I find it so funny when people call Jon Snow a bastard as an insult as if the show and book shows that you shouldn’t discriminate people based on their birth. I’m looking at you, targ stans. Like he might be a bastard, but he is a better man than most of the true born Targaryens.

That's the thing, Jon being a bastard isn't just about the secret of his birth. It's all about Jon starting the story as an outcast, and finally finding a place in the world amongst other outcasts and unique people. His early friendly kinship with Tyrion, finding a genuine brother in Sam, befriending people like Grenn, Pyp, Tormund. And how by not looking down on them the way the world does him, he grows into a leader. One of the only leaders who can handle the threat to come.

Jons story isn't about getting passed being a bastard or becoming trueborn named anything. Its about Jon realizing that he became the man he is, while being a bastard. That despite everyone trying to put him down for it, he still pushed passed and rose up. It's about Jon learning being a bastard isn't good or bad, it's simply about the man he strives to become.

Also Targ stans the way they talk about Jon Snow is..odd. They seem to only like him if he can be molded into a Targaryean and nothing else. But he is everything they aren't. They are obsessed with blood purity and blood superiority, ruling through cruelty and fear, obessed with prophecy and status. Jon doesn't care about any of those things.

Also, the Targaryeans are obsessed with their blood purity so much it's led to the rampant, destructive levels of incest which almost caused their house to go extinct. When Rhaenyra very obviously had bastards, instead of fighting for her bastard childrens rights, she got violent and cruel at the insinuation of the truth being told to the point she wanted to torture her young half brother for simply repeating something his mother told him.

Even her kids must know their own mother looks down on them for being bastards, because if she wasn't, she wouldn't be trying to pass them off as trueborn. Jon did not need to be a Stark for Ned to love him and include him as much as he could within the family home. Ned literally raised Jon to be the Kevan to Robbs Tywin. Ned wanted Jon to be Robbs right hand man, his closest advisor. And he never needed Jon to be a Stark to start teaching and preparing him for that.

The Targaryeans don't respect bastards so much it's literally what caused the Blackfyre rebellions. Their stans just don't seem to grasp that all of this shows it is bad to judge someone for being a bastard.

They only care about Jon if he will call himself a Targaryean and be just like Rhaegar. But they miss the point. He only has one name and it's Jon Snow.

Because that is what his father named him, and he never had to become a Stark to grow into the man he is and could become.

But Targ stans don't quite seem to care about the conversation of bastards outside of the very specific times said bastards are directly involved in house Targaryean like in the Dance or the Blackfyres. Otherwise, they flip flop on the matter with Jon because they don't really care about him unless he resigns himself to being a true Targaryean.

Which is SILLY.

A Broken Sort or Normal, Epilogue

WC:1383, Masterpost

Danny glances up from his fight to fit the cufflink into the sleeve of his rich blue suit and smiles at what he sees in the mirror.

“You know, it’s supposed to be bad luck to see the bride before the wedding.”

Wally grins, easily, from where he leans against the door frame. “I’m the one in white so I think I’m the bride, in this case.”

“Oh, so putting the bad luck all on me?” Danny asks as he turns to appreciate how his fiancée looks. Wally really is stunning in his white on white tux. Danny hadn’t been able to stomach the idea of traditional black and white tuxes, not with Phantom still being such a raw wound. Wally hadn’t minded in the least going with a brighter color palette.

“Never,” Wally promises. “We’ll face whatever comes together.”

It’s a vow that Danny unquestionably trusts. Since the curse broke, Wally has been there for every step of it— and Danny has needed a lot of help with steps. Danny’s weakened core not only handicapped him as a ghost but as a living. Many days Danny is able to pass through it all relatively unaffected, other than the cold ache that has settled into his bones, but other days are harder. Other days Danny walks with canes braced against his arms. Other days Danny needs his wheelchair. Other days he can hardly get out of bed unless he goes ghost. And through it all Wally has done everything that he can to make things easy for Danny.

They have a house now, one story and carefully renovated so that on the days Danny needs the wheelchair he can still move around easily. There are electric blankets and soft pillows and this ridiculous massive bean bag that’s big enough for them to both sink into on the bad days.

And there are good days too. There are days where the aches are just a background note, days it all doesn't hurt so much, days where he can fly. Oh how Danny had missed flying. Of all the things that came with being a halfa, flying is what Danny had missed most– not because he could help or be a hero, he missed flying just for himself.

The first time he had felt stable enough to fly, Wally had whisked them out to that same field their first date was in and let Danny loose. Danny had flown for hours, darting around, doing tricks, and floating among the clouds. When he had come back down to earth, Wally had been there, picnic waiting and the biggest smile on his face.

So like everything in Danny’s life, it’s all a balance: the good, the bad, the effort… Danny loves it all.

He loves it not just because it reminds him of how much living means, but because of how deeply it shows that Wally cares. Wally’s love is one thing he can never question. It’s a certainty that Danny has needed through all of the aftermath.

Once Danny had been released from the Watchtower’s medical, he had started small dealing with it all. Coworkers were easy to reply to and he could trust that informing a few would spread the news to the rest. They didn’t push for more than he was willing to give, though he had known he would come back to questions and rumors.

Everyone else was harder.

He had set a video call with Sam and Tucker at the same time. It was maybe a little unfair to not give them each their own call, but he just didn’t have the energy for that. They weren’t kids anymore and hadn’t been for a long time.

“God, Danny,” Tucker started at the same time as Sam said his name.

He held up his hand and their mouths shut with a clack. His smile was tinged with sadness, but it was a smile. “Don’t. You two didn’t do anything horrible.”

“Dude,” Tucker said and for a moment Danny was back in high school. Tucker looked good, still in bright colors and with his hair expertly shaved on the sides with a little pattern. “We forgot about you.”

“We left you alone to deal with all that,” Sam said. Her hair was a more natural shade of black now and her smoky eye an expertly done wing. It was odd to see her lips red instead of purple.

“Because of a curse. You forgot because of a curse,” Danny said, “and then you just did what anyone does, you went on to have a future. It’s not like we had some big fight or anything, you both just moved on with your lives.”

“That still had to hurt,” Sam said.

“It did,” Danny said honestly. He didn’t see the point of pretending the past hadn’t happened. “But that doesn’t mean it was either of your faults. The last thing I want is anyone doing anything for me out of guilt, especially since in this case it’s misplaced. It’s okay that you both grew up. I did too.”

It hurt and it would always hurt, at least a little, but Danny didn’t want any false care now.

Sam chewed on her lip and Danny smiled a little at the sight of the old habit. “I’m still sorry.”

“Me too,” Tucker said.

“Thanks, that does mean a lot, but it’s okay, really.”

There was a level of peace from that talk. Sam and Tucker both asked if they could reach out sometimes, and Danny said yes but with zero expectations. They were different people than they were as children and Danny knew, because he had lived it, that without Phantom there wasn’t much for them to talk about. And Danny had no plans to talk about Phantom. That part of him had ended with a wish seven years ago. He didn’t want to rehash or relive it now, even with them.

Jazz… Jasmine was harder. Sam and Tucker losing touch was just part of growing up. His own sister ignoring him though, that wasn’t the same at all. If it wasn’t for his nieces, Danny didn’t know if he would even be trying with Jasmine, even as apologetic as she was. There were some things that were too hard to come back from.

“Are they here?” Danny asks and looks back down at his stubborn sleeve.

Wally steps forward and takes the cufflink from Danny. He’s gentle as he fits it into the slot and secures it. “They are. And all our friends are here too. Just remember that you don’t have to talk to them any more than you want to. It’s okay to be taking things slow. It’s okay to decide that you can’t do this with her. You know I’m with you whatever you decide.”

Danny raises Wally’s hands to brush a kiss across each set of knuckles. “I know. I’m so lucky to have you. Is it bad that part of me making an effort with them is so that my nieces have family other than their moms and our parents?”

“Nope. I think that makes you a really good uncle. I mean, where would I be without Aunt Iris? Family like that can mean a lot and if that’s the only reason you have for dealing with your sister, then that’s enough,” Wally assures him.

It helps Danny relax some.

“Okay, good. We’ll just… see how it goes. I’m not going to focus too much on them today, not when today is about me and you.”

“I think that’s all good. You’re just wrong about one thing though,” Wally says, his grin just a little mischievous. Danny loves that grin.

“And what’s that, Mister West?”

“Well, soon to be Mister West,” Wally says, “it’s that I’m the lucky one. I could have lost you so many times and so many ways and despite everything, today I get to marry you. I don’t think there’s anyone luckier than me today.”

“Well, not to have our first fight,” Danny teases, “but agree to disagree.”

“I think I can live with that.”

Danny laughs. There’s nothing funny about that, but the laughter bubbles up in him all the same, not from humor but from joy. “Living, that sounds like a very, very good plan.”

---

AN: Aaaaaah we are done!! Not everything is perfect, but Danny is alive and living and Wally is going to be with him for all of it <3. Thank you all for coming along for the ride on this! It's been unexpectedly delightful to write these two together and I'm glad to finally wrap it up with (hopefully) a nice bow.

And yes, this will be going up on ao3 but I need the brain functions to go back to the start and give it a good polish! I'll likely do it chapter by chapter weekly to give myself and my darling beta @mokulule time.

Until then or the next thing here, stay delightful, darlings!

Donating to the Family || Jared & Jasmine

TIMING: Current PARTIES: @themidnightfarmer & @halequeenjas SUMMARY: Jared volunteers to remove the chickcharneys from Jasmine’s attic. Things don’t go as smoothly as Jasmine would have liked.

Despite his recent reservations about his skills in actually caring for the creatures in his protection, Jared had decided that ANYONE was better than pest or animal control. He arrived with what he hoped translated into a polite smile, and a cardboard box. The nymph knocked and waited patiently, his hands clasped behind his back swaying to music playing in his head that had been on the radio on the drive over. He mumbled to himself a little as he waited as well, a mixture of the lyrics of the song and a few random thoughts. When the door opened he was on the tail end of a comment to himself mixed with a song lyric and he couldn’t stop himself finishing off before greeting Jasmine. “I should advertise as animal control ah ah ah ah stayin aliiive. Hello!”

Whether the guy who offered to come get the freaky birds out of her basement was a hunter or some sort of other supernatural enthusiast hardly mattered to Jasmine. She wanted these little shits out of her house without anyone getting seriously injured. It was hardly a lot to ask for, but then again, this was White Crest. A handful of years ago, she’d give anything to leave, now she couldn’t imagine it. Discovering what she was made her realize she was needed here even if her heart pleaded for the always eyeball free, California sun. When she opened the door to a random man on the internet, she carefully studied him. He didn’t appear overly tough by any measure. Hell, he was even a bit awkward. “I mean, good song, but weird greeting. You haven’t been drinking have you?” 

The dark circles under his eyes were hard to cover over as Jared was unused to doing such with his usual glamour. This meant that his exhaustion was clear on his face. He wilted a little and chuckled at her words in the hopes that it would smooth over the weird moment. He just wasn’t able to get his brain to cooperate properly lately. “No not drinking, sorry just...songs get caught in my head I guess.” He fibbed lightly before peaking past her, stooping at the same time to lift the cardboard box into his arms. He very much hoped to come across as far more normal than he had initially. “So you have birds in your attic? Any holes in the eves I can patch up for you or do you tend to have windows open around the house? This season is a risky time to have windows open I’m afraid. Fledgling season and all.”

This guy did not look so hot right about now. Jasmine could tell he was exhausted so she wasn’t entirely sure why he volunteered to come grab the birds. He must have really liked those things which was weird in itself. “Right,” she said slowly and realized she vaguely recognized him from Bea’s birthday party which meant he couldn’t be that bad… even if he was a little odd. He had to be one of Luce’s friends. “I’m going to pretend that makes sense for the sake of getting these birds out of my home.” She stood off to the side and allowed him into her home. Hopefully, she wouldn’t come to regret that decision as she eyes his choice of supplies. “I didn’t exactly climb up, so I’m not sure about holes, but I did have the window open the other day. Noted on it being their season.” She led him over to the attic entrance. “So this is how you get up there. Do you need a ladder or anything?” 

He entered her home, careful to take in his surroundings and make sure his cardboard box didn’t knock anything over. Jared followed her to the hatch into the attic and shook his head. “Don’t need a full ladder, do you have a stool or something?” He was tall enough he’d be able to grab onto the edges and pull himself up, he just didn’t trust not looking unnaturally strong if he was to push the hatch out of the way with just his finger tips. His strength was far more than he looked, but that wasn’t natural for a human so it was best to compensate a little. “Will you be able to pass the box up to me? Or are you planning to come up as well?” He didn’t know if he hoped she’d come so he’d stay aware of himself, or if she shouldn’t just in case she saw something suspicious. The nymph had been struggling with his glamour in his exhaustion as it was. 

While she had a ladder, she had never personally used it and wasn’t too keen on dragging it out. Jasmine was relieved when Jared asked for a step stool and quickly went to go fetch it out of her kitchen. She came back and set it up just below the attic. “Okay, there you go,” she stated and looked up at the attic. She could hear the stupid bird things up there and was eager to have them out of her house. “Yeah, I can pass it up to you. I have no intention of getting anywhere near them,” she answered as her nose scrunched up in disgust. Outside of Diamond, who was currently stowed away in her bedroom, she wasn’t too big on animals. It dawned on her those things were pooping up there and she let out a sigh. She’d have to have the cleaning lady hit the attic this weekend which was definitely going to cost extra. “Just let me know if you need anything, okay? I’ll be right here.” 

The nymph pulled a head torch out from his back pocket and pulled the band over his head before stepping up and reaching to move the hatch. Jared pulled himself up into the attic easily, only grunting with effort for Jasmine's benefit. Once up he held his hands out for the box, feeling the gaze of the birds on his back as he did so. Once he had it in his reach he was instantly hit with a wave of dread. The attic wasn’t as clear as it could be, and there seemed to be a lot to both trip on or hit your head. It made for difficult herding he was sure. He paused just looking into the dim air. Trying to count the creatures he could see. The fledgelings had already hopped out of their nest which was bad news for catching them and trying to persuade their father to follow. He crawled away from the hatch as he made his decision. Jasmine was sure to hate it. But he could maybe play it off. He was out of sight up here so he switched his head torch off for a second. He slammed his hand against a beam and yelped before rushing the birds so that they’d beeline for the only source of light. And there they went falling out of the hatch.

Jasmine had an uneasy feeling as she watched Jared pull himself up into her attic. All she wanted was to get rid of these birds and have her home remain in the immaculate condition she always kept it in. Already, it seemed like he was making quite the ruckus up there as she heard a large bang. She didn’t like this one bit and she sat there with her arms crossed over her chest as she waited for Jared to emerge with the weird birds in his cardboard box. “Come on,” she whispered quietly to herself and almost immediately regretted when she saw the birds falling through the hatch and onto the very expensive rug she had lining her hallway. She let out a shriek and quickly shuffled away from the now very angry looking birds. “What the hell,” she practically screeched as Jared fell through with them, “Get these things out of here!” 

The nymph wasted no time answering her yells, he hit the floor in the hall and managed to catch the most dazed bird in his hand and pop it into the box he’d dragged down after him. Jared folded over the top and motioned to Jasmine to make sure it didn’t push it’s way out before he tore after the other two. Fledgelings weren’t all that fast on their feet yet, and they had little space in the hallway to spread untested wings either. SO with a quick motion the second bird was in his grasp. The father would be the hardest, it was unfortunate that the critter appeared to have shoved it’s way into another room. “Moving back to Jasmine he plastered on an embarrassed and rueful smile hoping to win some points back with the no doubt fuming woman. “Got bitten.” he lied. “Tripped on their nest and they took off. Sorry about that. But two down, and only the one to go.” He let his voice lilt to gain favour. “The door at the end of the hall.”

Jasmine was decidedly not amused with how this bird collection was going. One was at least stowed away in the box as he fell, but another was darting down her hallway. It hardly seemed professional he’d gotten bitten, but then again, he was a farmer not pest control. Still, she wasn’t thrilled. “Bitten, right,” she said with an air of annoyance in her voice, “Just get them out of here, please!” The last one was heading down her hall toward her office and dread filled her. Why hadn’t she closed her doors before this process? Had she been disillusioned to think this Jared could successfully just scoop the mean birds out of her basement. She let out an exasperated sigh and bolted for the doors. She did her best to close them all off, but the little bugger beat her to her office. “Shit,” she screamed out, “Get off of that rug! Get that thing out of my office!” 

Jared was thankful he hadn’t ACTUALLY been bitten, but it was a small victory, hopefully the chickcharnies wouldn’t open wide enough that Jasmine was able to see the full set of human like teeth in their mouths. But then again in this town with so many deniers, it wasn’t guaranteed that she would recognise it as odd enough to remember anyway. She took off as he managed to trap the second into the box securely and turn back around. The little ball of feathers rocketed into her office and her scream of annoyance made the nymph wince. High pitched like that wouldn’t be very calming for the birds. He shushed her gently, trying not to be rude but also hurrying to peak into her office with his finger on his lips. “Too much noise and you’ll spook him into a cu- something manic.” He was definitely losing his edge, he’d almost admitted to the cursing ability of the birds. He pushed past the awkward stumble in his wording and pushed the door slowly open all the way. “Does the window open? We could herd him out? He’ll hear the cries of the little ones once I’m outside, might be better than catching him.”

At this point, Jasmine was fuming. His mistake led to the stupid magic birds falling out of her attic and he was shushing her? In her home? Seriously? The glare on her face showcased her dissatisfaction with his bird collecting abilities. “Fine,” she huffed with arms crossed over her chest in annoyance. The way he cut himself off did at least indicate he knew these birds were of the supernatural variety. If there wasn’t one likely about to drop a deuce in her office, she’d be a lot more inclined to ask how he knew about this kind of stuff anyway, but right now, her precious metal chair and imported wooden desk were far higher on her priority list. When he suggested she opened the window, she looked at him dumbfounded. “Are you seriously suggesting that I go in there with crazy bird,” she asked with the shock evident in her voice. “Ugh,” she grumbled, “I’ll open the damn window. He better not ruin this jacket, it’s Gucci!” As he went outside, she made her way into the office and did her best to take quiet steps. The last thing she wanted was to attract its attention. She snuck by and carefully opened the window before darting out of her office and to the front door to see if this Jared guy’s plan worked. 

If she’d been looking for a professional, Jared most certainly was not. But he wouldn’t apologise. He didn’t really have much consideration for her things, his main goal was extracting the poor critters without the threat that animal control would pose to them after all. He would however look as apologetic as he could. He didn’t directly want to upset her, she just definitely wasn’t his biggest concern. The nymph and Jasmine were on completely different wavelengths and it showed almost down to the dust on their clothes. Jared was a farmer, he owned exactly nothing designer, and if he had he’d have sold it already. Jasmine was on a completely different path and it was curious to him, but he didn’t spare her more than a passing curious thought. She agreed to open the window and he thundered outside, whispering a soft word to the fledgelings in the box before he shuffled them uncomfortably. They both started to cry, and sure enough within the office their father grew agitated and made his flightpath out of the window and circled above the nymph. He smiled and raised a hand to Jasmine standing in the doorway. “He’ll follow me and the kids home from above I’d say. The nest will be abandoned, but I’d have someone take it away, maybe dust up there or something.” Jared only belatedly realizing it was a small slight on the state of her attic and his face reflected this as he cringed and moved to his truck parked illegally in the street. 

This was a disaster. If this didn’t work, Jasmine swore she was going to slap this kid. She didn’t care if he was Lucinda’s weird friend or not, her house was a mess now. She’d have to call Kristy over for an emergency cleaning. Her arms were still crossed haughtily over her chest as she stood on her front porch watching Jared with the birds. The last bird was now fluttering outside the window to get its babies back and Jasmine wanted no part of that. “Right, right. Just please get them out of here, I’ll message you again for your Venmo. I’m not getting anywhere near you or the birds while this guy is pissed, thanks.” Thankfully, he was already going toward his truck with the birds in tow. As annoyed as she was, she was grateful to have her house to herself following this ordeal. No more weird birds that probably had some weird powers. Those were Jared’s problems now. “Hope they do well on the farm or whatever,” she said with a wave and hoped he’d be on his way with the little demons.

The Wonders of Ohio P.1

masterlist request guidelines okay i keep saying i’m on a hiatus and i literally start like 7 series kill me now

pairing: draco x muggle!reader

request: requested from my 14 year old brain...and her wattpad account...

summary: american high school senior y/n is roped into hosting a british exchange student, and something doesn’t seem quite right.

a/n: i wanted to do some country other than mine but it wouldn’t make sense for him to be sent to a UK family (wayy too close) and also i don’t want to assume things about a culture i am not a part of. so. yeah. sorry for this being such an ameri-centric blog, i’d like to change that but for now this is my guilty pleasure self-insert fic, along with all my fellow muggle high school seniors out here.

warnings: language. intense americanness. god i hate america

tags!!! i love you all so dearly wtf @accio-rogers @eltanin-malfoy @geeksareunique

music recs: orinoco flow from enya ( i know it’s a meme shhh it fits the scene i have of draco entering the us so well)

word count: 2,174

also: i’ll be writing the entirety of this from y/n’s point of view...i’m giving draco a rest

“So...his parents are worried about his safety in England?” Y/N shifted in her car seat, wincing as the hot leather scorched her bare arms.

“They weren’t entirely clear on it,” her mother said. She had just pushed the key into the ignition, and hot air was blasting out of the AC at an uncomfortable rate. “I’m sure you read the news about the poor people who were going missing over there...and he seems to be from a well-off family who can afford this kind of venture...”

“Did you ever tell me his name?”

“Draco Malfoy.”

Y/N nearly spat out the sip of water she had just taken, spinning around to stare at his mom. “Draco? What kind of name is that?”

“Sweetheart, be nice now,” she reprimanded, giving her a stern look. “It seems as though this family has been through a lot. I remember them mentioning something about being political targets.”

“That’s funny. I don’t remember reading anything about the Malfoy family in BBC or anything.” Y/N frowned and set her water bottle in the cup holder, turning away to watch the scenery of her state pass by.

“Perhaps it’s confidential,” her mother said. “It’s best that we don’t pressure him too much. It’s just our job to make him comfortable for a year, that’s all.”

“That’s all? You want me to give up my senior year to make some random rich boy comfortable?”

“Y/N,” her mother warned. “You’ll be civil. I know it’s strange, but I can assure you that he’ll find his own group of friends after the first week or so of school. He’ll be like a brother.”

“I can only try.” Y/N glanced up at the clock in the car, noticing that it was already 10 past 4. “Aren’t we a bit late? I thought that the program said that they wanted us at the pick-up point at 4.”

“Did they?” Mrs. Y/L/N seemed hardly concerned. “I don’t think that it’ll matter. This is an exchange program after all, you remember how they were last year in the summer. The bus didn’t even show up with all the kids until half past the hour. Speaking of which, did you happen to bring the sign?”

“How could I have made a sign with his name on it if I didn’t know what it was, Mom?”

Her mother swore under her breath, her eyes darting around the car. “You’re right. I completely forgot to tell you, you know, with the PTA meeting and everything last night...”

“Yeah, yeah,” Y/N mumbled. “It was a real rager.”

“Do we have any paper in here?” Mrs. Y/L/N began opening the glove department and sorting through it.

“Mom! I’ll do it! Keep your eyes on the road, please!” Pushing her mother’s hands away, she began going through it. There was nothing but a crumpled napkin, a “Wonders of Ohio” pamphlet, and a slightly dried EXPO dry-erase marker.

“Yeah, we have some,” Y/N muttered, uncapping the EXPO marker and writing the words “Welcome Draco!” on the unfolded tour pamphlet.

“Oh, Y/N, that’s the ugliest thing I’ve ever seen.”

“Maybe if the PTA bake sale meeting wasn’t so crazy, we’d be in a different situation right now.” Y/N broke into a fit of laughter, leading her mother to do the same. “I swear. He’s not gonna want to come home with us. I think he’d probably take being a political target over going home with rednecks like us.”

“You’re bad, Y/N.”

Their conversation was cut short as they arrived in a school parking lot that Y/N had been in many times to pick up exchange students for the summer. Today, it was a bit different. The crispier fall air had turned the leaves orange and red, each color illuminated brightly by the sun, which was now hitting the earth at a sharper angle.

And, most curious of all, there was only one car in the parking lot.

“See, I told you that they wouldn’t be here yet,” her mother said, motioning to the empty lot.

“But...aren’t there usually coordinators? And other parents?”

Something was beginning to feel...off.

“Well...I suppose so,” she said, pushing her glasses up on the bridge of her nose. “Yes, I guess this is a bit unusual.”

Their confusion only grew as they pulled into the closest parking space to the front. No one was there to greet them, which was very odd. Normally there were some adults who organized the exchange program set up a refreshments table and supplied sign building equipment in the case that you had forgotten...but today, things were different.

“Maybe year-long exchanges are just different?” Y/N suggested as they both stepped out of the car and made their way to the waiting area.

“I don’t see why they would be,” Mrs. Y/L/N said, frowning. “However, I think that this is being done by a third party program. Shannon told me that while our usual program was helping, a different one was doing most of the diplomatic and visa work.”

The two waited for about two minutes in silence. Y/N had folded and unfolded her “Welcome Draco” sign probably around 6 times before a pop rang out, loud enough to startle her.

“What was that?” she yelped, turning to see her mother just as concerned. 

“I don’t know, doll. Maybe someone is having...car troubles?” 

Y/N knew that that wasn’t true, but she didn’t push it. Instead, she was more focused on the two two tall figures walking towards them on the street. One had a certified dad body, tall with a broad chest that was only accentuated by a strange button-up with flamingos on it (and a sports jacket?). The man’s hair was what stood out most of all: a shock of carrot orange hair, nearly identical to the turning leaves around him. A very strange tri-cornered Revolutionary style hat was perched on top of his head.

His companion was taller but wiry, clad in long dark green cloak that flowed in the wind. As they got closer, Y/N realized how ridiculous the guy looked. His hair was a startling white blonde, but he had the face of someone around her age.

“Hello!” 

The older man stopped halfway through the parking lot, waving and grinning at Y/N and her mother. They both waved back, trading glances of amusement.

“Hi?” Y/N raised her voice. “Do you need help?”

The man’s face split even further into a grin. “Are you the Y/L/N family?” His voice had turned into a yell to battle the sound of a car alarm that had sounded just a few streets over. 

“What was that? You need to come closer,” Mrs. Y/L/N yelled back, motioning for them to approach. The man sent the blonde boy a pleased look, almost as if to say “see? That wasn’t too hard”. They began walking, but the carrot haired man seemed especially fascinated with the other car that was parked by them. He froze in the lot, staring at the white Subaru, mesmerized as the brake lights turned on and the car began to ease back--right in their direction.

“Oh my god...he’s gonna get hit, Mom!” They shared a concerned look before they both cupped their hands to their mouths.

“Sir, you need to move! That car’s going to hit you!” 

They watched in horror as the Subaru slowly eased out of the parking lot, getting within a foot of the man before the blonde boy yanked him out of the way. Y/N could’ve sworn she heard the man say “Marvelous! Just fascinating!”.

“Jesus Christ, Mom, do you think they’re methheads or something?” Y/N made sure to drop her voice to a hushed whisper, worriedly turning towards her. “Should we get in the car and go? What if they’re going to kill us?”

“You’re too overdramatic,” Mrs. Y/L/N reprimanded...but Y/N could see how she was turning her car keys over and over in her hands. “If they come close and making strange advances, then we run, okay?” 

“Sounds good,” Y/N said, her voice weak as the two men stepped up onto the curb and began to get within earshot.

“Are you the Y/L/N family?” the man asked. His British accent shocked Y/N, and suddenly it all made sense.

“Yes, that’s us,” her mother said. 

Now that they were closer, Y/N got a good look at the boy in the green cloak. His features were sharply aristocratic, with a nose that looked like it belonged on a statue out of the Renaissance. She felt him looking her over with the same amount of intensity and immediately crumpled up her Wonders of Ohio pamphlet, shoving it into her pocket. 

“It’s a pleasure to meet you,” the man said. “I’m Arthur Weasley. This is Draco Malfoy.” 

The boy’s scowl only deepened once Mr. Weasley nudged him forward with his elbow. “Say hello, Draco,” he muttered under his breath, his eyes carrying a degree of desperation. 

“Hello.” His voice was cold and uninterested, just like the weight of his gaze. 

“I’m Y/N,” she offered, throwing on a forced smile. “And this is my mother, Y/N Y/L/N.”

“You can call me whatever you’d like, Y/N, even Mom if that’s what you prefer,” Mrs. L/N said. Draco visibly winced at that. 

“Mrs. L/N is fine with me.” 

Y/N cringed at the painful amount of awkwardness. “Where’s your stuff, Draco?” 

Before he could answer, Mr. Weasley jumped in, unfolding a piece of paper and reading it verbatim. “Mr. Malfoy’s luggage is having some trouble getting through cus...customs? Customs. His items will arrive at your place of residence shortly.”

“Did you try to sneak a musket in here to win back the US for the British crown or something?” Y/N couldn’t help but let a snicker slip through. Mr. Weasley seemed to pick up that she’d attempted to make a joke and bellowed a laugh while Draco simply stared her down.

“No.” 

“This is going to be so much fun,” her mother exclaimed, clapping her hands together. “If there’s nothing more to do, we can go ahead and head home. I’m sure you want to rest, Draco.”

Y/N noticed that he flinched every time his name was uttered, and this time was no exception. 

Silence ensued until Mr. Weasley decided to break it. “Sounds like a splendid plan. Feel free to owl--contact me if you need anything, or if Mr. Malfoy here misbehaves in...” He paused to send a glare to Draco, “...any way. The Ministry can’t thank you enough for your help.”

With that, he turned and walked around the corner of the building in the opposite way he came, leaving Draco to stand awkwardly in front of them. Despite his expensive appearance and haughty attitude, it was clear that he didn’t know what to do with his right hand as he kept tucking and untucking it from his pocket. 

“Didn’t you guys come from a different direction?” Mrs. Y/L/N puzzled, staring back in the direction they came. A loud pop rang out once more.

“That’s very odd,” Y/N commented. She could tell that Draco was frozen up, his left hand curled up into a fist. “No matter. Let’s get you home. I call shotgun.”

“Y/N, no, he gets shotgun,” her mother corrected, walking towards their car. Draco trailed behind them with a very confused expression on his face. 

‘Fine, fine,” she moaned, flinging open the backseat. Once they had settled in--she had noticed that Draco took a fair bit of time to buckle his seat-belt--Y/N leaned forward over the console to look at him. “Do they not have cars in England or something?”

“Y/N!” 

Y/N ignored her mother’s shocked comment and looked at him expectantly. 

“You could say that,” he muttered, refusing to make eye contact with her and choosing to look out the window at the passing trees instead. 

“You have a very cool accent,” Y/N pushed, moving over to sit in the middle. “What part of the UK are you from? I’ve never been able to match an accent to a region.”

Draco shrugged. “You wouldn’t know the place.”

“Try me.”

“Y/N, leave the boy alone,” her mother interrupted, moving her hand to push her back from the console. “He’s had a long day of traveling and he’s tired.”

“What time was your flight this morning?”

“Y/N!” 

“I’m sorry,” she said, only partly meaning it. “I’ll stop. I’m really doing wonders for the loud American stereotype, huh?”

He made a sound that seemed like he agreed and rested his head on the window. From her vantage point, she could see that there were no dark roots in his hair, meaning that his color had to either be completely natural or just dyed. She mentally made a note to ask him about that later. While she couldn’t believe it, it seemed like his hair had to be natural: the strands looked so silky from where she was, with no frizz and a light gleam to it. 

She flopped back into her seat, casting her eyes up to the sky. 

This was going to be a long year.

final a/n: i’m so bad at managing my time...oh my god....please help...also i promise there’ll be more of this. i promise i literally love this story and also i’m not from ohio so if i get something very wrong about ohio then i’m very sorry to all my ohioan readers <333333

Always Shine

All Chad had to tell me about Always Shine was that it starred Mackenzie Davis, Tabitha from Succession (Caitlin FitzGerald) and that it was kinda gay - as I would expect any thriller about best frenemies to be. SOLD. I cued up Amazon Prime, settled in with a dog on my lap and a song in my heart and pressed play. But I should have known that Chad would sit on a throne of lies, and what I got was NOT what I expected. How so? Well...

Unexpected is not to say bad, just...different. This felt like an excellent first draft of a movie about two friends, one (FitzGerald) much more successful in the cutthroat world of Hollywood than the other (Davis), and how the tension of that power imbalance turns sour on a weekend getaway trip to a remote cabin in the woods. What feels like an inevitable conclusion occurs, and then the movie turns into something else that could have been great, but sort of falls apart at the end. 

Some thoughts:

Oof, this initial audition sequence is so good in the sense that it is making my skin crawl. Beth (FitzGerald) is auditioning for a movie and the men in the room keep calling her sweetheart and honey and telling her how extensive the nudity is going to be in the film. It becomes clear as the movie progresses that Beth’s “success” in the industry is based on her willingness to exploit herself in shitty horror flicks that are just tits and butchered female bodies. She gets roles, but she pays a high price for them, and in case we forget that amidst Anna’s (Davis’s) jealousy, we just have to remember this first scene. 

Really interesting that Anna in her first scene is filmed the same way as Beth doing her audition. And the whole time I was wondering if Anna was acting, but then it turns out she’s not. We’re immediately set up to compare them at every turn, to wonder what is performance and what is not. It’s a clever device, augmented by director Sophia Takal’s claustrophobically tight framing on each woman’s face throughout these long monologues. 

The scene transitions are punctuated with these brief flashes of other scenes and discordant noises, screams. It’s jarring and nerve-jangling and I’m so into whatever this is setting up. See, The Mothman Prophecies, there is a way to do this technique right!

The competition between Beth and Anna does not feel friendly at all; you can feel Anna’s resentment boiling up constantly, and Mackenzie Davis plays it perfectly. She’s working through all this tension in every scene, and there’s so much fury behind her eyes. I’m reminded of the TSwift lyric, “I’ve never been a natural, all I do is try, try, try” - the difference between Beth and Anna is effort. And as we’ve all known since middle school, looking like you’re trying too hard is the least cool thing in the world. 

Also this lipstick Anna keeps putting on is just the right amount of cheap - it’s flaked onto her teeth in tiny bits when we’re first introduced to her, which is such a perfect little character detail. 

Say what you will about the way the plot sort of fizzles in the end, writer Lawrence Michael Levine has an ear for natural, revealing dialogue. Anna and Beth talk to each other the way my best friend and I talk to each other.

This encounter in the bar with this random guy is making me SO uncomfortable. Not only for Beth - I’ve been the friend sitting in silence while my friend flirts with some rando - and for Anna, who is striking out with this guy HARD. And for him to ultimately hit on Anna when Beth goes to the bathroom - ouch. You get the sense it’s always been this way, that things are just handed to Anna because she doesn’t give off the same air of desperation Beth does. Both women play this dynamic perfectly. In terms of character study and fascinating performances, FitzGerald and Davis are acting the hell out of this, and are both a true joy to watch.

Also, I love how complicated the dynamic is, because even though she’s being incredibly intense about it, Beth has a point - Anna is lying at every turn but acting as though she’s completely innocent and helpless in this situation. The resentment isn’t simple jealousy, because Anna is being manipulative here.  

After the climax of this confrontation between the two women, there’s now this turn about 2/3 of the way through the movie where Anna is essentially acting like Beth, playing the role of Beth, and it’s fascinating to watch. The way Davis’s body language changes, the way she changes her voice to make it softer, it’s completely transformative.

A big consequence of this film is that it makes me want to go to Big Sur.

ARGH things were going so well and so interestingly, but I Did Not Love the ending. I actually really enjoyed the slow burn tension of the whole thing, but the ending felt completely anticlimactic and flat, and left a really sour taste in my mouth. Almost like a deus ex machina, it’s just like “welp now it’s over k bye” with no real resolution or catharsis or even a sense that our characters learned or changed by the end. 

Did I Cry? No, this is more tense than it is upsetting.

Final result - not nearly gay enough. There are scenes where Beth is showering in an open plan shower (no curtain or door) while Anna is talking to her in the bathroom, and it STILL didn’t feel that gay. I’ve seen O Magazine covers more homoerotic than these scenes. So obviously, that’s a bummer, but the dynamic between these two characters is thankfully based on resentment, spite, and years of competition, so it’s still interesting. If you can forgive a flat ending and want to simply watch two women act the fuck out of these characters, Always Shine is worth a shot. 

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Why Not?  - Bang Chan x Reader

Summary: You and bang chan weren’t that close, but you were still friends. Through a series of events, you and him ended up being the only ones in his house without any way of you getting out. It was late so bang chan being bang chan insists it’s fine for you to stay which is all well and good except that you get pretty bad nightmares and can’t sleep unless cuddling something or someone and you had unfortunately left your human-sized stuffed bear at your place.

Highschool AU

Genre: fluff all the way

You were sitting in class, staring to the side absent-mindedly, snapping back to reality once you had heard everyone in the class groan collectively followed by your teacher trying to hush them. you immediately turned to your friend to ask what’s going on.

“We have a partner project-”

“Oh, that’s great! Wanna be partners?” you interrupted before she could finish

“Let me finish! We have assigned partners” 

As soon as she had said that you understood why everyone had groaned so loudly, not being afraid to openly express their disappointment. You looked away from your friend to the rest of the class. You pretty much knew no one. You were cool with maybe one or two people in the class other than your friend who you were sitting next to.

Once the teacher had gotten everyone to quiet down, she got out a sheet of paper and started calling out partners. Your friend came before you and much to your dismay, you two weren’t partners.

A few seconds passed and your ears perked once you heard your name, that being followed up by the name ‘Chris’. You sighed in relief. You and Chan weren’t the closest of friends but hey, at least you guys weren’t awkward with each other, besides, Chan was a pretty damn awesome guy. You may or may not have had a crush on him but really, who didn’t?

The end of school finally came around after what seemed like days, the sky was cloudy and the wind was getting super cold, it looked like it was gonna snow. You were walking through the school gates when Chan ran to catch up to you, calling your name to catch your attention. You spun around and smiled warmly at him who was smiling back.

“Do you wanna come over to my place to start on the project today?”

“Oh, yeah sure! Just let me text my parents”

Chan’s home was in walking distance but much to both of your guys’ dismay, it started snowing on the way back. At first, it was fine but as you guys continued, it started getting heavier. Chan looked over and saw you shivering, he frowned and began to take off his jacket to give to you but you declined, saying you’d be fine, his house was only about two minutes away anyways. He reluctantly put his jacket properly on again.

You two made it to his house eventually to find it empty. Chan called out for his parents but got no answer in return. He quirked a brow but figured they wouldn’t mind and vouched for sending them a quick text to let them know you were over.

You both sat down in the living room and immediately started up a discussion about the project. You were glad to be working with Chan, he got good grades and didn’t screw around or procrastinate (A/N: like mate, stop procrastinating) like a lot of the other kids.

Soon enough you two had everything organized and got to work on doing your set parts of the task, both researching different things to be more efficient, striking up small talk every now and then or sharing school stories and laughs.

About an hour passed before you and Chan decided you should take a break. You stood up and stretched your arms only for your shoulders to instantly go back down once you looked out the window. Snow was piled up over it.

“...Chan...?” 

“Mmm?” He said, only just now getting up to stretch

“We’re snowed in”

He looked out the window and immediately his jaw dropped open. Mouthing what looked to be ‘shit’.

“Is the service still up? You can still call your parents right?” He asked

You quickly checked, giving him a quick nod.

“Ok, good, I think it would be best for you to stay here tonight. Call your parents and tell them. I need to call my parents too real quick to see if they’re ok”

Your face instantly became devoid of all colour and your jaw dropped open. Chan tilted his head to the side at your surprised expression.

“I’m not gonna do anything to you Y/N, I’m not like that,” he said, assuming you’re scared to spend the night snowed in with a boy

“No, no, that’s not it, I know you wouldn’t do that Chan...It’s something else” you said back, waving him off

“What is it?”

“Ah, don’t worry about it. It’s no big deal. Thanks for letting me stay the night, I’ll call my parents now” you said to him, bowing your head slightly

You turned around to call your parents. Parents being parents, they weren’t fully supportive of you staying over at a guys house but chan took over the phone once he heard you struggling and assured them everything was ok. He handed it back to you and immediately the first thing your mum said was ‘date that boy’.

“Oh my God! Mum!” 

“Did something happen?” Chan asked, not having been able to hear what your mum said

“no, everything’s fine” you said, once again waving him off

Another hour had passed and you and Chan were already half-way through the project. You had a week to do it so you both agreed that that was enough work for today.

Chan grabbed the remote and switched on the TV, asking you what movie you wanted. Immediately you answered [your favourite Disney movie]. Chan laughed a bit and put it on. You two may not have been that close but oh boy, did you guys sing your hearts out together during those Disney songs.

It was pretty late once the movie had ended and Chan brought you to the guest room for you to get settled in. Immediately you remembered why you were so worried about spending the night over at his place. You could not go to sleep without something or someone to cuddle with, your nightmares just didn’t allow it.

“You ok? You seem stressed” Chan asked for the tenth time

You nodded and assured him that everything was fine. After a bit of convincing, Chan let you be and went to go prepare himself for bed. You did a quick double take and realized you didn’t have any extra clothes. Luckily though, you did have a spare pair of undies, they were your backup in case your period started without warning but you guess you’d just have to use it for this. Now comes the problem of actual clothes.

You shyly wandered around the house and found Chan’s room, knocking and waiting until he said you could come in.

“Did you need something?” He asked

“Uhm...can I borrow a top and a pair of pants?”

“Oh! Of course!” he said, quickly going into his closet and pulling out a pair of sweatpants, a hoodie, and a shirt. “they might be a bit big on you, the bathroom is right next to the guest room, you can take a shower there. Are you ok for underwear?” he asked, making it sound like the most casual thing in the world

“Ah, yeah I’m all set for that. Thanks Channie!” you said, turning around and walking the other wat before realizing what you had just called him, suddenly your face became red and little do you know, chan’s face also turned red the second you left.

You finished taking a shower and got dressed into Bang Chan’s oversized but ridiculously comfortable clothes. Immediately after you’d finished changing, there was a knock on your door.

“Yeah?” you said

You looked over to the door to see Chan with slightly wet and disheveled hair.

“Wanna watch another movie?”

“Uh...yeah...sure, why not?” you said, in awe at how handsome he was, trying not to let the obvious blush on your face show

You guys both went to the living room and put on a movie, Chan picked it this time. Your eyes were glued to the screen for the first half but you kept seeing Chan look over to you and back to the TV through your peripheral vision. Eventually, letting your curiosity get the better of you, you looked over to him at the same time he looked over to you, forcing you two to meet eyes. His cheeks instantly went red and he looked back to the screen.

“...sorry...” He said hesitantly “You just look really adorable in my clothes”

“Oh,” you said simply, leaving your mouth in an ‘o’ shape long after you finished saying the short word.

You both avoided making eye contact after that, too embarrassed to try and communicate.

The movie came to an end and you two both awkwardly said goodnight before heading to your rooms. You climbed into the bed, trying not to mess up the sheets too much and pulled the covers up past your head. The monsters can’t get you if you’re under the sheets. You knew it was childish but hey, you had nightmares, what are you gonna do?

Your eyes began to slowly shut and before you knew it you were asleep. Maybe a few minutes had passed before you were so rudely awoken by a nightmare of you almost getting eaten by what looked like some sort of zombified cross between an angler fish and shark. You awoke with a startled scream followed by loud and quick footsteps and your door swinging open to reveal a worried looking Chan.

“You screamed, are you ok?!” He said, switching on the light

“I’m fine...just a nightmare...no big deal”

“Sure?”

You didn’t reply. your nightmares weren’t the scariest things in existence but they still woke you up, meaning that even if you weren’t scared, you wouldn’t get very much sleep.

“If there’s anything worrying you, really, just tell me”

“Could I sleep in your bed tonight?” you said hesitantly

Chan seemed startled at your directness for a second

“It’s just-” you continued “I can’t really sleep unless I’m...”

“Unless you’re...?” Chan asked, urging you to continue

“cuddling...someone?” you said, making it sound like a question

“Why not?” he asked nonchalantly, looking fine on the surface but inwardly freaking out

You gratefully got up and started following Chan, continuously asking him if it was really ok to which he assured you it was.

You got to his room and both of you climbed into his bed awkwardly, you lay there stiff for a while before Chan initiated the cuddling, slinging one of his arms over you and sliding the other one under you, you turned to the side away from Chan, hoping he wouldn’t see your face that was practically glowing red by now. That didn’t really make the situation any better because now you were spooning, and Chan’s face was also glowing red.

Eventually, after you had both gotten over the awkwardness, you realized how warm and comforting Chan actually was. You were out within seconds.

You were awoken the next morning to the sound of camera shutters. You groggily opened your eyes to see Chan’s parents’ snapping photos of you two cuddling. You yelped, also waking up Chan. Immediately, he sat up straight away.

“yah! Mum, dad, stop!”

His mum laughed “You two are just so cute! You need to introduce your girlfriend to us properly Chan”

You both blushed at the mention of ‘girlfriend’.

After a very long chat with his parents, you finally told them what had actually happened and that you two weren’t actually dating, they seemed disappointed but let it slide for now and told you that you should probably head home now. The path had been mostly cleared. You packed your things and thanked Chan and his parents for letting you stay.

BONUS

“...do you think you’d...wanna go out with me?” Chan said, his hand rubbing the back of his neck while trying to suppress a blush

You immediately got the biggest smile on your face and wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling him into a hug.

“I would love to!”

He quickly hugged you back with the biggest smile, burying his face into the top of your head before turning around after hearing camera shutters. You both looked to see both of your guys’ parents.

“Mum! Dad!” You both shouted in unison, looking in opposite directions

Lady of the Lake

Pairing: Ginger Ale/Elizabeth x Merlin/Hamish

Warnings: None

A/N:  I’m back and this time continuing the world I started with some Ginger Ale/Merlin.  This series starts a year before the modern-day events of California and will run concurrent with that timeline by Part 6.  However, you can read this one just fine without having read California, although you should because apparently people around here liked it?  Anyway, enjoy!

Reminder: I haven’t seen Kingsman: The Golden Circle, so I’m just using the Wikia, IMDB.com, some gifs, and my own weird ass brain to make up this whole ass story.

Tag List:  @zeldasayer , @romanticgumchewer, @tarrevizslas , @coolmaybelateruniverse , @the-feckless-wonder, @lavenderl3mons , @pascalisthepunkest , @mandoandyodito​ , @randomness501 , @fioccodineveautunnale [please message me to be added or subtracted if you were just here for some Jack Daniels goodness!  I don’t want people being tagged in something they don’t want]

[PART 1] [PART 2]  [PART 3]

Part 1

 M'eudail

A Year Ago

Ginger Ale sat back in her chair while closing her eyes and rolling her neck, making a weak attempt to work out the kinks that were ruining her concentration.  She glanced at the date on the calendar and realized it was her seventh working day in a row, and the long hours were taking their toll.  For the last year, Ginger and her staff had been working to support the ever-growing caseload of the Statesman while lending their knowledge and labs to rebuild Kingsman after their destruction.

Few of the recruits coming through training wanted to work in tech, so the workload fell on her small staff and as many admins as she could beg, borrow, and steal.  Sometimes Ginger found herself conscripting Shirley Temple’s small research team and sometimes even Shirley herself to help track active agents and even build or repair weapons.

Champagne agreed the load was getting to be too much, but the focus on recruitment had been new agents for Kingsman and so here she was on her seventh workday and she could feel it.  Shirley keep talking about taking some time off, just the two of them.  Shirley hadn’t really left HQ in the last four years, so it was a big deal for her to making some noise about going on vacation.  Maybe she’s not wrong, thought Ginger.

Nothing on her plate was changing and Chai, her second-in-command, could handle the workload with no problem.  And Champ would gladly let them have their time off; he claimed to never play favorites, but if you just so happened to ask him, he might just so happen to tell you that Ginger and Shirley were right up there in staff he trusted implicitly.  He recruited both women and along with two agents, Whiskey and Tequila, they had made a formidable team for nearly a decade.

But, the support program with Kingsman meant they needed everyone available and until they were at a reasonable capacity, Statesman needed Ginger to stay put.  It was only fair given that Merlin, her Kingsman counterpart, was working just as much as her with virtually no staff at all.  No, no vacation for you, Miss Ginger, she chastised herself.  She had responsibilities to Statesman and to Merlin.

As she sat there lost in thought, Shirley walked up behind her and placed her hands on Ginger’s shoulders.  She could feel the stress like a rock under her fingertips and she frowned at the sensation. Her best friend was working entirely too hard.  She rubbed a little, trying to make it better.

“Ging, why are you still here? You need to take some time away from this computer, your neck and shoulders feel like a solid block of concrete.  Let’s do a girl’s night tonight, you need it.” Ginger tensed up again, but this time with guilt.

“That sounds amazing, Shirl.  But I got to finish these blueprints and get them off to Merlin so he can build the prototype.  I promised him I get them to him in the next few hours.”  Shirley rolled her eyes and huffed out a breath when Ginger stopped speaking.

“Like hell you can’t.”  She leaned over and punched a few buttons on the computer screen and before Ginger could react, Merlin’s face appeared in the video call.  She noted he looked just as worn and tired as she felt and wondered if she looked that way to him.  Without so much as a hello, Shirley started to talk.

“Merlin, will you please tell Ginger that she can have a girls’ night tonight and that the blueprints for whatever do-hickey you’re working on can wait a day or so?  Besides, you look absolutely terrible and I’m going to say that you need to go home and get some sleep, too.”

“Ever the charmer, Shirley.” Merlin’s laugh was weak, and he hung his head. “You’re right, we’re pushing ourselves too hard, it’s not the end of the world anymore.  We both need to relax for a night, m’eudail.  Go have fun with Shirley and I’ll go home and sleep.”

Shirley and Merlin continued to chat a few more minutes, but Ginger didn’t hear anything.  Instead, she blushed and lowered her eyes.  M’eudail he called her, my dear.  He has never called her that in front of someone before and she hoped that Shirley didn’t catch on.  Not that she was embarrassed for Shirley to know about her and Merlin, but Ginger just wanted something that was hers and hers alone.  

---***---

The touch of his hand on her lower back sent sparks across her skin and she drew in a small breath.  She wasn’t sure why she was reacting to him this way.  They were colleagues, two sides of the same coin.  But his eyes were kind and he had a big heart.  And then there was his smile and that brogue and . . .

“Ginger, this way.”  He nodded at her, his hazel eyes sparkling at her from behind his glasses.  She nodded and walked down the hallway to the door, his hand never leaving her back.  And for each step that his hand remained, another spark was added until it felt like her spine was shivering.  She glanced at him out of the corner of her eye.  He didn’t seem effected at all.

But exterior appearances, especially from a trained agent, are deceiving and internally Merlin was clawing at some sort of stoicism to hide the desire he had for his American counterpart.  When they first chatted face to face some months ago in Louisville, he found himself staring at her mouth, wondering if it was as a soft as it looked and what it looked like when she sighed in pleasure.  He forced himself to pay attention to her words, but it was hard and so was he.

And now?  Here she was in his domain, walking the halls he always walked, about to sit in the chairs he sat in.  How could he keep up this facade when all he wanted to do was push her against the wall they just passed and let his hands feel her skin beneath his fingertips.  Hamish, you idiot, stop this thinking, he told himself.

Now if only he would listen.

---***---

Shirley ended the call with a cheery good-bye and spun Ginger around her chair.  They looked at each other and Ginger realized that for once it wasn’t her giving the Stare of Care, as they called it.  It was a hard look that came from a source of love.  Instead, it was her friend, who loved her as a sister, throwing the Stare at her.  A curt nod followed, and Shirley turned her head towards the only other specialist in the lab at the moment.

“Kefir, Ginger is leaving for the rest of the day and if she sneaks back in here, I want you to call me so I can come get her.”  He smiled and nodded at the two women.  “And you let Chai know when she comes on duty in an hour.  This woman is gonna get some damn sleep for once.”

The latter part of her comment came out as a mutter and at that Ginger began to laugh.  There was a point in time when it had been Ginger in that motherly place, working to support her friend through a tough time.  I guess the tables are turned now, she thought.  But she would be lying to herself if she wasn’t touched that she had people like Shirley that loved and cared for her so much.

But Shirley was right, and Ginger wasn’t going to feel guilty about relaxing a bit, even if it was only a Tuesday.  Even Merlin told her to go home.  She bounced up from her desk and moved to shut her station down for the night. It’ll all be here tomorrow when she came in – there isn’t an imposing deadline and Kingsman wasn’t going to be rebuilt overnight.

Shirley looped her arm through Ginger’s and they ambled down the hallway to the bank of elevators.  Both women live in on-site apartments, which made the commute to work all the easier. As they entered the elevator, Shirley spoke up.

“My place?”

“Whiskey’s not home?”

“Naw, he’s out somewhere in New Mexico on an assignment with Brandy.”

“How’s that going?  It’s been a while since Brandy was in the field.  I’m surprised Champ sent her along on the case.”

“She needed the break, if she spent another month training the new recruits, I’m sure she would have snapped.  You know she installed a punching bag in her office, right?”

“No!  Is it that bad?”

“Probably not, but you know Brandy, she’s overly dramatic when she’s stressed.”

The two women continued gossiping about their co-workers and friends before the elevator dropped them off on the eighth floor.  Shirley took her keys out and unlocked her apartment door, pulling Ginger in behind her, as if she didn’t trust the woman to just run back to the office. But Ginger had no plans to leave.

The homey feeling of Jack and Shirley’s apartment immediately enveloped Ginger and it seemed she dropped thirty pounds of stress just walking through the door.  Shirl pushed Ginger towards the soft leather couch while she went and dug around for some drinks and food, knowing full well that Ginger probably hadn’t eaten in hours.

In no time, Shirley had whipped up a meal worthy of girl’s night while Ginger cued up their favorite films to watch.  She hemmed and hawed between Practical Magic and The American President for a bit before choosing the former.  She felt in this moment she needed a little magical fluff in her life and, with Merlin in her thoughts, a little magical love, too.

When Shirley came into the living room, everything was ready, and the two friends snuggled deep under the blankets and just vegged out.  Through out the night, they oscillated between chatter and quiet before they both fell asleep to the sounds of Robin Tunney kicking Fairuza Balk’s ass.

In the wee hours of the morning, Jack came home and after hanging up his hat, he saw the two women lightly snoring on the couch.  He smiled at the picture before walking over.  He dropped a kiss on each head before heading to the bedroom to change and slip into bed himself.   Just another night in the Daniels homestead.

competition | hrj

there were three things that needed to change. first, huang renjun needed shitty vision again. two, he needed to go back to being shorter than you. three, he needed to stop trying so hard to compete.

pairing | slytherin!renjun x ravenclaw!reader | enemies to lovers!au | 5.1k

warning: profanity, sex jokes, mild violence

an: happy birthday @renjunite i hope all your wishes come true!! i love you so much and would give you the world ♡

At the age of fourteen, you met Huang Renjun as the boy tripped and fell in the aisle of the train as he accidentally got hit with the trolley. Not that it was your problem, however. You weren’t the one that had been run flat, so you minded your own business and went to show off the new magical watch your father had gotten you over the summer. The last thing on his mind was some petty boy who couldn’t see what was in front of him. An imbecile, he was, and that’s how you saw him. To your surprise, however, you found that Renjun was a transfer from another school for magical beings located in Scotland. Then, after he placed in Slytherin, he left you to wonder if the hat had caught mad cow disease or anything of the sort that might’ve caused its judgment to go awry. But then you shrugged. It wasn’t any of your business at all to even pay attention to an insignificant boy, who he later found out was a halfblood, son of two well-known professors in the magical arts. That must have also been a mistake, too. The kid didn’t seem like the type to be born into an intellectual family—according to you. – Things changed gradually over the years to a point where you were tossing and turning late at night because of him. Who the hell gave Huang Renjun permission to get praised? It was always you who were praised for your work, but now the latter was stealing it like he was stealing the eyes of everyone around them! You would sometimes mutter to yourself, cursing the bastard who fixed Renjun’s vision, ridding the boy of his thick black rimmed glasses. And then you’d curse the witch who was responsible for his polishing looks, because now, Huang Renjun looked like some super model out of a muggle mag.

Being in Ravenclaw, you took pride in being smart, top wizard in all your classes, but by the time seventh year came, your throne of glory was being threatened by the very kid who was once almost crushed by a trolley. – “You all should’ve studied harder, because it seems like Renjun was the only one who spent time doing so.” It was so tempting for you to flick your wand and have your fat eighty-nine marks gone from your sight. Almost willingly, you wished that Renjun would turn around and look back at you. For what reason? You didn't know. You just wanted a reason to hate the guy even more than you already did because that’s how the nature of things were. After class ended, you put all your things in your bag and stood behind the crowd with your arms crossed, waiting for everyone to get out. Not much to your surprise, Renjun was right behind you. “So, what’d you get?” “None of your business,” you dismissed quickly, chin raised in the air. Noticing how a few kids turned their heads towards them, you scowled, frightening them and their attention away. “I did ask if you wanted help studying,” Renjun said, shrugging off the cold attitude he was being given. “You told me no. If I remember correctly, you said, ‘Go to hell, like I’d ever want your help!’ and I don’t forget things very easily.” “Amazing! Then you’ll remember this!” You exclaimed as you finally reached the exit. Then you spun around flipping your middle finger in front of Renjun’s face before quickly merging in the busy hall. “Bye.” Admiring eyes were on you as you walked past several students. Grinning, you flipped your hair casually, running your slim fingers through it for effect. As much as you liked being above everyone in intellect, you also lathered yourself in their admiration. In fact, it was so— Then he heard the Slytherin’s name. Stopping in his track, you flipped his head around and saw the Slytherin shyly wave at the girls that were just admiring him. Oh, those wenches were never loyal anyway. Huffing, you took a left, heading to the library. – There were three things that needed to change. First, Huang Renjun needed shitty vision again. Two, he needed to go back to being shorter than you. Three, he needed to stop trying so hard to compete. At first, you didn’t think too much about it. So what if the Slytherin got a few higher marks than you? It was just luck anyways. Not everyone in Slytherin was that smart; this you knew from your experience of beating them time and time again on exams. Renjun shouldn’t have been an exception. But he was. And the minute he started appearing on your radar, it was clear to the Ravenclaw that the latter had an ulterior motive, and that was to dethrone you of your reputation. – “Baneberry Potion. Consists of ten Baneberry berries…fifteen drops of snake venom…a drop of…Fuck.” Resting your head on your book, you groaned. What time was it? It seemed like it was past midnight already, but you knew that wasn’t possible unless the librarian closed the establishment with you still inside. If that were ever the case, you could just file a claim against the woman and have the ministry fire her. Easy. Simple. Nothing like studying. Lazily lifting your head again, you flipped the page and closed your eyes, trying to recall the formulas and the history behind it all. You were almost sure you were muttering sluggishly through it. However, it was even difficult for you to hear yourself. “Drought of Living Death… Worm wood…a root of a…as…aspho—” “Asphodel.” Would you feel anything if you just inflicted the Avada Kedavra curse on yourself? Curiosity did kill the cat, but you weren’t about to die just yet. That would’ve meant letting Renjun win the silent war. Inhaling sharply to yourself, you mustered the strength to smile very coldly at the Slytherin who was leaning against the shelf with his arms crossed and head cocked at you. Having him stand in that position made you slightly irritated. What gave him the right to look like that? Or to look at you like that? It almost looked like he was staring at you with some type of admiration sparkling in his eyes… Disgusting. “Isn’t it past your bedtime, Huang?” “Maybe. Isn’t it past yours?” “Yes, but let’s just say, like my house’s mascot, I’m slightly nocturnal.” Ruffling your hair, you asked, “What’re you doing here?” “Studying. Jaemin and Jisung wouldn’t keep quiet in the common room, so I had to come here.” "Then how unfortunate of you to randomly stumble in my corner. Now, do you mind?” Frowning, Renjun made no move to take the hint and leave. Instead, he stayed as he was. “If you’re studying for the Potions exam next Friday, I can help.” “I’m fine, Slytherin. You can disappear like your snaggletooth.” Unamused, Renjun walked over and closed the book in front of the Ravenclaw, taking it into his possession and placing it aside. “I can almost feel the love from here,” he said, smiling almost sarcastically as he leaned in, bursting your comfort bubble. Rolling your eyes, you scoffed. “You don’t even have that snaggletooth. Since you fixed it with those things called…called, you know. Braces, or something. Now your mouth looks fine.” “Doesn’t it? I could’ve gotten it fixed through magic, but mother insisted I do it the muggle way so our neighbors wouldn’t be so suspicious. And for your information, braces fix teeth not mouths” For the love of all things good, why were they talking about teeth? Specifically Renjun’s? Disregarding the fact that they were perfect—as stated—and they did make him more attractive than you would’ve liked… “You’re annoying me, Huang,” you said, rising from your head and surprising the Slytherin. “I guess I’ll go study back in the Ravenclaw common room.” “Why don’t you ever accept my help?” The Slytherin said, both hands on the table.

“Simple.” Shrugging, you picked up your book. “I see you as competition, not as a friend. Why would I accept help from an enemy.” “But I’m not your enemy.” Rubbing his forehead, Renjun groaned. “Is this because I get higher marks than you?” “Did it really just hit you right now?” “Okay, I admit it that I do like beating you—” Ha! So you weren’t crazy and overly paranoid! You were internally celebrating the fact that you were right when all your friends told you that you were just an overly obsessive— “It’s really not hard to score higher than you either.” Okay. The victory celebration died a little bit. What? “And sometimes, I purposely do bad because you make that face when you think you do good and you look so cu—” Scratch everything. You were about to thrust your book out the castle, shattering historic windows while at it. You wanted to know when those times were—the times when Renjun let you score higher. Then you wanted to strangle the Slytherin for pitying so much that he’d ever do such a thing! But was it pity? Of course it was pity! What the hell were you? A charity case? For heaven's sake, someone might accuse you of cheating, and like hell you’d let that happen. You exploded, but because they were in the library, you only exploded a little bit, which meant you settled to gripping your book and smacking the Slytherin on the head. “No,” you said sternly. “The next time you let me score higher than you on purpose and I find out about it, I’ll kill you. I mean it.” “That hurt.” Touching his head, Renjun winced. “Christ, you hit hard.” “You’re lucky that wasn’t my fist.” “Oh, no. Your tiny fists. Ahhh….” Snorting, Renjun broke out into a chuckle. “Honestly, you’re very funny and cute even when you don’t try.” The only time when you wanted to burst into flames was when someone you liked when you were twelve rejected you in front of your friends. But here was Renjun saying weird things, and oddly enough, you wanted to be engulfed in flames again. “If this is some ploy to get me off track for my exams, you’re wasting your time,” you said confidently, tucking your book under your arm again, still warm with the heat of Renjun’s head. “I’m leaving. Go entertain Jaemin or something.”

You walked down the aisle, heading to the main exit, but was positive the latter was following after. “Hey.” Don’t answer him. It’s not worth it— “Go out with me.” Turning around wasn’t the best idea you ever had. Renjun with his hands in his front pockets was a sight that a lot of students fell for, and it was to no surprise why. “Nice joke. Why don’t you go share it with that elf friend of yours and his stubby dwarf.” “First of all, that’s not nice,” Renjun replied, brows raised. “Sicheng and his girlfriend are a lovely pair. Second, it wasn’t a joke.” “Third, I think you must’ve been mistaken. See here, I don’t like you,” you said slowly, enunciating each word. “You’re a cocky, pity giving, insulting transfer who seems to enjoy making me mad every step of the way.” Groaning, Renjun threw his head back. “I transferred here three years ago, and ever since then, you’ve been more of a villain than what you’re trying to make me sound like. And while we’re on the subject, I wanted to ask you—” Putting a hand up in the air, you signaled him to stop. “Goodnight, Huang.” “I mean it. Will you—” “No, I will not.” However, before you could turn around, Renjun stepped quickly towards you, rendering you dazed with a kiss on the lips. Shocked, you stumbled back, almost dropping your book, but the latter followed. “I did not give you permission to do that!” God, were you stuttering? You couldn’t tell and that was a freakishly bad sign. Did you even sound like yourself? “Why do you hate me?” Focus. What’d he just say? Fuck, your head was still scrambling. “I hate you because you’re you,” you sputtered without a second thought. “You steal the spotlight from me, like what the hell! I used to be every teacher’s favorite, and you just come from…from wherever and—” “Scotland.” “Yeah, okay, Scotland and ever since then it hasn’t been the same. Then you just flaunt your scores in front of me like oh-ha-ha and all I want to do is hit you, but I can’t because I’ve already gotten like ten detentions this year and I’m tired of spending my weekends with crusty professors instead of going to Hogsmeade!” Sighing, Renjun put his hands on his hips, displacing his robes. “Well, you know what I’m tired of? I’m kind of tired of spending hours and hours just studying so I can do better than you when all I’ve been wanting lately is just you in particular, you know that?” “No, and I’d rather not, thanks.” “But it gets you to notice me.” Oh, there were a lot of other things that made you notice him, but you weren’t about to admit anything. “Let’s make a bet.” Interested, you smiled. If there was anything your father taught you, it was to how to gamble, and you were very confident in your betting skills. “I’m listening.” “Score higher than me on two out of three exams. Potions, Herbology, Alchemy. If I mark higher on two, maybe even all three, you have to take me seriously and think about dating me. If you get higher marks, then I’ll leave you alone and we can pretend I never said anything. ” “That’s not fair. You’re number one in Potions.” “But you’re pretty good at Alchemy.” Drawing your lips together, you frowned. “Change Herbology to Arithmancy. It’s unpredictable in that class between you and I. The test is two weeks from now.” “You want me to wait two weeks for you?” “You waited three years, Slytherin. You can wait for two more weeks.” Realizing what you just said, you became flustered. “Not to say that once you’re done waiting, you’ll have me! I’m just saying, you have to wait and see, but fat chance you’ll ever see at all since–” “I understood you the first time, baby.” Who the hell was he calling baby? And why the fuck did you suddenly feel hot in the face. “Okay, well, I’m done talking to you. Bye.” As you walked away, you heard Renjun call out, “No cheating.” “Like I’d ever.” –

You lied but was that really surprising? Ravenclaws were clever, but not always in the most honest way. Shrugging, you walked up the spiraling stairs and stood in front of Slytherin’s door, turning the knob, only to be surprised by a deep, rumbling voice asking you a riddle. “What lies between two planes of existence?” Blinking, you frowned at the knob. Airplanes? Geometric planes? What the fuck was the door talking about? Stepping back, you crossed your arms, looking around to see if anyone was creeping up behind you. Two planes…Two planes… Rubbing your eyes, you groaned. You had no time to think too hard or much about it. Any minute, some Slytherin could make an appearance despite the fact that it was time for their afternoon meal. Thinking hard, you bit your lip as you went through all the possible answers, then suddenly, you remembered Montague, long gone and graduated, but hadn’t he been the poor fellow shoved inside the Vanishing Cabinet and was sent to— “Nothing… There’s nothing there, but limbo. A plane between two planes is where nothing exists, so nothing lies there…At all.” To your ego and pride, you were ecstatic to see that the door opened. Grinning, you quickly let yourself in and was surprised at how airy the common room was. And, of course, there was a bookshelf. There had to be books in a wizardry school. Snorting, you decided to take a fifty-fifty chance and turn to the right, heading to what you hoped was the boys’ dormitory. – Finding Renjun’s bed seemed more of a trouble than you thought it’d be considering everyone’s space seemed to look the same with all the notes and books lying around. Quickly, you flipped through a few books on each bed, checking the names. Eventually, you found the Slytherin’s little corner after finding his books neatly stacked near a perfectly made bed. Carefully placing one book after another off to the side, you stopped when you found the Potions textbook you were looking for. Quickly turning to a bookmarked page, you were pleasantly surprised to find all the notes jotted down on the side, some even on key details you haven’t  even thought of. For a moment, you felt jealous, but then decided to take advantage of the opportunity. Hastily, you scanned the page, reading over the notes a few times until you were satisfied with your memory. Then, taking a step back, you pointed your wand at the book and unmercilessly said, “Incendio.” – Renjun's notes were far more useful than you primarily thought. The Potions test was something you could've done with a hand tied behind your back. Really. And when you looked up, you smirked at the struggling Slytherin who became so frustrated that he pulled his tie to become more loose. There were people distracted by the sight, but you who didn’t look at him with attraction like the others did. You had a bet to win, despite your unfair start, but that didn’t matter. Your head needed to be in the game and eyes off the Slytherin’s collarbones. Off. When time was up and the only people who actually finished successfully were you and a few others (though you liked to think that you executed the concoction more perfectly than they), other students stared at them in awe and jealousy and you drank in all their attention, smirking at everyone, intensifying your stare when your eyes met with Renjun’s.

Not to go on without any consequences, you walked a little slower, expecting to be drawn to the side and you were right. Hand on your arm, you were pulled from behind and, without resistance, you scoffed as Renjun walked them to an isolated corner and pressed you against the harsh wall. “What happened to my textbook?” “Hell if I know whatever happened to your stupid book,” you responded, batting your eyelashes. “Maybe you lost it?” “I never lose anything.” “Never say never.” Grinning, you patted the latter on your right cheek. “Because you might just have to get used to it.” Laughing, Renjun rolled his eyes before returning the gesture all the same, patting you on the cheek as well as it being accompanied by a smirk. “We’ll see. What’s next?” Turning your head, you rejected the touch five seconds in. Renjun’s hand was warm. Ew. “Alchemy.” “Then study up.” “No, you.” It was a childish thing to say, but you couldn’t think of anything better to say. “God damn it. I’m leaving.” Pushing against Renjun (it was quite the experience touching him), you smiled before immediately dropping your lips the minute you turned around. The only thing that should be on your mind are numbers and signs, and lots of it. At least, enough to maybe, somehow, predict something in the future. But you felt a little cocky since you ultimately had a feeling on what the future was already. – You cheated the first time, felt some satisfaction, but was confident enough to take the Alchemy exam without sabotaging Renjun’s belongings. However, you soon came to the realization, that, perhaps, you should’ve burned the Slytherin’s alchemy books and other belongings as well. For the second time in two weeks, you felt your face burning with your back against yet another wall in an isolated hall. “Thanks for not burning my textbooks this time.” Renjun grinned, cocking his head. “I really appreciate that you didn’t cheat on this exam.” Letting out a shrill laugh, you put a hand on your waist. “I didn’t burn your stupid book, Huang.” “Mhm.” Wiggling his finger in front of the Ravenclaw’s face, Renjun showed him that perfect row of teeth, making you kind of angry at the fact that he didn’t need those stupid braces anymore. “One and one. Last one’s the tie breaker. Study your numbers, love. Arithmancy is mine and then, you.” Smiling platonically, you raised your brows. “I think you’re confusing your pathetic dreams with reality.” Snorting, Renjun put a hand on the wall, closing in on the unfrightened (just a little bit) Ravenclaw. “Really? We’ll see.” “Huang Renjun, your face is uncomfortable to be in front of.” “Then just close your eyes.” Unamused, you ducked under the Slytherin’s arm and sidestepped him. “I’d rather not let myself be left unguarded for any lip attack, thanks. Bye.” Then you were off, thinking about things other than lips. – There was too much riding on the Arithmancy test to leave it all up to chance and fate. Going back to the Slytherin dormitory, you answered the same riddle and strode systematically with a purpose as you entered the boys’ dormitory. It seemed, however, that Renjun had learned his lesson the first time and hid his textbooks and notes. Even when you pulled out your wand and repeatedly said, “Accio Arithmancy book” or “Accio Huang Renjun’s notes”, nothing came about and it almost made you want to snap your wand in two. Just as you gave up, you spun around on your heel only to see Renjun leaning against the dorm’s door frame. “I don’t think you’re allowed in here, baby.” “Whatever.” You weren’t in the mood. It didn’t even bother you anymore that you were caught since you didn’t have the chance to find and destroy your objectives which were the books and notes taken. Walking over, you pushed Renjun aside and started to make your way out the Slytherin house. “Nice charm. What’d you use…” From behind you, Renjun answered, “I’m surprised you don’t know. Aren't you supposed to be smart?" "I am. So I guess I'll have to beat you the old fashion way." "Hold on, angel. Stop walking." Shockingly, you did stop, surprised at the way your knees buckled. "What?" You said, turning your head. "Since you cheated the first time, don't you think we shouldn't count that particular exam?" There he went. Trying to pry yet another win from your hands, but you weren’t about to uncoil just yet. “Let’s not play stupid, Renjun. You studied off one of your friends, right?” Renjun said nothing. “So regardless, you let me have it the first time, and it still would’ve been the same result regardless of whether or not I came in here to burn a book or two.” Hands on waist, Renjun let out a sigh. “Fine. Okay, I gave you the advantage but only because I knew you’d do well in Alchemy without batting an eye, so I spent most of my time studying that. But for Arithmancy, you and I have to do this exam fair and square.” “I wouldn’t have it any other way,” you replied, grinning. “What’s sweeter than a fair victory?” “Us being together, obviously,” Renjun said without missing a beat. Before you could stutter out anything incoherent, the Slytherin stepped up and put his hand on your back, guiding you to the entrance door. “You have four days. Use them wisely.”

– “Jaemin!” Jumping, the Slytherin looked up and saw the menacing grin on your face. “Yes?” “You have access to Professor Kim’s potions supply closet, right?” Nodding, Jaemin confirmed. “I do. Why?” “I’m going to need you to get me some things.” “Why do you need these things?” As the two pressed around multiple bottles and jars, you shrugged. “I’m trying to save my ass in the most literal sense.” – There were so many books upon books that it looked like a book orgy, but you had no time to think about orgies or sex or anything in particular that had to do with the naughty things in life. You needed to focus, and you were about to go crazy after turning down an invite to roam the castle and cause some trouble with your friends. “I think you were sorted in the wrong house.” “Maybe, deep inside, you’re a Slytherin with all that ambition to beat Renjun.” They were all wrong and it made you mad as you scrawled your notes heavily in your books. If you didn’t study, then you’d have a Slytherin in you, and purely by consent because what moron wouldn’t open up their chamber of secrets if Renjun wanted to slide his Basilisk in there somewhere? Fuck.

You just scribbled nonsense about Basilisks in a book about numerology. Groaning, you flicked your wand, undoing the mistake. Then you grabbed your quill and continued jotting down notes on the theory of numerology before looking over past homework parchments. After studying for an hour, you gave yourself a break, taking the ingredients you stole from Professor Kim’s supply closet and made your way up the prefects’ bathroom, rarely used and often barren. Then, in a stall, you began mixing and stirring your backup plan to ensure that you’d win; the Befuddlement Draught. – Game day, game face. You put a defector charm on yourself so the Befuddlement Draught wouldn’t affect you. The potion made whoever took it confused and reckless, and that was exactly what you wanted to do to Huang Renjun just minutes before the test. Of course, you couldn’t offer him a tainted drink. That’d seem suspicious, but from experience, you did know that the Slytherin wasn’t so opposed to kissing, so you decided to take one for the team, which basically consisted of yourself, so you were essentially doing it for yourself. Taking a sip of the potion, you made sure to hold just enough of it on your tongue to last while you made your way over to Renjun’s desk. Looking up at you, the Slytherin raised his brow. “This is a surprise.” You held the urge to roll your eyes as you leaned down and kissed the boy on the lips. The second phase of the mission was to get the latter to open his mouth, but Renjun had done so willingly. In fact, his tongue entered the your mouth without you having to do anything. It wasn’t going as you had planned, but it wasn’t bad either. Unconsciously, however, in the midst of taking one for the “team”, you started to kiss back until you realized you were in a classroom and kids were beginning to pour in and the teacher was about to come through her office door and– Separating, you took a step back, flustered and red. Renjun, however, cocked his head, showcasing a wide and proud grin. “Anything else you got for me?” A kick in the balls? A slap on the face? You didn’t know what to do because you were so stalled that you just turned around, consoling yourself that it’d all be worth it when the potion kicked in. –

But it never did. At least, it didn’t look like it twenty minutes into the test, which made you worried that you probably kissed Renjun (and liked it) for no purpose at all. Regardless, you focused on the text in front of you. If it didn’t work, then fine. You’d have to rely on your own skill even if your lips were still tingling, which was annoying. Really annoying. God damn it. – The time of judgement came the next day when their grades were posted on the classroom wall for all to see, and you had to push your way to the front. “Are you kidding me!?” Stomping from the rest of the students, you made a beeline to Renjun, who hadn’t bothered to look at the paper because all he needed to do was look at your face and just know that he scored higher. “Okay, you cheated!” It was a fair accusation. Kind of hypocritical, but you didn’t care. “How did I cheat, baby?” Renjun challenged. You cheated when you didn’t react to the potion I gave you? Could you say that? Technically, not falling into one’s scheme of cheating doesn’t make the almost -victim a cheater… “I don’t know, but you did somehow.” “Says the person who tried giving me Befuddlement Draught through a kiss?” Laughing, Renjun stood up. “Not to say I didn’t enjoy that one.” “You’re unbelievable!” How the hell did he know that? You frowned. “Stop accusing me of things, Slytherin.” “So, what? You kissed me just to kiss me? Cause I’ll take that excuse any day.” Fuck. You crossed your arms. “It doesn’t matter. None of these exams were fair so the bet’s off.” “You can’t just call something off because it didn’t go your way, love.” Rolling your eyes, you scoffed. “Whatever. I lost. There, boohoo for me. Yay for you. Haha.” “Actually, no.” Gently, Renjun turned your face up towards him. “See, if you look at it this way, you already won me from the start.” “I don’t want you.” The frown on your face started wobbling and all you could wonder about was what the hell was wrong with your body functions. “Are you sure about that?” Renjun’s face was getting closer and gravity seemed to think it was opposite day because you felt compelled to move up instead of down to dodge him. “I’m pretty sure, Huang, now can you just–” “Absolutely positive?” Was your mouth getting super chapped? You licked your lips, but they were dry again. What the fuck. “Yes, yes, I’m positive! I swear to god, I–” How many times have they kissed before? You didn’t know. You lost count, which was ironic because they were kissing in a room that was all about numbers and had ten pairs of eyes watching them. It wasn’t as though Renjun had you gripped so you couldn’t move away, too. For one reason or another, you couldn’t move anything but your mouth, and for once, that was a good thing. – “Alright. How’d you know about the Draught.” “I saw Jaemin with you one night. Got a little jealous so I cornered him nicely somewhere and asked some questions.” “Well, for all you know, we really could’ve been doing something that night. A little action in a closet never hurt anyone.” “I’d like to test that out for myself.” “Test it? Fine. Whatever. When and where.” “Now.” And then they ditched a fifty-five minute lecture on numerology because, after discussing it over several kisses in the library, you both agreed you didn’t give a rat’s ass about numbers except that one plus one equals two, and two was a perfectly fair and even number.

we close at sunset ~ p.p

as the sun began to dip behind the skyscrapers, i left my post behind the rose quartz counter to pick up the little yellow sign that hung above the flower shop door. i flipped it over from the “come on in!” side to the side that had lavender painted letters and said “we close at sunset. thanks for stopping by!”

continuing my ‘closing time’ routine, i shut the tiny white door and flipped off the light switch. i hummed along to an old song stuck in my head. i always liked closing time. the sunset, the quiet, especially the way the golden light shined through the giant stained glass window onto the plants and gave them a sort of ethereal glow. i loved that window. it was this beautiful glass mural of a far away new york city skyline from the view of a hill with sunflowers on it. i had grown up gazing at that window, and now i got to look at it everyday.

this was my first time closing up shop on my own, my boss had finally trusted me enough to let me manage the store alone. all the customers had left, and the atmosphere was filled with tranquility.

CRASH

i let out a scream and jumped backward, just narrowly avoiding the millions of shattered colorful glass falling at my feet. i managed to grab my phone as i hid under the desk praying that the loud crash of the window breaking overpowered my scream. there was someone dressed in red and black on the floor in front of me, groaning and clutching their side. they seemed to not be paying attention, so i crawled over to a couple hostas to get a better view. i typed 911 in to the emergency call keypad and hovered my thumb over the call button, peaking through the wide, dark leaves.

wait a minute.

i recognized that spider emblem on the intruder’s chest.

“hey, uh spider-man?” i asked, slowly peeking my head out above the hostas. he groaned in pain again and turned his head towards me. the eyes on his mask twitched spuratically for a couple seconds until they seemed to focus on me. “are you here to rob me?”

spider-man used his elbow to prop himself up slightly. he winced slightly before saying “no” and falling back to floor, cursing under his breath.

“oh. okay. cool.” the fear coursing through me seemed to subside as i made my way over to him. “should i call an ambulance?”

“no.” he repeated.

“are you okay?”

“n-uh...yep, fine. totally fine.” spider-man replied. “i just was fighting this bad guy and she threw me through your window and took off. that’s all.”

the panic i once felt came rushing back. “she’s not going to come back here and try to kill us, is she?”

“nah. she’s sneaky.” he said. “she has a plan, i just don’t know what it is.”

great. spider-man just got his ass kicked and now i’m involved. if she has a mysterious plan that he doesn’t know about, how is so sure she won’t come back? i thought about asking him all these burning questions, but then saw that he was writhing on the floor. “are you sure you’re okay? ‘cus you don’t look so good.”

“actually, could you do me a favor? i think i might have gotten cut by the glass.”

i felt my stomach drop at the thought of him bleeding. “oh god i’m not gonna have to sew you up, am i? i don’t do that well with blood. sometimes i pass out and....uh...nevermind” i cut myself off before i rambled too much. i always seemed to talk excessively when i was nervous. i stood up straighter and put on a brave face. “what do you need me to do?”

“just grab a first aid kit. please.”

“gotcha! don’t move!” i regretted my words instantly, realizing that he couldn’t really move that much if he was bleeding badly. i ran over to the back of the store and grabbed a stark white box with a red cross. when i came back, spider-man was weakly reaching up to his chest, tapping the spider emblem. the suit seemed to decompress and it fell of his shoulders.

damn, spider-man’s ripped.

i shook my head. that’s not the point. the problem was the giant gash across his abdomen. his extremely toned abdomen...

i knelt down beside the spandex clad superhero and opened up the first aid kid and ripped off a piece of gauze. “it’s fine, i can do it.”

“buddy, you can hardly sit up. speaking of that, i need you to sit up.” he obliged, propping himself up using both arms. “i gotta stop the bleeding, so i’m going to use a lot of pressure. it’s going to hurt, i’m sorry.”

“don’t be.” he replied. i bit my lip in concentration and tied the gauze around his waist, Lining it with the cut. spider-man hissed in pain. i murmured another apology before tying the gauze, pulling it tight. he yelped again and lost his balance.

i caught his head and pulled him up by his shoulders slightly so he was leaning against me. “that’s the worst of it. it’s gonna take a while to stop bleeding. when you get home...or to you spider cave or whatever, just take off the gauze and clean the wound. it’s pretty bad, you should go to the hospital.”

“that’s out of the question. and i don’t have a ‘spider cave’.”

“sorry, man, you’re the one who broke my window. who even are you?” i asked.

“i’m...uh, i’m spider-man.”

i rolled my eyes. “so you’re not gonna tell me your real name?”

spider-man didn’t respond. i sighed and ripped off another piece of gauze. “did the glass cut you anywhere else?”

“um, yeah.”

“where?”

he hesitated. “the bottom right side of my face.” i reached ober to pull of his mask but his hand caught my wrist in a split second. i made a snarky comment about his damn reflexes and let my hand drop, resting in a closed fist on his chest. “i...can’t let you see my face.”

my expression softened. he seemed really genuine about keeping his identity secret. “okay.” i responded, my tone gentler. “can you at least pull it up a little bit?” he nodded and tugged the mask up to just below his nose. i studied the cut, it was just a little slice. it wasn’t even bleeding anymore. “you heal fast.” i told him.

“yeah, that’s part of my, y’know...”

“superhero thing?” i finished for him.

“yeah.” he chuckled slightly. i pretended to be observing the cut, but in reality i was studying his face, at least the part of it that i could see. he had soft pink lips. a couple freckles were seen just below where his cheeks would be. i could only assume that he had them across his nose and cheeks as well.

i looked down and realized he was still gripping my wrist. “i kind of need both hands, spidey.”

he apologized and released my wrist. i immediately got to work, watching in awe at how quickly the cut was healing while i cleaned it up. spidey winced a couple times at the pain. every time he inhaled sharply, i felt a pang of guilt in my chest and would say i’m sorry.

“you apologize too much.”

“because i’m kind of hurting you.”

“you’re helping me.” he corrected.

who knew spider-man would be such a sweet person?

“so spidey, how old are you?” i asked

“si-“ he paused. “i can’t tell you.”

“so, sixteen. cool, me too.”

he cursed softly and i giggled. “do you go to midtown?” he asked suddenly.

i nodded. “you do too, then?”

“i didn’t say that.” his face turned a shade of red.

“you’re not good at this whole identity thing.” i told him. spidey opened his mouth to retort, but i interjected. “this might scar.” i grabbed a turquoise bandaid with little succulents on it and placed it over his jaw, patting his cheek gently.

spider-man shrugged. “it’s okay, it should fade in a day or two.”

“those healing powers are useful.” i replied.

he grinned. “yeah. they are. you’re pretty useful too. thanks for cleaning me up.” i smiled back and put away my first aid kit, narrowly avoiding pieces of my poor window. “so, uh, plants, huh?” he called out to me as i hung the box back on the wall.

“spider-man!” i feigned a gasp. “if i didn’t know better, i’d say you were trying to start small talk with me!”

i heard him shuffle behind me. “so what if i am?”

i cracked a smile. “yes, plants. i’ve been dreaming of working at this exact store since i was five. i came in every weekend and volunteered to help water the plants. the day i turned sixteen, i applied to work here and got the job. tonight was actually my first night closing up shop. now i have to explain to my boss why there’s no window.

“‘we close at sunset’.” spidey said, referring to the little sign that was now face-down on the sidewalk outside.

i nodded. “we do indeed.”

spidey went quiet for a couple seconds. i grabbed a broom from the corner and began to say, “so are you gonna help me sweep this glass up or-“

when i turned around, spidey was no where to be seen. “-not...” i finished, sighing aloud. i had no idea how i was gonna explain this to my boss. that stained glass window was everything to her, not to mention how it was the symbol of my childhood dreams. i was just a sixteen year old, how was i supposed to pay for a thousand dollar window?

by the time i finished cleaning up the poor glass, the sun had set into a hazy purple night. it wasn’t too dark yet, i’d just have to write a lengthy email to my boss about what had happened that night. at least the old security camera that barely worked could help me plead my case.

“god, if you’re real and listening, please let me keep my job.” i whispered allowed as i finished taping an old blanket to cover the gaping hole where the window was. “and spider-man, if you’re listening too, you better pay for this. i can’t lose this, it’s my dream.” i blinked back frustrated and overwhelmed tears and picked up the “we close at sunset” sign, hanging it in its rightful place.

i clutched my purse to my side as i walked down the dimly light new york streets. a sudden shadowy movement caught my eye and i turned just quick enough to see a red and black figure on top of roof duck down. “thanks, spidey.” i mumbled, chucking softly. i felt a little safer knowing a teenage superhero was watching over me.

the next day, i woke up to a long voicemail from my boss. she sounded mad, but at least she believed me. i walked to school, my shoulders feeling a little lighter than they did the night before. i glanced up at the same midtown high sign that i looked at every day, five days a week, and a thought crossed my mind.

spider-man goes to midtown high.

i spent the rest of the morning attempting to identify the masked mystery, but i couldn’t recognize his voice anywhere. i hoped that maybe a couple freckle-faced boys would cross paths with me, but none did. by the end of the day, i had given up. i wasn’t going to find spider-man. i headed to work at the flower shop like any other day, feeling completely and utterly defeated.

my boss had left early for the day, searching for a stained glass shop that could fix the hole in the window and recreate the old picture.

“um, excuse me.” a voice said. it sounded familiar, i just couldn’t figure out from where i had heard it before.

i looked up and was face to face with a boy who looked my age. he had wavy brown hair, a couple of stray curls falling in front of his carame eyes. a dusting of freckles were delicately placed across the center of his face. i realized i was staring and awkwardly looked away.

“h-hi. my...aunt had ordered something from you but, um, apparently the order didn’t go through properly and...uh...anyways here’s the money.” he said, handing me a wad of cash. i flipped through it and my eyes widened.

“this is twelve hundred dollars.” i said, my voice low.

he nodded. “yeah. the order was...for...uh, a party.”

i looked back up at him, studying him once more. my eyes landed on his midtown high sweater. “i go there, too.” i said, gesturing to it. he gave me a small half-smile in response.

suddenly, i noticed a fading scar that stretched from his jawline up to to the lower part of his cheek; and suddenly, everything clicked into place. the unreasonable amount of money, the voice i somehow recognized, the scar, everything.

“spider-man?”

his eyes widened with fear. “n-no! what?”

“you’re him, aren’t you? i know your voice, your scar...you’re paying for the window aren’t you?”

“you have to be quiet!” he exclaimed with panicky tone. i laughed quietly and stepped around the counter.

“take me out for coffee and explain everything,” i told him. he was awfully cute, after all.

“...we close at sunset.”

Okay so I got this idea the first time I listened to this song so bear with me. If you’ve ever heard “Over Now” by Post Malone then you’ll know what I’m talking about, but imagine Harry and y/n breaking up and they’re both really hurt about it but Harry puts up a front and that front becomes like really noticeable when they see each other at an awards show or something and Harry acts like he’s with another girl and y/n confronts him afterwards and they fight like scream but end up back together

LOVED THIS!! Took me THREE DAYS to get this done!! Worked so hard on this and I really hope it’s exactly how you wanted it babe. My fav blurb yet.

He’d see you. No, actually he’d heard you first. He’d never mistaken that laugh, and when he first heard it he’d subconsciously smile to himself. It didn’t matter how many weeks had gone by (21, he’d been counting), he could never not be able to hear your laugh over the clanking of glasses or obnoxiously loud chattering. He’d be mid conversation with someone, a drink in his hand as he’d partake in aimless banter, when he’d hear it again. So he’d subtly peer across the room, overlooking all the people that were jammed into the restaurant, just to see if he could catch a glimpse of you. That’s all he needed, he’d tell himself, just a quick peek at you. And when he did, when he’d finally catch a glance at your face as you’d turn your head around, he’d feel a few butterflies start up in the pit of his stomach. You’d look beautiful, even more so since the last time he’d seen you. 

“Harry,” Jeff would chirp from behind him, laying a hand on his shoulder, “you okay?”

“Great, yeah. Why wouldn’t I be?” He’d reply curiously, even though he knew why Jeff was asking.

“Oh,” Jeff would wipe the concerned look from his face, “was just asking, ‘cus, just ran into (Y/N) here and-alright, good.” 

Harry’d have to withhold himself from asking Jeff about you. He’d wanna ask to see if Jeff knew how you were doing, how you’d been since the last time he’d seen you. He’d be itching to ask if you’d told Jeff if you were seeing anyone, but even if he had the balls to ask he didn’t think he’d want an answer. 

Jeff would nod, kinda sorry he brought you up and a little surprised that Harry’d be so unbothered by it, before slinking back into the sea of people. Everyone was a little shocked when news broke that the two of you had went your different ways, and it really wasn’t plausible until Harry’d confirm with close family or friends that you had taken all your stuff and moved out. In the beginning, people would call or text and sometimes even swing by his house, just to see if he was coping alright. What seemed to be more shocking than the break up, was how suspiciously well he’d been taking things. He’d play it cool, and assure to all that asked that it ‘wasn’t a big deal’ or ‘I don’t really care about it’. But he did, he did care, and it absolutely was a big deal to him. It’s just that he’d put up a front, a good one at that, and had tricked everyone around him into thinking that the whole ordeal hadn’t affected him at all. 

A few people would quiet down the lull of chatter, to give a speech for the engaged couple that everyone was here celebrating. At first, Harry was a little surprised to see you here. It then dawned on him that the two of you still shared mutual friends, and that it was you who had introduced him to the bride-to-be. It made him feel sort of guilty, that he’d come, because he didn’t know if you’d even want to see him here. She was your friend first, after all. He’d wonder if you’d even noticed him here, if you were stealing secret glances of him like he wad been doing with you. And when he’d see you, talking to a different person each time, he’d realize that you probably didn’t even know he was here.

You’d have to push through and sandwich yourself between a few people before you’d finally get to the bar. The alcohol seemed to be the only thing getting you through this engagement party, and as you realized your glass had been empty you’d b line it to the bar. And Harry would do the same, leaning against the wood of the bar stool as he waited for the bartender to refill his drink. Unintentionally, you’d walk up right beside him, swirling around your empty glass at the bartender to let him know you needed another of whatever you’d been drinking for most of the night. It wasn’t until Harry’d hear a familiar voice utter the words Margarita that he’d turn his head to the left. His palms would get a little sweaty when he’d lay eyes on your side profile, your hair tucked sweetly behind your ear and your earring catching the light. You’d be fidgeting with your straw, poking the bottom of the glass as you waited for a new one. His teeth would find their place on his bottom lip, nibbling on it nervously. Sure, he’d been good at keeping up the careless act, but he didn’t know if he could keep it up as well when he was standing right in front of you. And he’d be ready to kick himself for staring so long, when you’d turn your head towards his direction and his eyes would meet yours.

“Harry, hi!” Your voice was like honey, thick and sweet, “Thought I saw you earlier.” and the soft smile you’d have tugging at the corners of your mouth made his chest ache.  

“S’nice t’ see yeh.” He’d force an exaggerated smile, leaning in as you roped him into a hug. 

He’d let out a content breath amidst the hug, happy that all the little things he adored about you still remained the same. Your hair still smelled like citrus, and he figured it was because you always had to use the same shampoo. And he could still smell the faint smell of vanilla, your signature smell that came from your favorite perfume. He’d pull back, and you’d chuckle, because his rings would have the tendency to get stuck in the ends of your hair after a hug. 

“Been good?” You’d sigh contently, before taking your drink from the bartender.

“Yeah,” he’d lie, “been great.”

He’d lied through his teeth, sugarcoating it with a smile and a nod of the head. He couldn’t have brought himself to tell you how awful he really felt. He wouldn’t tell you that’d he kept one of your sweaters you’d left behind, that he’d hung it up in between a few of his suit jackets in the closet so he’d have a little reminder of you when he was getting dressed. He wouldn’t tell you that he’d still watch your favorite show, every Thursday night at 9, regardless of where he was or what he was doing. He’d choose to keep to himself about how, up until recently, it’d take him hours to fall asleep because he’d grown accustomed to the little dip on the opposite side of the bed. 5 months had gone by and he still hadn’t washed your pillow case, because sometimes when he’d roll over in the morning and he could smell what was left of your perfume, he’d open his eyes thinking you were there. And as strange as it sounded, it was comforting for him. 

“How’ve yeh been?” He’d ask genuinely, studying you as you sipped your drink.

“Good,” you’d answer happily, “yeah, work has been crazy but- I’m good.” 

Good, he’d think to himself. Not great, just good. He wondered if you had taken the breakup as bad as he had. You wouldn’t tell him that he’d cross your mind constantly, or that you’d stay up late at night and replay the breakup in your head. You’d keep to yourself about how you’d sleep in one of his old shirts sometimes, when you missed him a little extra. If he knew that you were just as miserable as he was, maybe he wouldn’t be acting so cocky and unbothered. 

And maybe if you knew how upset he was, you wouldn’t be so put off by the leggy brunette that would come up behind him. Her hand would slide onto his shoulder, smiling politely at you before going on her tippy toes to murmur discreetly in his ear. He’d bow his head, nodding as she finished up whatever she was telling him. She’d disappear into the crowd, heading over to the table where a few people had sat down with their drinks.

“Oh, I didn’t- you’re here with someone.” Your tone would be brittle, as it was disheartening and a little maddening to see that he’d moved on so quickly. 

“Christine, yeah,” he’d lie, again, “been seein’ her for a little.” 

He didn’t mean to say it. He had only thought of it just before he blurted it out, in attempt to deflect the fact that he’d been moping about his house for weeks since you left. Watching your smile disappear, your face falling as you tilted your body away from him a little, he’d immediately wish he hadn’t said what he did. Nodding your head slowly, trying to get an understanding on how he had moved on so quickly, you’d suddenly feel the urge to b line for the door and get the hell out. 

“S’good,” you’d exhale shakily, “you know what, I think they need me to do a toast.” 

“Sure, yeah.” He’d nod, disappointment washing over him as you headed away from him.

You’d slink off, towards the opposite end of the room, settling into a chair. And he’d watch as you sat there, knowing you were uncomfortable as you would shift awkwardly in your chair a few minutes. Your shoulders would hang, sad and just a bit annoyed, your face stoic and reserved as you stared blankly at the newly engaged couple. He’d retreat to bis table too, sitting beside the brunette and contributing very little to the conversation being had by the people who sat around the table. And as the night would go on, and he wouldn’t see you go up to do a toast at all, he’d realize that you used it as a way to get away from. So he’d feel a little guilty, especially when you’d peer at him from your seat and see how his arm was placed, resting his arm on the back of the girl’s chair. And her body would be leaned into his a little, unintentionally because the table was so crowded. You’d be quick to snap your head back forward, a long sigh leaving your lips as your stomach would start to twirl just at the sight of them seeming to be cozied up.

His eyes would be on you, focus completely zeroed in, as you’d stand yourself up from the chair. His brow would furrow in confusion as you’d give the couple of the hour a kiss on the cheek, and he assumed it was you saying your goodbyes. His assumptions would be confirmed, watching you politely maneuver your way through the packed restaurant, as he’d realize you were heading to the coat rack to grab your things and head out. 

He’d politely excuse himself from the table, abandoning his drink that sat on the little napkin, as his arm would retreat back to him and fall along his side. It’d take him a minute just to get through a few groups of people, getting frustrated as he’d have to give a little shove between a pack of men just to get to the other side of the bar. He’d frown when he’d see you fumbling with your coat, jamming your sweater sleeve into the long black coat. Maybe he should’ve let you leave, because it was obvious you were a little overwhelmed and flustered. Not to mention a little annoyed, he could tell by the way your eyebrows were binding and your lips were faintly pursed. 

“Where yeh goin’ in such a hurry?” He’d ask casually, waiting for you to turn and look at him.

“Home.” You’d answer flatly, keeping your back to him as you wrapped your scarf around your neck.

He’d let out a nervous breath, trying to convince himself to walk back to his table and let you be. But he couldn’t, he didn’t think he could get his body to move. Seeing you, for the first time in 5 months, had brought him some comfort. And on top of that, it even made him a little happy. Putting up this front was getting tiring, and even a little hard at times. He was sick of acting like he didn’t care that you left. 

“Didn’t even give y’toast yet and-”

“I don’t get it,” you’d interject, finally turning to look at him, “I really- it’s barely been 5 months. You’re already seeing people?”

“I,” he’d get flustered a little, stumbling over his thoughts and trying to figure out what to say, “m’not supposed to?”

“You can do whatever you want.” You’d laugh coldly, buttoning up your coat.

“Can I?” He’d hiss, “M’not allowed t’move on?”

“2 years,” you’d rebuke, “we broke up after two years and you’re already seeing people! After 5 months!” 

“(Y/N),” he’d start, biting back on his lip as he tried to restrain himself.

“Two years, I mean, did it even mean anything to-”

“Yeh left!” He’d bellow, earning a few head turns from people. 

Your eyes would flicker upon a few of the faces that were now staring at the two of you, cheeks getting hot as people sent you bewildered looks. Harry’d run a hand through his hair, taking a deep breath to collect himself. The coat boy would stand still, clearly uncomfortable and feeling a little awkward. You’d mumble an apology to him, shifting all your weight onto one leg as you stared at Harry in disbelief. 

“Harry..” You’d sigh, his eyes staring up at the ceiling. 

“M’not-” he’d exhale, voice quieter now, “Christine, she’s just a friend. Kinda a loose term, friend. Don’t know ‘er tha’ well.” 

“Oh,” you’d nod, extremely relieved, “okay.”

“Been pretty shitty.” He’d laugh, relieved to finally have admitted it.

“Yeah,” you’d sigh, “me too.”

“Really?” He’d perk up a little, taking comfort in the fact that maybe you really were as bad off as he was.

“Yes,” you’d chuckle at his demeanor, “miss you all the time. Sleep in your tee some nights, well, most nights I guess.”

“M’so glad.” He’d breath, a puzzled look on your face, “no no I mean- no, that yeh been missin’ me. Been missin’ yeh too.”

“Like to hear that.” And you’d smile again, making him smile too.

“Let me take y’home.” He’d offer generously, before asking the coat checker for his coat as well.

“Home?” You’d smirk, watching him swiftly stuff his arms into the sleeves of his jacket, hoping home was his house. 

“Our home.”

Puppy King is here, and will graciously occupy Cu's lap with his head, exhausted from all the recent venturing he's had to do. Surely he deserves a break, too, and he's chosen to take his here. ❝If I never go on a mission again, it will be too soon.❞ So he says, but his lips curve into a smile nonetheless, spying the other with a bright emerald gaze. Maybe absence truly did make the heart grow fonder.

It wasn’t often that Chaldea’s hallways were this quiet. Not with the amount of notoriously loud heroic spirits and unprompted events or singularities that could appear at any given moment. On the bright side, evenings were never boring and the Ulsterman was glad to be between the servants that went to frontlines more often. Getting to fight powerful enemies alongside reliable teammates while also saving the world was something the Lancer couldn’t complain about. He was grateful for all this, really. Even had enough time to make new friends and meet a couple old acquaintances that he thought he would never see again. And, perhaps, it was because of this unprecedented streak of lucky events happening one after another that he was starting to feel spoiled.

With an unlit cigarette between his lips, the Lancer clicked his tongue in annoyance once he noted that he had forgotten to bring a lighter with him. It made no sense to use runes to start a fire ( nor wanted to get in trouble for misusing ancient magic ) and he didn’t feel like moving from his seat so, changing plans, he decided that taking an afternoon nap in the common room wasn’t a bad idea. As he made himself comfortable, the Ulsterman let his mind slip into his earlier reflections and think of a familiar face. It was rare for the two of them to be assigned to the same quest, which made sense since their skills didn’t match that well on the battlefield, but… He didn’t know.

He didn’t dare admit to himself that he missed the Saber because he wasn’t sure if he wanted to deal with the implications of such a thing. But from what he couldn’t look away anymore was the realization that he was becoming soft. Weak. He hated being weak, letting others see that even the Hound of Culann could show weakness too. And Cú knew better than anyone else how this went and he had enough self-awareness to know that there was nothing he could do to stop it. It was frustrating.

So why couldn’t he bring himself to be more annoyed at Arthur?

Lost in his own thoughts, the Lancer paid little attention to the footsteps and chatting of an approaching crowd. Not that it mattered as soon the voices and presence of the servants that just arrived became more distant and, in less than a minute, each of them followed their own path. All except for one. Lifting an eyebrow in confusion, the Lancer wondered if his inner monologue had managed to summon a certain Saber. Impossible but it was difficult not to be amused by the coincidence. Tilting his head back to look at the other servant from upside-down, Cú was about to ask Arthur how the mission went but, in the end, no question left his mouth. Frozen in his seat, he blinked in surprise as he stared at the weary King that had just made himself comfortable on his lap.

He can’t say that he expected his evening to go like this.

The Lancer could feel his face grow warmer but he refused to let his flustered state get the best of him and make him start looking for an exit route. Because that had to be the kind of reaction Arthur was hoping to get from him so, stubborn as he was, he definitely wouldn’t! Not to mention that it was bold of Arthur to assume he won’t push him away and storm out of the room simply because he looks tired. He just doesn’t do it because that would give the other the idea that this, whatever it was, affected him. And that wasn’t the case! Despite how much he wanted to bury his face in a pillow and disappear, that wasn’t the case at all!

After taking a deep breath, his heart stopped beating with so much insistence and his mind was less of a mess than before. As he looked into Arthur’s eyes, the Lancer thought of different manners in which he should turn the tables. Maybe he should use his insufferable sarcasm with this Puppy King, test his luck and ask in which way would the King like to be comforted? Ha… Cú knew that if he pushed enough, Arthur would get flustered and shy away. It would be an easy victory but letting the Saber run too soon wasn’t what he wanted. So, just this one time, the Lancer didn’t react like everyone expected him to. Instead, he made his gloves dematerialize and ran his fingers over the Saber’s hair.

“You look tired.”

Honestly… what an idiot. Servants aren’t even supposed to get tired and pushing oneself beyond the limit does no good to anyone. Cú thought of that despite doing the very same. But, then again, he never measured himself and the others with the same rules.

Ah, but Arthur was used to this sort of thing, wasn’t he? Traveling from world to world, from one battle to another. The Ulster warrior still hasn’t gotten the chance to ask him if all those wars and duties ever made the Saber too exhausted to want to continue fighting. While letting his fingers caress and pull lightly on Arthur’s blond hair, Cú smiled back, amused. It mattered little if the next mission happened in a few minutes or in a month, they both knew they would immediately jump into action and postpone this… whatever is going on… for the next time they find themselves in each other’s company. That’s how it worked more or less between them.

“You don’t know that and it’s not like any of us can tell what will happen next so…” Was his voice wavering? Why does it have to be so difficult to maintain a strong facade in front of this man? Before the color red would spread across his face, Cú placed his free hand on top of his partner’s eyes to block his sight. It’s not easy to think when he’s being seen by those green eyes. “Just try to get as much rest as you can now.” …So he really was letting Arthur get away with this one, huh? Dammit, he really is becoming soft.

While he waited for his face to return to a normal color, the Ulsterman was tempted to pinch the Saber’s nose. It would be divine punishment. He could also lean down and steal a kiss from the man like he had done so many times. But wouldn’t that be a little too embarrassing? But he couldn’t continue covering Arthur’s eyes forever or until he finally thought of something so he parted his fingers and took his hand away. Though not before pressing two of his fingers over the Saber’s lips as if telling him to stay quiet. Then, he pressed the same two over his mouth and he will fight whoever says that what he did can be considered an indirect kiss! “But congrats on returning alive.”

He looked away. His ears were turning red.“Be grateful that I’ve nothing better to do at the moment.” That was a lie but Arthur didn’t know ( nor didn’t need to know ) his schedule and hopefully wasn’t suspecting anything. “So don’t look so happy about this. I’m definitely kicking you away if you make my legs fall asleep.” From the tone he used, it was easy to see that his words were just an empty threat but, from Cú’s perspective, that still was much better than actually saying the truth. 

@artvrius​ 

Secret Santa #2

@professaurus I am your backup Secret Santa! (Sorry for the late posting its been a crazy day! I had meant to have this cued up this morning! Anyways, here is some Ladrien fluff for you @mlsecretsanta gift! I hope you enjoy! 

Ladybug was rather proud of herself as she raced across the Paris rooftops on Christmas Eve. Her visit to the children’s hospital had been a complete success, and since she had made arrangements to surprise her parents with a romantic night out of dinner and the theater she didn’t even have to worry about anyone noticing her absence.

It was a shame Chat Noir had been unavailable. It might have been nice for the two of them to hang out during her unexpected free time.

Oh a whim she headed over towards the Eiffel Tower, thinking perhaps it might be nice to put in an impromptu public appearance while she enjoyed the holiday decor. However, she paused when she saw a lone figure slumped against the interior wall of the Agreste mansion.

Her heart sped up as she changed directions to take a closer look. Sure enough, her instincts had been correct.

Leaning against the stonewall was a tuxedo clad Adrien Agreste. He looked tired, his expression drawn. She doubted he had been outside long, given his lack of coat and how cold it was outside. He seemed consumed by the shadows of the barren courtyard with its unforgiving stone marble, a stark contrast to the bright light pouring from the windows of the house. The sounds of the party echoing in the distance- the strains of a small chamber orchestra, the chatter of guests and the soft chiming of glasses as the wealthy and elite of Paris celebrated another year of prosperity.

Adrien stood, alone and silent, lost in his own thoughts.

She landed quietly on the snow covered ground behind him.

“What are you doing out here?” she asked.

He turned around, surprised and alert.

“Ladybug! I wasn’t expecting…” he trailed off, giving her a slow head to toe glance and clearly biting back laughter. “I um, like your outfit,” he said holding a hand in front of his mouth to hide his grin.

It was in that moment that Ladybug remembered that she hadn’t bothered to change out of the themed costume she had made for her hospital visit. Her eyes widened in horror. The Red and white trimmed capelet frock coat complete with holly embroidery and silver bell accents might have been alright on its own, but she wasn’t sure how she was ever going to live down knowing that her crush had seen her sporting large, bell covered reindeer antlers.

“It was for charity,” she blurted, positive that her blush was visible even with her mask, “Chat dressed up last year, but he couldn’t go this time so I figured I should keep the tradition alive.”

Adrien’s smile morphed from one of amusement to one of infinite fondness. “I think that your partner would feel very honored if he could see you right now.”

“So,” Ladybug said hoping a change of subject would distract her flustered emotions, “you didn’t answer my question.”

“What question?”

“What are you doing out here?”

“Oh. That. I’m hiding actually. These Galas are extremely boring if you are under the age of 40.”

“They can’t be all bad.”

“The last conversation I had was with a 75 year old dragon woman about the decreased stock value of Florentine lace and whether or not it was time to bring ruffles back into fashion.”

“And what did you say to that?”

“I said, ‘I’m not sure, what do you think father?’ and then snuck away when he started pontificating about the shocking overuse of A-line silhouettes in bridal wear.”

Ladybug laughed. “Well I can see why you would want to escape from that.”

“Besides, the company is better out here anyways.”

“I’m flattered,” she said, tucking a stray lock of hair behind her ear and grinning.

They stood for a minute in companionable silence, both looking at up at the sky while sneaking glances at the other.

“So-”

“So-” They both began, laughing at their shared reaction.

“You go first,” Adrien said bowing slightly and waving his hand for her to speak.

“What all do you do at these famous Galas?”

“You mean aside from hiding?” Adrien teased. “Mostly it’s just a lot of idle gossip and empty flattery. Sometimes a drawn out political debate if you are particularly unlucky. The food is usually excellent though, so I highly recommend sticking close to the buffet tables if you ever have the misfortune to attend.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” Ladybug laughed. “Of course now I will be scared to come even if I did get invited.”

“Oh, well in that case I take it all back. These parties are the highlight of the season, full of the best and brightest- please come save me from my boredom, I am begging you,” Adrien said clasping his hands together dramatically and giving her an exaggerated pout.

“Well with an endorsement like that how could I refuse?” she said, her eyes sparkling.

“No,” Adrien sighed even as he fought back a smile, “as much as it pains me, I will be the bigger person. Run away. Run away and save yourself.”

“Come on, I am sure it wouldn’t be so bad. Unlike you I’ve never been to one of these elaborate parties. It might be nice to get to dress up in a beautiful gown and dance and drink expensive Champagne.”

“You would be stunning,” Adrien said softly.

Ladybug felt her cheeks flush as her eyes locked on his. “Why… why do you say that?” she breathed.

“Well, if you look this amazing with antlers on your head, I can only imagine how spectacular you would look in an actual gown.”

“Oooh,” Ladybug moaned even as she blushed, smiling, “you just had to see me in these stupid things!”

“It is a sight I am going to cherish to my dying day.”

The looked at each other before they both burst into another round of happy giggles.

From inside the house the lively music slowed into a melodic waltz.

“Would… would you like to dance?” he asked, holding out his hand, his cheeks stained pink and his eyes not quite able to meet her own.

Ladybug nodded, her voice caught in her throat as she placed her hand onto his.

He pulled her in close, his other hand wrapping around to settle on the small of her back as he swept her into the steps of the waltz.

They didn’t speak, simply allowing themselves to be caught up in the magic of the moment. The soft strains of the music seemed to weave with the winter wind as a gentle snowfall sparkled in the sky around them.

They danced around the terrace, their matching blushes shrouded in the shadows of the night as they twirled to the soft melody coming from the house.

When the song ended, they stood frozen, neither willing to break the moment.

A strong gust of wind caused them both to shiver. Adrien chuckled lightly, finally letting go of her and wrapping his arms around himself. “I should probably get headed back inside. I hadn’t meant to be out here this long.”

“We certainly don’t want you getting sick,” Ladybug said, smiling shyly up at him and toeing the ground, “although if your nose gets too red I can always loan you my antlers.”

Adrien laughed again, a full happy sound that warmed her to her very soul.

“Well it’s good to know that even if I am sick you will still come to my aid My…” he coughed, his face flushing again as he turned away embarrassed.

“What?”

“Nothing.” “No, what were you going to say?” she asked curiously.

“I meant to say,” he stammered, “I am glad you will still come to my aid, my- my hero.”

“Oh,” Ladybug said, feeling oddly disappointed though she wasn’t entirely sure why. “Well, that is my job. You know, saviour of Paris and all that!” She gave him a lopsided smile.

He nodded, turning to look back towards the house as the musicians started up a particularly lively tune.

“Well, I should get going.”

“Right.”

“This was… it was really great to see you,” he said. “Thanks, for stopping by.”

“Of course! Anytime,” she said, her hands clasping against the fabric of her coat.

He smiled at her again, giving her a quick wave as he turned to head back towards a side entrance into the house.

“Adrien?” she called.

He turned back questioningly, and before she could over think her decision she ran forward and gave him a soft kiss on the cheek. It was hurried and brief, barely enough to feel the sensation of his slightly chilled skin against her lips. She pulled back, ready to throw her yo-yo out and run away as quickly as possible, but she found herself trapped by a hand at the small of her back.

Adrien stared at her for a moment, his eyes full of wonder, but before she could utter any sort of explanation or apology he leaned down, and this time captured her lips with his own.

Time seemed to stop.

Her eyes drifted shut and she leaned into the kiss, feeling the pressure of his mouth- so much warmer than his cheek had been. It was a chaste kiss, neither party brave enough to push for more, but it was still dazzling, breathtaking, everything she had ever dreamed it would be.

He pulled away after a few seconds, his other hand coming up to caress her face as he gazed at her with undisguised adoration.

“I..I hope that was…” he stammered, “I mean, I didn’t mean-”

Ladybug raised a finger to his lips to silence him.

“Merry Christmas, Adrien,” she said, smiling at him with every ounce of love and affection she possessed.

He grinned back, catching her hand in his own and placing another delicate kiss to the tips of her fingers.

“Merry Christmas Ladybug.”

Extra Credit

Rating: G Pairing: F/F Word Count: 2,255 Tags: High School, Volleyball, soft!top, Soft Top Girl Is Unsure Of How Bottom Feels About Her... My Specialty Notes: Thank you to @zenzam for reading this over for me! Excerpt: “You probably hear this a lot, but... you’re pretty quiet.” I smile. “But I think that’s kind-of cool.” 

Elena raises a curious eyebrow at me. 

“Volleyball is a team sport, so it’ll be cool to see how you work with the rest of the team,” I explain. “And you’re here, so you must be at least somewhat competitive. That’s pretty neat to me.” 

Her mouth twists into something between a grimace and a smile. Maybe an awkward smile that she’s trying to push down. 

I hope I can make her smile more freely next time. 

-------------------------------

Honestly, it should be against school policy for teachers to be coaches, too. Then they can do unfair things like give extra credit to students who show up at their team’s track meets or academic bowl tournaments or, in this case, volleyball games.

At least I have some friends on the team, so it won’t be too bad. Eve is there, and Gemma and Amber, too, I think. Sort of a weird collection of girls, to be honest—they’re usually all in different social circles, but it’s cool to see that volleyball brought them all together.

After struggling with bus transfers, I finally arrive at the opponent school. Out of all the volleyball games I could have gone to, of course the timing of my upcoming AP Lit assignment had to be matched with an away game at a school that could fit three of mine. This place has multiple gymnasiums for different sports, and I need to follow a directory like the ones at shopping malls.

Eventually, after some trial and error (and a few awkward conversations with students), I do find the right gymnasium for the volleyball game. Thankfully, the game hasn’t started yet, so I can go say hi to an overtly grateful Ms. Shimada—or Coach Shimada, I guess—and chat with some of the team members.

“Hey, it’s Soomi,” Eve notes with raised eyebrows when I walk on over. “You really fell for Coach Shimada’s extra credit bribe?”

“Unfortunately, I had to take the devil’s offer. My grades could use the boost,” I sigh.

“You could also just study, you know.”

“Studying is for the weak.”

A high, excited voice interrupts us.

“Soomi! Oh, my god!”

A pair of arms lands around my neck before I can even register that it’s Amber.

“You came to see us play? How sweet of you,” she coos.

“Hey, Amber,” I return.

“She’s not sweet; she’s just lured in by Coach’s dirty tactics,” Eve cuts in.

I place a hand on my chest. “Hey, I have to support my fellow Asians in this school.”

“She’s right, we have to stick together—like rice,” Gemma says, showing up with a witty comeback, as usual.

Eve smirks. “Oh, so you’re confirming that Coach plays favorites with giving you easier drills?”

“Wait, that’s not—hold on a second—“

As the three squabble on, I glance over at the rest of the team. There are some other faces I recognize, but no one else I’m super close with. Most of them just nod or smile at me in acknowledgement, but they’re busy putting on their shoes or tying up their hair to pay me much attention.

Well, everyone except for one girl who sits on the bleachers with her uniform all ready and her arms wrapped around her folded legs.

I’ve seen her around before. What’s her name again? Alana? Marina? All I know about her is that she’s usually alone—even in group settings like in orchestra concerts, somehow she seems to be alone within the crowd.

It doesn’t really seem fair that, as an outsider to the team, I can come to one game and immediately find some people to chat with, but this girl who’s actually part of the team sits all alone up there.

It’s an easy decision to make when I walk up the bleachers and sit next to her.

“It’s Alana, right?” I ask with a hesitant smile.

She glances at me out of the corner of her eye and then leans in closer to her knees.

“Elena,” she corrects in the quietest voice.

“Oh, Elena, right, sorry.”

Stupid me, thinking I could just waltz in here and know everything. The truth is that I don’t really know anything. Well, that much is obvious by how poorly I’m doing in AP Lit that brought me here in the first place.

“I hope they don’t give you too much trouble,” I laugh awkwardly, motioning down toward the three girls still chattering on.

Elena glances at me again, but she doesn’t say anything this time. She just shakes her head.

“To be honest, I don’t really know them all that well,” I confess. “But I think that’s what’s cool about clubs, hanging out with people who you don’t usually get a chance to talk to.”

I wouldn’t be here talking with Elena if it weren’t for this extra credit opportunity. I wouldn’t be able to notice the blend of dark reds and browns in her hair, and I wouldn’t see the freckles on her fair skin. I wouldn’t see how her brown eyes look nervous but also curious, shielded but still open.

I think she doesn’t completely hate that I’m talking to her.

“How’s Ms. Shimada as a coach?” I try. “Is she a hardass, or something? It’s sort of tough to imagine that.”

Ms. Shimada is the sweetest teacher in the school, but I guess you can’t be all sweetness if you’re a coach for an athletic team. You have to have that competitive drive and desire to win if you play a sport, don’t you?

Maybe I’m wrong, because I hear the smallest giggle next to me, just a short laugh muffled by knees brought up to lips.

I’ve never seen Elena laugh before. Like I said, I don’t see her around much in the first place, but when I do, she usually has this withdrawn look on her face and throughout her entire body, really. She’s still curled up in a ball, so it’s hard to tell, but I can spot the faint smile on her lips and the mirth in her eyes.

I want to see her smile again.

“I’m Soomi, by the way,” I introduce.

For some reason, my introduction makes Elena withdraw again. Her smile vanishes, and she curls in a little more into herself. But it seems less like she’s uncomfortable with me and more just like she’s a little awkward. Or maybe that’s just what I hope.

“You probably hear this a lot, but... you’re pretty quiet.” I smile. “But I think that’s kind-of cool.”

Elena raises a curious eyebrow at me.

“Volleyball is a team sport, so it’ll be cool to see how you work with the rest of the team,” I explain. “And you’re here, so you must be at least somewhat competitive. That’s pretty neat to me.”

Her mouth twists into something between a grimace and a smile. Maybe an awkward smile that she’s trying to push down.

I hope I can make her smile more freely next time.

A whistle rings throughout the gym, and the shrill noise breaks both my trance and Elena’s position, cuing her to finally uncurl from her balled position. She smooths out her uniform once and then starts to head down the steps.

“Good luck!” I call after her. “I’ll be rooting for you.”

Elena glances back at me, nods once, and then descends the stairs.

As awkward as she was with me, Elena seems to blend in with the team well when they all circle around the coach. She doesn’t immediately break into smiles and conversations with the other team members, no, but she doesn’t seem to be that much of a separate entity the way I’ve seen her at an orchestra concert.

The way I am now on the bleachers.

The realization that I’m an outsider hits me all too belatedly. I don’t even know how to play volleyball and what really counts as a point or not. I don’t even really know anyone down there, either—not the people I’m friendly with or the girl I just met. Even if Elena was the one sitting separately from everyone else, now she’s down there, part of a team, part of a group. She’s not pretending to be anyone she’s not, some confident girl with lots of friends who can break anyone out of their shell. She’s just her.

Even though she’s shy, she’s braver than I could ever be.

The whistle blows again to start the game, and this time, I’m the one who walks down the bleachers. Ms. Shimada said I had to come to a game, but she didn’t say I had to stay for all of it. I don’t think I could really take sitting there by myself watching the rest of the game, anyway.

This school is huge enough for me to get lost in while I lose myself in my thoughts. Back at my own school, I can easily stop by various circles of people and exchange a few words or so, but it’s not like any of it really means anything. It’s all just me pretending. This wading through unknown crowds feels much closer to the truth, and it’s both unsettling and freeing to feel the discomfort of it all.

How could someone like me have thought to get closer to Elena? She’s not like me at all. Not only because she’s both athletic and artistic, but because she’s not scared to be herself. Someone as confident as she is probably sees right through me; she might have just indulged me with a conversation out of respectful obligation. She has no reason to want to get closer to me.

Even so, a stubborn, selfish part of me still wants to watch her play. I want to see her work with the rest of the team. I want to see her fly in the air as she spikes down the ball. I just want to watch her, really, with her mahogany hair and that rare smile on her lips.

Maybe, if only for an hour or so, I can at least pretend to know her.

Too bad I’ve gotten lost in this enormous school, though. I might even be on the other side of campus, for all I know. As I try my best to understand the strategically placed maps around the school, and as I interrogate random strangers for directions, I realize that, even though I probably don’t have a chance with her, even though I don’t really deserve to know her, I still want to. I still want to try.

But when I do finally manage to muscle my way over to the gym, I don’t see her. In fact, I don’t see anybody from my school at all. The only people around are some members of the other team toweling themselves off as they head to the locker room.

I missed it. I missed my chance. I was too busy focusing on myself and wallowing in self-deprecation to realize what was going on around me. If anything, this is proof that I’m not really part of any group; just some floater who can’t even keep up with one volleyball team.

Gritting my teeth, I turn my heel and try to direct myself to the bus stop. It’s whatever. It’s fine. Tomorrow, I’ll go to school, and I’ll tell Ms. Shimada I had to leave early, and she’ll probably give me the extra credit anyway for showing up in the first place. I’ll laugh and move on, and life will move on, with me in my place, and Elena in her place.

A hand touches mine from behind.

“Where were you?”

I turn. Elena has a sports jacket wrapped around her uniform and a drawstring bag over her shoulders. The jacket is a little big on her, so she looks small, like she did on the bleachers. Her shoulders are hunched inward like I’m used to seeing them, but this time she doesn’t have that uncertain, withdrawn look on her face. Instead, her face is skewed in hurt.

“You said... you were rooting for me,” Elena says quietly. “But when I looked up, you were gone.”

A complicated emotion hits my chest. I didn’t think she actually cared about anything I said, so I’m glad to hear that she does. But also I feel awful that I’m the reason her hand is trembling right now.

“I... I’m sorry,” I confess. “I guess I just felt a little out of place.”

Elena purses her lips. “Even if you feel that way... it doesn’t mean people aren’t still counting on you.”

She’s... she’s right. I never thought of it that way. That’s why she can be part of sports teams and orchestras, even if she’s shy and doesn’t mesh fluidly with the rest of the group. She still knows it’s her duty to commit to others.

I want to commit to her.

“I’ll be at your next game. I promise,” I vow with a squeeze of her hand.

Still with pursed lips, Elena nods. She’s probably still hurt, but at least she’s starting to forgive me.

“How’d you do?” I try.

She drops her gaze and shuffles her feet. “We lost.”

“Oh, well, that’s OK,” I reassure her. “It’s not about winning or losing; it’s about getting back up after you’ve lost.”

Elena bites her lip. “We lost, because I kept missing balls, since I was looking for you.”

“Oh... well...” I crack a smile, despite myself. “That’s OK, too.”

Finally, Elena meets my gaze. Finally, despite her clear insistence of her pout, she smiles back. It isn’t quite the same as her smile back in the gym—there’s more embarrassment in this one now—but it’s still good to see.

Yeah, life will move on when we go back to school tomorrow. But maybe it won’t have to be the same as before. Maybe neither of us have to be alone within those school walls anymore.

Dios Meme-o! (Rafael Barba Mini-Series, Pt. 2)

Part 1 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8

Rafael was quite surprised to find that his mood from yesterday had not been wiped clean with the stresses the new day was promising. It showcased itself in the color theme of his choice for the day: A sweet yellow, present in his tie, socks, and suspenders, as well as a pastel for his pocket square. Not something out of the ordinary for the dandy Rafael Barba of Hogan Place, but something that made him feel good about himself nonetheless.

A feeling that remained consistent for a good part of the morning, his usual strong work ethic given an extra kick. It didn’t even dwindle in its usual way as Carisi and Rollins arrived to brief him on the newest bit of information they had recently obtained for the current case.

At first.

After all, why would he feel the need to become despondent at the facts Carisi began delivering to him? They only further helped his argument! The fact of the matter was that he needn’t falter over that. That was something he had a semblance of control over. But the vibrating of Rollin’s phone –

“Hold on,” Rollins lifted her pointer finger to indicate a halt. “It’s Fin; he might’ve found somethi – ” When someone stops their sentence dead while observing something on their phone, it probably wasn’t good news. When the message was from their coworker during a case involving SVU, it could only be a bad thing.

This was it, Rafael’s more practiced pessimistic side spoke up. This is what kills the optimism, the image of a smaller Rafael dressed entirely in a depressive blue ensemble spoke, adjusting his drab tie as he made his way to the forefront of the real Rafael’s mind.

“Pfft!” Rollins’ hand flew to her mouth as she bent over by her midsection. Her eyes never took themselves off of her phone screen.

Both the imaginary Rafael and the real Rafael’s brows couldn’t help but quirk with curiosity.

¿. . . Que demonios?

“Rollins, are you . . .?” Rafael’s voice trailed as he watched the woman snap back into an upright position, her hand resuming its place by her side. However, it could not be ignored that her lips were trembling. That is, they were trembling when her teeth weren’t pressing down on them. Rafael’s mouth opened by the slightest fraction, unsure of whether it’d be too far to use his usual acidic tone with her. If something was funny, then right now really wasn’t the time for it.

Collecting himself, he decided to refrain from being an asshole. For now. “May I ask what’s so funny about anything that Fin should be sending you?” he questioned in a slightly stern way.

Rollins coughed, the smile she’d been biting back collapsing beneath her worktime face. “No. Sorry. Fin just sent me something on . . .” For a split second, her body quivered in a manner that said the laughter would continue. Smothering it with a sharp inhale, she completed, “On accident. Sorry again.”

Both she and Carisi could tell by the way the ADA’s lids lowered themselves over his eyes that he wasn’t entirely buying it. But, nevertheless, this wasn’t the time to dwell on it as Rafael pushed himself away from his desk and made his way toward the bookcase for the appropriate literature. Thank God he wasn’t an SVU detective, he thought to himself as he listed off the multitude of directions he could go with the newly given information.

It was as his long fingers grazed the spine of a particular book that might be helpful that he heard it again: A snicker. One that bubbled in the throat. Only it was too deep to be Rollins . . .

Whipping around, Rafael saw the obvious culprit: The self-bitten smile on Carisi’s face was far too wide and expressive in his bright, blue eyes to be properly covered by the hand that was attempting to do so. By his side, Rollins stood stiffer than before. By the way it looked, she had been trying to press her lips into her mouth but the grin she was trying to fight off made the smile assassination impossible to properly carry out.

Maybe it was because his earlier optimism was entirely too fragile, maybe he just didn’t like being left out of a joke, but damn, was Rafael finding himself annoyed in that moment.

“Oh, for God’s – What’s so funny?!” he found himself snapping, arms flopping to his side with heavy exasperation.

And for a moment, he got nothing. But the moment he heard a laugh putter out behind an even louder snicker than before, he almost wished he’d never asked in the first place. Rafael’s brows knit together crossly as his office – his usually quiet and composed office – became bombastic with the laughter of the two SVU detectives.

At that point, Rafael began to feel like a child who’d been left out of a joke, only to be told that “only adults could get it.” Not helping was the way he crossed his arms and began to glare as the one-sided merriment continued – literally, the sterner his appearance became, the harder the two blonds before him seemed to laugh. To which, he’d finally had enough.

“If you’re not going to get your act together, put this behind you two, and focus, then we’re done here,” he warned lowly. As he began to return to his desk to start on files for a separate case to ignore them, Rollins finally took the initiative to explain the source of her and her partners’ case of hilarity. Rather, she let her phone explain the cause of their merriment as she offered it to the counselor.

Rafael couldn’t help but shoot a look of hesitance at her as he accepted the offer. If it was another goddamn meme –

Only it wasn’t a meme. It wasn’t a redhaired one-hit wonder from the 80s singing about promises he didn’t intend to keep; it wasn’t a somber frog with unusually large lips; it wasn’t even a reference to some comedian’s childish antics with a jukebox and the song “What’s New Pussycat?”.

It was him.

Rather, it was a picture of himself with a caption beneath reading, “Call me that ADA: Ass-Destroying Attorney.”

¡¿. . . Que demonios!?

His face wasn’t entirely sure of what to do with itself in that moment. Should the brows raise up and let his eyes widen freely? Hunker down and narrow the eyes to make sure that that was exactly what he thought he’d just read? Should his mouth purse with a lack of amusement or drop wide open to release a sound he wasn’t sure he had the ability to produce!?

Whichever expression his body settled on, it cued in a wheeze that stringed along for far too long before unleashing a bombastic howl of laughter from Carisi with Rollins following suit with an unadulterated blast of giggles.

“I – What – what the hell is this?” Rafael demanded over their laughter. Unfortunately, due to his heavily confused state, this query laughed the oomph and commanding aura it needed. It just barely rose above the cloud of hilarity the blond duo produced.

“It’s a – it’s – ” Rollins found herself unable to properly deliver the rest of her sentence comprehensively as it drowned beneath wave after wave of giggling.

“It’s the Internet bein’ the Internet, counselor!” Carisi blurted, wrapping his arms around his aching torso.

The Internet being the Internet? What the hell did that even mean in this sort context? Rafael was used to observing this kind of behavior from the position of attorney, not as the target! It was only as his mind attempted to better collect itself that he recognized the photo as having been of himself during the press conference. The picture was cropped so as to reel in close on his face as he stood at the podium, but he could just make out a bit of the face of a local politician in the background.

Somebody seriously took a screenshot of him during his speech to make a plea for him to “destroy their ass”?! He couldn’t take it anymore.

“I – how – ?”

“Words and pictures travel fast on the Internet, Barba,” Rollins added.

Shaken, he handed Rollins back her phone and did everything in his power not to shove his face into his hands and hide under his desk. Even in the recovery of her mirth, Rollins extended a branch of sympathy.

“Hey, don’t feel too bad,” she attempted. “You should see what these people write about pop stars.” She offered a small but nevertheless awkward-in-nature smile. Rafael did not attempt to return it or even accept it, instead deciding to weakly glare at her over his fingers.

“Look,” he murmured before removing his hands from his face. “I don’t – we don’t have time for this – ” What was this? Was “bullshittery” too crude and juvenile a word for a man of his caliber? Probably. “ – this asinine behavior.” Almost immediately, his usual demeanor returned.

Sullen and stern, Rafael Barba was back in his usual setting. It was cold enough to almost instantaneously freeze whatever remaining laughter the blonds had and run their postures back into rigid professionalism.

“Sorry,” Rollins muttered with guilt. She was halfway tempted to make a joke about how the Internet was at least making time for “ass-in-mine” behavior but quickly decided against it once she took note of the icy bemusement present in Rafael’s eyes.

Ever the one to brighten a situation, Carisi attempted to gently digress the conversation back to its initial path.

“So . . . Also, Cantrell’s landlord says he’ll testify, but we gotta cut him a deal,” he offered, sheepishly scratching his ear.

“That’s a reach,” Rafael scoffed. “Slacks off on building reparations, violates God knows how many codes, and he wants some slack? He’s lucky I haven’t alerted the media.”

“Well, yeah, but so far he’s got the biggest possible contribution,” Rollins reasoned.

“And he’s the only one so far who’s willing to say anything,” Carisi added.

“Of course,” came the attorney’s bitter reply. A sigh of defeat. “The best-case scenario is that he gets a couple months in, maybe five. Settle that and we’ll see if he’s only bluffing. But in the meantime, I’d try Cantrell’s neighbors again. There’s no way only one apartment’s got a crappy lock; someone’s lying.”

And with that, Rafael was left to his own devices as the detectives took their leave. He had no idea what had come over him with a sigh of relief and exasperation came rushing out of his lungs, accompanied by him practically deflating as he flopped into his chair.

Was he blushing? His hand sliding itself down his face confirmed that, yes, the heat present had to have been coming from him blushing.

What the hell was that!? he thought agitatedly.

Just the Internet being the Internet, Carisi’s voice echoed.

Well, it certainly wasn’t the exact same type of Internet expression he encountered in his usual day-to-day work . . . Speaking of which, he had a case to plot the pieces of. Plucking up a pen and dragging a legal pad over, Rafael began scrawling down notes and observations, glancing frequently at the paperwork the detectives had brought him previously.

And for a moment, he had practically forgotten the bizarre imagery and comment surrounding his image.

It was approximately ten minutes into his little session that Rafael’s phone buzzed with a text alert. Assuming it was from a colleague, he observed his screen: It was from Carisi. This caused Rafael some confusion, as the location of Cantrell’s apartment definitely wasn’t only ten minutes away; what could Carisi have possibly needed to tell him?

Sliding his thumb across the screen, he unlocked the message.

Yet another photo of himself though this time, it had been a photo from earlier in the year. Taken by the press after one of his many prolific trials, it showed him descending the courthouse steps, his suit jacket flying on at a gust of wind, revealing his midsection.

Rafael would have thought nothing of the photo, had he not read the multitude of responses below it: “OMG THE TUM™!!!” read the first post. Many other captions said something of similar wording.

Tum™? What the heck was a Tum™? Some sort of slang term?

His question was answered by one ThrussyFoot69: “I love how his suspenders emphasize his tum-tum! 😩👐🔥✨” they proclaimed.

At the revelation of the nature of the beloved “tum”, Rafael’s eyes wandered downward to regard it. It wasn’t . . . big was it? Sure, he loved to eat, but Rafael had always made sure to try and stick to particularly healthy foods when he could. . . . Or, at least, he thought he did. Then again, he did have a propensity for eating out due to his busy schedule . . . But surely he wasn’t getting fat, right? . . . Right?

It was at this moment that his increasingly worrying eyes traveled upwards, landing on the uneaten remaining half of his cinnamon roll.

While her boss had never once treated her poorly or made her feel underappreciated, Carmen still found it puzzling when Mr. Barba offered her a cleanly-cut half of a large cinnamon roll out of nowhere.

Plex: 5, 12, 15, 19

wow you are asking all of the SERIOUS QUESTIONS !! added in number 9 since u added that in a second ask

5: Guilty pleasures

plex is an oddball case in this one because most ppl would probably be like “oh yeah my guilty pleasures r like staying up playing videogames all weekend” or w/e but plex exists in a world of opposites where it’s very much The Norm for him to just kind of be procrastinating and indulging in junk food and various media all the time, However his friend group is just the rest of the IT krewe and while they’re also all into those kinds of guilty pleasures its sort of their Social Culture to be really into like videogaming all weekend and eating shit food, and so they’re also very into Cringe Culture meaning like. the stuff that plex would consider guilty pleasures are things his coworkers would Disapprove Of and find 2 cringey or ~soft~ so plex’s guilty pleasures are probably somewhere along the lines of like... god idk.... plex hasn’t really been allowed to explore his interests outside of this group so honestly it’s less he has any SPECIFIC guilty pleasures, the man just feels guilty and bad every time he’s like an actual friendly decent gentle person for once.......... which is semi often because despite being an obnoxious twit he is not actually bad 2 the bone....................

this went on longer than i intended but plex’s ‘guilty pleasures’ are basically like “i was nice 2 some newbies in this mmo today and i get really irrationally excited over getting new pins/clips to use in my hair and both of those are very Soft Boy which i feel guilty for doing because thats not the Cool Inquest Badass Guy Thing To Do so im going to get cagey about it and hide it and pretend i don’t care”

second revision tl;dr plex’s life sucks

9: Humiliating memories

you are GOING FOR THE KILL on this man

im not sure about hyper specific things but plex probably has a lot of traumas(TM) stemmed from having health issues as a child, e.g. getting picked on in pre-college or having doctors fuss at him (he’s always been physically weak and exhausted really easy on top of eye issues-- his pale appearance and issues come from him being essentially the asura pattern equiv of a double merle). plex being plex also he has a tendency to Run His Mouth and he’s undoubtably said a LOT of short sighted stuff over the years that still haunts him at night hjkgf

12: Grudges and vendettas

plex holds grudges A Lot..................................... the main one i can think of is he’s like. pissed at both his parents simultaneously jhkfgd he’s pissed at his dad for running off and being a total absentee father but pissed at his mom for chasing his dad off in the first place. (tho he still ends up wanting their approval/etc and is sort of chasing the trail of vague info potentially leading to his dads whereabouts atm)

bein a videogame player also im sure he like. has gotten his ass beaten in like a pvp match in one of his mmos and like instantly blocked the person responsible and since then gone after them with VIGOR whenever he gets sorted into a match with them. ....i don’t know if mmos/similar videogames exist in tyria tbh but im gonna assume maybe theres like, an asura runescape out there man idk. if not this is theoretical personality exploration

15: What it takes to make them cry

BIG SECRET HERE....................................... plex is a bit of a crybaby but he’s just gotten really good at clenching his jaw and tryin 2 suppress it

his emotions are very vivid and wild and so when he’s been wronged or affronted or insulted or lost smth or is otherwise upset he’s really gotta suppress both the yelling and the waterworks. ...he usually suppresses the latter but not the former.......

19: People they’ve hurt or indirectly killed, and how it affected them

oh boy.............. plex is in a weird position with this because being inquest but doing IT for inquest he’s never had a very direct hand in killing people but he absolutely facilitates it by fixing up their machines

he’s probably mostly at his desk and not usually observing inquest scientists doin their thing cus when he’s gotta trudge out to the rest of the base he mashes some buttons and then trudges back over to the IT dept but there’s prrrrobably been uh, a few cases he’s Witnesses ppl testing “ok hold on sit tight a sec while i make sure this laser/horrible device works Now” or machines instantly firing up and resuming their programs when he like, plugs them back in (after someone accidentally unplugged it and made angry calls to IT for an hour demanding they move them up their queue and come fix their machine RIGHT NOW so they can resume their IMPORTANT RESEARCH and they never figured out they just unplugged it)

plex actually Witnessing these things is probably uhh Not a good experience for him, plex IN THEORY is all “oh the inquest does bad things but like its necessary for scientific advancement.. :/” but actually seeing a machine you just fixed like scramble someone’s physical matter is very. viscerally unnerving and nauseating to him and he really does not like having that “my guy the shit you do facilitates a LOT of painful murder” connection made abundantly clear to him, and it probably shakes his devotion to the inquest a bit before he decides to stuff those feelings back into pandora’s box and pretend everything is fine. definitely ends up replaying the scenes in bad dreams or night anxiety episodes tho

Vacation Dad

Unlike most of my friends growing up, I had a very far relation to my Father. 

As far as I could tell as even a middle-schooler, both my parents seemed to be swingers. They never dissolved their marriage in hopes of keeping some sort of financial gain, but as far as their care for each other went, they basically slept in separate beds. I found myself wondering about my physical conceptualization quite often, even knocking the thought of my Father being another man possibly. 

I wouldn’t of personally been surprised myself, as he never really treated me as if I was his own. The word ‘bastard’ felt tattooed on my forehead and I couldn’t quite escape the point that he never quite cared for me, his supposed child, but never explained why.

My Mother was distant, in some ways alike to him. She would disappear for elongated periods of time. I found myself alone a lot, some days feeling more a ghost than a living person. I would watch the sun lapse across the wall, no longer relying on a clock, I used the window and light as a dial. The further I drifted, the more absent they became, sometimes leaving me there alone for a week or longer. I couldn’t quite remember a time where things were different anymore.

Soon they returned home. This time they could hardly look at each other, and when put in any sort of proximity the anger and disdain seemed to teem like a hot summer sun. I listened through the wall late that night to overhear their conversations.  

“Do you think he knows honey?”, my Mom said.

“That he’s dead? I think he hasn’t a clue”, my Father said.

“Hasn’t he wondered about the dreams, where they are really coming from? Does he truly think that’s god?”, my Mom said.

“I don’t know. What I do know is that we can’t let him or the world know”, my Father responded

“He never left The Cradle, did he?”, my Mother said.

A definite silence then over took the room. My nights usually full of colorful dreams I would write in stories by the morning, were left sleepless after overhearing that conversation. It wasn’t exactly them that cued it, but I was questioning my waking reality far before they implied there might be reason to. I worried about how much control I truly had. I would wake up waiting for a call or a check in the mail, something to help get me out. But all I’d find is the perpetual blur of a suburb locked in a sort of modern purgatory. Was I doing this by expecting it? If I just changed one usual variable, would that be the unexpected solution? Then this talk of some sort of dream agency, writing both my dreams and nightmares, not to mention if these people had some sort of ability to document subconscious lucidity they could be making literal variable of my inputs. The possibilities seemed endless.

Early the next morning, Father would awake earlier than usual. He readies a few luggage cases and puts in one silver case. A solvent he sprayed outside my room kept me from awakening to his new plot. He awakens Genova, my Mother, telling her they are going on a long trip, like he does every week. Before she enters the car he engages some stone-age self modified child-lock. When she gets in the car, he grabs her and uses a rag with a chloroform mixture over her mouth.

I awoke alone again. A strange smell lingered in the house. My head felt three times it’s size and some sort of chemical seemed to clog my breathing through mouth and nostril.

Not too far off in a derelict hotel called “The Little Rabbit”, my supposed Father props my unconscious Mother on an old Hotel bed. He ties her to each post with rope. He turns a TV on at the full volume. She awakens in a sweat panicking. As she looks at him she can’t see his face or body, just a Black shadow at the foot of the bed. He recites a few words, in Latin, and a strange orb of light starts to float about the room. The bright orb bounces about then lands right in my Mother’s mouth as she screams for help. Almost immediately her eyes shift to a different color.

“My daughter Persephone, how I’ve missed you”, he says trying to comfort her.

With the new presence in her body he undoes the ropes.

When Mother and Father returned that day, I asked where they had been this time.

Father said they had just retuned from far away, not to ask any more questions. He seemed tired, older as well. He said Mother was sick and she wouldn’t be talking much. I looked at her really quick as she walked in and for a second I could swear she had a different face. I dismissed this as some sort of distortion.

Something about them both seemed not quite right. It was like a bad odor you couldn’t quite describe. I felt like every time I left a room they sat around listening to whatever I was doing, making fronted conversations to cover what seemed to be an abundance of surveillance. I would of felt this being destiny, if I hadn’t known my actual Father.

The man pushed out first by this Black shadow of a person, was my Father. Framed and coerced by shadows and infallible amounts of time, he broke under the spell of an illusion contrived by only the most heinous.

That was how this man took over my Father’s body and one by one he turned everyone into a version of himself. Like a mass conscience experiment gone far wrong, he had long stopped realizing the cost of his parasitical behaviors. He tried hard to take me. I never quite broke though. I built refuges from his insanity, and didn’t take their narrative as my own. I just knew somehow that these people weren’t my people.

The next morning I could see in my Mother’s eyes that she was taken as well. I didn’t even have to start a conversation to know she’d say exactly what he’d want regardless of my statement or inquiry. It was like living with a wall.

I wondered after if my Mother had left and the trick was really on him. But as time grew on it seemed the trick was on everyone else for believing a fraud.

I wondered what he was after and at a certain point, I realized it was me.

Years ago my Grandpa gave me a knife and I hid this knife on my bedside. He told me to never use it unless I really had to.

Late that night, something paralyzed me. It seemed to be a big dark shadow at the foot of my bed, chanting words that rendered me tired and in a sort of paralysis. I looked in it’s eyes, without fear, searched for eyes in that mass of darkness and saw the ones that over took my Mother. A flash of strength gained in me and I grabbed the knife. I immediately stabbed at the shadows throat. As the blade slipped in, a bright light bled out and a high-pitched noise surrounded, growing with it’s glow

I awoke on a grassy hill, surrounded by Yellow daffodils. Grass sprawled for miles and miles. A feeling of euphoria and heat overtook me, and guided me forward. The coldness of the world I had come from seemed to subside with the growing space that surrounded me. Whether I was living or dead, or in somewhere I recognized or not, no longer mattered.

I could feel energy flowing within me