeat in your nightmares.

“I’m sorry… I’ve been so busy this week I’ve barely had any time to spend with Abba,” you said with your kindest smile as you let him down as gently as you could. You reached your hand over to lay on top of Abbacchio’s, but he immediately removed it to intertwine his fingers with yours instead.

“Darling, you really do work so hard, don’t you?” Abbacchio whispered gently in your ear, causing you to shiver a bit, while he held eye contact with your ex. “I apologize if I’m a little selfish tonight,” he continued, directed at the other man this time. “As much as I’d love to let her go for a moment, I’ve been looking forward to this date for a while. I’m sure you understand, yes?”

“Well, why don’t we ask her?” your ex insisted, as if he was saying it for your sake. Your eyebrow furrowed at that. You had already said you had barely had any time with your “boyfriend” all week and it seemed pretty clear you had already turned him down.

“I’m sorry, maybe I wasn’t clear,” you said, much firmer as you forced your smile back. “Tonight Abba has my undivided attention.” You squeezed Abbacchio’s hand, a bit tightly. You didn’t want this to go on too much longer, and you hoped Abbacchio could understand that now was the time for him to chase this guy away.

He seemed to understand you perfectly. “You’re not needed here anymore.” Abbacchio said it so bluntly, so laced with malice despite the friendly tone he said it in, and your ex actually flinched a bit. You’d almost feel sorry for him if you weren’t so satisfied by his reaction. Abbacchio still had that veneer of a casual polite demeanor, but his intentions were clear to anyone listening. You didn’t want to come across as vindictive, but you had trouble stifling your smile, so you covered your mouth with your hand.

It took your ex a moment to recover, but when he did he leaned in closer to try to quickly whisper something at you. “Look, I just want to talk alone with you. I’ve been thinking about you so much lately and there’s a lot of stuff you need to know-” You visibly recoiled, the nervousness you had when you first spotted him returning, but backing yourself up into Abbacchio’s embrace did a lot to calm you as he gave your shoulders a gentle squeeze.

He stood up from his chair and stepped in front of you, between you and your ex, and the other man’s eyes widened considerably. Sitting down Abbacchio was intimidating enough, his intense eyes and dramatic style made it clear he wasn’t someone you wanted to mess around with. But he was also very tall, which was now apparent, and with his front now facing the man his low cut garment made it clear he was toned as well.

“Why don’t you leave me and my girlfriend alone and make yourself scarce, hm?” he said, all his geniality gone, his smile dropped. This wasn’t business Abbacchio, waiting for an informant, or fake boyfriend Abbacchio, teasing with a self-satisfied smile.

This Abbacchio was genuinely mad. You were actually concerned that him losing his cool like this would jeopardize your mission by calling too much attention to yourselves.

“Abba, please,” you said, clutching his coat to get his attention. “He’s not worth it.”

Luckily you saying that seemed to be the final nail in the coffin, and your ex finally backed off. “Alright, alright, I don’t want to start anything, jeez. I’ll get out of your hair,” he muttered before walking off. To your relief he seemed to be too shaken up to stay at the bar, as you watched him head for the exit. Abbacchio made sure he was out of sight before he sat back down.

“Oh, thank you so much, Abba, thank you, thank you!” you said over and over to show your appreciation. You had even boldly taken his hand in both of yours, squeezing it as you piled on your praises.

His irritation eventually slowly faded back into a smirk as he took his hand out of yours and slung his arm around your shoulder again. “No need to thank me, cara.” Without needing to fool your ex, his smugness was a lot more apparent.

You giggled a bit involuntarily as you looked away from him. “Don’t be mean,” you mumbled. “He’s gone, you can stop.” If he called you any more pet names you might not be able to keep your blush at bay any longer.

He leaned in to whisper in your ear. “It’s a far easier cover story to keep up as opposed to being two bored bar patrons pretending to watch a football game.”

You leaned closer towards him to whisper back. “Being my boyfriend was your idea. You just want to keep it up to tease me.”

“Perhaps,” he said, giving you a smirk before he removed his hand from you and turned to go back to pretending to watch the television. “Alright, I’ll leave you be.”

‘You don’t have to,’ your mind said, but instead all you let out was a deep sigh as you lazily swirled your wine around in the bottom of your glass.

Eventually a stranger wearing the designated sign, an orange handkerchief in his coat pocket, entered and slowly made his way to the bar, sitting next to you. He reached over towards the drink menu that you had deliberately placed far to your left hand side, and picked it up before glancing down at you.

“My mistake, this is yours, isn’t it?” he chuckled, before setting it down and reaching for his own menu on his left, waving the bartender over.

Meanwhile you finished off your drink and waited a while until after the man had left to go sit at a booth on the opposite side of the bar with his order before glancing over the menu again. You deftly slipped a piece of paper inside the menu’s folds up your sleeve as you decided on what you’d finish out your night with. However, when the bartender arrived, after giving the whole thing another thoughtful glance, you concluded that you just needed some water and then your bill.

It wasn’t too long before you and Abbacchio were heading to your pickup spot to wait for Bruno to retrieve the both of you. As curious as you were about the message currently up your sleeve, you knew Abbacchio would admonish you if you tried to sneak a peek before you were safely in the car with your Capo.

“I was a bit unprofessional back there,” Abbacchio said, breaking the silence between the two of you as you waited. His lips were pursed together and his eyebrows were knit in his grumpy default expression.

“Oh, don’t worry about it. You did way more than I expected from you and I really do appreciate it,” you said, flashing him a genuine smile.

“I mean threatening the guy. If it had escalated I could have blown the whole operation,” he clarified.

“Oh, there was no way he was going to actually stand up to you,” you said with a laugh. “Still, though, you seemed like… actually angry. It was a bit out of character.”

“I was angry,” he said simply.

You scoffed, turning towards him. “What, you actually managed to get worked up over that loser despite scolding me just before about how I needed to handle him by myself?”

“It just seemed like petty personal drama to me. Like you were embarrassed by him,” he said, continuing to look away from you. “But you were actually distressed.”

“I mean… yeah, I guess I was,” you said, wrapping your arms gently around yourself as your gaze fell to the ground. “I mean, he is the worst, don’t get me wrong… but he’s also from a time in my life when everything was the worst for me. Before Bruno found me and I met all of you… I don’t want to go anywhere near my old life.”

Abbacchio gave a thoughtful hum in agreement at that. He was quiet for a bit longer before he spared a glance in your direction, noticing the way you had wrapped your arms around yourself. “Are you cold?”

“Huh? Oh… well, I guess so, now that you mention it.” You looked over at him, thinking perhaps he was going to offer you his coat. You were pretty sure he didn’t have a shirt under that thing. “But you don’t need to-” you began, before he was next to you, wrapping an arm around you to hold you close to his side. “Ah…!”

“Here, let your boyfriend take care of you,” he said, his sour expression a lot softer, but still plastered with a smirk.

“You’re just a little too entertained by all this,” you said, looking up at him and shooting him a glare.

“What, you didn’t have fun on our fake date?” His smirk looked even more smarmy.

You just huffed and turned away from him, and in response he held you a bit closer.

“We’ll just have to go on a real one then,” he said, almost to himself, but still loud enough for you to hear, although you almost doubted that you had. Before you could say anything there was a pair of headlights rounding the corner and Abbacchio was already letting go of you. “There’s our ride.”

[nessamaurice]

Simple Ch. 2 (Loki x F!Reader)

Masterlist

Summary: Tony and the Avengers are in desperate need of something like a “babysitter” to have an eye on Loki and teach him “how to human”. He decided to stay on Midgard over the dungeons of Asgard as punishment for his deeds in New York. That’s where you swoop in. A simple receptionist at the Avengers compound. You have to share an apartment in the compound with Loki and damn, he’s a really tough nut. With your open and kind character it seems that you are slowly cracking his shell. But suddenly things are getting twists that will change your life and your relationships there irreversibly.

Story rating: M

Chapter trigger warnings: n/a

Words: 2492

2

Your head just did not keep quiet.

Oh my god, what have I done. I don't want to be kicked. I really like my job. Don't fire me, oh lord have mercy with my poor soul.

Your mind went on and on while you followed the famous Hawkeye through corridors of the compound you never saw before. You stepped into a lift and the doors closed. You noticed that he did not push any button but the elevator started to move anyway. You glanced over to him and caught your own reflection in the mirror of the lift wall. Embarrassed you shut your mouth that was still open. You stared at your shoes (which were pretty dirty as you just noticed) and you wished so much you would not be wearing your favorite Star Wars shirt under your cardigan right now (the combination looked really good and the cardigan hid your nerdiness) as the heat in your cheeks did not stop rising.

"You don't have to be nervous."

You audibly gasped as Clint Barton pulled you out of your thoughts. You looked at him from the corner of your eye and saw him smirking. You wished you could bang your head against the wall.

He leant a little over to you and lowered his voice. "You are not in trouble. We just have an offer for you." He leant back again. "But Tony wants to present it to you himself. Typical." He rolled his eyes really hard. He noticed that you had turned your head to him and you must have looked a bit puzzled `cause he said "Well, if you knew Tony you'd understand what I mean."

"Oh, I know." You said out of a reflex and immediately pressed your lips together in regret.

Now he turned his head to you, asking you with his eyes.

"I, uhm, I know him from the TV in interviews and sometimes he crosses the entrance hall, followed by several persons most of the time and, uhm, well, he has a loud voice so it's not hard to hear what he says and how he says it and... uh" You paused to find the right words to say what you were thinking without giving them a reason to fire you now, "I think he likes to set the tone." You smiled a bit as you compared your thoughts with your words and were proud of yourself. Quickly you added "And of course he has every right to do so, he's a genius and deserves every attention he gets."

After a very, very long second of silence, all Hawkeye did was let out a little snorty laugh.

Shortly after the lift stopped. Just before the doors opened, Clint Barton patted you a bit roughly on your back, which made you stumble a small step forwards, and said "Don't worry, you'll do great."

He stepped outside and you just followed him. Eventually he stopped, opened a door, held it open for you and waited for you to get in first. You took a deep breath and went inside.

In the meeting room was a long table with several chairs around it. The left side of the room was just one giant window. In the other corner of the room stood a man in jeans and a dark t-shirt (which turned out to be a Black Sabbath tour shirt) looking out of the window. As you entered, he turned around.

"Ah, you got to be Miss Y/N" he almost sang as he crossed the room quickly to get to you, stretching out his hand. You stared a moment too long at the hand, now being in front of you, before you grabbed and shook it.

"Uhm, yeah, hello Mr. Stark. What an honor to meet you." You stammered while smiling a bit helplessly.

"Oh, let's keep it casual if you don't mind. Tony." He grinned right into your face which just worsened your blushing. You assumed you just reached level tomato red. A very short moment his facial expression shifted just a little bit. He focused on your face, seemed to search certain features. Just as if he knew you from somewhere. But that lasted just like two seconds before he returned to his childish grin.

"Sure!" You cleared your throat; that came out a bit too enthusiastic, "Sure. A pleasure. Oh and of course, it's just Y/N to you."

"Alright! Sit down please."

He gestured you to one of the chairs. While you sat down he pulled a small plastic bag out of nowhere and offered it to you.

"Cashews?"

You couldn't help but smile and grabbed some, thankful to have something to do with your hands besides fumbling on your clothes.

"Okay. Barton?"

He simply nodded, waved someone to come in and joined you on the chair next to you. You simply smiled at him, chewing on your cashews as you heard the door closing and looked to the entrance again. You literally almost choked on the kernels as you gasped "Whoa fuck!" Right there in front of you stood no one less than Thor himself. You pressed your hand on your mouth to stop you from saying more swearing and spitting the food around.

The broadest of smiles in his face, he just said "Mylady.", leaning slightly forwards into a little bow.

You silently watched him getting closer to you with just a few steps. He took your hand and placed a decent kiss on its back.

Staring at him in all his armour, surrounded by some strange sort of glory, you swallowed hard.

"Hello! Uhm, Thor, I guess?" You smiled nervously. You noticed all the smirking from the other two men.

"You guess right. Your name is Lady Y/N, right?"

"Just Y/N, yes, thank you."

"Okay!" Tony said while clapping in his hands. "Everybody's here. So, Y/N, let me explain what's going on here. Thor, sit down please, otherwise she will just keep staring at your shiny hair." Your brain took a second to process what you were hearing and immediately turned your attention to Tony.

"Fine. Y/N, I am sorry to say that, but over the last month we observed some of our employees without informing them and one of them was you."

"I knew it!" you whispered to yourself, a bit too loud. "I'm sorry. It's okay, I don't mind."

Tony grinned a moment before he continued. "You noticed that, very good. No one else did. I'm honest, you are not our first choice for this job."

"She was mine." Clint interrupted. Tony's answer was just a dark glare before he continued.

"We tried it out with two other employees but none of them could handle the task, they gave up after a few days. I have to admit, this job is not easy. But on the other hand, it is pretty easy. First of all, I have to ask you a serious question and you have to answer it absolutely honestly. Is that clear?"

"Yes, sir. Tony. Sorry."

Ignoring your stuttering he sat down on the table right next to you. His gaze turned a bit darker, steadily focusing on your face.

"Is there anything special about you? ... Not like you are not unique and this stuff", he added as you furrowed your brows on that strange question. "I mean, do you have any gifts? Super specialized knowledge we couldn't find out during observation?"

"Oooh" you let out in understanding, "Like telekinesis and stuff? Or a secret PhD in astrophysics? Noo, no, clearly not. I'm totally normal. I'm just a secretary. The only talent I have is that I can draw, well, not that bad."

"She's a very skilled artist" Clint suddenly corrected you. "But that is not important for the mission. No danger here."

"Great! Do you have any responsibilities that bind you to any person? Or maybe a pet?"

A bit confused you said, "Uhm, no..? I'm single and all I have is a salt water aquarium. I don't have any relatives to maybe look after, neither. If that is what you meant. I don't have any relatives at all. ... My family died early and I since had no other relatives to take care of me, a friend of my mother adopted me. But she died some years ago so... yeah. Just me." You added in explanation and stopped your own rambling.

Tony glanced quickly over to Clint who nodded sharply.

"Fish tank, okay that's no problem. In that case, I hand the word over to our big blonde one." Tony said pointing with his open hand at Thor.

"Thank you. Mylady, you surely know of the attack of the Chitauri lately. And I am sure you know that my brother Loki was in account of that. I took him back to our homeworld, Asgard, to obtain justice for all he did. He was offered two choices; to spend the rest of his days in our dungeon as a prisoner or to leave Asgard forever and stay on Midgard. If he would choose the second option, as soon as he would do any harm to Midgard or its people, he would be sentenced to death. At first, he wanted to stay on Asgard. But that... it did not work very well for him. He became more and more miserable, so I convinced him to take the other option. I was able to win our father over to put up that option again and now he is here. But after all he did, it is hard to trust him, especially now at the beginning. So Stark was so noble to offer my brother to stay here. We all got missions to look after, we cannot watch him all the time. So we decided to introduce him to someone to get him used to a life on Midgard."

"Okay, ehm, wow", you started after some awful long moments of processing, words failing you, "But, when I'm allowed to ask, why no SHIELD agent? I guess he's kinda... dangerous? How can you be sure he won't try to trick or kill me?"

"That's simple", Tony said, "because you are just a normal person. Sorry, no insult", he added lukewarm, "Therefore you are of no use for him.” He paused for a second, tilting his head. “I'm... I'm sorry, do we know us from somewhere? I can't shake off the feeling we already met."

"I don't think so? Oh, I'm working here down at the reception, maybe that's why I seem familiar. You never spoke to me but you often cross the entrance hall and I sit there all day. Well, most of the time I'm hiding behind the desk. Not that I want to hide, it's just because I'm in charge of the emails most of the time so my attention is to the screen. Uhm, yeah." You grew so hot you wished you could take of that cardigan without revealing your geek.

"Ah yeah. That'll be it. Are you okay? You look like you would faint."

"What? Oh, no, sorry, it's just a little hot", you held your ice cold hands to your cheeks, "I've never fainted once in my life. Everything's fine."

Tony kept staring at you for just a moment longer before jumping off the desk and turning to the coffee machine next to the door.

"Alright! Any questions?"

Unwieldy you took off your cardigan finally and try to hide the broad STAR WARS writing on it with your arms without looking totally awkward. You failed.

"Uhm, yeah. What exactly do I have to with him? Entertain him? Show him our world?"

With a steaming mug in his hand he turned around again and stared at your shirt for a second before answering.

"Love that shirt. First of all, try not to kill him. That could be the hardest part."

"How does it all work?"

"You will have to move in here. We have something like a little flat. We all live here. And with 'we all' I mean the avengers. Everyone has their own space, but we have a common room with a kitchen and stuff. We're like a big, crazy patchwork family." He grinned quickly before taking a big sip from his mug.

"Oh. Wow. Okay. That's a big move. What happens to my stuff? How long will all this take? Will you fire me completely when I mess this up or can I return to my reception desk when I can't do this? What if the others of you don't like me? What if I'm totally useless for you? How can I be sure your brother, what was his name? Loki? Right. How can I be sure Loki won't kill me?"

"You can take as much stuff with you as you want, we have space enough. We don't know how long it will take, probably several months the least. No, of course not, if you want to quit this you can get back to your emails. Don't worry about the others, when we can handle each other we are able to get along with a regular person. No matter how this will turn out, we will have advantage from learning so there is no chance for being useless. He got a little receiver injected under his skin and you will get a bracelet with an emergency button. If you feel threatened, press it once, we will get notified and be there within a minute. If you are in complete distress, keep it pressed for at least 3 seconds and Loki will get... a little electronic tickle. In that case, we also get notified but he won't be able to move for a few minutes. I know, that sounds fun, but just use this in case of emergency."

While processing what you heard you realized you relaxed completely. Resting the ankle of one foot on the knee of the other, you sprawled out on the chair, eating the cashews from your hand. You immediately snapped back to attention, not wanting to be taken as disrespectful.

"Relax Y/N. Don't act like I'm the president. I'm just a normal man. With a genius mind and unbelievable abilities, but - just a man."

You caught Clint next to you rolling his eyes, facepalming.

"So, what do you say? Interested? Oh, and of course you will get paid for your service. Catering and all essentials you need are on me. Don't worry about that. And we have room for your fishies."

"Ehm, well, it sounds really exciting. And since nothing ever happens to me, I'm seduced to say yes right away. But,", you held up one finger, "I would like to meet Loki first. Oh, and I want to know why the other two quit."

"We can arrange that. And they quit because he pissed them off too much. No life threat, he can just be a little pain in the ass. Uhm, do you want to meet him now?"

[fangirlmami]

The Diciserys (Monsta X)

I’ll be updating this story on Wattpad. You can also find student advisor notes on there. I could not put the whole chapter into one post, so I’ve shared the link below. (btw, the app is much better than the website)

Description: Vera Clarke has been accepted to the most prestigious university of sorcery, located on the small Scottish island, Vatersay, with a population of less than a hundred residents. Disguised as a normal university, anyone can apply to it and study different majors in different areas like Science, Business, and so on, but only those possessing magical abilities are accepted to the school and double major in sorcery and a mundane study of their choosing. Vera is the first in her family to ever accomplish such a feat. Bright-eyed and ready to make a name for herself, she quickly learns that fitting in will be the hardest challenge of all. At a university where coming from a bloodline of extremely powerful, renowned sorcerers is almost always essential, she will have to fight tooth and nail to build a reputation for herself. Luckily, when a bubbly Korean sorcerer takes her under his wing, she finds herself among a group of peers that completely turn her life around. What they uncover in the process will change Vatersay University (of Sorcery) forever.

Chapter 1: Welcome to Vatersay University of Sorcery

Word count: 2,496

After a 13 hour flight from Boston to Glasgow, a 3 hour train ride, and 4 hours on a ferry, Vera made it to Vatersay University of Sorcery. She gazed up at the campus with stars in her eyes. She had spent all of her life dreaming of attending the 300 year old school and making a name for herself, something no one in her family had ever accomplished. She walked up the stone path to the quadrangle where booths were set up for the incoming students. She approached one a young woman sat behind, who appeared to be a student herself. She gave a wide grin and said with a French accent, "Welcome to Vatersay! May I have your name?"

"Vera Clarke. C-l-a-r-k-e." The young woman skimmed through the list of names laid out before her.

"Ah! Here you are! You are a first-year correct?"

"Correct. I'll be staying at the Greenleaf Residence Hall."

"Yes, yes. It is to your left." Vera looked toward the left and saw that it was between to other residence halls. "You are in room 201 along with Isolde Jansen. Your resident supervisor will give you your key." The student welcomer grabbed a basket from under the booth and handed it to her. "It just has some chocolates, informational pamphlets, and a map. The official welcoming ceremony will be at 7 o'clock, tomorrow morning. You can meet up with your student advisor then if you'd like to swap, add, or drop any classes from your schedule."

Vera nodded her head and thanked her. "Take care."

She walked over to the residence hall and up the first flight of steps to the second floor, admiring the antique décor. Her room was the first to the left, it's door wide open, so she hauled her luggage into it.

"Vera?" A short and petite blonde asked.

"That's me. You must be Isolde."

"That I am!" She smiled sweetly while extending her hand toward Vera. Vera took it and shook it. "It's nice to meet you."

"It's a pleasure to meet you, too. Where are you from?"

"Belgium, in the Flemish region."

"Oh cool, I've always wanted to visit Belgium, but that's mainly because my dream husband is Romelu Lukaku."

Isolde laughed. "Who wouldn't fall in love with those strong thighs of his?"

"Exactly!" Vera giggled.

"My older brother also attends this school, he's in year four."

"Let me guess, you guys aren't the only one's in your bloodline to have attended this school."

"You got that right. Both of our parents, our parents' parents, and our parents' parents' parents attended."

"You lost me at the second mention of parents," Vera joked.

"What about you? Where do you hail from?"

"I'm from the U.S., more specifically, Massachusetts. Unlike most of the students at this school, I'm not the descendant of renowned sorcerers. If it weren't for my grandmother, I wouldn't even know how to do sorcery."

"Oh." Isolde sounded disappointed, and Vera quickly picked up on the change of her tone.

"However, I didn't get into this school for nothing. I'm a fast learner and a good sorceress. I suppose that's why I was never good at mundane classes, but always did well when learning new spells."

"Of course." She gave a weak smile. "Well, if you need help with anything, let me know."

"Will do, thanks."

Isolde left the room, leaving Vera on her own. She began unpacking and putting her clothes in the empty wardrobe at the foot of her bed which faced the door. She then placed her school supplies on her desk and began putting sheets on her bed when she heard a knock on the door. She looked back to find a cheerful man with dark blond, slightly wavy hair, his bangs almost covering his almond shaped eyes. "Vera and Isolde?" He had a bit of an accent that she could not place.

"I'm Vera. Isolde left."

He walked up to her, handing her a pair of gold colored, skeleton keys. "Make sure to give her one, please."

"Will do."

"I am Minhyuck, by the way. I will be your resident advisor for this school year."

"Oh okay. Nice to meet you!"

"Nice to meet you, too! Are you new to the school?"

"Yes, it's my first year attending university."

"On behalf of the student body, I want to welcome you. You will absolutely love it here! There's something for everyone. The only downside to this place is the lack of cuisines, but other than that, it's pretty great!"

"So, I've heard! That's why I always dreamt of coming here."

"Who hasn't, really? Will you be coming to our residence hall party tonight?"

"I didn't even know about it."

"You must come! It's important that you meet your peers. If you get bored, I'll be there to lift your mood."

Vera giggled, saying, "In that case, I will definitely be there."

"Awesome! It's on the first floor in the common room. I'll see you there at 8. If you need anything in the meantime, I'm in room 310."

"Okay, I'll see you then."

Minhyuck shot finger guns at her before leaving. Vera found him to be an interesting character, but good looking nonetheless. She continued fixing up her bed and then proceeded to select an outfit for later.

~~~

Vera and Isolde entered the common room together, surveying the area. Music was blasting as students drank from beer bottles, mingling. A brunette immediately approached Isolde with her arms outstretched for a hug.

"It's so good to see you!" she exclaimed.

"You didn't tell me you were staying in Greenleaf. Had I known, I would have visited you hours ago."

"You didn't tell me you were staying here, either," she laughed. Her eyes darted back and forth from Isolde to Vera, as if she were waiting for an introduction.

"Oh, this is Vera. Vera, this is Madeleine. She's from Québec, Canada."

"I'm from the famous Vernau family," Madeleine continued.

"Can't say I've heard of your family," Vera replied.

"My great-great grandfather Jean-Louis Vernau helped globalize this school." Vera shook her head, unclear on who he was. "He was a pioneer in helping blend different sorcery practices from all over the world together."

"Oh yeah, Jean-Louis. Duh!" she laughed nervously since she definitely had no idea who he was. The girls laughed along with her.

"What family do you come from?" That was a question Vera was dreading after the way Isolde reacted earlier; she felt that it would be best not to disclose her lineage with anyone at the school. However, it felt that it was almost mandatory that she do so.

"I'm from the Clarke family, and no, no one from my family has attended this school, or any school of sorcery at all. Well, not that I know of."

"Oh." Madeleine sounded just like Isolde when she found out that Vera was basically a nobody among them. Her smile faded and her eyes slowly made their way to Isolde's. "Come on, Isolde. Let me introduce you to some people." She took her hand and began dragging her away. Isolde looked back at Vera with pity, before conversing with a group of students.

Vera sighed, telling herself, "I should have known this would happen." Unfazed, she made her way to the snack table and picked up some hors d'œuvres to munch on.

"Vera?" She turned around to see who was calling her. "Hi again!" Minhyuck greeted. Beside him stood a shorter man, almost sporting the same hairdo as Minhyuck, except it was his natural, dark brown hair color. "This is Changkyun; he's a first year just like you." Changkyun waved a hand at Vera, and she did the same in return.

"And like me, he's from Korea, but he's travelled the world with his family."

"Not really," Changkyun corrected with a slightly deep voice. "I just lived in Massachusetts then Israel for a bit."

Finally, she had something in common with someone. "I'm from Massachusetts!"

"Really? I was staying in Boston. Is that where you're from?"

"Sort of. I grew up in the suburbs west of it."

"Ah, okay."

"I'm hoping the winters will be kinder here, but the ocean is basically at this campus' doorstep." The group laughed.

"What classes are you taking?"

"The Science of Magic, Ancient Languages of Sorcery, Light Manipulation, and then for my mundane degree, I'm taking Global Studies courses."

"I'm taking The Science of Magic, too. My first class is tomorrow morning after the welcoming ceremony."

"It's seems like we'll be in the same class."

"Cool; we can cheat off of each other," he joked. "I actually know some ancient languages of sorcery, so if you ever need help, I am at your service."

"That's very kind of you. It's good to know not everyone is bothered by the fact that I don't come from magical royalty."

"None of that stuff matters," Minhyuck started. "You weren't accepted here for your pedigree, you were accepted for your talent in sorcery, which is something your classmates should be afraid of."

"Looks like we'll be going head to head," said Changkyun. "Up for a bit of friendly competition?"

"Always!"

The group spent the rest of the party chatting it up and drinking, except for Vera. She was never good at handling alcohol. As the party drew to an end, she traded numbers with the boys and returned to her room with Isolde, who was acting as if she hadn't abandoned Vera at the party.