#cries I’ve only got 3 in-person classes and I already know my teacher for 2 of em

[boygirlctommy]

WAIT I just realized I’m not taking history this semester,,,

[nxrthmizu]

kill em’ with kindness

fandom | miraculous ladybug 

genre | lila salt, so much salt 

summary | marinette takes the high road to a better life. 

w.c | 8.1k 

author’s note | had this idea for a few days after i wrote victory tastes bitter, which really blew up on ao3 (thanks for all the support <3). always wondered what it would be like if marinette just. played nice. so here she is, being an absolute badass. 

author’s note.2 | okay so since i did not write this in one sitting, i get that the story probably doesn’t flow as properly as it should. will edit if i ever find the will to do it. 

Marinette was done. They wanted her to be a model student? Fine. They wanted her to stop being mean? Fine. They wanted her to be friends with Lila? Fine.

Luckily for Hawkmoth, no akuma plagued the sky of the previous night, or she would rain hell on him. There was no more tolerance left inside her to spare, and she certainly wouldn’t go out of her way to make some for the manipulative pest problem Paris has had for way too long.

She looked up into the mirror, having exchanged her pigtails for a low ponytail, strands curled to frame her face. Bluebell eyes glistened with a fire that burned brighter than hope— Hope that her ‘friends’ would see sense. Hope that Adrien would be there for her. Hope that the good guy would always get the happy ending. No more being patient, no more being passive, no more putting up with things she didn’t have to.

If Lila Rossi wanted a battle, then fine, a battle she would get. Marinette was lowering her white flag, replacing it with a battle emblem that scorched red, redder than blood and redder than the anger her friends would feel when she was finished. No more peace negotiations. Rossi wanted a fight, Rossi wanted a challenge. Who was Marinette to deny her from what she wanted?

They didn’t know what was coming for them.

The power of makeup was truly one that reigned apex among the world. A few touches of her makeup brush was all it took to erase her dark eyes from existence, give her skin a more radiant glow (She promised that she’d take time to give it a natural glow after she was done being nice), and ease a cherry-pink blush onto her cheeks, making her freckles stand out more in contrast. Marinette Dupain-Cheng meant business, and when she meant business—

“Good morning, Marinette! You look great today!” The head of the student council, a sensible, down-to-Earth blonde by the name of Noelle smiled, speeding up slightly to catch the bluenette on the steps of Francois Dupont. “Love the new look.”

Ah yes. The new look— A royal blue blazer, detailed with golden embroidery of cherry blossoms bursting at the sleeves and the collar, accompanied by a classy-looking silk blouse tapered with a soft, black felt. The pleated black skirt (Made from heavy cloth so that it wouldn’t flap about in the wind) was lined with a beautiful scarlet at all the edges to complete the look. Knee-high black socks trailed all the way into the slight heels that Marinette had added flower adornments on, just so she could tap a little of her own touch on it.

“Thank you,” Responded the bluenette with a smile.

“Woah! Someone looks like they got a good night of rest.” Madeline, the president of the Art Club teased, flocking to the other side of the girl. “That mascara looks sharp enough to kill, girl!”

Sharp enough to kill?

Oh, that wouldn’t be necessary, Marinette mused to herself, sending out thanks to those who had complimented her on her way to class. Nothing sharp was going to be required for the liar’s downfall— No, no. That would just be too messy, and she wouldn’t even think of staining her new outfit. Of course, the ensemble was crafted from her own hands, as stated by the classic MDC that graced the inside of her blazer, the collar of her blouse, and one of the pleats of her skirt. Besides… Lila wasn’t worth getting her hands dirty.

She was going to do things the right way.

The kind way.

“Good morning, everyone.” She greeted, walking into the classroom, garnering their attention with her punctuality. Every set of eyes in the room were attracted to her, like iron fillings to magnets. Some of the gazes were malicious, hateful; Some were doubtful, wary; One was pleading, as if spelling out ‘Please keep taking the high road!’— And then there was Chloe, who was entirely uninterested.

Good, Lila was already present.

“I’d just like to take a minute of your time. Won’t be too long, I promise.” She took a deep breath, ignoring the imploring gaze that dug at her side, courtesy of a blonde that sat in the front row (And no, it wasn’t Chloe she was referring to). “I’d just like to say…”

The class watched with bated breath.

“I’m sorry.”

Alya blinked. So did everyone else in the room. Stunned faces greeted Marinette’s apologetic one, including Lila’s— She didn’t even have to fake her reaction. What on Earth was Marinette trying to pull off? What kind of stunt was this?

“I realise that I’ve not really been the best version of me lately,” She admitted sorrowfully. I haven’t been the best version of me because I was being boycotted and isolated, “It wasn’t fair to put you all through this,” It wasn’t fair that you idiots had to lose all your reputations because of the words of one liar, “And people got hurt as a consequence,” Me. I was the one who got hurt. “I realise that things haven’t been all smooth-sailing in our class lately, so I’d like to apologise to everyone.” I’d like to apologise for not being able to save you from a liar who only sees her own personal gain.

A practiced breath escaped Marinette’s throat as she waited for her cue— The school bell— And set her bag on the teacher’s desk. Good, everything was unfolding right on time. Not quite far away, there was a distinct clack-clack-clack of someone’s heels— An auburn teacher, perhaps? Marinette reached into her backpack and drew out a package she had meticulously wrapped in brown paper and tied in golden ribbon. Sitting passively on top of the package was a small note, decorated in hand-drawn flowers and a hummingbird in the corner.

“Here,” Marinette strode up the steps of the class, stopping right in front of her former seat— Now Lila’s— Internally taking pleasure in the first time she’d seen the Italian’s true expression. “For you, as a token of my apology. I understand if you don’t want to forgive me,” Marinette swallowed painfully, biting her lip, as if she was trying not to cry, “But I just want to make things right.”

Lila blinked.

What the hell was happening?

The silence was broken by a quiet sob, one that did not originate from Marinette. Instead, Mlle. Caline Bustier stood in the doorway of the class, clutching her books and notes for the day’s lesson, wiping away a tear that dropped from her eye. “Oh, Marinette,” The teacher sobbed, “I’m so proud of you.”

“That’s so sweet of you, Marinette.” Rose sniffed, wiping away a few tears of her own that had started dripping during the bluenette’s speech. Juleka patted her girlfriend’s back, trying to calm the emotional blonde before she cried out a tsunami on top of her textbooks, giving Marinette a thumbs up to show her approval.

Alya beamed, seemingly proud of her former best friend, who had (In her opinion) finally started to see sense. “I’m so proud of you, girl!”

(Adrien was too shocked to form any words.)

“Could you… Open it?” Marinette asked hopefully, ignoring the teacher for the favour of the liar who ruined her life. “I… Just want to know if you like it.”

The Italian could do nothing more than grit her teeth when Alya urged her to open it. What kind of trick was Mari-Brat up to? Never mind— She’d just spin it into something stupid and the class would take to it like starved animals. With no other choice, she tore apart the brown paper, discarding the golden ribbon on her desk. The class gasped, oohs and aahs echoing all around as the package unfolded to reveal a pretty, beige-coloured cardigan, hand-stitched with murals of foxes, jumping livelily among berry bushes.

Stitched into the inside of the cardigan in pastel blue were the words ‘Lila Rossi’, done in an exquisite cursive that could no doubt only come from Marinette’s hand.

“I made it for you myself,” Marinette sniffed humbly. “I know you’re a really great model and you’ve probably seen clothes that are much better than this one, but I poured all my feelings into it. I spent every night of last week working on it, and—” She hiccuped rather loudly, instantly covering her mouth with her hand in embarrassment. “I just hope you like it.”

“I…” Lila was at a loss for words. She had an itinerary full of the lies and stories she would spin that day (“Marinette texted me mean things last night,” she would weep tearfully to Alya, sniffing and wiping away tears on Alya’s shirt sleeve, “I just want to be friends but she just keeps… Attacking me!”) but no matter. A smirk danced along the Italian’s lips. “Did you design this yourself?” 

Judging by the smirk that Marinette could practically hear in the other girl’s tone, the liar already had a trick up her sleeve. If Marinette had to guess... 

Something along the lines of she stole this design from [random designer], who just coincidentally had the time to be Lila’s friend. Or maybe the friend of Lila’s grandmother. Whichever didn’t matter much, because Marinette was prepared. 

Marinette crossed the room in mere seconds, returning back to Lila’s seat with a sketchbook that she’d pulled from her bag. “Here!” She chirped, flipping open the page with an exercised movement, not even having to shuffle through the pages to find the correct sketch. “I brought the original sketch, just in case you wanted to see it so you could get a professional to redo it for you.” 

Lila opened and closed her mouth like a gaping fish out of water. Beside her, Alya’s eyes sparkled, envy still glowing in her eyes at the sight of the intricate foxes, coloured in hazel, gold, and orange threads. 

“Thank you, Marinette.” Lila gritted through her teeth, basically seething at the thought of having to thank the girl in front of her, who was smiling like an innocent sunshine child. 

The bluenette then turned her attention to her homeroom teacher. “Sorry for interrupting and taking up class time, Mlle. Bustier.” 

“It’s not a problem, Marinette,” Mlle. Bustier wiped at her eyes, slightly embarrassed now that the whole class was watching her cry at the sight of her ‘model student’ correcting her wrongs. “E— Excuse me.” She mumbled, clearing her throat. “Let’s pick off from where we stopped yesterday. Open your textbooks to page 63, please.” 

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The rest of the day went along smoothly. Marinette sat at the back of class, as usual, sighing in boredom as class was derailed off course, whisked off by another one of Lila’s tall tales. Honestly, they were already weeks off schedule— How the hell were they expected to sit for the final exam, at this rate? 

She huffed quietly to herself, watching Bustier trying (and failing) to act like she wasn’t interested in Lila’s story. The woman— An actual adult— Fell for Lila’s usual tricks like a fool, taking in every single word in drunken thirst. Did Mlle. Bustier really have nothing better to do than get absorbed in a teenage girl’s wild fantasies (in a way it was like that). At that thought, Marinette sat up straighter in her chair, an idea going off like a lightbulb above her brain. 

Was it...? 

After further thought, Marinette settled back into her chair, humming thoughtfully as she drummed her fingers against her table quietly. Yes... Yes, perhaps. 

Perhaps it was possible. 

The rest of the lesson passed in wasted time as the class took a major detour to go on a warped journey through Lila’s lies, and before Bustier knew it, the lunch bell had rung. Students chattered animatedly as everyone got up, Mlle. Bustier’s announcement of ‘please go home and study this chapter by yourselves, everyone’ was pathetically drowned out by the rest of the noise. 

Marinette collected her things quickly, needing her exit from the classroom to go off without a hitch, exactly the way she planned it. “I’ve got to go back to my parents’ bakery for lunch,” She said shyly, shrinking into herself as her classmates turned to look at her. “I... Was thinking of bringing some macarons back later. Before I go, though... Lila, is there anything you’re allergic to?” 

“What?” The girl being asked snapped back as a reply, the words leaving her mouth too fast for her to register. Before she knew it, the whole class was staring at her, mouths agape. “I... I mean.” Clearing her throat, the liar plastered on a sweet smile. “What was it, Marinette?” 

“I wanted to bring some macarons back for everyone.” Shyly, the bluenette repeated her plans. “And... Since I’ve been in class with everyone else here for a while, I know their allergies, but not yours. Is there anything you’re allergic to that could be in baked goods?” 

The Italian cursed under her breath— Mari-Brat really wasn’t letting up. The bluenette had made sure to cover any ground that the Italian could use and turn back against her. “As far as I’m concerned, I’m not allergic to anything.” 

Brightening visibly, Marinette nodded, shooting the Italian a smile. “I know things between us aren’t going to get better immediately, but I promise to do my best in fixing things! See you guys after lunch.” 

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Lila was getting really, really fed up. For the whole morning, she wasn’t able to come up with any reason to blame Marinette. If things kept going at the rate that they were, the class would be fully convinced that the bluenette was a changed woman, and that couldn’t happen. There was, in the end, a downside to having such a gullible bunch of classmates— Sure, they swayed easily to her side, but that meant that they swayed back to Marinette’s just as easily. 

Hissing under her breath, Lila looked up to catch Alya and Nino’s concerned looks. 

No. 

She was Lila Rossi. She was resourceful. She had Gabriel Agreste behind her back. She was powerful. She was not going to let Mari-Brat halt her plans in their tracks ever again. 

“I’m going to go use the bathroom real quick,” She said, excusing herself from the lunch table. Perfect! Now all she had to do was come back in tears, saying that Marinette confronted and mocked her in the bathroom, and the class would be all hers, once again. 

Little did she know that Dupain-Cheng was one teensy step ahead. 

As soon as Lila rounded the corner of the cafeteria, Marinette appeared, having just had a lovely chat with Rose (And Juleka, although it was Rose who did most of the talking). The two were at the front steps of Francois Dupont, having a lovely couple moment that Marinette hated to interrupt— But she needed to have at least a word with them. 

“Rose, Juleka!” Marinette greeted, box of macarons held carefully in her arms, as if it were a box of important jewelry instead of just a box of pastries. “Oh— Rose, is that a new watch? I’ve never seen you wear it before!” 

“Yep, it is!” Rose beamed, delighted that someone (Besides Juleka) had finally noticed it. “Isn’t it pretty?” Indeed it was. The watch in question was a pretty, intricate-looking thing done in rose-gold metal, with a pastel pink leather strap holding it down. The background of the watch face was a white background with a thin film of rose-gold metal, cut to resemble a wall of precious rose vines. 

“It is!” Agreeing wholeheartedly, Marinette offered her classmate a smile. “Oh by the way, what time is it?” 

Rose peered at the watchface, returning the answer with an equally-bright smile. “11.47.” 

“Thank you.” Marinette thanked, continuing her way through the school until she reached the cafeteria. Just before she fell into line of sight, though, she hid behind a wall, peering over the corner until she spotted the table she was looking for. 

Perfect— Lila just walked away. Marinette thanked the gods for all the luck that she was having— Okay, maybe she thanked one god in particular more than the others. Gently, she patted the secret pocket that was sewn into the lining of her blazer— Tikki, who had magic powers, managed to create a miniature ‘room’ inside the secret pocket, with the pocket itself acting as a portal of sorts to the room. After a few seconds, she felt the pocket tap back, managing a small smile of gratitude for her kwami’s constant love and support. 

“Hey, Alya, Nino.” Marinette greeted shyly, box of macarons propped up against her hip. “Where’s... Lila?” She hesitated slightly with her question, acting as if it was a little out-of-place to ask about the Italian girl. 

“She went to the bathroom.” Nino provided, mouth still full of unchewed food. This gifted him with a smack from his girlfriend (“Don’t talk with your mouth full!” she scolded,). 

“Oh, I see.” I definitely see. I know what she’s going to try and pull later— I have to time this properly. Timing is everything. 

Marinette continued to make small talk with the two, whom she had not talked to for a very long time. Much to her surprise, they were very warm and accepting, quite unlike the people who slung slurs and accused her baselessly a few days ago. One morning made all the difference to people who believed anything, she supposed. 

All of a sudden, something in her chest buzzed, as if it were a fire alarm, vibrating in warning— She had to go. “It was nice talking to you guys again.” She admitted, having briefly dipped into a pool of what their friendship used to be like. “But I have to go. I promised Kagami I’d meet her for a few minutes before lunch ended.”

Alya’s eyebrows jumped up comically in surprise. “I didn’t know you still talked to her. I thought you two were… Love rivals.”

“So what if we were love rivals?” Marinette shrugged with a simple smile. “Adrien is… As much as it’s odd to admit, he’s just a boy. Neither of us let him get in between us. He’s just a boy, and it’d be stupid for us to not get along just because we like the same boy. It doesn’t bother Kagami that we used to like the same boy, so why should I let it bother me? Besides,” Marinette tilted her head slightly. “It’d be stupid to give up a great friendship just because of a boy.”

With her last words still hanging in the air, Marinette turned tail and left, walking faster than usual. She had little time left— As she neared the wall that would shield her from the view of the cafeteria, she sped up her footsteps, practically half-sprinting just so she could get out of sight before Lila Rossi returned, looking like someone just killed a puppy in front of her very eyes.

“Oh my god, what’s wrong?” Alya jumped to her feet instantly, reaching out to comfort her best friend, who was moments away from having tears stream down her cheeks.

“I… I thought she’d changed.” Lila sniffled, biting her lip to appear as if she was desperately trying not to cry.

Alya frowned. “Who?”

“Marinette.” Lila stated as if it were obvious, faltering for a moment— Why had Alya bothered to ask? Shouldn’t it come pretty obvious? The liar dismissed the thoughts and continued in her performance. “She threatened me in the bathroom. She… She confronted me and mocked me, saying… Saying that all of you… All of you are idiots for believing that she’s changed. She… She said everything was an act to turn you all against me.”

Nino’s jaw dropped so far that it touched the floor. “Uh… Dudette, are you sure it was Marinette?”

“Yes!” Lila spun to look at him so fast that it was a wonder she didn’t break her neck. “Are… Are you doubting me? Oh my god, it’s working. She’s turning you guys against me. I just want to have friends, I don’t get why she hates me so—”

“You’re… Absolutely sure it was Marinette? You saw her face?” Alya repeated her boyfriend’s words, emphasising each and everyone of them as she looked Lila in the eyes.

“Alya, not you too.” Lila sniffled, tears basically dropping out of her eyes like big, fat droplets of salt water. “It was her— I saw her blazer, it had MDC stitched onto it.”

An uncomfortable silence settled in between the girl and her boyfriend, neither quite knowing what to say. “Oh. I… I see.” Alya said at last, turning back to her food. “Well… Lunch is almost over. Let’s… Let’s get back to class.”

“Marinette just threatened me in the bathroom!” Lila puffed up, clearly upset now. “She mocked me! She called you guys stupid for believing her act!”

“Dudette.” Nino shattered the ice-cold silence at their lunch table, swallowing heavily. “Marinette was with us the whole time you were in the bathroom.”

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The tension inside the room was so thick that Adrien could cut it with his bare hands. God, what had happened? The day had started off so well— Marinette agreed to be friends with Lila, god bless the girl— But as it turned out, one hurdle folded over only to be towered over by a taller one. 

“Alya—” Lila began tearfully, her pitiful look attracting the sympathy of those who still didn’t know what was going on. 

“You claimed that Marinette threatened you in the bathroom.” Alya interrupted. “While she was with us the whole time in the cafeteria.” 

Faltering, the Italian struggled to find a way to squeeze herself out of the tight spot. “M— Maybe it was someone else.” Reluctantly, she backed out one trap into another one. 

“You said that you were sure! You said that she was wearing a blazer with MDC stitched on it. Marinette was wearing that blazer during lunch!” The reporter shot back, Nino at her side, trying to extinguish the conflicted fire blazing inside Alya’s heart. 

The seeds of doubt had been sewn, and Lila was going to have a tough time weeding them out. “I... I’m sorry!” She burst out into tears, sobbing pitifully in front of the class, most of which were already in attendance. “My lying disease is acting up again. I... I can’t help it. I didn’t mean to hurt anyone!” 

“Uh... Is this a bad time to ask if anyone wants macarons?” Marinette cleared her throat awkwardly, standing at the front of the room. Her royal blue blazer had been shed, and it now hung over her arm, properly folded into half. Earlier, she had asked Rose for the time to make sure that she had a witness in case Lila tried to pull another act— But as it seemed, the Italian was determined to dig her own grave and all the work had been done. 

The students of Mlle. Bustier’s class shared looks. 

“I’ll... I’ll have one.” Mylene cleared her throat, hoping that it would diffuse the situation. 

“Me too.” Kim followed, not missing the way Marinette flinched slightly at his words. Most of the words he had said to her of late had not been nice at all— But he justified that with the fact that she was being a bully to Lila, like Chloe had been to Marinette herself. 

“Great!” Marinette cleared her throat awkwardly, slapping on a strained smile. She passed the box to the front row, where Sabrina and Chloe were, gesturing for them to pass the box along until everyone got their fill. 

Internally, Lila seethed, anger burning like a wildfire that tore down every lush sign of life in her path. The girl had never felt that livid in her entire life— Who did Dupain-Cheng think she was, having a change of heart out of nowhere, pretending to play along with those oh-so-innocent eyes of hers? 

“I... I think I know why my disease acted up again,” Lila sniffled, loud enough to gather attention again. Unsure glances passed around like an object that no one wanted, carried from hand to hand forcefully as no one wanted to hold onto it for too long. “It... It must’ve been because of... Of the cardigan that Marinette made me! You must’ve known that...” The Italian squinted at the cardigan on her desk, “... Cotton triggers my lying disease!” 

The bluenette, still passing around macarons, stopped in her tracks. Inside her mind, Marinette was shaking her head, an amused smile on her cheeks. She had to give Lila credit for that one— She would’ve never anticipated that lie from her nemesis. “That’s terrible!” She sucked in a breath, putting on a dismayed look. “I’m really sorry, Lila! I know it seems like I did this on purpose, but I promise I didn’t! To make it up to you, I’ll make you another one.” 

Is she serious right now? Lila scoffed mentally. How long does she plan to keep this going? No matter— She’ll eventually drain herself out and I won’t even have to meddle in this matter. 

Marinette sniffled, collecting the cardigan pitifully from Lila’s desk. “But to prevent future incidents, Lila, I just want you to know that this isn’t made of cotton... It’s made from the highest-quality of star silk, which is incredibly difficult to produce and is rather expensive. It’s such a pity... I thought that only the best of materials would be deserving to be used to make an apology present... I guess you can’t wear it. I’ll just make another copy of the cardigan with some normal-range silk.” Sighing, the bluenette pretended to mull in sadness for a few seconds before an idea struck her. “Alya! You aren’t allergic to star silk, right?” 

The flow of conversation redirected suddenly, with the reporter snapping to attention and nodding eagerly as she realised what was about to happen. 

“Then... Since I’ve spent so long on this, I don’t want it to go to waste... Why don’t you have it, instead?” Offered Marinette with a sweet, shy smile on her face. 

Lila, still caught up in shock by the reveal of the material— Was then slammed with a wall of flaming anger as Alya squealed, coddling the soft, fluffy material that made the cardigan the exquisite product it was. 

“Marinette’s right,” Adrien chipped in with his own two cents, “Father can rarely get his hands on that material— It costs a fortune, and if hand-made... It takes forever.” 

“Oh, I wove the silk by myself,” Marinette added shyly after Adrien’s contribution, “So I apologise if it’s not up to the quality of industry-level star silk.” 

The reporter gushed, still cooing and running her hands over the gorgeous threads of fabric that made up the cloud-like base of the cardigan, eyes sparkling and the details of the embroidery. 

Marinette smiled, returning to her seat without a fuss. The rest of the class continued to pass the pastries around, the perfect description of ‘ignorance is bliss’ as they pretended as if they couldn’t see the way Lila was shaking in anger. Alya, on the other hand, could see nothing but the garment in her hands, her ‘best friend’ having become invisible for the time being. 

Just as well that it turned out this way, Marinette hummed, twirling her pen in hand, Let that be my departing gift to Rena Rouge. 

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Tomorrow arrived like clockwork, never late and always on time. The crowd of students clamouring by the front of Francois Dupont hushed to silence as they parted for two dark-haired women, both of which were giving off waves of confidence. Simple conversation flowed between the two, who were perfect examples of elegance and grace, their traditional-inspired attire complementing the royal-like aura they had. 

“This dress is really lovely, Marinette,” Kagami smiled gently, admiring the way the fabric flowed around her. The designer had gifted her friend with a maroon-coloured hanfu-inspired dress, complete with hand-sewn embroidery of a golden dragon curled around Kagami’s waist and neck. The dress was completed with a pleated skirt that went all the way to the heels. At first, the fencer was reluctant about the skirt due to the limited maneuverability, but then Marinette revealed that the skirt was very simple to take off as it was just tied around the waist. 

“You look gorgeous in it. It suits you.” Marinette replied, dressed in a similar looking dress. Her hanfu-inspired dress was light pink in colour, with silver threads depicting cranes flying about freely. The pleated skirt was grey in colour, lined with a soft circle of white. 

Kagami blushed slightly. “Thank you.” Briefly, the Japanese girl wondered why on Earth Marinette would go and embroider a dragon onto her dress— Was it purely a coincidence, or...? 

“I’m really glad you decided to transfer here,” Marinette smiled softly, her dark blue bangs framing her face as the rest of it was gathered into a braid that Kagami had helped weave. “It’s going to be nice! I’ll get to see you a lot more often.” 

“We’re in different classes, though.” Frowning, Kagami wondered if she should request a change of homeroom. 

“For now.” The designer winked playfully. “Oh, I have to get to class. See you during lunch?” 

Without waiting for a reply, the blue-eyed girl moved away gracefully, leaving Kagami in confusion. 

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“Good morning,” Marinette greeted gracefully, sweeping into the classroom with her bag over her shoulder and a package in her hands. This package was clearly not as exquisitely-wrapped as the one from the day before, as it was just brown paper and some rough string. 

Alya brightened at the sight of her friend, shrinking away slightly whenever Lila tried to say anything. Sure, the reporter did shake off the initial reaction and respond to whatever her ‘best friend’ said, but the damage had been done. 

“Here’s your new cardigan. It’s made from the same material as your shirt,” Marinette smiled warmly, placing the package on Lila’s table. “It’s a little different from the one I brought yesterday, but I still poured in all my emotions when I made it, so I hope you’ll accept it.” 

Through a gritted smile, the Italian thanked the designer, clenching her fists under the table. That was the second time in two days she had to thank Mari-brat! She swore that if she had to do it again a third time, she was going to slap someone. 

“Oh, Marinette!” Alya called out excitedly, wearing the cardigan that was originally supposed to be Lila’s. “This cardigan is so soft! It’s really amazing to wear! As expected of you, girl!” 

The bluenette stared back at the reporter, wavering for a bit. She had a feeling that Alya wanted something from her... 

“So... I was wondering...” The reporter’s expression turned sheepish, with Marinette’s internal thought-train going ah, there it comes— “Could you remove this and put my name instead?” Alya picked up the corner of the cardigan, pointing to the inside of the garment, where ‘Lila Rossi’ was embroidered on. 

“Ah...” Marinette didn’t even have to fake her nervousness. We already agreed on this, She told herself, No more doing free stuff for people. No more. “Sorry, Alya. My parents need a lot of help in the bakery recently,.. You know how it is! Family always comes first. I’ve already taken out a lot of time to make the cardigan for Lila... And I promised Kagami I’d go out with her this weekend. I’m afraid I don’t have time...” 

There was no missing the way Alya’s face fell instantly. “Couldn’t you put off Kagami for me? Aren’t we best friends?” 

“I thought Lila was your best friend,” Feigning an expression of innocence, Marinette tilted her head slightly. “You shouldn’t go around saying things like that, Alya. You might hurt Lila’s feelings. Besides, a promise is a promise. I wouldn’t want to hurt Kagami’s feelings either. Not to mention— I gave you that cardigan for free. That was two weeks’ worth of hard work. I’m afraid I don’t have the ability to take time out to alter it for free either. If you really want to get it done, you could ask an external tailor to do it for you. I know a few who can do really good embroidery.” 

Alya faltered. “But... We used to be best friends...” 

Snorting mentally, Marinette continued to hold her calm composure. “Like I said, you really shouldn’t say that, Alya. Lila might get upset and we don’t want to hurt her feelings— Right, Adrien?” 

The blonde jumped when the conversation turned to him out of nowhere. All of a sudden, every eye in the classroom was fixed on him. “R— Right, of course.” He said, forcing out each word. 

Satisfied, Marinette nodded, still wearing her ever-so-kind smile. “Exactly.” 

──────── ⋆⋅❉⋅⋆ ────────

“Hey, why don’t we all go out and have a picnic outside during lunch?” Alya suggested loudly, jumping up as soon as the lunch bell rang. “Marinette, you can come along too!” Something inside the reporter’s chest was stirring, and with the events of the past few days, Alya felt like she just had to quench that unsettling feeling— And the first step to that was to mend things with Marinette, even though it was the bluenette’s fault for always having been biased to Lila. Alya smiled, proud of herself. She would be the bigger person, she would forgive Marinette, she would integrate the designer back into the class again. 

“I don’t think that’s a good idea,” Marinette replied just as quickly, “We don’t know what Lila might be allergic to— She could easily trigger a reaction if we go out, especially since it’s spring.” 

A collective choir of groans rounded the class. 

“Well, I’m going to go back to the hotel to have a first-class meal,” Chloe turned her nose up at her classmates. “... Dupain-Cheng, would you like to come?” 

Shock painted the faces of the whole classroom. Did Chloe just... Ask Marinette something... Politely? 

“I’d love to take that offer, Chloe.” Responded the bluenette, graceful and flawless as ever. “Perhaps tomorrow?” 

“Suit yourself. They’re serving lobster today.” Chloe huffed. “If you’re really that busy, then fine. We can discuss...” The Mayor’s daughter trailed off as she blushed. 

The bluenette giggled knowingly. “You’d like to commission a dress from me, right?” 

“... No.” 

“...” 

“... Maybe.” 

“Alright.” Marinette nodded. “Then maybe it’ll be more convenient if I head over to the hotel after school. I’ll need to take your measurements and we can discuss the prices after.” 

“Whatever.” Chloe waved her away haughtily, a poor effort to cover up her embarrassment. “Sabrina. Let’s go.” 

“Chloe?” Alya guffawed. “Why are you commissioning something from Marinette?” 

Rolling her eyes as if Alya had just asked the stupidest question ever, Chloe answered plainly. “Because she’s one of the up-and-rising designers in the industry? Have you seen what Dupain-Cheng is wearing today? Celebrities are already fighting for spots in her commission list. Even my mother and Gabriel Agreste acknowledge her talent. I’m not dumb, Cesaire. I can recognise a future fashion queen when I see one.” 

Wow, Marinette breathed, looking at the stunned faces around the room, Chloe sure knows how to create an impression. 

“W— Well.” Stuttered the reporter after Chloe made her big exit. “Then... What about going to the bakery for lunch?” 

“Didn’t Lila say she saw a rat in the bakery the last time she visited it?” Marinette pointed out. “The health officer checked the surveillance and the claim was dismissed, of course, because my parents make sure the bakery is as hygienic as possible— But I’m sure Lila is traumatised from that incident. I wouldn’t want to force her to come along to the bakery— And we wouldn’t want to leave her out either, right?” 

This elicited another round of groans. 

Oh, I am enjoying myself way too much, Marinette chuckled mentally. 

“Then— Then...” Alya struggled visibly before she was put out of her misery. 

“It’s fine, Alya.” The designer reassured her. “I wouldn’t want to bother Lila. I’m sure she’s still upset at me. You guys go ahead. I have to go back to the bakery to help my parents out. See you guys after!” 

──────── ⋆⋅❉⋅⋆ ────────

Slam! 

Lila fumed, hand still pressed on her locker door. What. The. Hell. Was Mari-brat trying to do? She didn’t miss the way some of her classmates sent her unsatisfactory looks after that pre-lunch stunt that Marinette had pulled. 

And what was the thing about high-and-mighty Chloe commissioning from Marinette? 

Sure, Lila would admit that the cardigan that the designer made was indeed gorgeous, and the fabric was smooth and velvety, a quality unlike any of the clothing that Lila had ever had the privilege to touch— But surely a lowly brat like Dupain-Cheng couldn’t be that popular... Right? 

Dammit, hissed the Italian girl, Maybe I should’ve tried being friends with Mari-brat instead of Cesaire. 

──────── ⋆⋅❉⋅⋆ ────────

“Is that... Marinette and Kagami?” Nino gaped, prompting Alya to turn around. It was true— Walking up the steps of Francois Dupont together were the two blue-haired girls, a gentle smile dancing on Kagami’s lips as Marinette talked animatedly, her hands waving around quickly to further elaborate her point. 

Students lounging around the entrance for lunch couldn’t tear their eyes off the two and their matching dresses. Sure, the two girls had walked into school the same way that morning— But now that the afternoon sun was high up in the sky, the golden and silver embroidery was glinting luminously, revealing the true caliber of Marinette’s craft. 

“But... They’re rivals.” Stuttered Alya. She just couldn’t understand... Weren’t they supposed to hate each other? 

“They both like Adrien but they can still get along,” Nino remarked thoughtfully, taking a bite from his sandwich. “So Marinette wasn’t lying about going to meet Kagami yesterday.” 

Alya was silent. 

“Alya? What’s wrong?” Worried, Nino put a hand around his girlfriend’s shoulder, care and concern shining through his honest eyes. 

“If... If Marinette doesn’t get jealous or biased over someone who also likes Adrien...” Alya started quietly, eyes still fixed on the two girls, “Then why was she so against Lila?” 

──────── ⋆⋅❉⋅⋆ ────────

“Mlle. Bustier?” The teacher looked up at the voice of her favourite student. Fondly, she smiled. Marinette had finally seen the light and changed her ways, becoming the helpful, generous, kind Marinette that served as a great example for her peers. “May I make an announcement before class ends?” 

“Of course, dear.” Mlle. Bustier gave permission instantly— Marinette was taking up the reins of leadership again! The teacher couldn’t help but do a happy dance internally. 

“I have an announcement to make, so if everyone could listen, I’d be really thankful.” Marinette started, her clear blue eyes meeting those of her classmates. 

She took a deep breath. This is it. I’ve done what I needed to do, now it’s time to finish the job. 

“These past two days... Have been great,” Marinette started wistfully. “I really missed hanging around everyone, just like we did before,” Before you all turned your backs on me and stabbed me when I wasn’t looking, “But I can’t deny— And neither can you— That the things that have happened... They had a really deep impact. And I’ve realised that I can’t just ignore that damage that has been done.” The damage that has been done to me. “So, for the better of everyone— I’ve decided that I... Will transfer classes.” 

It was as if an explosion had gone off in Mlle. Bustier’s classroom. 

“Girl! You can’t do that!” Alya exclaimed in dismay, “We can fix things! Everything has been going well these few days, haven’t they?” 

“Dudette! Honestly, we forgive you.” Nino sighed, “Things just aren’t the same if you’re not here anymore.” 

Adrien didn’t say a word, but the imploring gaze he wore said enough. Please don’t leave me here alone. We promised we’d fight together, right? As long as both of us know... 

Marinette held her hand up to silence them, and the classroom, just as swiftly, became the deadly silence that followed post-disaster. “I understand. But once again, this is for the better,” — Of my mental health, “I’ve talked to Mlle. Mendeliev, and she’s agreed to take me in. I believe that once the changes have taken place, we can all grow more freely without restrictions.” 

In the corner, Mlle. Bustier was tearing up and dabbing at her eyes with her sleeve. 

“Mlle. Bustier,” Marinette turned to her teacher, no malice in her eyes. “I’ll be under Mlle. Mendeliev’s care now.” 

“Marinette...” The teacher sobbed quietly, with Chloe shooting her a look of disgust from the front row. 

“It’s not going to be easy for any of us,” Marinette turned back to the class, “But with time, I’m sure we will all prosper. Especially since you will now be under the care of our one and only Lila Rossi.” 

Adrien looked like someone had just killed a puppy in front of him. 

“Since I am the current class president, I thought I’d pass on the duties onto the most capable person in our class.” Marinette explained warmly, never moving her gaze away from the bewildered Lila. “Lila has the most connections in our class out of all of us, and she’s met so many CEOs and entrepreneurs that she must know a lot about organising and planning. I’m sure you can do it, Lila, but...” She paused. “You can handle it, right?” 

“Y— Yeah. Of course.” Lila stuttered. 

“You promised the class that you’d get BTS to perform for the year-end fundraiser since you were supposed to be in an arranged marriage with their youngest member, Jungkook.” Marinette continued, God I am enjoying myself too much honestly, but I ain’t going to stop now, “And you said you could convince your godfather, Bruce Wayne, to allow the class to go to Wayne Enterprises for this year’s class trip.” 

“She said she could convince Tony Hawk to give me an internship, too!” Alix chipped in. 

“And that she’d bring me along the next time Prince Ali asks for her help for a charity cause!” Rose smiled. 

“She said she’d introduce me to the CEO of Graham Films!” Nino’s eyes shone at the idea. 

The class continued to talk all over one another until Marinette silenced them once more. “Now, now. Let’s not overwhelm Lila. We wouldn’t want her to be overworked or to feel like the expectations are set too high, right?” 

The class agreed, nodding along. 

Marinette made eye contact with Lila, offering her a sweet smile as she did so. Lila, on the other hand, had no taste for such politeness. Instead, she straight-out glared at the former class president. 

This is your problem now. 

──────── ⋆⋅❉⋅⋆ ────────

“Marinette! I was hoping to catch you before you went home,” Alya panted, having been able to find the bluenette in the locker room before the designer slipped out of her reach. “You... You’re really serious about leaving?” 

“Yeah.” Smiled Marinette, organising her textbooks into her bag, dusting down her skirt. Noticing Alya’s crestfallen expression, she took the initiative to continue the conversation. “Is there anything else, Alya?” 

“Did you... Did you really hate Lila because she liked Adrien, too?” The reporter asked somewhat timidly. 

Marinette giggled. Normally, when the girl giggled, you could hear a gentle tinkling of wind chimes— But at that moment, Alya heard the freezing winds on Mount Everest instead. “Don’t be silly, Alya. All this over a boy? Besides, I’m over him.” 

“Then...” Alya swallowed difficulty. “Lila... Really was lying this whole time?” 

The gaze that swept across the reporter was stone cold, and it made Alya feel as if she was dangling over a valley of jagged rocks. “What do you think, Alya?” Even so, the bluenette maintained a sweet smile. 

“She was. She was lying the whole time.” Alya suddenly felt as if she had a shortness of air. “This whole time—” 

“Oh, good for you. You finally learned how to see further than one feet in front of you.” Marinette hummed. “I’m proud of you, really. But I’m afraid that I don’t have the time to listen to you slowly come to conclusions after I’ve tried making you see sense for the past half a year. I tried to stop you from ruining your futures, but I guess determination was always one of your good traits.” 

Alya slipped to the floor, having lost the feeling in her legs. She placed one hand against the lockers for support as she shook, weakly looking up at the girl who she was once so proud to call her ‘best friend’. 

“Marinette?” Kagami’s voice rang through the room, indicating that the girl was waiting at the doorway. “You said you were heading to Bourgeois’s hotel after school— Would you like a ride?” 

“That’d be nice, Kagami. A moment.” The designer looked down at her friend and smiled, albeit a little sadly this time— And then she lowered her voice. 

“Determination was always one of your good traits.” 

──────── ⋆⋅❉⋅⋆ ────────

“Marinette,” Adrien perked up at the sight of the bluenette leaving the school doors— Side by side with Kagami, who looked ready to draw a sword and start a duel then and there. 

“This’ll just take a minute, ‘Gami.” Marinette reassured, gently patting her friend’s arm. “Why don’t you get in the car first? It looks like it’s going to rain.” 

Reluctantly, Kagami nodded. “Alright.” Warily, the fencer stepped down the stairs and into the car— But even as she sat in the vehicle, she watched over her fellow bluenette like a hawk, ready to jump out and challenge the blonde if the situation called for it. 

Adrien rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly, not quite knowing what to say. Luckily for him, the designer decided to start the conversation. 

“I just wanted to say thank you.” Marinette smiled softly. A few months ago, when she looked at Adrien, she would see the kind, generous, pure-hearted boy with the finest golden hair and the brightest green eyes. Now? All she saw was a spineless, sheltered, passive child that was afraid of confrontations. 

“For what?” Adrien looked at Marinette, and no longer did he see the cute, pigtail-adorning girl that would blush fiercely everytime he tried to talk to her. Instead, he saw a beautiful, young woman, a rock that had pulled through all the odds to become a vibrant, iridescent diamond. 

Marinette was glowing with confidence, her presence diffusing into the air around her and triggering eyes to look up every time she walked by. There was something about the way she held herself that just made the woman demand awe and respect from those that crossed her path. The old ‘Clumsinette’ had been shed like an old snake skin to reveal a treasure, a better version of the bluenette that had always been waiting for her time to come. 

Bluebell eyes met green ones just as rain began to patter down onto the streets of Paris. Marinette glanced up slightly, not at all bothered as she smoothly retrieved an umbrella from her bag, holding it out for the blonde to take. A flush of deja vu burst through Adrien’s veins and through his skin as he took it with a mumbled thanks, eyes blown wide as Marinette let loose her hair from her ponytail, pulling her blazer over her head to avoid getting her head wet. 

Adrien could only gape as Marinette uttered familiar words back to him, a knowing smile dancing across her lips as she ran off into the rain as if an invisible weight had been lifted off her shoulders. The bluenette looked lighter, brighter, ready to take flight and soar towards the success that her crops of hard work had finally started to bear. Before the blonde model knew it, Marinette Dupain-Cheng had slipped out of his grip, already spreading her multi-coloured wings to land among the stars. 

“Thank you for telling me to take the high road.”  

──────── ⋆⋅❉⋅⋆ ────────

this was both satisfying and tiring to write... 

[becomingbts]

Time heals (sometimes) - 1

Summary: 6 years ago, (Y/N) thought that she was finally taking her life into her hands, leaving behind a toxic and abusive relationship with a man who taught her she’d never be worthy of love. However, it became hard to ignore his words when she met her seven soulmates who rejected her without even giving her a chance to prove herself. It took (Y/N) 3 years to realize that it wouldn’t be her end. She would live on to prove them all wrong; she would become what they all thought she wasn’t: someone worthy of love. And as she stands proudly on the stage, under the  burning spotlights and the applause and  the cries of the delirious crowd, she feels alive. Alive, just like the bond she believed to be broken.

Pairings: Y/N x OT7

GENRE: Soulmate AU!, Idol Y/NAU!, semi social-media AU!, ANGST (mainly), fluff, romance, maybe smut in the series.

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Warnings:  The series is going to be heavy with a lot of personal experiences  mixed into the fiction, so this is going to be kind of therapeutic for me. Please, consider not reading the series if you are not comfortable with: abandonment issues, anxiety, panic attacks, depression, self-harm (not descriptive and only part of MC’s past), suicide thoughts (in the past), toxic behavior, toxic and abusive relationship (in the past), depreciating self-talk and low self-esteem, a lot of curse, physical and mental pain, near death experience situation (in the past), and maybe smut scenes (happy ending though, but it will probably be quite the ride).

NOTE: So hello everyone, welcome to Time Heals (sometimes). Thank you so, so much for the warm welcoming, it has been my first time getting so many asks, I was honestly overjoyed. I still don’t really know what to call this part; is it a teaser? A note? A full chapter? I believe we’ll get some snapshot of memories like this one throughout the series because there is going to be a lot to unpack on both sides. I think it will be a chapter nevertheless because I have to establish some kind of order as to which parts should be read first, and I think this one is extremely important.

Thank you for reading,

-Dolly

Profiles #2 - here - part 2

Her scream pierced through the air while cries broke in the frenzied arena while a single blond-haired man froze, emptily staring at the stage. It felt like his senses heightened; his skin was shuddering, his eyes were frantically searching for one specific figure while his voice was lost in his throat. The screams resonating in the stadium would have been too loud for his voice to be heard anyway. 

Jimin knew he shouldn’t be there. 

Namjoon had told them more than once that none of them should try to go to one of (Y/N)’s events. It could be dangerous and they could be overwhelmed; anything could happen to them and they would still remain a nobody who fainted in the howling crowd. Would they want to take this risk? No.

So, Jimin would have had to admit that going to her very first concert in Seoul since the pandemic sounded like a very, very, very bad idea. And to be honest, it still didn’t seem to be a bright idea now that he was actually there. 

But he still went because he needed to see her for himself; to see how she was. He had so many things he dreamed about asking her. Are you okay? Are you sleeping well? Did you eat before coming to the arena? Are you nervous? Do you... remember me? 

Maybe he was torturing himself. He kept on watching her lives, following her on all social media, always made sure to leave a sweet comment, and never miss any of her new updates... Maybe he even had a folder of pictures of her on his phone but he’d never admit it to any of his mates. Taehyung would probably take his phone away from him and delete everything and Jimin couldn’t let that happen.

He felt like it was cheating. Don’t take him wrong though. When he thought that, he was not really thinking about the boys. They did collectively agree not to follow her activities as an artist but it was getting harder and harder with how popular she got anyway. Moon was everywhere. In commercials, on the radio, her songs were on the TV… Even if she was known for refusing most of the promotional contracts that were offered to her, her image was still constantly in the media despite her avoidance of it. Ironic, but the media were trying their best to find anything about her, be it positive or negative. One day she was seen on her bike, the next, she was in a coffee shop, and it kept on going on, overstepping on her privacy as if it was just a meaningless word. 

The lockdown had admittedly played a major part in Jimin’s obsession. Being in their apartment meant quickly running out of activities, and his job as a dance teacher was not really filling his free time (a lot of his classes were also canceled). It was also during that time that (Y/N) truly blew up as an independent artist. Advertisement on YouTube started being around her channel and her music, the recommendations he kept on seeing were about also her… Jimin’s resolve honestly broke easily. It was hard not to be curious about his lost soulmate even though he didn’t feel like he had the right to be hurting. 

Anyway, to come back to his main point, if Jimin felt like he was cheating; it was mostly for her. After all, (Y/N) had no means of letting the curiosity get the best of her, to know what they were doing; to simply see or contact them. He had, at first, not really thought about that. Watching her content seemed a very innocent thing to do in his opinion; billions of people were watching her content, why should he prevent himself from doing so? Yet, Jimin could still remember one of her live she did soon after that interview she had given on this damned radio show where she had revealed who her title track ‘TIME’ was about… She had gone live the next day-Jimin had jumped on his phone because of the notification-and one fan had asked her what would she do if she knew that her ‘ex-soulmates’ (and those words left a very sour taste in Jimin’s mind) were watching her. The question had silenced a previously restless Jimin, replacing his initial excitation with dread while a lump formed itself in his throat. He had not even noticed it; he was so focused on her live and her upcoming answer that Jimin had completely missed the sound of a glass breaking in the apartment. Jimin had been home alone, so even if had indeed heard it, he probably wouldn’t have bothered to check what had happened, thinking that the wind knocked it over or something. Jimin had been so absorbed by what he had been watching that he even got surprised a few hours later when Seokjin came home and yelled at him for breaking something when he had been clearly innocent, engrossed in (Y/N)’s live (not that he could tell his soulmates about that part, but yeah). (Y/N)’s live would always be more important than some random glass breaking again in their apartment. Every object was doomed with Namjoon living here anyway.

On her side of the screen though, (Y/N) had seemed taken aback as she had read the question and had gritted her teeth gently. She had seemed to be pondering about her answer even though a lot of people in her chat were telling her to forget about the question if it made her uncomfortable (a lot were even scolding the person who asked). Yet, sighing softly, she had looked up at the screen: 

“I’d appreciate it if you could refrain from asking questions on this topic. It’s not taboo but I’d rather not remember everything that comes with it. However, to answer this-hopefully-last question about it, I’d ask them to turn off my stream and to stop watching any of my content. It would only be fair after all. I’ve been denied access to their lives six years ago, why would they get a free pass into mine now?” She had not smiled nor had she seemed hurt by her own comment, yet Jimin’s heart had shattered in pieces, unable to press the cancel button. 

Her voice had slowly faded into background noise while her words had been stuck in his head. 

I’d ask them to turn off my stream and to stop watching any of my content. 

How could Jimin ever do that? He realized that he truly should. Namjoon would even agree with you, as ironic as it sounded for Jimin. Namjoon had been one of the most adamant ones about rejecting your bond, after all. Jimin was shaking with bitterness while ‘Moon’ continued her stream peacefully with music. Jimin could only try to gulp his anger down as he remembered her crumbling features on that fateful day. 

“You’re not our soulmates. This name on our arms means nothing to us. You are nothing to us if not a hindrance. Leave us alone.” 

If Jimin could go back in time, he’d prevent Taehyung from spatting those words at her. Yet, he couldn’t do anything. Playing the scene over and over in his mind wouldn’t change anything. It wouldn’t change that she probably hated them. It wouldn’t change the song she made about them. 

And worst of all, it wouldn’t change the fact that Jimin had let himself believe that their choice had been for the best, trying to console and reassure himself, even if he had already known that it was wrong. Tears were pooling up in his eyes even if none escaped as he finally caught a glimpse of her on the stage. Suddenly brought back to reality after his subconscious memory trip, Jimin finally connected back to the world, looking around while he was still frozen on his spot. People were still screaming around him and he wondered if he looked like an intruder. Because, after all, wasn’t that what he exactly was? She said it herself that she didn’t wish for them to watch her; so what was he doing here? 

Jimin couldn’t help but stare; she looked ethereal, dressed like a queen in the middle of a sold-out arena. People were screaming her name as she yelled her infamous ‘hi people’. It was an opening sentence that Jimin heard way too many times in her vlogs and suddenly hearing it in real life seemed surreal. 

Jimin could only watch in awe, entranced with her everything. 

Screw the boys and what they would think once he’d be back from her concert. 

He had been the one to find her six years ago anyway. He had been the one to bring her to their home six years ago, hoping for the boys to change their mind once they’d meet her.

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Uploaded : 09/04/2021

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[bringbackthebastard]

Bring Back the Bastard Daily Prompts

Hello, folks! I'm posting these two weeks before we begin our fest, on September 1st, to give folks some inspiration on what to write each day as we celebrate Severus Snape's pettiest, most dastardly moments. I specifically picked out moments Snaters always harp on, that Snapedom personally enjoys--from any moment with Trevor to bitching at Lupin at Sirius, to the moments that Lily turns away and Dumbledore's face flashes with disgust--sure, he's a bastard, but he's our bastard, and that's what we like about him. You don't want him? Good. We'll keep him. Here are 30 scene prompts for 30 days--it's a long list, pulled chronologically from all seven books, but I found that it reminded me of everything I love about this character. The moments where he's called deranged, the moments where he slips into all-caps, the ugliest moments of the soul. Hope yall enjoy. Excited to kick off the fest starting September 1st, and absolutely excited to see what Snapedom will do. Let's Bring Back the Bastard! The prompts are below the readmore.

Day 1: The Scar Professor Quirrell, in his absurd turban, was talking to a teacheer with greasy black hair, a hooked nose, and sallow skin. It happened very suddenly. The hook-nosed teacher looked past Quirrell's turban straight into Harry's eyes--and a sharp, hot pain shot across the scar on Harry's forehead. "Ouch!" Harry clapped a hand to his head. "What is it?" asked Percy. "N-nothing." The pain had gone as quickly as it had come. Harder to shake off was the feeling Harry had gotten from the teacher's look--a felling that he didn't like Harry at all. "Who's that teacher talking to Professor Quirrell?" he asked Percy. "Oh, you know Quirrell already, do you? No wonder he's looking so nervous, that's Professor Snape. He teaches Potions, but he doesn't want to--everyone knows he's after Quirrell's job. Knows an awful lot about the Dark Arts, Snape."

Day 2: Bad Impressions Snape, like Flitwick, started the class by taking the roll call, and like Flitwick, he paused at Harry's name. "Ah, yes," he said softly. "Harry Potter. Our new--celebrity."

Day 3: Potions Class "Potter!" said Snape suddenly "What would I get if I added powdered root of asphodel to an infusion of wormwood?" Powdered root of asphodel to an infusion of what? Harry glanced at Ron, who looked as stumped as he was; Hermione's hand shot into the air. "I don't know, sir," said Harry. Snape's lips curled into a sneer. "Tut, tut--fame clearly isn't everything."

Day 4: A Horrible Sight Snape and Filch were inside, alone. Snape was holding his robes above his knees. One of his legs was bloody and mangled. Filch was handing Snape bandages. "Blasted thing," Snape was saying. "How are you supposed to keep your eyes on all three heads at once?" Harry tried to shut the door quietly, but-- "POTTER!" Snape's face was twisted with fury as he dropped his robes quickly to hide his leg. Harry gulped. "I just wondered if I could have my book back." "GET OUT! OUT!"

Day 5: Maybe He's Ill "Hang on..." Harry muttered to Ron. "There's an empty chair at the staff table...Where's Snape?" Professor Severus Snape was Harry's least favorite teacher. Harry also happened to be Snape's least favorite student. Cruel, sarcastic, and disliked by everybody except the students from his own House (Slytherin), Snape taught Potions. "Maybe he's ill!" said Ron hopefully. "Maybe he's left," said Harry, "because he missed out on the Defense Against the Dark Arts job again!" "Or he might have been sacked!" said Ron enthusiastically. "I mean, everyone hates him--" "Or maybe," said a very cold voice right behind them, "he's waiting to hear why you two didn't arrive on the school train."

Day 6: Slytherin Takes the Field "But I booked the field!" said Wood, positively spitting with rage. "But I booked it!" "Ah," said Flint. "But I've got a specially signed note here from Professor Snape. 'I, Professor S. Snape, give the Slytherin team permission to practice today on the Quidditch field owing to the need to train their new Seeker.'"

Day 7: No Quidditch For You! "I suggest, Headmaster, that Potter is not being entirely truthful," he said. "It might be a good idea if he were deprived of certain privileges until he is ready to tell us the whole story. I personally feel he should be taken off the Gryffindor Quidditch team until he is ready to be honest." "Really, Severus," said Professor McGonagall sharply, "I see no reason to stop the boy playing Quidditch. This cat wasn't hit over the head with a broomstick. There is no evidence at all that Potter has done anything wrong." Dumbledore was giving Harry a searching look. His twinkling light-blue gaze made Harry feel as though he were being X-rayed. "Innocent until proven guilty, Severus," he said firmly. Snape looked furious.

Day 8: Expelliarmus! "Let me introduce my assistant, Professor Snape," said Lockhart, flashing a wide smile. "He tells me he knows a tiny little bit about dueling himself and has sportingly agreed to help me with a short demonstration before we begin. Now, I don't want any of you youngsters to worry--you'll still have your Potions master when I'm through with him, never fear!" "Wouldn't it be good if they finished each other off?" Ron muttered in Harry's ear. Snape's upper lip was curling. Harry wondered why Lockhart was still smiling; if Snape had been looking at *him* like that he'd have been running as fast as he could in the opposite direction. Lockhart and Snape turned to face each other and bowed; at least, Lockhart did, with much twirling of his hands, whereas Snape jerked his head irritably. Then they raised their wands like swords in front of them. "As you see, we are holding our wands in the accepted combative position," Lockhart told the silent crowd. "On the count of three, we will cast our fist spells. Neither of us will be aiming to kill, of course." "I wouldn't bet on that," Harry murmured, watching Snape baring his teeth. "One--two--three--" Both of them swung their wands above their heads and pointed them at their opponent; Snape cried: "Expelliarmus!" There was a dazzling flash of scarlet light and Lockhart was blasted off his feet. He flew backward off the stage, smashed into the wall, and slid down it to sprawl on the floor.

Day 9: Only Bite Him A Little Bit, Please "Don't move, Potter," said Snape lazily, clearly enjoying the sight of Harry standing motionless, eye to eye with the angry snake. "I'll get rid of it..."

Day 10: Poisoning Trevor The end of the lesson in sight, Snape strode over to Neville, who was cowering by his cauldron. "Everyone gather 'round," said Snape, his black eyes glittering, "and watch what happens to Longbottom's toad. If he has managed to produce a Shrinking Solution, it will shrink to a tadpole. If, as I don't doubt, he has done it wrong, his toad is likely to be poisoned." The Gryffindors watched fearfully. The Slytherins looked excited. Snape picked up Trevor the toad in his left hand and dipped a small spoon into Neville's potion, which was now green. He trickled a few drops down Trevor's throat. There was a moment of hushed silence, in which Trevor gulped; then there was a small op, and Trevor the tadpole was wriggling in Snape's palm. The Gryffindors burst into applause. Snape, looking sour, pulled a small bottle from the pocket of his robe, poured a few drops on top of Trevor, and he reappeared suddenly, fully grown. "Five points from Gryffindor," said Snape, which wiped smiles from every face. "I told you not to help him, Miss Granger. Class dismissed."

Day 11: Insufferable Know-It-All Everyone sat in motionless silence; everyone except Hermione, whose hand, as it so often did, had shot straight into the air. "Anyone?" Snape said, ignoring Hermione. His twisted smile was back. "Are you telling me that Professor Lupin hasn't even taught you the basic distinction between--" "We told you," said Parvati suddenly, "we haven't got as far as werewolves yet, we're still on--" "Silence!" snarled Snape. "Well, well, well, I never thought I'd meet a third-year class who wouldn't even recognize a werewolf when they saw one. I shall make a point of informing Professor Dumbledore how very behind you all are..." "Please, sir," said Hermione, whose hand was still in the air, "the werewolf differs from the true wolf in several small ways. The snout of the werewolf--" "That is the second time you have spoken out of turn, Miss Granger," said Snape coolly. "Fire more points from Gryffindor for being an insufferable know-it-all."

Day 12: Your Saintly Father "I would hate for you to run away with a false idea of your father, Potter," he said, a terrible grin twisting his face. "Have you been imagining some act of glorious heroism? Then let me correct you--your saintly father and his friends played a highly amusing joke on me that would have resulted in my death if your father hadn't gotten cold feet at the last moment. There was nothing brave about what he did. He was saving his own skin as much as mine. Had their joke succeeded, he would have been expelled from Hogwarts." Snape's uneven, yellowish teeth were bared.

Day 13: Don't Talk About What You Don't Understand "KEEP QUIET, YOU STUPID GIRL!" Snape shouted, looking suddenly quite deranged. "DON'T TALK ABOUT WHAT YOU DON'T UNDERSTAND!" A few sparks shot out of the end o his wand, which was still pointed at Black's face. Hermione fell silent. "Vengeance is very sweet," Snape breathed at Black. "How I hoped I would be the one to catch you..." "The joke's on you again, Severus," Black snarled. "As long as this boy brings his rat up to the castle" --he jerked his head at Ron-- "I'll come quietly...." "Up to the castle?" said Snape silkily. "I don't think we need to go that far. All I have to do is call the dementors once we get out of the Willow. They'll be very pleased to see you, Black...pleased enough to give you a little Kiss, I daresay...."

Day 14: A Great Disappointment "He must have Disapparated, Severus. We should have let somebody in the room with him. When this gets out--" "HE DIDN'T DISAPPARATE!" Snape roared, now very close at hand. "YOU CAN'T APPARATE *OR* DISAPPARATE INSIDE THIS CASTLE! THIS--HAS--SOMETHING--TO--DO--WITH--POTTER!" "Severus--be reasonable--Harry has been locked up--" BAM. The door of the hospital wing burst open. Fudge, Snape, and Dumbledore came striding into the ward. Dumbledore alone looked calm. Indeed, he looked as though he was quite enjoying himself. Fudge appeared angry. But Snape was beside himself. "OUT WITH IT, POTTER!" he bellowed. "WHAT DID YOU DO?" "Professor Snape!" shrieked Madam Pomfrey. "Control yourself!" "See here, Snape, be reasonable," said Fudge. "This door's been locked, we just saw--" "THEY HELPED HIM ESCAPE, I KNOW IT!" Snape howled, pointing at Harry and Hermione. His face was twisted; spit was flying from his mouth. "Calm down, man!" Fudge barked. "You're talking nonsense!" "YOU DON'T KNOW POTTER!" shrieked Snape. "HE DID IT, I KNOW HE DID IT--" "That will do, Severus," said Dumbledore quietly. "Think about what you are saying. This door has been locked since I left the war ten minutes ago. Madam Pomfrey, have these students left their beds?" "Of course not!" said Madam Pomfrey, bristling. "I would have heard them!" "Well, there you have it, Severus," said Dumbledore calmly. "Unless you are suggesting that Harry and Hermione are able to be in two places at once, I'm afraid I don't see any point in troubling them further." Snape stood there, seething, staring from Fudge, who looked thoroughly shocked at his behavior, to Dumbledore, whose eyes were twinkling behind his glasses. Snape whirled about, robes swishing behind him, and stormed out of the ward. "Fellow seems quite unbalanced," said Fudge, staring after him. "I'd watch out for him if I were you, Dumbledore." "Oh, he's not unbalanced," said Dumbledore quietly. "He's just suffered a severe disappointment."

Day 15: Haven't You Heard? "Blimey, haven' yeh heard?" said Hagrid, his smile fading a little. He lowered his voice, even though there was nobody in sight. "Er--Snape told all the Slytherins this mornin'....Thought everyone'd know by now...Professor Lupin's a werewolf, see. An' he was loose on the grounds las' night...He's packin' now, o' course."

Day 16: I See No Difference "And what is all this noise about?" said a soft, deadly voice. Snape had arrived. The Slytherins clamored to give their explanations; Snape pointed a long yellow finger at Malfoy and said, "Explain." "Potter attacked me, sir--" "We attacked each other at the same time!" Harry shouted. "--and he hit Goyle--look--" Snape examined Goyle, whose face now resembled something that would have been at home in a book on poisonous fungi. "Hospital wing, Goyle," Snape said calmly. "Malfoy got Hermione!" Ron said. "Look!" He forced Hermione to show Snape her teeth--she was doing her best to hide them with her hands, though this was difficult as they had now grown down past her collar. Pansy Parkinson and the other Slytherin girls were doubled up with silent giggles, pointing at Hermione from behind Snape's back. Snape looked coldly at Hermione, then said, "I see no difference."

Day 17: The Dark Mark Snape strode forward, past Dumbledore, pulling up the left sleeve of his robes as he went. He struck out his forearm and showed it to Fudge, who recoiled. "There," said Snape harshly. "There. The Dark Mark. It is not as clear as it was an hour or so ago, when it burned black, but you can still see it. Every Death Eater had the sign burned into him by the Dark Lord. It was a means of distinguishing one another, and his means of summoning us to him. When he touched the Mark of any Death Eater, we were to Disapparate, and Apparate, instantly, at his side. This Mark has been growing clearer all year. Karkaroff's too. Why do you think Karkaroff fled tonight? We both felt the Mark burn. We both knew he had returned. Karkaroff fears the Dark Lord's vengeance. He betrayed too many of his fellow Death Eater to be sure of a welcome back into the fold."

Day 18: If You Are Ready...If You Are Prepared... "Severus," said Dumbledore, turning to Snape, "you know what I must ask you to do. If you are ready...if you are prepared..." "I am," said Snape. He looked slightly paler than usual, and his cold, black eyes glittered strangely. "Then good luck," said Dumbledore, and he watched, with a trace of apprehension on his face, as Snape swept wordlessly after Sirius.

Day 19: Obviously "Now...how long have you been teaching at Hogwarts?" she asked, her quill poised over her clipboard. "Fourteen years," Snape replied. His expression was unfathomable. His eyes on Snape, Harry added a few drops to his potion; it hissed menacingly and turned from turquoise to orange. "You applied first for the Defense Against the Dark Arts post, I believe?" Professor Umbridge asked Snape. "Yes," said Snape quietly. "But you were unsuccessful?" Snape's lip curled. "Obviously." Professor Umbridge scribbled on her clipboard. "And you have applied regularly for the Defense Against the Dark Arts post since you first joined the school, I believe?" "Yes," said Snape quietly, barely moving his lips. He looked very angry. "Do you have any idea why Dumbledore has consistently refused to appoint you?" asked Umbridge. "I suggest you ask him," said Snape jerkily. "Oh I shall," said Professor Umbridge with a sweet smile. "I suppose this is relevant?" Snape asked, his black eyes narrowed. "Oh yes," said Professor Umbridge. "Yes, the Ministry wants a thorough understanding of teachers'--er--backgrounds...." She turned away, walked over to Pansy Parkinson, and began questioning her about the lessons. Snape looked around at Harry and their eyes met for a second. Harry hastily dropped his gaze to his potion, which was now congealing foully and giving off a strong smell of burned rubber. "No marks again, then, Potter," said Snape maliciously, emptying Harry's cauldron with a wave of his wand. "You will write me an essay on the correct composition of this potion, indicating how and why you went wrong, to be handed in next lesson, do you understand?"

Day 20: Very Like His Father "How touching," Snape sneered. "But surely you have noticed that Potter is very like his father?" Yes, I have," said Sirius proudly. "Well then, you'll know he's so arrogant that criticism simply bounces off him," Snape said sleekly. Sirius pushed his chair roughly aside and strode around the table toward Snape, pulling out his wand as he went; Snape whipped out his own. They were squaring up to each other, Sirius looking livid, Snape calculating, his eyes darting from Sirius' wand-tip to his face. "Sirius!" said Harry loudly, but Sirius appeared not to hear him. "I've warned you, Snivellus," said Sirius, his face barely a foot from Snape's, "I don't care if Dumbledore thinks you've reformed, I know better." "Oh, but why don't you tell him so?" whispered Snape. "Or are you afraid he might not take the advice of a man who has been hiding inside his mother's house for six months very seriously?" "Tell me, how is Lucius Malfoy these days? I expect he's delighted his lapdog's working at Hogwarts, isn't he?" "Speaking of dogs," said Snape softly, "did you know that Lucius Malfoy recognized you last time you risked a little jaunt outside? Clever idea, Black, getting yourself seen on a safe station platform...gave you a cast-iron excuse not to leave your hidey-hole in future, didn't it?" Sirius raised his wand. "NO!" Harry yelled, vaulting over the table and trying to get in between them, "Sirius, don't--" "Are you calling me a coward?" roared Sirius, trying to push Harry out of the way, but Harry would not budge. "Why, yes, I suppose I am," said Snape.

Day 21: Wormtail's Whine "We...we are alone, aren't we?" Narcissa asked quietly. "Yes, of course. Well, Wormtail's here, but we're not counting vermin, are we?" He pointed his wand at the wall of books behind him and with a bang, a hidden door flew open, revealing a narrow staircase upon which a small man stood frozen. "As you have clearly realized, Wormtail, we have guests," said Snape lazily. The man crept, hunchbacked, down the last few steps and moved into the room. He had small, watery eyes, a pointed nose, and wore an unpleasant simper. His left hand was caressing his right, which looked as though it was encased in a bright silver glove. "Narcissa!" he said, in a squeaky voice. "And Bellatrix! How charming--" "Wormtail will get us drinks, if you'd like them," said Snape. "And then he will return to his bedroom." Wormtail winced as though Snape had thrown something at him. "I am not your servant!" he squeaked, avoiding Snape's eyes. "Really? I was under the impression that the Dark Lord placed you here to assist me." "To assist, yes--but not to make you drinks and--clean your house!" "I had no idea, Wormtail, that you were craving more dangerous assignments," said Snape silkily. "This can be easily arranged: I shall speak to the Dark Lord--" "I can speak to him if I want to!" "Of course you can," said Snape, sneering. "But in the meantime, bring us drinks. Some of the elf-made wine will do."

Day 22: A Loving Caress Snape set off around the edge of the room, speaking now in a lower voice; the class craned their necks to keep him in view. "The Dark Arts," said Snape, "are many, varied, ever-changing, and eternal. Fighting them is like fighting a many-headed monster, which, each time a neck is severed, sprouts a head even fiercer and cleverer than before. You are fighting that which is unfixed, mutating, indestructible." Harry stared at Snape. It was surely one thing to respect the Dark Arts as a dangerous enemy, another to speak of them, as Snape was doing, with a loving caress in his voice? "Your defenses," said Snape, a little louder, "must therefore be as flexible and inventive as the arts you seek to undo. These pictures" --he indicated a few of them as he swept past-- "give a fair representation of what happens to those who suffer, for instance, the Cruciatus Curse" --he waved a hand toward a witch who was clearly shrieking in agony-- "feel the Dementor's Kiss" --a wizard lying huddled and blank-eyed, slumped against a wall-- "or provoke the aggression of the Inferius" --a bloody mass upon the ground.

Day 23: Better People "What does it matter?" said Malfoy. "Defense Against the Dark Arts--it's all just a joke, isn't it, an act? Like an of us need protecting against the Dark Arts--" "It is an act that is crucial to success, Draco!" said Snape. "Where do you think I would have been all these years, if I had not known how to act? Now listen to me! You are being incautious, wandering around at night, getting yourself caught, and if you are placing your reliance in assistants like Crabbe and Goyle--" "They're not the only ones, I've got other people on my side, better people!" "Then why not confide in me, and I can--" "I know what you're up to! You want to steal my glory!" There was another pause, then Snape said coldly, "You are speaking like a child. I quite understand that your father's capture and imprisonment has upset you, but--"

Day 24: Revulsion and Hatred Etched on His Face "Severus..." The sound frightened Harry beyond anything he had experienced all evening. For the first time, Dumbledore was pleading. Snape said nothing, but walked forward and pushed Malfoy roughly out of the way. The three Death Eaters fell back without a word. Even the werewolf seemed cowed. Snape gazed for a moment at Dumbledore, and there was revulsion and hatred etched in the harsh lines of his face. "Severus...please..." Snape raised his wand and pointed it directly at Dumbledore. "Avada Kedavra!"

Day 25: Don't Call Me Coward Mustering all his powers of concentration, Harry thought, Levi-- "No, Potter!" screamed Snape. There was a loud BANG and Harry was soaring backward, hitting the ground hard again, and this time his wand flew out of his hand. He could hear Hagrid yelling and Fang howling as Snape closed in and looked down on him where he lay, wandless and defenseless as Dumbledore had been. Snape's pale face, illuminated by the flaming cabin, was suffused with hatred just as it had been before he had cursed Dumbledore. "You dare use my own spells against me, Potter? It was I who invented them--I, the Half-Blood Prince! And you'd turn my inventions on me, like your filthy father, woudl you? I don't think so...no!" Harry had dived for his wand; Snape shot a hex at it and it flew feet away into the darkness and out of sight. "Kill me then," panted Harry, who felt no fear at all, but only rage and contempt. "Kill me like you killed him, you coward--" "DON'T--" screamed Snape, and his face was suddenly deranged, inhuman, as though he was in as much pain as the yelping, howling dog stuck in the burning house behind them-- "CALL ME COWARD!"

Day 26: The Guest Voldemort raised Lucius Malfoy's wand, pointed it directly at the slowing revolving figure suspended over the table, and gave it a tiny flick. The figure came to life with a groan and began to struggle against invisible bonds. "Do you recognize our guest, Severus?" asked Voldemort. Snape raised his eyes to the upside-down face. All of the Death Eaters were looking up at the captive now, as thought they had been given permission to show curiosity. As she revolved to face the firelight, the woman said in a cracked and terrified voice, "Severus! Help me!" "Ah, yes," said Snape as the prisoner turned slowly away again.

Day 27: I Regret It "All this long night, when I am on the brink of victory, I have sat here," said Voldemort, his voice barely louder than a whisper, "wondering, wondering why the Elder Wand refuses to be what it ought to be, refuses to perform as legend says it must perform for its rightful owner...and I think I have the answer." Snape did not speak. "Perhaps you already know it? You are a clever man, after all, Severus. You have been a good and faithful servant, and I regret what must happen." "My Lord--" "The Elder Wand cannot serve me properly, Severus, because I am not its true master. The Elder Wand belongs to the wizard who killed its last owner. You killed Albus Dumbledore. While you live, Severus, the Elder Wand cannot be truly mine." "My Lord!" Snape protested, raising his wand. "It cannot be any other way," said Voldemort. "I must master the wand, Severus. Master the wand, and I master Potter at last." And Voldemort swiped the air with the Elder Wand. It did nothing to Snape, who for a split second seemed to think he had been reprieved: But then Voldemort's intention became clear. The snake's cage was rolling through the air, and before Snape could do anything more than yell, it had encased him, head and shoulders, and Voldemort spoke in Parseltongue. "Kill." There was a terrible scream. Harry saw Snape's face losing the little color it had left; it whitened as his black eyes widened, as the snake's fangs pierced his neck, as he failed to push the enchanted cage off himself, as his knees gave way and he fell to the floor. "I regret it," said Voldemort coldly.

Day 28: You Hurt Her! "Tuney!" said Lily, surprise and welcome in her voice, but Snape had jumped to his feet. "Who's spying now?" he shouted. "What d'you want?" Petunia was breathless, alarmed at being caught. Harry could see her struggling for something hurtful to say. "What is that you're wearing, anyway?" she said, pointing at Snape's chest. "Your mum's blouse?" There was a *crack*. A branch over Petunia's head had fallen. Lily screamed: The branch caught Petunia on the shoulder, and she staggered backward and burst into tears. "Tuney!" But Petunia was running away. Lily rounded on Snape. "Did you make it happen?" "No." He looked both defiant and scared. "You did!" She was backing away from him. "You *did*! You hurt her!" "No--no I didn't!" But the lie did not convince Lily: After one last burning look, she ran from the little thicket, off after her sister, and Snape looked miserable and confused....

Day 29: Save Your Breath "I'm sorry." "I'm not interested." "I'm sorry!" "Save your breath." It was nighttime. Lily, who was wearing a dressing gown, stood with her arms folded in front of the portrait of the Fat Lady, at the entrance to Gryffindor Tower. "I only came out because Mary told me you were threatening to sleep here." "I was. I would have done. I never meant to call you Mudblood, it just--" "Slipped out?" There was no pity in Lily's voice. "It's too late. I've made excuses for you for years. None of my friends can understand why I even talk to you. You and your precious little Death Eater friends--you see, you don't even deny it! You don't even deny that's what you're all aiming to be! You can't wait to join You-Know-Who, can you?" He opened his mouth, but closed it without speaking. "I can't pretend anymore. You've chosen your way, I've chosen mine." "No--listen, I didn't mean--" "--to call me Mudblood? But you call everyone of my birth Mudblood, Severus. Why should I any different?" He struggled on the verge of speech, but with a contemptuous look she turned and climbed back through the portrait hole....

Day 30: Anything "If she means so much to you," said Dumbledore, "surely Lord Voldemort will spare her? Could you not ask for the mother, in exchange for the son?" "I have--I have asked him--" "You disgust me," said Dumbledore, and Harry had never heard so much contempt in his voice. Snape seemed to drink a little. "You do not care, then, about the deaths of her husband and child? They can die, as long as you have what you want?" Snape said nothing, but merely looked up at Dumbledore. "Hide them all, then," he croaked. "Keep her--them--safe. Please." "And what will you give me in return, Severus?" "In--in return?" Snape gaped at Dumbledore, and Harry expected him to protest, but after a long moment he said, "Anything."

[marvelsbetch]

Peter Parker’s field trip part 3

-Peter's POV-

After lunch Owen grouped us all

back together, including Wade, and took us around more labs. There was nothing particularly special about any of them until the corridor we were walking down became all too familiar. We stopped infront of a door to a lab, the door to my lab. Oh God.

"Now, for those of you who don't know and haven't guessed it yet, your class mate Peter works here. This is his lab and I was wondering if he would allow us to see what's inside. Peter?" Owen announced looking directly at me.

"Fine but you have to swear not to touch anything and not discuss anything you see with others." I warned them as I swiped my card and held the door open to all of them.

They all filled in and started looking around cautiously and with amazement. Many people noticed the prototype suits on mannequins at the back of the room. I was helping Dad, Pops, Bucky and Wanda with new designs for suits as well as trying to improve mine. It's been a challenge but we're making steady progress.

"Peter, Mr Stark has told me to ask you to open your connecting doors." F.R.I.D.A.Ys voice rang out across the room.

"Oh dear lord." I sighed and moved to open one of the other doors in the room that connected mine and Dads lab.

There was also a door connecting to a storage closet filled with various building parts. The other doors lead to a bathroom, Pops' art room, The training room and a testing room. There was lots of doors but thankfully I labelled them all.

"What do y-" I started but cut myself off when I opened the door and saw the guardians stood in Dad's lab. Frick!

"Mini Peter!" Drax yelled pulling me into a very tight hug. What's with the bone crushing hugs today?

"What're you all doing here?" I asked pushing Drax away from me.

"Can't we visit our favourite earthling without a reason?" Peter asked putting his arm around me.

"You sound like Thor." I told him shrugging his arm off.

"Don't insult me like that." Peter told me jokingly serious.

"How come I don't get any love?" Wade asked appearing behind me.

"Hey! What am I here for?" I asked him trying to sound offended.

"Beside you." He said putting an arm around my waist and resting his head on mine.

"Hands off Wade." Dad warned with a scowl on his face glaring at my boyfriend.

"Alright Stark, alright." Wade said sarcastically and put his hands up before slowly backing away.

"Don't push me, I'm already letting you stay in my tower, and sleep in his room for that matter." Dad gestures to me with an angry look on his face.

"Moving on, why're there a bunch of gawping teenagers stood behind you?" Peter asked gesturing to my class.

"Well, this is my science class from school. They're gasping because no one believed me when I said I had an internship here but I've proven to have more than that." I explained taking Wade's hand in mine much to Dad's disappointment.

"Anyway, what're you doing next? When're these losers leaving?" Peter asked putting his arm around my shoulders.

"We're visiting the training rooms with Steve, Nat, Clint, Bucky, T,Challa, Wanda, Vision, Strange and Loki." Dad explained making me groan and put my head on Wade's shoulder in annoyance.

"And then they're staying the night and visiting Avengers Tower tomorrow." I told him from Wade's shoulder.

"Avengers Tower?" Drax asked confused.

"It's kind of like our mother ship. It's where we're briefed and de-briefed about our missions and meet up for various things. We used to use this tower but it's less used now." Dad explained.

"They still use it sometimes though. Say, for example, to embarrass me." I said sarcastically lifting my head up.

"Aww, come on Pete, don't you love seeing us all day?" Dad teased grabbing my cheek.

"Not when your soul purpose is to embarrass me infront of my class. Other times, I couldn't thing is anything better." I told him making him smirk.

"Come on then, let's go see everyone train." Dad said clapping his hands together and leading the group through one of my doors and directly into the training room.

"Ah, Midtown I presume. Welcome to the Avengers training room." Pops introduced gesturing to the room around us.

There was treadmills, weight lifts, cross trainers, workout bikes and much more. Over in an empty corner Strange, Wanda and Uncle Loki were practicing their magic where as every one else was doing normal physical training.

"So, who wants to fight an Avenger?" Aunt Nat asked looking across all the students in front of her. "You, with the stupid grin. Come up here." Nat instructed pointing to Flash. Oh dear lord.

Flash confidently made his way up to Nat and just stood there doing nothing. Nat showed him a proper fighting stance and told him to attack. The next few seconds was Nat pinning Flash to the mat before he could react.

"I wasn't ready." Flash breathed out from the floor.

"No one is. That's why she's good at what she does." Pops told him smirking at me. "Why don't you have a go?" He asked me.

"No I'm good. Do you want to?" I asked gesturing to the mat and Nat.

"Oh come on kid. Live a little." Pops coaxed with a smug grin on his face.

"Fine." I sighed detaching myself from Wade and standing in front of Nat. I got into a fighting stance and we started fighting.

After 10 minutes of back and forth between me and Nat I eventually pinned her to the mat to the astonishment to my class.

“Well Peter, good to know nothing's changed." Pops grinned passing me my water bottle and a granola bar.

"Thanks Pops." I said with out thinking.

“Right, now we're gonna teach you basic self defence. We'll split you into groups and go from there." Pops explained turning to my class when an alarm went off.

"Code Green! Natasha and Peter to Dr Banners lab please." F.R.I.D.A.Ys automated voice rang out.

Me and Natasha took off running as fast as we could to Bruce's lab and stopped in front of the door for a brief moment. We could hear crying? Slowly, we opened the door and found Hulk sat on the floor crying.

"Hulk?" I cautiously asked stepping forward.

"Spider Boy!" Hulk yelled pulling me into a tight hug. "Hulk miss his spider boy!" He cried.

"Okay big guy. Why were you crying?" Natasha asked placing her hand on his arm.

"Lonely. Bad Human kept me trapped." Hulk explained as more tears fell.

"Okay buddy, put me down and we can hang out with you for a bit. How does that sound?" I offered.

"Thank you spider boy." Hulk said giving me one last squeeze, breaking my last rib and placing me on the floor.

"So, what do you want to do?" Nat asked sitting on the floor next to Hulk.

"Play outside!" Hulk whined. When did he become so child like?

"Okay, wanna play tag?" I offered thinking back to childhood games.

"Tag?" Hulk asked.

"It's where we run around and touch people gently. The person you touch is then 'tagged' and you must run away from them. You understand?" I explained.

Hulk slowly nodded so Nat took him outside while I called Dad to explain what happened.

"Hey kid, you okay?" Dad asked with my entire class looking at him.

"Yeah he was just lonely and in a mood with Banner. Me and Nat are gonna play some tag with him if that's okay. We'll either be on the roof or balcony." I explained to him.

"Okay stay safe." Dad told me before waving.

"I will. See you later." I said waving back and hanging up the phone.

-2 hours later-

After playing tag with Hulk for way too long we managed to get Banner back. The only think was, we promised Hulk to speak to him later. While my class will still be here. Hopefully he doesn't get scared or feel threatened and we can have a nice and calm conversation with him. We walked back to the training room but no one was there so I called Dad to see where he was.

"Hey, where've you all gone?" I asked.

"We're in the penthouse. How was playing tag with Hulk?" He asked.

"It was fun. We promised we would speak to him later so we need to talk to the class and explain otherwise he may feel threatened or angry." I explained to him getting into the elevator to take us to the penthouse.

"Okay, I'll gather everyone and you three can explain to them." He said.

"Right I'll see you in a minute." I told him before hanging up.

We got to the penthouse and found my whole class plus teacher stood in the living room like they were waiting for something. I walked in with Nat and Banner on either side of me and they all looked visibly shocked.

"Okay, quick announcement if you're all going to be staying the night. What happened before was a 'code green' that means the Hulk. Now, not every time he's here he's angry, so for instance today, sometimes he's just lonely. We managed to get Banner back but promised we would speak to him later so if anyone hears a code green do not freak out. Don't go up to him or anything but don't freak out. That's what'll make him intimidated and angry and that's when people get hurt. Do I make myself clear?" Nat asked giving each individual a piercing glare.

"Yes Miss Romanov." They all said simultaneously.

"Now, you have one hour before food to explore the penthouse. Any door with a red square is a prohibited area, it's mainly bedrooms though. Have fun and don't break anything." Dad warned.

As soon as he finished everyone scattered and tried to find something interesting to look at. Me, Wade, Ned, MJ, Dad, Pops, Nat and Banner all just sat on the sofa and started a movie. As time went on the rest of the Avengers along with Thor, Loki, Shuri and T'challa came in and started to watch the movie with us. We briefly heard and saw my class mates walking around and looking at things in the hallways. They were all very interested in the littlest things.

An hour soon went by and we called everyone back in to talk about food and what we should order. We ended up with Pizza cause who doesn't like that? We ordered 35 because there was a lot of us and I needed like 4 to myself, it was 15 margaritas, 5 Hawaiian, 5 BBQ chicken, 5 vegetarian and 5 meat lover. All large and all delicious. True beauty. We all sat in the living room and no where else would fit us all and ate in pretty must silence.

"So Peter, how come you know the Avengers?" Christie asked.

"The internship. I work closely with Mr Stark and just met everyone from there. It stared with working in projects all night to having sleepovers and it all progressed from there." I explained. It felt weird to call Dad Mr Stark again after all this time of calling him Dad.

"Patricia, how did you get the internship. Stark Industries don't usually hire teenagers." Mrs Robbins asked trying to be polite but made one big mistake. Patricia.

"Well I found Videos of Peter's work on YouTube. I'd also bumped into him at Oscorp at one of your other field trips." Dad explained with emphasis on 'Peter'. Mrs Robbins seemed uncomfortable with Dad's use of my name.

"Well what type of thing do you work on?" Al asked.

"All sorts. Started with building small robots to help with small mundane tasks then working on bigger robots with Mr Stark and then working on suits and weapons for everyone. Now I'm designing them as you all saw before. Btw Wanda, I need you to come to my lab at some point this week to check hour suit out." I informed.

"Okay, maybe after food we could go." She offered taking another bite of a BBQ chicken pizza.

"I can do that." I agreed and finished my slice of margarita.

"Well, why you?" Flash asked clearly annoyed. Shoot.

"What do you mean why him?" Pops asked getting angry.

"Well, with all due respect, why did you hire him? He's nothing special, just a charity case at the end of the day." Flash huffed and Pops' face went red with anger.

"Charity case? What do you mean by that?" Wade asked trying to moving me from his lap but I didn't budge. I knew he'd kill Flash.

"Like with his Aunt, they didn't have money and skips out on school with stupid excuses. You're probably only talking to him cause you feel bad, no need to lie to us." Flash explained and Banner's face turned green.

Everything else happened so fast. First Wade practically threw me off of his lap onto the floor where Ned caught me. Then Banner stormed out of the room yelling and turning green. After that, Dad got up from his seat and lunged forward but Pops caught him and was holding him back in a hug type situation. Nat pulled a knife out. Bucky smashed a pizza. The sofas were floating. There was thunder outside. Loki was evilly smirking. Shuri was holding T,Challa back. Sam was seething in the corner. Clint reached for his bow and arrow. Wade pulled a katana out of god knows where. It was all happening.

"Everybody outside now!" I yelled at the adults and dragged my Dads and Wade out the room behind me.

They all came out and I was immediately attached with question after question after question. Nat was asking if I wanted her to kill them. Dad, Pops and Wade were agreeing with her. Thor was threatening to bring the whole of the Asgardian army. Banner was still no where to be seen. Things really went down hill fast.

"Come on Baby. He made you feel like shit, let me teach him a lesson." Wade tried to persuade pulling me close and putting his hands on my waist.

"No Wade. You're not killing him. You've been doing so well, you've gone a whole 2 months without killing anyone. Don't throw that all away for him. Come on baby, calm down and help me with everyone else." I pleaded looking into his eyes and placing my hands on either side of his face.

"Fine but if he says one more thing not even Hulk could hold me back." He sighed bringing me in for a brief kiss.

"NOT IN FRONT OF US!" Dad yelled all anger seemingly averted to Wade.

"Geeze old man, calm down it was just a kiss. Not as if I fucked him right in front of you is it?" Wade told him sarcastically.

"Stop before your killed." I warned him.

"Mmmm. You're no fun." Wade told me.

"This is all beside the point. Banner's Hulked our and Hulk is not happy about Flash. He's coming straight towards everyone." Nat warned looking at something F.R.I.D.A.Y shown her.

"Oh god." I said as everyone rushed back into the living room to find my class huddled in a corner with Hulk slowly advancing.

Me and Nat ran out infront of them and our hands up to indicate for him to stop. Hulk looked between me and the group with confusion.

"They're mean to spider boy. Why be nice?" Hulk asked.

"Because it's what we do. We're nice to people despite them being mean to us because otherwise we'd be as bad as them. We don't want to be as bad as them. We want to be better. Do you understand?" I explained to Hulk slowly.

"Yes I understand spider boy." Hulk slightly sulked and walked over to a different side of the room where he turned back into Banner.

"How can you do that?" Someone asked hesitantly.

"Do what?" I questioned confused.

"Calm him down. I thought only black widow could do that." They explained baffled.

"Well you thought wrong." I simply told them with a shrug as I walked back over to the couch and sat on Wades lap much to my Dad's disappointment.

"Okay then, what movie should we watch?" Pops asked trying to change the topic and succeeding.

"Okay this is how we're doing it. If you want horror move to the right side of the room. If you want comedy stand to the left." Dad spoke. The majority, including myself and Wade, moved to the right.

"Okay, Annabelle Creation to the right, It to the left." The majority stayed at the right.

"It's settled." Pops announces turning the tv on and playing the movie.

Everyone found somewhere to sit, Dad on Pop obviously, then everyone else who lived at the tower, Ned and MJ squeezed onto the couches. The rest of my class sat on the floor that was covered in blankets, pillows and other types of bedding. It looked quite comfy but nothing was as comfy as Wade.

"So, Parker, how come you're buddy buddy with all of the Avengers?" Flash asked once the movie begun.

"I told you, I'm Mr Starks personal intern and so I met everyone." I lied.

"It's so weird to hear you call me Mr Stark again." Dad pointed out making us all laugh but confused my class.

"Don't start calling me Steve again, too weird." Pops requested earning a few more laughs.

"Alright Cap'ain." I said making us again, laugh a little.

"So, Peter, how did you get your internship?" Al asked.

"Well, it's a long story." I told him trying to think of one on the spot.

"I secretly sent out a message to collages and High schools near by and asked for their most brightest and promising students. I got almost two hundred responses but one from Midtown high stuck out. A boy who couldn't do PE to save his life but could do a university level science equation in his sleep. Sounded like me when I was younger so I spoke with him and after a few trials including him and some other candidates I went with Peter. One of the best decisions I ever made." Dad informed them, lying slightly, making me blush and look down.

"How did that lead to all of this?" Al further questioned gesturing to me and the rest of the Avengers.

"Well, with being his personal intern I followed him everywhere and into meeting for both Stark Industries and the Avengers. He also let me stay here when my aunt had to work late, this then turned into me spending the weekend here most times and some school night. With me spending so much time here I met them all, I was a little awkward at first but got used to them and then the jokes started which turned to minor pranks which turned into Parnell wars which turned into me finding a family in the most unsuspected way." I spoke fondly smiling at the memories of first meeting them and the first prank pulled, Clint decided it would be funny to put shaving cream in all of my pockets and shoes.

"Wow, must be amazing, knowing you can come here at whatever time you want and have the Avengers back you. You're a lucky kid Parker, I'll give you that." Al said.

"I know I am." I spoke, mostly to myself as I took Wade's hand in mine.

"How did your relationship start?" Hayley, a girl from my class, asked.

"That is an interesting story that I'm sure Wade would love to tell." I said smirking slightly.

"Well, I have a tendency to brake in the tower and one time I ran into the living room escaping Stark and found Peter sat on this couch watching Star Wars surrounded my blankets, pillows and junk food. I walked over, sat next to him and had a lovely conversation with him about Star Wars and Star Trek, it was very engaging. Then Stark ruined it by kicking me out and giving me a lecture on communicating with his intern. I clearly didn't listen and came here more often to speak to him, on one of my trips my crush grew too strong and plucked up the courage to ask him out. He said yes much to Starks distaste. We went on a date, shared a kiss and decided to make it official, this was 8 months, 4 days, 32 minutes and 54 seconds ago." Wade told them smiling widely as he pulled me into a deep and loving kiss only to separated by my Dad flicking Wade's ear.

"Wow, that's so sweet." Hayley fan-girled.

Soon enough, nine thirty rolled around and we were all sent to bed, my class was showed to their shared rooms while me and Wade snuck off to my room where he followed through on his earlier promise.

To be continued...

[restlessfandoming]

“the president and the troublemaker” (part 10) (chilumi fic)

“Lumine is the student council president and Childe is the school’s number one troublemaker. They cross paths more than they’d like. Especially when Childe finds out Lumine’s big secret. Highschool AU à la Kaichou wa Maid-sama.”

[part 1] [part 2] [part 3] [part 4] [part 5] [part 6] [part 7] [part 8] [part 9]

[Fic Masterlist] // [AO3 Link] // [Main AO3]

the president and the troublemaker (part 10)

Lumine should have known the instant she saw those blue highlights and mischievous grin that the new student was going to be trouble. Not as much as a certain ginger, but trouble nonetheless.  

He was playing his ukulele and singing about himself as his introduction, and the teacher wasn’t even stopping him. It didn’t help that their classmates were encouraging him with their words of praise and loud cheers. 

Lumine stood from her seat. “Great introduction—Venti, was it?” she said, keeping her voice as cordial as possible. “But we don’t allow personal instruments during class time. You can put it away in your locker later.” 

Venti’s face scrunched up sheepishly. “Ehe, sorry.” He tilted his head at her. “Wait, who are you?”

Lumine gave a polite smile. “I’m your student council president.” 

Venti shrugged. “Oh, okay,” he said. He turned to the rest of the class. “Sorry, looks like I’ll just have to play for you guys later.” 

There were utterances of disappointment as the new student sat in his seat, and Lumine sighed. “Rules are rules,” Lumine said to the class. 

Within the next few hours, as she led him through a tour of the school, she realized that everyone who met him, instantly liked him. Lumine had no idea what it was. Perhaps it was his cheerful and carefree disposition, kind with some sass—and of course his constant playing of his instrument as they roamed the halls. 

“Could you stop playing your ukulele, Venti? I’m afraid it’s a bit distracting to the other students who are in class,” Lumine said. It was the fifth time she had asked.

“I think we would all be better off with some light music in our lives, don’t you think, Madame President?” Venti replied with a light giggle. 

A tiny group of students had gathered around the two of them, and Venti happily played for the crowd. Lumine sighed, as it meant they would have to stop their tour again. 

“Oh, hi, Lumine!” Xiangling said, approaching from the crowd. “What’s going on?”

Lumine leaned against the wall. “New student causing a scene. He keeps playing his little ukulele, even though I’ve told him to put it away. Many times.”

Xiangling closed her eyes and listened for a second. “Wow, he’s pretty good!” 

“Not helping,” Lumine said as she rubbed her forehead.

“Where’s he from?” the chef asked. 

“Not sure,” the blonde answered. She turned to the new student, in attempts to stop him from playing, and asked, “Where did you say you were from again, Venti?” 

Miraculously, the bard stopped his music. “From the outskirts of Mondstadt! The countryside,” he answered with a smile.

“Ooo,” Xiangling uttered excitedly. “Why’d you decide to come here, to the city?” 

An even brighter smile. “Well, I actually lived here a long, long time ago, but I had to leave because a family member of mine got really sick. He passed away recently.” 

The whole hallway stilled, the mood expectantly dampened as Venti shared his past. 

However, his expression never changed; he kept smiling, blue highlights glowing in the sunlight. “And now, I’m back here to find my first love!” 

Everyone blinked at Venti for a second. Then, the crowd erupted into swoons and whoops as questions upon questions were thrown at him: What’s her name? How did you two meet? Where is she now? Is she cute?

“She was the most beautiful girl I had ever seen!” Venti gushed. “She was always so kind to me, even when others bullied me. Oh, and she always made me the most delicious grape juice ever!” He perked up. “She knew I really loved grape juice.” 

“How romantic!” Xiangling squealed. (Well, of course; her love language is food, Lumine thought.) “But how do you know if she’s still here or not?” 

“Right,” Lumine agreed. How could he be so tiringly optimistic? “What if she moved away while you were gone?” 

Venti thought for a second, before shaking his head. An endearing fondness washed over his face. “Then I’ll just keep searching.” 

His teal eyes met Lumine’s. He gave her a smile, one not as cheeky as before—softer, more bashful. “After all,” he said, “I promised Lumine I’d always come back for her.” 

…

???

LUMINE?!

Lumine. 

As in me?!

She felt like she had been tasered right in the chest, her whole body locking up as eyes shifted towards her, whispers breaking out in the crowd—“But isn’t that…?” 

Venti, his head in a world of its own, nearly skipped down the hallway, humming to himself, oblivious of the reactions around him. 

“I wonder if she’ll hear me if I sing loud enough?” he wondered aloud as everyone saw him head outside. The gathering of students all followed him out the door.

Xiangling looked at the president, still frozen, with wide eyes. “Uhm, Lumi? Are you okay?” 

Lumine nodded stiffly, her head reeling as she searched her memories for anyone who looked like Venti. 

“Is that true?” her blue-haired friend asked. “What Venti said? About you...being his first love?”

Then it hit her. 

Lumine and Aether did play with a kid named Venti all the time as children. They played pretend as princesses and knights and dragons; the twins would giggle and laugh at Venti’s silly songs all the time; and Lumine would peel grapes and mash them up with sugar for everyone at the end of a long day of running around. It was a child’s simple recipe for “grape juice,” but Venti genuinely thought it was the greatest drink in the world. 

She would even scare off his (and Aether’s) bullies. Venti’s family wasn’t around much, so she took it upon herself to look after him: making sure he did his work, tending to his injuries, cheering him up when he cried. 

It felt like an eternity ago, those memories of happier, more innocent times. 

Lumine’s hand flew to her head, slowly pushing back her blonde bangs as the realization dawned on her. “Oh my god,” she whispered. “Tone-deaf bard,” she said, her old nickname for him ghosting off her lips. “I-I knew him. Me and Aether, we used to play with him all the time.”

Xiangling’s eyes grew wider, if possible. “It’s true,” she whisper-yelled. “You are his first love!” she yelled, louder. 

The two stopped their conversation as they heard loud singing coming through the window. They peered outside, where Venti had climbed the tallest tree in the courtyard, and was serenading out to the entire school. 

Lumine’s jaw dropped, and she quickly ran out the door as well, Xiangling hot on her tail. “That idiot! He’s going to fall!” 

She made it to the foot of the tree, where she now clearly heard Venti shouting, “LuLu~! Where are you~?” 

LuLu…

That was definitely him. Venti was the only one who ever called her that nickname. 

“Venti! Get down here right now before you fall!” Lumine shouted up at him. 

He stuck his tongue out at her, and strummed his ukulele. 

As he started singing, drowning out Lumine’s demands for him to come down, Lumine felt the familiar irritation she felt so long ago, when she had to care take of him, despite all the stupid decisions he made. 

She grit her teeth. “Get down here right now, you tone-deaf bard!”

Venti stopped strumming, his head snapping to where Lumine stood. 

There was a brief moment of silence. Then, he jumped down. 

Lumine felt all the air rush out of her lungs as she gasped in shock, her feet carrying her to catch him before her brain could even think about it.

But as he fell, Venti tucked and rolled, gracefully landing on the ground, standing up straight in front of Lumine. 

“You,” he said, his tone the most serious it had been all day. “What’s your name?”

“Lumine,” she answered. She quickly added, “But I’m really different now; I’m not like I was back then—”

Venti leapt on her, arms wrapping around her in a tight embrace. His ukulele was even forgotten, dropped on the floor nearby. 

“LuLu!” he cheered breathlessly. He spun her around, breaking into giggles. “I’m finally home!” 

As the students around them broke into outbursts of shocked gasps and encouraging cheers, Lumine glanced at them, awkwardly patting Venti on the back. The bard was oblivious to her stiffness, ignorant of the craze he had just caused, the consequences that would follow his little public confession. 

Lumine could only imagine it now, all the gossip and questioning that would surround her within days, hours even. 

Please let this blow over quickly. 

* * *

“Venti…,” Childe muttered. At least he had a name for the little twerp. 

His posture slouched as he stuffed his hands into his pockets, dark eyes watching the scene unravel below with Lumine and the new kid. It was his first day, and yet, he was already causing a wave of news around the school. 

From the open window he stood by, Childe had heard everything. Venti was a childhood friend from Lumine’s past, and he had returned to her because she was his first love. 

To everyone else, this new student was an immediate favorite. Childe, on the other hand, felt acid pulse through his veins as Venti called out Lumine’s name, and he nearly jumped out the window when the two were embracing. 

Venti definitely wasn’t a fighter, right? It would be so easy to dispose of him—

Childe let out a sharp sigh, running a hand through his hair. 

What was this? Why was he feeling threatened by this new kid?

“Wouldn’t it be much easier for you to make it official?” someone said next to Childe. Looking to his right, his eyes met Albedo’s.

“You and the President, I mean,” Albedo continued, his piercing blue eyes trailing down to the courtyard. 

“Astute observations as always, Albedo,” Childe said. “What do you know about me and the Pres?” 

“I know that what the President told me was a lie,” the scientist answered. “There is definitely a sort of romantic chemistry between the two of you.”

“Oh? How do you figure?”

Albedo loosely crossed his arms. “I specialize in observations. Stolen glances, affirmative body language, rising body temperatures—habits indicative of romantic interest. For the two of you, it’s mutual.” He paused. “I don’t plan on telling anyone. I’ve kept it to myself, if you were wondering.” 

“Don’t scientists share their findings with the world?”

“I’m more interested...personally. I’d like to see how it plays out.” His blonde head tilted slightly. “Though, why you two haven’t started dating baffles me.” 

A tiny scoff escaped Childe’s lips. “Why’s that?” 

Albedo put his hand to his chin, thinking. “It would surely benefit the both of you. You would stop receiving those weekly confessions from every girl in school, and the President wouldn’t have to continue her tiring charade of acting like she doesn’t know you. It looks painful for you both.” Below, there were cheers from the students surrounding Lumine and Venti. “And you wouldn’t have to be silently fuming from up here while the President is being reintroduced to, quite possibly, her first love as well,” he added. 

Childe clenched his jaw. He hadn’t even considered that possibility. 

He started walking to the stairs without a second thought. 

“Interesting observations, Albedo,” he said as he walked away. “Do me a favor and use those skills of yours to find out anything about Venti for me.” 

He left the scientist mulling over his request while he headed straight to the courtyard. 

* * *

Lumine had managed to shoo the gathering of students back into their classrooms without too much of a fuss; Venti was a lot harder to get rid of, however, as he was currently glued to her side, his arm linked with hers. 

“Okay, Venti, it was nice catching up, but you have to go to class now,” Lumine said as they walked down the hallway. 

“Just like old times! You’re still trying to get me to be more responsible.” 

“And just like old times, it doesn’t work.” She unhooked her arm from his, putting her hands on her hips. “Seriously, Venti. You need to go to class. I’m not saying this as your friend; I am saying this as your student council President.”

“Aw, I forgot how scary you could be, LuLu,” he responded sheepishly. “Hey, what do you say we go to that old café by your house? Do you still live there?” 

Lumine rubbed at her temples as she rounded the corner. Thankfully, Venti’s classroom is closeby.

She stopped in her tracks when she looked up and saw Childe there, leaning against the wall as if he had been waiting there for her. 

“Ah, so you are alive, Pres,” Childe said. “I was beginning to think you were dead. Or were you just ignoring me?” 

Lumine gnawed on the side of her cheek. Of course he would show up right now.

“It’s a busy time for the student council. We’re planning our class trip,” she replied curtly. 

“LuLu, is this one of your friends?” Venti asked, teal eyes lighting up. He held out his hand. “I’m Venti! How do you do?”

“This is Childe,” Lumine interjected, gently pushing the bard’s extended hand down. “He’s a delinquent. Don’t associate with him.” 

The delinquent in question gave her a strained smile. “Ouch. I’d say my ways are quite reformed now, don’t you think?” He peeled off the wall, coming a bit closer—completely ignoring Venti. He continued, “In fact, I’ve saved you a few times, haven’t I?” He flashed a grin of faux-innocence. 

What was he doing? Was he really about to reveal all their secrets in front of Venti? 

“Venti, go to your class. I’ve got to deal with Childe,” Lumine said, desperate to get her old friend out of there. When Venti started to protest, she clenched her teeth. “Now.”

Venti let out a shaky laugh, his eyes shifting from Childe and Lumine, then disappeared into a nearby classroom. Childe’s eyes seemed aflame as he tracked Venti leaving. 

Lumine let out a heavy sigh. “What are you doing?” she asked, voice dropping to a whisper. “Do you want the entire school to know about us?!”

A smirk. “There’s an ‘us?’”

Now Lumine’s face completely burned. “Look, I’m sorry I haven’t been coming to training, but I really have been busy with the student council.” 

Childe didn’t respond, and just stared at her. “Who is he to you?” 

“...Who? Venti?” She pursed her lips. “He’s a childhood friend. We used to be close, I guess. But I haven’t talked to him in years.” 

“Did you ever love him?” 

“Wh-What kind of question is that?” Lumine sputtered. 

Childe pressed in closer. “Just answer the question, Lumine.” 

She took a step back. We’re at school, idiot! If a student decided to walk out of a classroom at that very moment, their secret would be out. 

“I don’t know,” she answered. “I honestly can’t remember that much right now.” 

Childe’s lips tilted into a frown. “That just won’t do, Pres.” His voice had lowered. “Aren’t you going to save me?” 

Lumine’s heart rate sped up as she recalled the two of them, on the beach, whispering promises to save one another. 

“Save you from what? Be serious, Childe,” she said, annoyed. 

“Loneliness.” He flashed a quick smile. “Let’s go on a date.” 

Lumine stumbled back from Childe as if she had been electrocuted. “I-I don’t have time for this right now.” She turned on her heel, stomping away. “Go back to class!” 

She finally relaxed when she found an empty classroom to clear her head. Thankfully, Childe hadn’t followed her. 

He liked her. She liked him. So why am I still being like this?

Even with her limited knowledge of romance, she knew the next logical step would be for them to start dating, right? 

The prospect made her antsy. 

It was a complete unknown. There were too many ways it could go wrong, too many ways it could end in pain and ruin everything. To chalk it up, she was scared. 

She and her family had been absolutely heartbroken when her father had left. She witnessed firsthand what a broken relationship could cause, the damage it did to everyone involved. 

And yet, knowing all this, having all her fears festering within, she still insisted on seeing him. Childe. 

He made her feel normal, even with her secrets. He made her feel welcomed and safe. So she didn’t push him away. She wanted to stay with him. 

DING!

Lumine jolted from her thoughts, and pulled out her phone to check. It was the student council group chat, all wondering where she was, needing her to be present for another meeting about the upcoming class trip to Liyue. 

She sighed, pocketing the phone, quickly making her way to the council room.

I don’t have time to think about that stuff right now, she thought with a frown. 

Just get through the class trip, and then I can worry about that later.

Lumine glanced outside the window. Gray clouds had gathered in the sky. A storm was brewing. 

She stopped, and prayed for a smooth trip to Liyue.

* * *

[part 11]

[the196thbattalion]

star wars human! high school! au

i’ve seen so many headcanons circling throughout the star wars tumblr about high school au’s, so i wanted to share my bit with all of you :D

anakin skywalker

five words: REBEL CHILD ON A MOTORCYCLE.

he doesn’t like riding the school bus because it makes him feel extremely claustrophobic, so he scrapped and scavenged up parts to make his own customized motorcycle, which he lovingly dubbed artoo.

the blue and silver detailing was the joint effort of ahsoka and obi-wan, because anakin doesn’t know how to paint.

if he can catch up to the bus, he’ll ride alongside it and flip off the students on it before revving on ahead of them. (the freshmen think it’s the funniest thing in the universe)

probably one of the most well-known juniors in the entirety of temple high school (mostly because of his shenanigans but partly because he’s dating padme fuckiNG AMIDALA, PRETTIEST GIRL IN THE DAMN SCHOOL)

he always wears this worn-down leather jacket his mom gave to him before she passed away, and refuses to take it off, even though it’s somehow “a violation of the dress code and should be outlawed.”

his hair alone has seduced eight different students (boys and girls)

sometimes during study hall, ahsoka or padme will get a hold of his hair and style it into little braids or make a super rad ponytail.

he really likes iced coffee with milk and sugar. he puts in the milk to make it nice and light (it’s aesthetically pleasing, obi-wan!), and then like eight tablespoons of sugar to make it actually taste good.

his favorite class is mechanics, taught by kit fisto.

anakin spent months on a mechanical arm project to replace his clunky plastic prosthetic, and he was so freaking happy when it was finished; he almost cried. (he did cry and ahsoka got it on video)

obi-wan kenobi

a mixture of the soft™, pretty™, hippie™, grunge™, vsco™ and nerd™ tropes.

he really likes peppermint tea with lots of honey but takes his coffee black.

he has had too much tea.

someone needs to stop him.

almost all of his classes are ap courses, and if cody hadn’t been watching when obi-wan was making his schedule, all of them would be.

him, cody and padme have ap english with mace windu, and cody knows how much his classes stress him out, so he lets obi-wan sleep during class and sends him the notes

the only ap class obi-wan doesn’t take is mechanics, and he shares that class with anakin.

anakin and obi-wan are super close with each other. kenobi was there when ahsoka was adopted, and anakin was there when kenobi got his cat. (they were like 5 okay)

“NAME IT C3PO OBI-WAN, OR I SWEAR TO FUCK-” “what kind of name is that, and why would i - anAKIN PUT HIM DOWN!?”.

mr. fisto constantly has to split them up for disrupting the class, but it’s almost like they can communicate telepathically, and the teachers have a running bet

mace windu literally bet $50 on these fucking nerds so you know it’s for realsies

in reality, they’ve just gotten super creative with passing notes.

kind of off topic, but he has these brown harry potter glasses that he uses (kinda for reading???? but mostly so he can do that anime pushing up glasses thing)

cody thinks it’s the funniest shit ever

whenever cody is feeling stressed, obi-wan just does the thing™ and BOOM! happiness.

people think he’s a goodie two shoes, and honestly, it’s really easy to think that. if the iconics are trying to do something stupid, he’s usually the voice of reason.

but parties?

…

you know what, just ask anakin for the video footage.

ahsoka tano

this hs!au ahsoka tano turned me bisexual confirmed ✔

okay before i go into her style, which is mainly what made me drool over my computer, can i just put skatergirl!ahsoka out there?

spray painting of the rebellion symbol all over the bottom of her board and on items in a couple of the places where she skates the most (like the back of an abandoned car yard)

her instagram is filled with these super cool vhs-tape recorded skate videos (u know)

lots crackhead 3am visits (starring anakin, rex, kenobi and barris) to a gas station to get slushies and grind the shit out of the curb connecting the store to the parking lot

trying to teach anakin how to skateboard but he just can’t figure it out? uh yes

“try to balance skyguy!” “HOW DO I MOVE? DO I SCOOT? SNIPS THIS ISN’T FUNNY AND I WANT TO GET OFF – GUYS, STOP LAUGHING!”

okay okay okay i’m done

for now

anyway, her style???? is so???? fucking????? cool!!!!!

her genetics gave her a 80% of having vitiligo, so it really wasn’t a surprise when patches of her skin got lighter, but it still freaked her out a little bit.

basically, went like this: “DAD, I’M TURNING WHITE!” “???? oh my gosh ‘soka, no.”

she has long braided dreadlocks she dyed a super bright orange with various colored beads woven into them with the help of anakin and padme. she usually styles them into little space buns atop her head.

her entire clothing wardrobe consists of fishnets, neon bomber jackets, at least 11 bisexual beanies™, handmade patchy jeans, white tank tops, and light-up platform shoes.

she doesn’t give two flying fucks about the dress code, and – IN THE MIDDLE OF THE MOST BUSY HALLWAY - punched principal sidious over whether or not she “could wear shorts that short” (anakin may or may not have cheered when she broke his nose).

the fetts (chuck have mercy)

*cracks le knuckles* i’ve put it off long enough

we have: fox (24), wolffe (19), cody (17), rex (17), echo (16), fives (16), boil (15), waxer (14), hardcase (13), jesse (12), longshot (8), kix (6), tup (3), gree (2) and boba (9mo)

wolffe is off at college - fox already graduated and moved out, that cheeky little fucking shit - but both still keep in good contact with the fam, and it’s a constant clamor between eleven of the siblings of who gets to talk to them first

fox majored in government/politics, bly is majoring in space/astronomy, and wolffe is majoring in police/law enforcement shit (i don’t know how college works, so sue me)

cody and rex are juniors, and despite their similar looks, the amount of schoolwork each of them completes drastically varies

cody is the honor roll student, valedictorian, whatever you want to call it

rex kinda just either does the work really well or 9/10 times gets distracted by anakin or ahsoka sending him some nice spicy memes

cody tried to tutor rex but it ended up almost landing tup in the hospital

“that’s really simple, actually. if you – vod? rex, are you okay? what are you oH NO TUP DON’T PUT THAT IN YOUR MOUTH-”

fetts on the varsity football team is like a right of passage in the family

right now, only the juniors of the fett family are on the team, but the coach has eyes on fives and echo for next years team

SPEAKING OF

echo, fives and boil are the infamous sophomore trio that pulled the milk bucket prank on the gym teacher, pong krell.

they had to help the janitor (99) clean up afterwards, but they genuinely enjoyed 99’s company, because he’s rad as shit and knows all the secret school passageways.

to be honest, not one person (except maybe sidious) was complaining

that motherfucker makes everyone run like eight laps during gym class

even mr. windu gives them a small smile in the hallways after that

boil says he was blackmailed into it

waxer is a freshman (the poor dude, i’m so sorry), and he always looks out for the nervous freshies

if someone is having a bad day, he’ll give them a lollipop (he carries around a whole bag), a place to sit during lunch, and a shoulder to cry on

all you need to do to find waxer is to locate this long ass line of children

the school counselor, plo koon, sometimes brings his niece numa into school during the day because he can’t find a babysitter, and waxer. fucking. loves. her. PERIOD.

w+n pull these tiny little pranks on teachers, and the staff pretends not to notice, but numa always giggles and gives them away.

boil has a soft spot for numa too, and sneaks her rice krispies.

bonus shit i want to add in but can’t figure out where to put it (or i’m just gonna add it on and shit)

plo koon adopted anakin after his mother died (him and anakin’s mother were good friends), and found ahsoka on the side of the street, shivering like a maniac.

he doesn’t know where ahsoka came from, but he loves her so gOD DAMN MUCH.

he’s the school counselor, and still keeps in touch with a lot of students even after the graduated (he thinks that majoring in law enforcement/police is a bit dangerous for wolffe but he still supports his unofficial but basically son 100%)

yoda is the super old but radically rad english teacher.

his entire point of existence in my mind fic is to troll the shit out of palpatine.

a recent conversation starring yoda and palps: “did you give the students the mountain of extra work i assigned them?” “for the students, that was?” i’m sorry. my bad, that is.” “this is the seventh time, yoda.”

okay but for real

mace windu violently roots for the school football team.

“BEAT THE SHIT OUT OF HIM, CODY! YOU TOO...OTHER CODY!”

“THAT’S A HOLDING! THAT’S A HOLDING!”

“REF IF YOU DON’T COUNT THAT TOUCHDOWN THEN I SWEAR TO SAMUEL L. JACKSON I WILL COME DOWN THERE AND BEAT YOUR SORRY PINSTRIPED ASS!”

[free-pool-trash]

folklore - isaac lahey {1/?}

my first isaac piece... y’all i can’t even lie this kind of got away from me but here we are so let me know if you want me to commit to making this a series!!

this is pre-bite isaac!!!! because i haven’t seen anybody write for him before he was bitten so i wanted to explore the dynamic of him and reader while he was just normal, which obviously i’ll get more into in future parts if anyone would be interested in reading more <33 feedback would be really appreciated !!!!!

masterlist

word count: 3.2k

warnings: swearing, mentions of abuse (i think that’s it but let me know if i missed anything)

mostly fluffy but a lil angsty

i’m gonna tag the people that replied under the post i made asking if anyone wanted an isaac fic hope that’s okay <3 let me know if you want to be added or removed from the list for possible future parts!

tagging: @makeusfreefromthisfandom​ (thank you for putting up with me while i attempted to write this), @cece-lives-here​, @chocolate-raspberries​, @tanyaherondale​ again lemme know if you wanna be removed or added <3

PART 2

You could remember with complete clarity the day you'd met your best friend, who also kind of happened to be your only friend, but that minor detail didn't even matter as you wouldn't ask for anyone else or anyone more and what was better was that you knew for a fact that said best friend felt the exact same about you.

It was the first day of middle school when you'd met your long time best friend, both of you had been wide eyed and hopeful about the coming years as you were seated beside each other in your very first class. He'd been shy at first, glancing at you with a nervous smile and playing with the zip of his pencil case when the teacher instructed you all get to know the person beside you.

"My name's (Y/n), what's yours?" You asked him, a friendly smile on your face- you knew from the get go that you were the louder of the both of you. 

"I'm Isaac." He answered you with a smile that was more certain than the last one he'd offered you.

He'd tensed up again, however, when you pointed towards his backpack. Even so early in the day someone had already poked fun at the bag that was covered in comic book characters that the boy loved so much, with the way you pointed at it excitedly he couldn't help the nerves that built up in him, he didn't know why you were excited, you either liked his backpack or you liked teasing people, he seriously didn't know.

His nerves settled down once you'd actually opened your mouth, "Woah, your bag is so cool! You like Spider-Man too?" Your eyes sparkled with excitement and Isaac finally allowed himself to reciprocate it.

"Thanks! Spider-Man is my favorite superhero! Do you read comics?" He asked you with a smile that had widened significantly since the beginning of your meeting.

"No, I don't have any comic books at home…" You explained with a slight frown before your lips lifted back upward as you continued, "I watch all the movies with my dad, though!"

Isaac nodded in understanding, blue eyes shining bright with happiness that he'd made a friend so easily, while he usually found the task quite difficult since he was very soft spoken, your charismatic energy seemed to rub off on him as he found himself talking to you easily.

"I've got some in my backpack, do you want to read them with me at lunch?" The boy asked hopefully, his shy demeanor returning ever so slightly as he realized he'd just taken a leap of faith, something he didn't love doing.

Head nodding enthusiastically, your smile grew only wider, "Yeah!"

The memory always made you smile as you'd sat with each other at that lunch time and at every other lunch time from that day onwards. You and Isaac were a pair, as you grew up you did mostly everything together, his father and brother loved you and your parents loved him just the same.

He knew all of your secrets and you knew all of his, including how abusive his father became after the death of his older brother, he'd told you but under the condition that you didn't breathe a word to anyone else, so you kept your mouth shut but did everything in your power to support him in the aftermath of a punch or emotional scar. 

Isaac often voiced how much you meant to him, despite the fact that he wasn't great with putting his feelings into words, he always managed to remind you that he was sure you were some sort of guardian angel to him or how you were really and honestly his favorite person in the whole world. The proclamations more often than not came mixed with shaking breaths and sobs from your favourite boy. You were both sixteen the first time it happened.

A knock on your front door tore your attention away from the show you were watching, you raised an eyebrow in question. Neither of your parents were home and you weren't expecting them back until the next morning, shrugging your shoulders you made your way to the front door, opening it revealing Isaac looking more broken than you'd ever seen him in your five years of friendship, his blue eyes were bloodshot and rimmed with red, cheeks painted in tear tracks and loud sniffles sounded from him along with a sob that threatened to rip your heart out when he met your eyes.

Immediately you'd rushed him through your doorway, barely taking the time to shut the door before you had your arms wrapped around his shoulders, standing on your tiptoes to reach him due to how tall he'd become in the last few years. His arms wrapped around you in seconds as he began shaking against your smaller frame, sobs wracking his body violently. 

After a minute, when his cries didn't die down as they usually did, you ushered him towards the couch, sitting him down and taking the seat beside him while you looked him over for any obvious injuries.

The only thing you noticed was that his fingernails were stubbed and bloody, as if he'd broken them trying to claw himself out of somewhere. You slowly and gently placed your palm to his cheek, stroking your thumbs under his eyes, removing his tears as you did. He was cold, no, he was freezing and you couldn't tell if he was shaking from the temperature or from whatever trauma his father had inflicted on him to put him in such a state.

"What happened, Isaac?" You asked softly, scooting closer to him when his hands reached out for you, they clutched the fabric of your hoodie- his hoodie- tightly, he only shook his head, pulling you into him completely, arms now wound tightly around your torso as he cried into your shoulder, you'd never seen him this shaken up, you'd never felt his tears soak through two layers of your clothing but you supposed there was a first time for everything as your curly haired best friend couldn't fight the tears that just kept flowing.

Your hands ran through his curls, scratching softly at the nape of his neck, something that usually always worked in calming him right down, only it wasn't working and you couldn't stand the way he was still freezing, you wanted to help him, you always helped him, you were at a loss as he cried this time though, you didn't know how to help.

"You're freezing." You murmured, his breath hitched at your statement and you had to move his head from its spot between your neck and shoulder, hands back on his cheeks.

Reluctantly you separated from him, fighting the urge to throw yourself back in his arms when he let out a panicked whimper, quickly you grabbed the throw blanket you kept on the armchair beside the couch and made your way back to Isaac's side, wrapping the blanket around his shoulders tightly and rubbing your hands up and down his arms softly, you tried your best to heat him up.

"I'm going to make you a hot drink, ok? Then we can talk- or watch a movie or just- yeah. I'll be back in a minute. I'm right in the kitchen if you need me." You fretted, kissing his forehead before rushing into the kitchen. Hot chocolate always cheered Isaac up, he'd once proclaimed that if he could only drink one beverage for the rest of his life it would be hot chocolate. You really needed a win with him tonight so with shaking hands you began making a cup of hot chocolate for your best friend. 

It got hard sometimes, staying strong when you saw him so broken, sometimes you wanted nothing more than to cry with him, let the pain you felt for him consume you, but you never did, not in front of him anyway. If there was one thing he hated more than himself being upset it was making you upset and you knew that, you knew that it you cried for him in his presence he'd be reluctant to confide in you in fear of upsetting you. You couldn't have that, he needed you and you needed to be there for him, even if it hurt.

So you took a deep breath and walked back to your living room, cup of hot chocolate in hand, relief flooded you when you noticed Isaac had stopped crying, he was still sniffling but the tears had ceased.

"Here bub." You placed the cup in his cold, shaky hands before returning to your place pressed against his side, "Thank you." 

His voice was scratchy and broken as he spoke, "Not just for the drink." He added on, voice merely a whisper.

Shaking your head you wrapped your arms around his shoulders, "You don't have to thank me for anything." You told him quietly, he'd never ever owe you anything and you wouldn't want him to ever think he did.

"But I want to." Isaac placed the cup on your coffee table and took both of your hands in his, "You're the only good thing I have left." His voice was certain and as steady as he could make it because as horrible as his experiences were, the thought of being able to collapse into you once it was over got him through it.

Without saying a word you rested your head against his shoulder and tightened your grip on his hands, holding them in your lap while you waited for him to continue.

"I don't know what I'd do without you."  Titling your head up at his words you let your lips press to his cheek, something you did often.

"Well, you don't ever have to worry about that because I'm not going anywhere." You reassured him, a smile rising on your face when his lips met your forehead.

You and Isaac were always affectionate with each other, from sharing beds at sleepovers to holding hands if one of you was anxious. Naturally, you were very touchy person and it played in your favor that your best friend craved physical affection. The two of you just worked.

And sure sometimes when he'd hug you from behind or when he'd absentmindedly play with your hair you wished that he was more than just your best friend. What you didn't know was that Isaac felt the same, every time he told you that he loved you he wanted you to know just how much he really meant it, let you know that the words ran way deeper than just your friendship. 

What made things difficult was trying to act none the wiser about Isaac's home life when his father would invite you over for dinners or movie nights, the same way he used to before he started using his youngest son as an emotional and physical punching bag. It was genius really, he kept up appearances and if you hadn't gotten the truth out of Isaac you probably wouldn't have guessed that his father was such a scumbag.

Tonight was one of those nights. Mr. Lahey invited you to stay for dinner when he noticed you studying with Isaac, helping him with chemistry, at the dining table. Not wanting to leave Isaac alone with the man for any longer than he absolutely had to be you had taken him up on his offer.

You even helped him make the meal, it was times like that you were extremely thankful for your acting skills.

Isaac's father sat at the head of the table while yourself and Isaac sat across from each other either side of the table.

"So (Y/n), d'you find yourself a boyfriend yet?" The older man asked you with a smile, "Dad-" Isaac chastised, his eyes wide and cheeks blushing a rose red.

"Um, no not yet." You answered, glancing at Isaac quickly before moving your gaze to his father, "How are things at the graveyard?" You asked sweetly, praying to God that he'd drop the topic of your love life. What were you supposed to say? "No I don't have a boyfriend but I am in love with your son who you're abusing you piece of shit."? 

Luckily, he didn't push on the subject any further, "It's been busy lately with all these animal attacks." 

"It's a mountain lion right?" You asked with interest, looking at Isaac now, the boy shrugged, letting out a chuckle at your curiosity, "That's what everyone's been saying."

"I heard from Scott McCall that it's some kind of wolf." You explained, finishing off your plate as Isaac raised an eyebrow, "You know McCall?" 

"Yeah, he sits next to me in homeroom, he's pretty nice. Anyway he said him and Stiles were out in the woods and he swears that he heard a wolf howling." You shot off, a million theories cooking up in your head as the words left your lips excitedly. You didn't miss the soft smile on Isaac's face as he listened to you talk so passionately.

The hearty chuckle of his father cut you off and you turned your head to look at him, "There hasn't been a wolf in California in over sixty years." He stated, standing from the table, collecting your plates and placing them in the sink before pointing to Isaac.

"Whatever it is, it got someone else last night so I need you to go down to the yard and start digging." Isaac only nodded, pushing himself up, "I'll walk (Y/n) home and then I'll head over." 

"Sure, you kids be careful out there." He replied superficially, letting out one last chuckle as he left the room completely.

"You ready to go, bubs?" You ask, grabbing your backpack and throwing it over your shoulder, "What?" You asked when you noticed Isaac hadn't moved but was instead looking at you with a quirked eyebrow and a fond smile, his arms crossed infront of his chest.

"You gonna be warm enough walking home in that?" He motioned towards your blouse and you threw your head back in frustration and grumbled, "No probably not."

"Wait here, I'll grab you something." He told you, pecking your cheek as he passed you.

It only took Isaac a minute to return to the kitchen, grey cardigan in hand, he loved that cardigan but in all honesty he loved it more when it was on you, which is why he picked it for you to wear on your walk home. Usually you forgot to give his clothes back to him when he'd leave you at your doorstep, which always led to you wearing it into school the next day, he absolutely loved when you wore his cardigans and his hoodies, the way the sleeves hung way past your wrists made you look so adorable to him and he had to stop himself from throwing his entire closet at you.

"Is that your favorite cardigan I see?" You questioned, a knowing smile on your face.

Isaac gave you a playful shrug, handing the cardigan to you and stating, "My favourite cardigan for my favorite girl." 

*

"Hey!" A whisper hissed from the desk behind you, glancing back you saw Stiles Stilinski leaning forward towards you, his entire upper half against his desk.

"Hi?" Your voice was uncertain as the boy with the buzzcut gave you a triumphant grin while Scott rolled his eyes from his seat beside you and infront of Stiles.

"You know Derek Hale right?" The question threw you off slightly, your family had been close with the Hale's before they'd all perished in the house fire six years ago, all except Derek- the prime suspect although you knew it couldn't have been him who set the house ablaze.

"Well, I knew him. He and Laura used to babysit me. I was friends with his younger sister too, back in elementary school." You answered Stiles' question, "Why?"

"Did he seem murder-y to you?" Stiles asked, ignoring your question while Scott let out a tired sigh at his best friend's antics. "No. He was sweet, they all were." You told him sternly, growing tired of his questions about people you would've considered your second family until the vast majority of them burned alive.

Scott's voice was softer than Stiles' when he leaned towards you, "He's uh back in town. We saw him at the Hale house yesterday. We were just wondering if you knew why he was here?" 

"Derek's in town?" You asked, eyes wide while Scott nodded in response, brown eyes searching yours for any kind of answer to his previous question. "I didn't even know he was back." Your voice was merely a murmur, you tried your best to digest this new information but all you could think about was how you needed to see him.

"If you're looking for him, I'll help you find him." You offered to the two boys who shared unsure looks causing you to release a sigh, "Come on you two, out of the three of us I'm the only one whose gonna get any answers out of him. He's not exactly welcoming to strangers." 

The words left you flatly and the two of them knew you were right, "Yeah you're right. We're going to stop by the house again after school you could meet us there?" Scott agreed, furrowing his brows as he watched you shake your head and scribble something down on the corner of your page, ripping it off, "I've got plans with Isaac after school today but I'll ask my parents if they know anything, they were really close with the Hale's." You explained, handing the scrap of paper with your phone number on it to Scott, "Give me your numbers so I can call you if I find out anything useful." Scott nodded gratefully, scribbling down his number on the side of his page the same way you had while Stiles just looked at you with a funny expression on his face, "Don't you hang out with Isaac like every day? Can't you just ditch him this once?" You let out a humorless chuckle, raising an eyebrow at the boy, "Would you ditch Scott?" 

Stiles grumbled something under his breath, finally seating himself back in his seat properly, defeated by your retort.

Stiles wasn't wrong, you did hang out with Isaac almost every day but you'd never once ditched him just as he never ditched you, you weren't going to change that for the sake of two boys that you barely knew.

You'd met Isaac during a dark period of your life, when the Hale fire happened and all the people you'd been raised around suddenly disappeared from your life, he'd been exactly what you needed and he continued to be that person who always made you feel like there was always something to hope for even if everything looked grim.

He was the living embodiment of surviving hardships, and although he'd never realize it, he was the reason you were able to pull yourself out of slumps and keep pushing forward even when you felt like the weight of the world was crushing your chest. One smile or word of encouragement from Isaac and all that weight would evaporate into nothing.

As the bell rang you wanted nothing more than to find the boy who occupied your thoughts and tell him about the information you'd just been given, you definitely needed a pick me up after finding out Derek was back in town and you hadn't even seen him.

So you set off, giving Scott a small smile before exiting the classroom and making your way into the busy hallway, starting your search for Isaac the second you entered the crowd.

[starrybethany]

I’m Sure - Adam Boqvist Imagine Part 2

Part 1

Part 3

Part 4

Part 5

Word count: 3.5K

I shut the front door quietly behind me. I step out of my heels, sighing in relief as my feet can finally breathe. My eyes land on the twelve-year-old on the couch and I can’t help but grin despite his cold behavior towards me lately.

I know he’s an adolescent so he’s going to go through mood swings and say hurtful things-but that doesn’t make it hurt less. It also doesn’t make me love him less. I walk up behind him, wrapping my arms around his shoulders slowly and pressing a kiss to his cheek.

“Mom,” he rips the headphones off of his ears, setting the controller and the headphones down on the coffee table. “You’re home.”

“Are you playing Call of Duty with the boys?” I ask.

“Yeah,” he mumbles, eyes still avoiding my own. I know he’s ashamed of how he treated me this morning before leaving for school, but he won’t admit it. I raised him to admit it when he’s made a mistake, but he’s a boy, and they naturally refuse to do so. He’s still young, too, so he feels like he’s somehow always right.

“What do you want for dinner?” I make my way towards the small kitchen, opening the fridge to look inside.

“Didn’t you get food with Winston?” Holden questions, giving me a confused look.

“Yeah,” I shrug. “But I’m assuming you didn’t eat.”

“No.”

I pull out the supplies to make a grilled cheese, looking up at him expectantly. “Grilled cheese, then?”

“Yeah.”

The fading sun catches the blonde locks in his hair as he looks over at me from time to time, trying to focus on his game but a thought obviously occupying him.

“Mom, is um, is Winston going to be moving in with us?” He questions.

“What?” I laugh. “No, honey, we’ve only been dating a few months. Why would you think that?”

He shrugs. “I don’t know.  You guys hang out a lot.”

“Well, I hope you know that I would have a conversation with you before doing anything that serious,” I reassure him, bringing over a Coke and the plate with chips and a grilled cheese.

“Thanks, mom,” he cracks a smile at me. A sign that it’s all better now.

“So, tell me about school today. How was art? Did you finally compliment Cierra’s painting?” I tease.

“Mom,” his voice cracks with the warning.

“I’m just teasing,” I giggle. “But seriously, Holden, girls love compliments.”

“I know,” he grumbles, returning to his game.

~

“How is Holden?” My sister asks.

I balance the phone between my shoulder and my ear, glancing up the stairs to make sure his door is closed so that he doesn’t hear the conversation. I lower my voice just in case. “I’m still worried about him.  He doesn’t have a lot of friends, he doesn’t hang out with the friends that he does have, he doesn’t want to join any sports or extracurricular activities- his grades aren’t the best. I’ve asked him so many times if he wants to go to therapy and he says no every time.”

“Well, maybe it’s time for you and Winston to get serious. That boy needs a father figure.”

I feel the annoyance rise in my blood and I roll my eyes, grateful that she can’t see me and scold me about the action. “I don’t want to push Holden to accept Winston. Holden will make his own decision of how to perceive him. Look, I have to go, I’m working late tomorrow.”

“Alright. Love you.”

“Love you too.” I quickly hang up, turning off the downstairs lights and making my way upstairs. I peak under my son’s door, seeing a soft light emerging, before doing my nighttime routine and laying down in bed. I scroll through my social media for a while- a habit I’ve been trying to break since Holden was born- seeing that all of my friends who are Flyer fans are getting excited for the game against the Blackhawks tomorrow.

Colorado was not a hockey place. They were all about their Denver Broncos and lived and breathed football. Holden and I moved to Philadelphia with my ex-boyfriend when he was a toddler, and we broke up when he started kindergarten, but we’ve stayed in Philadelphia ever since.

Philadelphia, however, is a hockey place. I understand why- Gritty is the embodiment of the city- but it was odd to be immersed back into the hockey life. Everyone here worships Claude Giroux and flashes of orange are worn everywhere we go.

I asked Holden when he was younger if he wanted to play hockey, since a lot of his friends do, but he quickly rejected the idea- something I was guiltily relieved about. He doesn’t know that his dad is a hockey player, in fact, he’s surprisingly never asked about his dad.

I thought he would want to learn more as he grew older and saw all of the kids at school with both of their parents, but he’s never said a thing to me.

I don’t know if he’s said something to someone else, though.

I set my phone down on the nightstand, exhausted from the long workday and the worry that constantly fills my body about my son. I know I need to do something to encourage him to increase his grades, make some friends, join some clubs- hell, even if it’s to spend more time with me, I wouldn’t mind that.

But right now, I just feel like a shitty mother.

~

I sigh, setting down the papers on my desk and rubbing my eyes. I hate ordering inventory, but someone needs to do it and since the owner of this coffee shop is never here, it lays on my shoulders.

I stand up, making my way to the front of the shop. “Do you guys know if Lia needs any more shirts?”

“I think she does,” Rachel’s voice falls on deaf ears as I notice the person waiting to order. The blood rushes to my head and my limbs run cold. All I can focus on is him. He’s standing in the coffee shop that I manage, a familiar, yet older Alex DeBrincat by his side, just like old times.

My eyes meet Alex’s first. He smiles at me, then I watch as it slowly transfers into a look of confusion.

“Do I- do I know you?”  He asks carefully.

“Y/N,” another voice breathes out. I turn my head, eyes meeting Adam’s. His face is frozen in disbelief, like he can’t believe it’s actually me.

But it’s me. And I’m standing in front of my child’s father, seeing him for the first time in about thirteen years. I hadn’t spoken to him since the day I left, Holden still a little bean in my stomach.

Staying true to my word, I did it on my own- with the help from some ex-boyfriends. But still, I was the one hugging him when he got vaccines at six months old, I was the one rubbing his back when he had the stomach flu at six years old, I’m the one kissing him on the cheek after parent-teacher conferences.

“Oh my gosh, Y/N, it’s been a while!” Alex chuckles, snapping my attention back to him. “I thought you were in Colorado, what are you doing in Philly?”

I force a smile. “Needed a change in scenery.”

It’s not a complete lie.

“How have you been? Is there a husband, any kids?”

Rachel, God bless Rachel, calls out Alex’s name and hands him his coffee before I can respond.

“How are you doing?” I inquire, keeping my eyes on the shorter man.

“Oh, I’m good, Lyndsey and I just had our second, our first boy,” he smiles proudly. He always used to talk about how much he wanted a family with her.

“Congratulations,” I smile.

“Thanks. Boqy here,” he slaps Adam’s chest, bringing him into the conversation. I reluctantly drag my eyes over to him, seeing that he’s already watching me. “Hasn’t changed a bit since you left.”

I nod, biting back the snarky remark that wants to escape. He’s what, thirty now? And he hasn’t changed a bit?

“Well, I have to get back to work,” I respond, wanting nothing more than to escape this conversation. I wouldn’t mind chatting with Alex for a whil- I’m sure he’d love Holden, but I don’t want Adam to know anything about my son.

I can’t help but feel guilty at that.

“Hey, let’s exchange numbers and hang out soon. We’re playing the Flyers and Penguins for the next couple of days, so we’ll be around for a while,” Alex offers.

I nod, pulling out my phone to exchange numbers with him. Somehow Adam thinks it’s his right to add his number into my phone, too.

“Well, it was great seeing you, Y/N,” Alex smiles before leaving, holding the door open for his companion. Adam spares me one last glance before leaving.

I cry in my office.

~

I can feel his eyes sliding between me and his plate. He pushes the corn with his fork, causing a scrapping noise to echo throughout the small room. He’s used to dinner being filled with questions about his day- what did he learn in science? Did he play dodgeball in gym class? But I’m not in the mood tonight.

The last thing that I wanted to do was make dinner and sit down and eat it instead of ordering pizza and crawling into bed, but I know I need to put on a brave face for Holden. He doesn’t need to know that anything’s wrong.

He coughs awkwardly. “I don’t like corn.”

I can’t hold back the rolling of my eyes. He looks shocked at that, like he’s not expecting it, but I’m not in the mood for his snarky attitude tonight.

“Then don’t eat it.”

He studies me before I can’t handle it anymore, shoving my chair back. I quickly throw the rest of my food away and throw my dishes into the sink before practically sprinting upstairs, locking my bedroom door behind me like a teenage girl.

I’m wiping the tears in my eyes furiously, my chest heaving with every breathe. I’m hoping that if I stop the tears from coming now, it’ll seem like they’ve never come at all.

And if they never fall, I’ve never cried over Adam Boqvist.

My phone buzzes angrily in my back pocket and I pull it out, practically groaning when I read Winston’s name. It shouldn’t be like that when I see that it’s my boyfriend calling, I know that, but really? Right now?

“Hello?”

“Hey, how are you?” Winston coos through the phone.

I furrow my eyebrows at the tone. “Uh, alright.”

“It’s just- Holden texted me and told me that you’re feeling kind of, um, off, tonight,” he struggles to explain.

I hold back my scoff. Sure, now Holden likes Winston.

“It’s nothing.”

“Come on, Y/N, how are we supposed to have a healthy relationship if you can’t talk to me?” He persists.

“I just don’t want to talk about it, Winston.”

“Fine. Be that way. But just so you know, if you can’t bother talking to me about this, then don’t bother talking to me ever again.”

I raise my eyebrows at that. “You’re going to break up with me because I don’t want to tell you what’s wrong?”

“It’s the principle of it, Y/N! If you aren’t willing to share your emotions with me four months into this relationship, where are we going?” He rants.

I’m dumbfounded. I know I should be willing to tell him what’s wrong- he’s supposed to be my partner, my confidant, the one I tell everything to.

But to be honest, I don’t really care. I’ve never felt an immense attraction to him. Really, when he asked me out the only reason I said yes was because I like his appearance. But we’ve never clicked, we’ve never had that fire, that passion- like, like what Adam and I had.

“Exactly,” he scoffs, reminding me that I’m still on the phone with my boyfriend. Well, ex-boyfriend.

He hangs up the phone and I sigh, gently resting the device back on my bedside table. I get ready for bed before climbing back under my cozy covers, scrolling through social media one last time before I decide to sleep.

My notification tab lights up, so I click on it, seeing that I have a new follow request.

adamboqvistt Confirm Delete

I stare at that in disbelief. After more than a decade of knowing my Instagram handle, and the fact that I’m the mother of his child, now he decides he wants to follow me?

Now he wants to get and stay in contact, just because he happened to see me at my job?

He took one look at me and decided he should be involved now. I told him when I told him that I was pregnant, it’s all in or all out.  And he decided all out, so now he has to live with his decision.

I close the app in fury, setting my phone down and turning over in bed, tugging the blanket harder than I intend to. Hopefully tomorrow is better than today. Hopefully Adam forgets about me and our child, just like he’s done for the past thirteen years.

~

Holden is slipping down the stairs just as I set his plate of scrambled eggs down on the table, giving me a hesitant look, like he’s unsure of what kind of mood I’m in and why I took the time to make him breakfast instead of hurrying out the door like I usually am with a reluctant kiss and hug.

“I start later today, I’m on the closing shift tonight,” I half-explain, placing the bowl of cut-up strawberries in the middle of the table.

He nods, taking a seat across from me at the table. I clear my throat as we begin to eat and he looks up at me, blue eyes wide like he got caught doing something wrong.

“Winston and I broke up last night,” I state emotionlessly.

“Oh, uh, sorry.”

I shrug my shoulders.

“Can I ask why?”

“I didn’t want to talk about my bad day and apparently that makes me emotionally unavailable,” I respond.

He pauses. “Well, do you want to talk about your bad day with me?”

This time it’s my turn to pause. I could do three things right now.  I could tell him that his father’s going to be in town for the next couple of days, giving him the opportunity to meet him if he really wanted to. Although he’s never expressed wanting to meet Adam, I’m sure there’s some kind of yearning in him to meet the man who gave him half of his genes.

Or I could lie. I hate lying to the kid- it’s not a value I want to raise him with. Plus, if he finds out that I lied, he would be pissed.

Finally, I could shut him out. I don’t want to do that, though. If I shut him out, when will he want to come talking to me? If I’m not willing to talk to him, it’s not fair to expect him to talk to me about things that bother him.

“I saw… an old friend, yesterday,” I say slowly, deciding to leave it at that. It’s vague but specific enough.

“My father?”

I practically choke at the words.

“It’s okay, mom,” he shrugs awkwardly. “I get it. That must’ve been hard for you.”

The deep blush on his cheeks shows me that he doesn’t want to continue this conversation much longer. I don’t know if it’s because of who it’s about, or because we’re talking about our feelings, but I don’t want to pressure him.

“Yeah. So, I’ll be home around eight o’clock tonight, I’ll pick up some McDonalds on the way home. Text me your order,” I inform him.

He nods, and that’s that.

~

I don’t know why a café is open until eight o’clock at night. Usually no one comes in past six o’clock, so the owner is paying someone to sit there for two hours on their phone. Around seven fifty-five, when I’m in the middle of turning off the lights to lock up and go home to see my son, the doorbell rings.

I curse in my head- what asshole comes in five minutes before closing time?

“Hello,” I plaster a fake smile onto my face, turning around to greet the customer. My feet stop moving.

His short curls peak out of the gray beanie, black jacket hanging loosely off of his body. His hands are shoved into his coat pockets and he stands at the door unsurely, deciding to take a confident step forward.

I compose myself, taking a step forward. “What can I get for you today?”

“Y/N-“”My recommendation is our house’s hot chocolate, it’s my favorite,” I give him a sugar sweet smile, relishing in the way that he winces.

“Look, I know that-“”Either order something or get out, Adam,” I break out of my customer service persona.

“If I order something will you talk to me?” He snaps.

I raise my eyebrows at him. “Are you really in the position to be making demands here?”

He sighs. “Get me that- what was it, a hot chocolate?”

“What size?” I snarl.

“Small.”

I grab the cup, reluctantly beginning the process of making it as he begins to speak.

“I requested to follow you on Instagram.”

I don’t respond.

“Look, I know that I messed up, okay?”

“That’s one way of putting it,” I mumble.

“I realize that,” he continues like I never interrupted him. “And I regret it every day, letting you and him- or her, I don’t even know what you ended up having, go, just so easily. I spent thirteen years missing all of the birthdays and Christmases and hockey games and focusing on getting drunk and my own hockey world. But don’t you feel like it’s fate, meeting again after all of these years?”

“Your total is $4.32,” I retort, setting the cup down on the counter.

“Come on, just let me meet him. Or her, you haven’t told me what you ended up having yet,” he pleads, chuckling dryly at the end.

“That’s because you don’t deserve to know. $4.32 please, and cash transactions are closed at this time,” I stare pointedly at him.

He swipes his card silently.

“Thank you, come again,” I state as I hand him his receipt. His fingers brush my own. The softness of them sooth the rage in my body, something I curse at internally.

I, so badly, want to be mad at Adam. I want to scream at him for missing all of our son’s childhood and my whole pregnancy.

But the worst part is that I can’t really blame him. He was a young guy, barely surviving in a league that sucks the players dry of everything they can give.

He knew he couldn’t give everything to raise the child- he knew better than to promise that he could do that.

I know he probably beats himself up for letting this go on so long- as he should- but I know that he’s probably ashamed of what he’s done and how much he’s missed.

There was never a right time for him to reenter Holden’s life. When Holden was a toddler, Adam still barely knew himself, as a kid Adam was teaching the younger players, and well, now- now Holden wants nothing to do with him.

Adam’s fingers glide gently up my arm, eyes double-checking to make sure the action is alright. It is.

It slides down to my waist and the other hand lifts up slowly, softly brushing my jaw. His face moves closer and closer to mine before our lips meet.

It’s like they’ve never left each other. They start out slowly, then move faster, more passionately. I tighten my eyes, cherishing this moment. Who knows when it will come next? The hand on my jaw moves down to my other hip and he tugs me across the counter, moving so that he’s standing in between my open legs.

“This is so unhygienic,” I breathe out as he begins to kiss down my neck. He chuckles, the hot air making me grow more and more needy for him.

“Are there cameras in here?” He questions, looking around- looking out for me to keep my job.

“No,” I respond, pulling his lips back to mine. “But we have to go into the office. I don’t want anyone walking past to see.”

He nods, grabbing onto the back of my thighs to pick me up. The office door shuts behind us.

When I see the, now cold, hot chocolate still sitting on the counter the next morning, I can’t help but wince, regretting everything that happened the night prior.

I just can’t resist when it comes to Adam Boqvist.

[sophfic27]

Questions (Have You Ever Wanted to be a Fly on the Wall?)

Summary: By now, you probably know the drill (his name is Bill), on their tenth birthday, the first words a person’s soulmate will say to them appears somewhere on their body. The word "hello" is one of the most common phrases in the world, so when Roman ends up with it on his wrist he decides to get creative. Everyone he meets who greets him with a "hello" he asks them a question. And he'll keep doing this until it's on someone's arm. This is literally my first ever fanfiction that I've finished and posted, so here's hoping you like it.

Pairings: Prinxiety, Logicality (background-ish), Dukeceit (background)

Word Count: 2870

Warnings: One instance of an F bomb, I think that’s it, let me know if it’s not

Notes:  I got the idea to write this after scrolling through soulmate POVs on TikTok with my sister for fun. We discussed how one could solve the problem of having a really common phrase, and she said "I'd just ask weird questions, because I'm really good at that." So I decided to write this. Most of the questions Roman asks in this I stole from my sister, because, yes, she really does randomly ask these wackadoo questions unprompted. She's great. Enjoy.

Read on AO3

If anyone was going to describe Roman as anything, it was fanciful. Of course most kids were excited by the prospect of getting their soulmark and meeting their soulmate, but Roman had very big plans for how he was going to meet his soulmate. He grew up with Disney movies telling stories of soulmates and star-crossed lovers and found himself mesmerized by the power of soulmates. The lovely tale of the Little Mermaid, and Ariel trying to somehow convey to the prince that he was her soulmate when she had no voice. The story of Aladdin doing all he could to survive and be worthy of his princess soulmate. When he was eight, he saw Anastasia, a story of soulmates who met before their words appeared. When she lost her memory, she couldn’t have known the boy who saved her was her soulmate, and he knew but thought that she must have died until fate brought them together again. Roman was amazed. With only two years until his words appeared, he fantasized about all the ways he would meet and woo his soulmate, what unique phrase would change his life forever. Maybe he already knew his soulmate and just didn’t know it was them! Roman counted the days until he got his words with impatient anticipation.

Roman was younger than his twin, Remus by seventeen minutes exactly. So there they were, huddling on the bottom bunk with flashlights at 3:11 am only two minutes left until Remus is exactly 10 years old and he receives his soulmark. “It’s going to be something really lame, like ‘you’re annoying’ or something,” Roman insisted. Having grown up with Remus, he found it hard to think he could even have a soulmate, but they both knew he was just giving him a hard time. “Nuh-uh,” Remus squawked in a mocking tone. “Yuh-huh,” came Roman’s equally childish reply. “NUH-UH!” “Shut up, or Mom and Dad will yell at us again!” Roman socked his twin with a pillow. He tapped the screen of the tablet they had snuck into their room from the living room. 3:12:31. They’d been checking the time obsessively, but now there was only half a minute left. They exchanged a sort of giddy look as the clock ticked closer and closer. “10, 9, 8” Remus started to count as the time came upon them. Roman joined quickly, “7, 6, 5, 4.” “3.” “2.” “1.”

They watched as two words drew themselves onto Remus’s wrist: “Um, wow.” The twins blinked at the words for a minute, until Roman broke the silence, “nice going, doofus, you’re going to weird out your soulmate immediately.” “You don’t know that! Maybe it's a good ‘um, wow,’” Remus protested. “How would that be good? ‘Um, wow, you’re so handsome, ooooh,’” Roman made a mocking kissy-face and was promptly knocked over by another projectile pillow. He laughed, “face it, you’re a weirdo, ‘um, wow’ is not a good thing.” The door swung open with a whoosh and their mother stood there, staring at them. Roman covered the tablet with a pillow to hide the stolen device, and Remus scrambled off of the bunk. “I told you boys NOT to stay up like this,” Carla snapped. Her hair was up in curlers and she had hastily pulled a bathrobe over her pajamas. “But, Mama, our soulmates!” Roman whined. “Yeah, I got my words,” Remus waved his arm around even though the light was too dim for their mother to read the words and she was too tired to humor them. “That’s nice, Remus, but I told you, Papa and I have to work tomorrow, you can’t be keeping us up like this, I told you we’d look at your words in the morning,” she rubbed her eyes, still bleary from the sleep she wanted desperately to return to. “But it is morning!” Roman cried indignantly. Carla fixed her son with a pointed glare and he looked down and climbed under his sheets. Carla sighed, “thank you. Now, you can tell me what your words are in the morning when Papa is awake, but right now I need you, boys, to go to sleep, okay?” “Okay, Mama,” the twins replied in unison. Remus climbed back up to his bunk and got under his covers. Carla nodded and departed the room for her own, her slippers making light scuff sounds down the hall. As soon as the door clicked closed at the end of the hall, Remus poked his head over the edge of his bunk and looked down at his twin, “how much time is left?” he whispered. Roman uncovered the tablet and woke the screen, “ten minutes,” he whispered back. The next ten minutes crawled by painfully slow. Roman lost track of whatever his brother was saying as his thoughts turned to what his words would be. He was pulled out of his trance when Remus broke his silence to ask “how long?” again. This time, when Roman woke the tablet, he saw that it was 3:29:22, and he became overwhelmed by the fact that there was less than a minute left. He reported to his twin and went back to staring intently at the digital clock. Each second felt like an eternity, but they dragged him eagerly forward until- The grandfather clock down the hall chimed the half-hour, and Roman tugged his pajama sleeve down excitedly and turned the flashlight onto his wrist. There a beat of silence until, “so? What does it say?” Remus asked eagerly. Roman sighed, “it says ‘hello.’” Remus stayed quiet for a second, “that’s going to be hard to find,” he offered. Roman collapsed back into his pillow. “Well, I’m going to sleep. Night, bro,” Remus mumbled from above. “Night,” Roman murmured. He looked at the singular word again and switched off the flashlight. “Hello” was one of, if not the most common soulmark in the world, because it was the most common greeting, regardless of language. At least there was that, Roman considered, his soulmate probably spoke English. But that wasn’t helpful. Remus was right, it was going to be hard to find his soulmate. Roman sighed and turned over onto his side. Okay, thought Roman, then I’ll just have to get creative.

It was common practice to try to use unique and specific greetings when meeting someone for the first time to cheat destiny and ensure an easier time finding their soulmate, but with as common a phrase as “hello”, Roman had to scrap all of his fantasies of grand romantic gestures and fairy tale meetings in favor of a way to guarantee his soulmate would recognize him. The plan was simple, if he was talking first to someone new, he stated his name first and foremost. Anyone he approached first, he greeted with “my name is Roman, nice to meet you.” The part where he got creative was with anyone who approached him first by saying “hello.” “Hello!” chirped his friendly new classmate in sixth grade. “If you were an insect, how long would it take you to die?” Roman asked immediately. The girl stared at him before replying shyly, “I don’t… know?” “Darn.” He always made sure to explain his tactic after using it to avoid further alienating new acquaintances. And thus he continued this way with every new person he met, always with a new and random question.

“Hello.” “If you could time travel, who would you meet?” “…Abraham Lincoln.” “Okay.”

“Hello.” “If you could make a new type of snowman that wasn’t made of snow, what would it be made of?” “Uh. Oranges?” “Cool.”

“Hello.” “If a bat flew into your house speaking with the voice of a cartoon, but claiming to be your best friend, what would you do?” “…What?”

Sophomore year, Roman and Remus were fifteen years old. Remus had already met his soulmate, Janus, and naturally, “um, wow” had been a response to Remus weirding him out, in addition to the realization that Remus was his soulmate. Roman, on the other hand was still trying to find his soulmate with random questions, but to no avail. The second semester had begun and Roman’s physics class was changing seats. Roman collapsed into his new spot next to a boy he knew to be Patton, but with whom he had not actually talked yet. Patton was wearing a blue t-shirt with a repeating cat pattern across it. His honey-brown hair was lightly curled, and a pair of round glasses were balanced on his freckle-covered nose. He smiled warmly at Roman. The teacher finished giving his instructions and let the class go to meet their new partners and get to work on their assignments. And thus the cycle began anew. Patton turned to Roman with a grin, “hello!” Roman huffed slightly as he quickly summoned a new question, “what’s your favorite musical?” he asked in lieu of a real greeting. Patton stared at Roman for a beat before raising a hand to his chin thoughtfully, and Roman knew that the boy probably didn’t have his question on his wrist. “Mamma Mia,” he answered finally. “ABBA. Good choice,” Roman chuckled. Patton giggled back, “Why do you ask anyway?” Roman showed Patton his wrist, and he nodded wonderingly, “I get it, you’re trying to have a unique greeting, because yours is so common.” “Bingo,” Roman said, slightly relieved that he didn’t have to explain it all again. “I’m guessing you don’t have my phrase, right?” Patton’s hair bounced as he shook his head. He presented his own wrist, marked with the word “Salutations” in unusually crisp font. “Ooh, you have a fancy soulmate,” Roman said, “that, or they’re a nerd. I’ve never seen such a professional-looking font.” “Me neither,” Patton giggled again. “At least ‘salutations’ isn’t a very frequently used greeting.” Roman nodded, “yes, a nerd like that will be easy to spot,” Roman joked. “I’m Roman by the way,” he said, suddenly unsure if Patton knew who he was or not. “Patton!” he replied with a quirk of his head and a broad smile. “Nice to meet you,” he was aware of the teacher surveying the class to see who was working and quickly added, “maybe we should get started.” Patton nodded and they set to work reading instructions and becoming friends.

Half-way through the first semester of senior year, Patton introduced Roman to his recently discovered soulmate, Logan. Upon meeting him, Roman remarked that he was exactly the kind of nerd he had expected when he had seen Patton’s “salutations” soulmark. He then lamented that he was once again left surrounded with people who had soulmates when he didn’t, at which point Logan informed his that “statistically speaking, most people meet their soulmates in their twenties or thirties.” “Thanks, pocket-protector, but that’s barely comforting. I have the most common phrase in the English language,” Roman complained. “Actually, according to most studies performed in the last 20 years, the most common phrase currently is ‘hi,’” Logan corrected him with a push of his glasses. Roman stared at him in disbelief and Patton giggled at his side.

“I’m telling you Roman, he’s actually really nice,” Patton assured him as they walked down the path towards Roman’s house. Both boys were bundled up in coats, their hands stuffed firmly in pockets to protect against the biting winter wind. Roman had a Christmas party coming up in a few days, and Patton was trying to convince him to invite the fairly anti-social kid who never got of his emo phase, Virgil. In all honesty, Roman didn’t care if Virgil came or not, plenty of Remus’s friends, who he didn’t know, were going, but Patton was determined to make Roman and Virgil friends, and as it was, Roman didn’t think he had anything in common with the emo. “I’m sure he is, Pat, but…” he hesitated, searching for some way to appease his friend without giving in. “But what?” Patton pressed, meanwhile physically pressing against his shoulder. “But you get along with everyone, and everyone loves you. You can find something in common with anyone no matter what,” Roman stalled. Patton’s eyes bore into him. “I on the other hand, don’t think I have anything in common with Virgil. I mean, he’s all surly and dark, and I’m a theater kid straight out of High School Musical,” he gestured grandly before his hand quickly retreated to the warmth of his pocket again. “Have you ever even talked to the guy?” “Well, no, but-” “Then how do you know you have nothing in common?” Patton’s voice lilted. He always gave off the vibe of a dad trying to get his child to try a new food or something. Roman shot him a side-eyed look, and Patton continued, “you like Disney, right? Well, it just so happens Virgil is into Disney, too! See? There is something you have in common?” “Yeah, sure, but… I mean, who doesn’t like Disney?” Patton just shrugged. Roman was being stubborn, but Patton knew he’d practically won. “All I ask is you let me introduce you to him at the party, okay? Just let him say hello. You can even ask him one of your weird questions.” Patton waved a gloved hand vaguely. Roman was suddenly aware that he seemed to know something Roman didn’t, but he ignored the feeling in favor of a childish groan. “Fine, you can bring him to party and introduce him to me,” defeat dripped from his voice, and Patton clapped in delight and cheered as they arrived on the doorstep of the house.

Some pop rendition of Jingle Bells played through the house as Roman made his way to the snack table. The table was draped with a festive table cloth covered in reindeer and sleighs, and it featured an impressive array of cookies and cupcakes and other holiday-themed treats. Most claimed that Roman and Remus overdid the party thing, but in truth it was mostly Roman. Classmates and friends milled around dancing, eating, and chatting happily. Roman picked out a tree-shaped cookie that he had made and started to make his way into the living room when he heard someone call his name. Roman turned to see Patton dragging a boy toward him, a broad grin decorated his face and, as usual, outshone the blinking Christmas light necklace he was wearing. They met just to the side of the entryway into the living room. “I know you said you hadn’t met yet, so Roman, this is Virgil,” he gestured to the boy standing next to him. His dyed purple bangs draped just down to his eyes, and he was wearing a dark purple sweater in place of his usual patchwork hoodie. Virgil watched Patton carefully, only looking at Roman when introduced by name. Virgil gave a wave so slight, Roman would have missed it if it was any smaller. His low voice was soft, and yet carried easily over the din of the party, “hello.” “Have you ever wanted to be a fly on the wall?” Roman said. His response was automatic. Replying to “hello” with a question had become an unconscious habit after doing it for so many years. Virgil stared. That was a standard reaction to Roman, he had hardly registered the question that had come out of his mouth. Patton’s further widening smile, however, was not a standard reaction. Roman then realized that Virgil’s stare was different from others as well. His gray eyes shone with shock instead of the confusion Roman was accustomed to. Suddenly becoming uncomfortable with the silence, he said “… What?” “… I’ve always wanted to ask, and I mean this sincerely, what the fuck kind of greeting is that” Virgil said finally as he started to tug down his sleeve, revealing the words on his wrist. Roman’s face lit up with astonishment and excitement. “No, I’ve never wanted to be a fly on the wall, but thanks to you, I’ve thought about it bordering on obsessively for almost eight years.” Roman finally broke out of his trance. “Oh my god, I can’t believe it worked,” he exclaimed as Virgil stared quizzically at him. Roman showed him his own wrist and explained the logic behind his seemingly random question. Suddenly a thought occurred to him, and he whirled on Patton. “You knew about this, didn’t you?” He shrugged innocently. “I knew that Virgil had a weird question on his wrist and that you have a tendency to ask such questions,” He grinned slyly, “I couldn’t be certain, but it was a pretty fair bet.” “You’re a mad genius,” Virgil cocked his head at Patton. Patton smiled brightly again, “I don’t know what you mean, kiddo, I’m just helping out where I can.” Roman shook his head and laughed, “alright, Pat, I’m sorry I ever doubted you.” “That’s fine, Roman,” Patton clapped him on the shoulder, “I’ve got to go find Logan, so you guys get to know each other,” Patton waved as he stepped away. Roman and Virgil turned to face one another and stared at each other in silence for a few moments. Roman wracked his brain for what to do next, and all he could come up with was, “So… Disney?”

[eliyah-de-dark]

Two Lies and A Truth part 2

Turns out the Startrain can get a person from London to Paris in what feels like a matter of minutes. Marinette waited on the platform, alone in a crowd of commuters, with her wide brim hat pulled down low over her face. She wore her hair down, a countermeasure against any old friends who might recognize her style, and opted for an equally unfamiliar white and pink sundress. She'd originally made it for her dream date with Adrien. Now it would meet one of the only friends she had left.

The train from London pulled in, and Felix Graham de Vanily was the first off. He wore his signature dark gray three piece suit, a white shirt making his skin seemed more tanned. He scanned the crowd, forcing people to move around him as his vibrant green eyes searched for her.

She wove a path through the crowd and grabbed his hand. "Hey," she said weakly.

He froze, taking in her changed appearance before speaking. "Your hair looks nice." He touched just the tip of her blue hair, admiring the length. "What prompted the change?"

Marinette's smile dropped. "Don't want to be recognized." Her voice was almost imperceptible in the din of the station.

The pair walked out hand in hand, Felix's heart racing where Marinette's barely caught her attention. Together they wove their way through Paris. Their only pause was with Andre Glacier to get ice cream, Andre's idea not theirs. Finally their meandering brought them to the bakery where they first truly met.

Sabine and Tom waved to the kids as they went up into the apartment. Marinette noticed her mother's calculating look while Felix caught her father's questioning gaze. The young man thought their journey would end in the living room, but Marinette kept his hand in her own until they'd climbed up into her pink painted room. The walls were nearly bare, with the crumpled up pictures of Adrien in her waste basket. Felix took good note of that.

In the safety of her room, Marinette started talking. She repeated a lot of what Felix already knew: how her class had been turned, how the teacher punished her when it wasn't her fault, about how she had only 3 people left in the whole city she could trust. When she brought up the arrival of Suzette, he could tell from the stormy expression of her face that this girl did more than bother Marinette.

"What do you care if she's Ladybug?" Felix asked, waving his hand as if to present the situation on a platter. "Sounds like she'll prove herself wrong soon enough."

"But she's put the entire school in danger!" Marinette cried. She slumped onto her chaise and sighed. "If Hawkmoth thinks anyone in François Dupont is his arch nemesis..." She didn't finish the sentence. She didn't have to. Felix had seen the chaos akumas caused, and if it weren't for the Ladybug Cure, everyone in Paris would be dead ten times over.

He nodded, and Marinette sighed with relief. She wanted to tell him the real reason, that she was the one suffering stolen identity here, but she couldn't. She thought of Master Fu's threat. Being Ladybug was stressful, sure, but it was one of the best things in her life right now.

Their phones buzzed simultaneously. Felix had his out first, sparing Marinette the trouble. Nadia Chamack's face filled the screen completely. "Don't be bemused, it's just the news. On this special report, we have Alya Cesaire live in our studio to talk about a remarkable post she's put on her Ladyblog." The camera switched to show the red haired girl Marinette used to call friend. As the audience applauded, the pair in a pink room sat on Marinette's chaise.

"Thanks for having me, Madame Chamack." At least she had her manners. "I'm a big fan of yours."

Nadja laughed and made a little dismissive gesture. "If you're a fan of mine, then you know here at the station we love our Ladybug, and your blog has been a key source of information on her. Let's show the audience what you posted today that's sweeping our city!"

Nadia's large screens showed Alya close up in the frame, breathing heavily. "How unbecoming." Felix scrunched his nose in disgust while Marinette laughed.

The video showed Alya rushing back to her seat where across from her sat...Ladybug? The costume was fairly well made, superior to Chloe's in many ways. There was still the glaring issue of a zipper on the back and her mask slowly dropping on the left side.

The two began talking like old friends, Alya crediting Lila for getting the interview squared away. Felix watched Marinette as her face switched from shock to horror.

Once the Ladybug interview had wrapped up, Nadja began asking questions about the whos, whats, wheres and whens of the impromptu video. "Lila, my best friend," Alya emphasized that title like she knew Marinette was watching, "promised me an interview with LB, and it turns out Ladybug is wonderful in and out of costume!" She pasted a surprised look on her face and murmured, "Oh, I shouldn't have said that." in such a perfect copy of Lila that Marinette searched for a wig line or something.

"In and out of costume? Does that mean - hold on, you know who Ladybug is?" Nadja had real shock on her face, and if the camera had turned then Felix imagined the audience would have that same look too.

Alya smiled sweetly. "I couldn't say."

The interview continued, but Felix set his phone away. Marinette was shaking now, and he put an arm around her. She leaned on his shoulder, her body slowing to matching his heartbeat. He rested his head on top of hers and took a deep breath. She smelled like strawberries, glue, and mint.

Now he jumped up and paced. Her eyes followed back and forth as he moved, pausing every so often to muse on a particular idea.

"I've got it." He smiled, a devious grin that split his face like a demon.

Marinette listened with rapt attention.

-

"Blast Master, I am Hawkmoth. You want to expose the truth about Lila Rossi and save your friend. I'm giving you the power to control explo-"

"That's a no on the name."

"I beg your pardon?"

"Then beg."

"...what is happening?"

"Listen, you're right about why I'm pissed, and I'll gladly take the explosion power, but I'm not calling myself Blast Master."

"I...suppose?"

"Excellent, glad we're on the same page."

-

Suzette Lambert basked in the attention of her schoolmates like a cat basks in the sun. Lila was right, she mused, these idiots are too easy. Only two weeks and she had near god like worship. She almost didn't regret transferring out of her private English school.

The two people who didn't immediately succumb to her will were Chloe Bourgeois and Marinette Dupain-Cheng. Chloe made snide comments here and there but hardly went toe to toe with the new queen of the school. It helped that literally anytime she tried, either that nuisance Alya would snap at her or the teacher would gently redirect the class.

Her teal eyes caught sight of the little pariah, who'd snuck in early and taken her spot at the farthest desk in the room. Marinette never spoke. Not even when the teacher called on her. When she'd asked, Lila bemoaned, "Oh Mari? She's just the worst. She's always so mean to me and everyone hates her for it. I wouldnt even bother talking to her."

Suzette couldn't say it was hard to get on Lila's bad side, but that seemed a bit extreme. It all made sense after her little "slip-up" though.

It was the Italian's idea to say she was the heroine. "Trust me, no one will even question it." As much as Suzette hated to admit it, Lila was right. Everyone latched onto the biggest lie of her life and now the royal treatment was just a standard. The only bad reaction she got was Dupain-Cheng running out of the room. That was weird on so many levels, but Suzette ignored it.

Class was going smoothly until the volley of ringtones interrupted the lesson.

"An akuma?"

"It's just down the street!"

"Hold up Alix, let me see!"

Suzette checked her phone, lazily scanning the report of a dancing harlequin-style akuma moving steadily towards François Dupont.

"Go suit up, Suzette!"

She looked at Alya with a tired expression. "What?"

The reporter pointed her cellphone at Suzette. "Don't you need to transform? To defeat the akuma?" Her quizzical look spread like a virus through the class.

"I can't." She needed to think, quick. "The Guardian took my miraculous for safe keeping." She mentally congratulated herself for the excuse.

Nino spoke up next. "Why?"

"Repairs."

"Why would a miraculous need repairs?" And why was Kim of all people chiming in?

"Oh puh-lease." Now came Chloe Bourgeois. She sat on her desk and ignored Madame Bustier's reprimand as she continued. "Obviously she can't because she isn't Ladybug." Sabrina nodded vigorously, the nasty little cockroach.

Alya naturally spoke next, loud enough to give the queen standing next to her a headache. "No one asked you, Chloe." She snapped. "Why dont you keep your opinions to yourself?"

"Why dont you you little gossip rag wannabe?"

Wow, Suzette thought. That's an interesting shade of red in Alya's face.

Chloe turned those sky blue eyes back to her rival. "What form does your miraculous take? Or better yet, what's mine?" She leaned forward, her head tilted as if to listen for an answer.

Suzette crossed her arms. "Why would I care about yours?"

"Because you're the one that gives it to me, Ladybug. And I know for a fact if you were the real Ladybug, you would've kept your mouth closed about your identity."

No one noticed Marinette in the back of the room staring wide eyed at Chloe.

"Who are you to talk to me like that?!" Suzette yelled. Lila grabbed her arm, locking her in place. "You're just the mayor's spoiled brat who only cares about herself!" Chloe smiled at Suzette's words. The audacity.

"Maybe, but at least I'm honest."

Another insult began forming in the mind of the false Ladybug when the door came off its hinges with an explosion.

((@goblinwhoships @ml-cartoons @enchanted-nerd since you three specifically requested being tagged, here you go))

((Yeah so people really seemed to like part one. That's pretty hekking neat. Hopefully part 2 can live up to the hype))

[arjsstuff]

Memories with Pkyek

My introduction to Pyaar Ki Ye Ek Kahani or PKYEK as we all called it started with the amazing introduction promos I watched several times on star one. I remember watching one of the trailers of PKYEK on star one when I was in 5th grade which is almost 11 years back. I was casually switching channels and I saw this ad, mysterious, the tone of the ad was pretty dark, a curly haired girl and a blue eyed guy and he saves her from getting hit by a car. It was strangely so beautiful and the words “math aao mere kareeb, aag hu main jal jaogi” was clearly stuck in my head and this was a promo a week before the serial released.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=JM1Cq62uJcY

I think the serial was scheduled to air from 18th October 2010 which was 2 days before my birthday and although I decided I have to watch this I could not watch it for some reason and I forgot about this serial. One day in class my bench mate and then close friend started talking to me about this serial and I immediately told her how much I loved the promo and she asked me to watch the episodes at 8:30 and if I missed it she also told me the re-broadcast timings which was sometime in the evening. I was like yeah sure since she strongly recommended it to me I would definitely watch it. So I was almost 7-8 episodes late and the first episode I watched was Abhay-Piya's first dance and the first scene I watched was Haseena telling Abhay to control himself on their party night near a small bridge kind of place and then the dance followed. 

OMG I must tell how it was one of the best dances I had ever seen on TV serial, it was so magical, especially the way they both were so lost in each other’s eyes and he ensured her torn dress wasn’t visible to anyone and also they danced on to kuch khaas hai song which was such a great song and it ended with the signature Mahiyaa tune. It instantly got me hooked to and I watched it religiously every day. My mom did not want me to watch teen romance Hindi TV serial so I literally had to change channels to Hungama every time she came to the hall XD. Since PKYEK was such a phenomena at school I made so many friends and the best part about pkyek is wherever I went after school for example junior college, Uni, my cousins friends etc all became my friends because of how we all watched pkyek LOL. 

Anyway so I got my really studious friend Z into watching it and she was this person who never watched TV but once she say Abhay she was hopelessly in love with that guy. I cringe when I think we all went through this in 5th grade, I mean how were we all swooning over him like proper teenagers. Anyway one day she went to the library and found his picture on some magazine and she told me and I literally ran to the library to get a hold of it but there were so many people already holding it and finally I got a glimpse of Abhay Raichand’s photo and a short interview by Vivian D'sena. I think she started getting so addicted to pkyek that her mom did not like it and she sometimes called me n my landline to talk about it lol. One day there was this class in school where we weren’t supposed to talk so her and I wrote whatever we had to talk on my notebook along with my friend D and the full chat was about Z, D and me swooning over Abhay, while letting A have Abhay and us mostly us teasing her with him. The chats were extremely funny so I tore them from my book and gave it to my senior in my school bus to read it, and when her stop came, before she got down she handed over the papers to me. I think my bad luck was super great that day and my bus teacher, who was this very this strict language teacher who 7-8th grade students caught her passing the papers onto me and asked me to hand it over to her. I immediately put them into my bag and tried tearing them into pieces while she kept screaming to hand it over to her. In the end I had to hand over one part of the chat which was quite dangerous considering we were only 5th graders going crazy about an actor and talking like late teens but I managed to save the dangerous part in my bag. This ***** ma’am read it and literally told me that she would hand it over to my school’s head teacher and she did that the very next day. Why can’t teachers get a life? 

Anyway the next day I came to class and told everyone about this and my extra sweet friends told me not to worry about it. In between an afternoon class, the peon came and called Z first, we thought maybe she got called for some extra circular activity, but when the peon came again and called me I knew I was dead. I went into the head teacher's room and she had almost got screwed and I was next in line and I somehow told even D was a part of this convo and even she got called. The other girls in my class were actually worried cuz they knew what was happening. And later head teacher screwed all of us and I guess Z cried on her way to class and then the head teacher let me and D go to class but we were so shameless, after getting a earful we could not stop laughing and literally lmaoed in the corridor before entering the class. This whole thing kind of strained my friendship with Z, and we weren’t the best of friends anymore but D and I still stuck close.

My school had this weird system where there was a girls and boys corridor and the girl’s corridor was pretty cool since it was on the left side and was closer to the trees while the right corridor used by guys was where the teachers entered the class from. So in these corridors we always role played and for some reason I was always Abhay even though I wanted to be Piya (I’m guessing it was because Of my short hair and being an serious faced person generally) and a lot of my friends were Piya and this friend of mine who was crazy about guys was called tracker and my friend D was Misha and we used to randomly dance to songs and recall the dialogues from the previous episodes, do the remoe juliet skit from pkyek and all sorts of things.

The background music on Pkyek is seriously so legendary and is among one of my favourite bgm tracks for a hindi serial. I would personally rate it number one and it had been my ringtone for 3 years. I tried looking for the Mahiyaa singer and the official song but I could not find it anywhere and mostly found only the recorded copies played in the serial. In my school bus I had seniors who I was very very close to because of pkyek and we always sung the background music, it’s so funny how we knew all the background music from pkyek by heart and remembered it perfectly and were in sync. I started singing this usually in my class as well and my friends hummed along.

Times of India and this other newspaper which I can’t recall had this section where TV channel broadcast programs were listed every day and this tiny picture from random TV shows was displayed on top of it. Whenever there was a pkyek picture all our friends used to literally fight over a picture that was probably 1*1 cms, very very tiny and even the quality wasn’t great but if you opened my pencil pouch on any random day you would find at least 10-15 of them LOL (I’ve lost all of them now).

found this from https://thereandtheir.wordpress.com/tag/indian-tv-serial/ the tv listing was similar but it was a bit different

I already mentioned how strict my mom was back then so I had to watch the re broadcast since I couldn’t watch the episodes fully at 8:30 PM. I had to wake up around midnight or early morning to watch it. I remember my parent’s thinking I sleep walked because my parents found me in hall instead of my room on odd mornings. It was quite the life with the box TV since I had to sit so close to it and the volume had to be on 1 or 2 since I could not wakeup people at home while watching it. One of the benefits of waking up early to watch this was also that I could see the newest promos on TV and I was always the first one in class to tell what the new promos were about. I remember telling my friends some of the coolest Pkyek promos like the vampire reveal one which in my opinion is still the best promo for a Hindi TV serial (I think Parvati introduction promo for Mahadev on Lifeok is a close second) and the promo where Abhay bites her and many more. I remember revealing this to my friends and my friends rushing home and switching on star one and waiting for the promos to appear and calling me to tell how amazing those promo were.

I remember how this one time I went to my senior A's house and we created fake Ouija board to call spirits. So we called her dead grandmother's spirit and she asked if the creepy guy in her class who was obsessed with her would stop annoying her and I immediately remembered the pkyek scene where Panchi asks maithli on the Ouija board if Danish would ever get punished. I don't know who's idea it was to play with it but it certainly had to do something with pkyek.

Those were really the fun times of my life. Pkyek is and will always be the most memorable serial for me. It’s not like we can expect great cg and VFX for a vampire serial and it in no way could be another vampire dairy or twilight (not to forget EK produced it) but the story and the writing was really amazing. I was a huge sucker for Abhay-Piyas chemistry and the supporting cast were literally the best!

[sunarintoes]

Dear Whoever: [Oikawa]

Synopsis: two broken strangers hold a mutual understanding of each other as they silently complete jigsaw puzzles together every Wednesday afternoon.

WC: 4K

TW: mental health issues, reader sucks at math, swearing, angst (but a lot of fluff) please do not read if you feel uncomfortable by these themes. Also: this fic has nothing to do with volleyball and is set in a clinic for mental health

Note: this is in no way meant to romanticise mental health issues, it is simply a story of a person (reader) who is struggling with their mental health and eventually gets better through the silent support of a friend she makes (Oikawa)

18/6/2020

Dear diary?

Is that how I'm supposed to start these entries off? I'm not sure. Well, uh...today I went to see a psychologist for the first time. Her name is Mary and she gave me this book, told me to try it out and write in it as much as possible. I feel awkward though. I don't think I'll use this.

Until next time,

Yn

30/6/2020

So uh… hi?

My therapist told me to write here even if I'm not sad? So if something memorable happens. I don't know honestly. This is way too awkward. Maybe I'll get used to this. Maybe not?

Cya,

Yn

18/7/2020

I stayed true to my words, I really haven't written here that much. I'm doing good and I don't think there's anything wrong with me! I'm not sure why I'm being forced to go to therapy. I feel how I feel and it doesn't matter! I know there are people worse off than me and I don’t have the right to feel sad - I have a good family, good friends, go to a nice school and I have money (or well, my parents do). So why should I feel sad? And I just have a resting bitch face. It's not called being ‘depressed’ or whatever.

Asides from all that, the only reason I haven't kicked up a huge fuss about being forced to be interrogated is the fact that every Wednesday - the day I visit my psychologist, there's always the same cute boy sitting in the same seat opposite me, not to mention the same somber expression he wears.

I'm not sure why, but I feel oddly connected to him. As if our minds are connected and in tune. I feel like I know him and he knows me. I've been reading too many books. Lol! There's no way we have that connection. Besides, I've only seen him about 4 times. Yeah, I'm definitely making this up in my sad, lonesome head.

Farewell for now,

Yn

21/7/2020

Dear diary,

I saw him again. I still don't know his name. But today he looked up at me and smiled a bit, I tried to smile back but I probably just looked angry. Not that I have a problem smiling or that I'm angry or upset. I'm just stuck on default - stuck with a heavy frown on my face.

Sincerely

Yn

29/7/2020

It's a shame, really; I've spent so long trying so hard to get better. And I do want to get better, but it’s not easy. If I'm being honest, I thought I was getting better but when the quarantine hit I began to bottle things up again. Not seeing my feelings, having them buried deep beneath - locked away in the deepest pits of my heart… well, it was soothing in a sense. That way they did not exist, they were forgotten. I didn't have to deal with them. But I forgot the most important thing of all, ‘with good comes bad’ they say, I wish I had listened - to myself and to those around me, that bottling up feelings is really the worst thing to do. Because the longer you ignore them, the stronger they grow and the darker they get. I'm an idiot; really. I was a coward, too scared of my untamed, ugly feelings to face them head on, too scared to ask for support to help me face them. So here I am now, wallowing in the depths of my despair with an increasingly depressing inner monologue, typing this out in tune with it. I'm really bashing myself up, bottling up is the most harmful way to inflict violence upon one’s self, and I'm really feeling it. My brain hurts from narrating my problems and inner thoughts - it’s working overtime as a sort of coping mechanism. But what hurts the most - what burns the most, is my ever dry throat and teary eyes. Having to swallow the ever present lump that happens to make itself comfortable right at the back of my throat seems to really suck the moisture out of my mouth, hence my dry throat. My eyes really sting, the tears come and go, and boy, let me tell you - it takes so much strength to fight them. To stop them from rolling down as they would wish to. Feeling the tears well up and then forced to go away really burns. I'm not sure why; I do know that despite not having cried even once, my eyes burn as if I havent stopped crying since last week.

As dramatic as this is, this is how I feel. Quite underwhelming considering I've been harboring such strong, hating and dangerous feelings to myself since march. Though, this is my first time letting these frustrations out. I'm glad I've finally realised the burdens I carry. There's not much I can do.

See you next time,

Yn

2/8/2020

Hi,

Didn't expect to write that much in here but shit has been going down this week. Today my math teacher kept me in to tell me that I failed my math test, she told me that it was irresponsible of me to get as low as I got. The whole time she scolded me, I felt uncomfortable and like I could cry - I was close too, the tears were forming in my eyes. She asked me if I was planning on dropping maths, she basically suggested for me to drop maths. Oh! She also told me that I had to stop drawing in my book and that it was preventing me from learning because apparently ‘if you draw that just proves to me that you have no idea what's going on and you don't want to ask questions.’ and I'll give her that, I don’t - to both things.

The seats are so close it makes me anxious, I don't want everyone around me to know that I don't understand math! And besides, I seriously do not understand it so she'd have to sit with me the entire lesson to explain everything… I think there's something wrong with me.

Until next time,

Yn

3/8/2020

Hey, me again.

It’s still slightly weird to vent into a little diary but I'm getting there I guess. I'm so frustrated! Today has been the worst fucking day that I've ever experienced. For starters, I did double math for periods one and two, and then we got our tests back and I failed :) yep 23%!

I'm just soooo happy. If I'm being honest I don't care anymore. Maths is hard and no matter how much I study I fail at it. There's no point in me even trying now. I give up. What's worse is we had a substitute teacher and when she handed out the papers she gave my paper to some other girl in the class - who then of course, proceeded to have a fit about how bad the test is and that the tests were definitely mixed up. Well, they were but did she really have to explain to the whole class about how bad the score is? It was embarrassing to have to put my hand up and get the paper - my test, handed to me. It felt like everyone’s eyes were burning holes into my body. Right then and there I had a panic attack - I had already felt on edge since yesterday but the test conforming results plus the fact that everyone knew how badly I scored tipped me over the edge. I felt the tears well up but I pushed them back - refusing to show everyone how weak and pathetic I am.

I excused myself to the bathroom and cried a little before texting my friends and telling them that I was about to have a meltdown. Unfortunately they weren't online and didn't respond, I had to go back to class anyway.

When the break came, I left to go back to the bathroom - my tears were still clouding my vision and I couldn't get rid of them. I think I may be superstitious but while I was walking I was stuck behind the girls who saw my test - they were talking about their tests. I didn't really care but then one of them said ‘how much do you need to pass?’ and the others just laughed, so she continued and said ‘seriously! Is 24 percent a pass?’ this made the other girls laugh even harder, it felt like a slap to the face. Like they were indirectly mocking me. The same girl then said ‘surely 25 percent’ which again, was met with laughter.

It really hurt. Even if I was just overreacting. Surely not. They had to be talking about me. Why else would they talk about low test grades when they are literally on to top of the class.

I just want to disappear.

Sincerely,

Yn

8/8/2020

I dropped my Ipad today - twice if I may add. I cried when it hit the floor, the protective screen shattering into small, sharp pieces. The ‘up’ volume button is stuck and can no longer be used, neither can the ‘on/off’ button. Guess I can only use the home button to turn it on and wait for it to go to sleep if I don't want to use it. I'm kinda fed up with life. I want to be taken away. I don't care how far I go. I just want to leave.

Not soKindly,

Yn

14/8/2020

Dear Diary,

Today has been alright, I made mini cookies which helped put a smile on my face. Ever since the first time I exploded in this diary, I've felt a humongous weight lift off of my shoulders. Picture this, a single person holding up 50 tonnes of bricks and then telling themself and everyone around them ‘I’m fine! I can do this! I don't need help!’ but then one day, the person feels even more bricks pile up which becomes overloaded and they can't keep it up anymore. So they begin to crumble under all the pressure and the weight until they just explode! After their explosion a new person appears out of nowhere and helps them hold the stack of bricks. It is not that lighter, but it's the extra support - the extra pair of hands helping keep the first person stand straight, that really means something. I'm not sure if that makes sense but it’s how I can describe how I feel. Still feels heavy in my chest, but this time it just feels a bit lighter - like the world isn't entirely against me.

From,

Yn

30/8/2020

Dear Diary

When I went to the clinic earlier this week, something unexpected happened. The cute boy - who i like to call my ‘Therapy Buddy’ pointed over to the small table where a bunch of unfinished puzzles lay. I was confused at first but still walked over there. We sat down opposite each other and offered small smiles to one another. And without saying anything we finished off the jigsaw puzzles until we had to part ways.

For the first time in a while, I felt calm - as if my nerves were soothed. Maybe I should upgrade his name to ‘Miracle Buddy’ because I am 100% sure the reason I felt at peace was his doing - his presence.

Until next time,

Yn

7/9/2020

Dear Diary,

Therapy Buddy and I completed the jigsaw puzzles again today; no words were exchanged. I think he’s cute. I don't have a crush on him. I literally don't know him. I just like being in his presence. And besides, we've only done this twice. Who's to say we'll do it next week?

Cya,

Yn

15/9/2020

Whats up bitch Diary

Haha. Therapy Buddy is definitely smart. He was so quick to complete a 200 piece puzzle! I barely helped… he's cute when he concentrates as well. Oh yeah, we did end up doing them today. I noticed he also carries a diary with him. Maybe he writes in it like I do? Who knows. I hope he's written about me… I mean he probably hasn't but who knows, am I right?

Sincerely

Yn

21/9/2020

Hey Diary,

I'm really struggling going to school, I find it hard to concentrate in math class. Actually yeah, I like going to school but it's when I step into the math class, when I go in I feel my chest tighten and my throat dry. I have spoken with my parents a lot. They said I can drop maths if I want to. I'm still not sure what I want to do in the future but I have a faint idea: a psychologist or an artist. I need maths for psychology I think. I'm not sure. I think I'll just stick with it and hope next year goes better.

From,

Yn

29/9/2020

I look forward to going to the clinic. It no longer feels like an interrogation now that I walk in with an open mind. I'm still not getting much better with maths so I asked to be dropped down a level and now that i'm in a new classroom, a new environment, i feel less nervous. Maybe i’ll be able to get at least something done.

Kindly,

Yn

12/10/2020

This is a disaster, the other week when Therapy Buddy and I were sitting together - in comfortable silence might I add, we mixed our diaries! I can't believe this. I didn't realise until I got home! I had no ways of contacting him either. I hope he didn't read through it. If he did, I'm in trouble, I'm not doing good. I feel sick in my stomach and my throat is constricting. Ok I'm going to go, I'm having a panic attack just remembering.

Until next time

Yn

13/10/2020

Hey Diary!

In the midst of panic yesterday, I missed an important detail. Therapy Buddy left his name and phone number in my book. He must have opened up to write in it only to realise it wasn't his book. I hope. I'm a bit scared to text him. He has a pretty name - Oikawa Toru.

If I'm going to be honest, I read a little of his diary! I couldn't help it, I just wanted to write my feelings but I opened up on his latest entry, I read it and I shouldn't have. I feel a bit guilty but now, more than ever, I feel closer to him. He's feeling a similar way to me.

Yeah, I think I'll go for it. I think I'll text him.

Sincerely,

Yn

20/10/2020

What's up Diary!?

I'm glad I texted Toru! Since then we've been texting non stop but we've made a promise - to not speak to each other in person until we’re both doing better. That's fine with me. I just know my voice would betray me if I decided to chat him up in person. I've found a sense of comfort with Toru, he's no longer just my Therapy Buddy (although that's his contact name), he's now my friend who I can seek comfort in, and he seeks comfort in me too. I hate to say it, but I think I may have a small crush on him. This is a pain in the ass, I really hope I don't. He's just my friend. He's just my friend. He's just my friend. He's just my friend. But he’s really cute

Kind regards,

Yn

25/10/2020

Hey diary,

I'm feeling a lot mentally better, I wish I had realised sooner that going to therapy was helpful. Having someone who just listens to you and doesn't give their input unless you want it is soothing. I'm not as anxious to go to math class, of course I'm still trying but I've adopted the mindset: what's done is done, all I can do is look forward.

I have good news about Toru. Today he said to me ‘when I’m ready I want to love you and for you to love me.’ I know I don’t love him but I’m not an idiot, I know I have some more-than-friends feelings towards him.

From,

Yn

27/11/2020

Dear Diary,

Things have been really looking up for me. Im feeling a lot happier and the weight in my chest is a lot lighter. I almost feel free. I've been thinking of career paths a lot lately. I think I want to be a psychologist. If it weren't for Mary, who knows where I would be now. Thanks to her I've been able to feel better and do better. I want to be like her. I want to be able to help people through their problems - whether it be a minor inconvenience or a major one, because I know how it feels. I understand what it feels like to have the whole world against you - as if every force and person in the universe were working unanimously together to bring me down, ‘but I survived and so can you.’ That's what I will tell them. And also ‘We can get through this together,’ and let's not forget ‘this will be challenging so we both have to put in 100 percent to getting better!’

Sincerely

Yn

12/12/2020

Hey diary,

I am full of joy.

Today Toru texted me and asked me if i wanted to spend New Years Eve with him! I said yes and were going to go to the park to have a picnic and watch the fireworks! I'm so excited. I hope he is too! I just cannot wait.

Oh yeah! I can't believe i haven't written it in until now! I've just been so happy and excited and wow but the two of us went out to a cafe and he bought me a drink - we still haven't exchanged words and spent the whole time sitting next together while texting.

In that moment I felt so happy, I knew that this is the guy I want to be with. I have a crush on him and wow... I it feels good to get that off my chest and out into the open,,, I wonder if he’s ready? It doesn’t matter, I’ll wait as long as I have to because Toru is special and I don’t want to lose him.

It is New Years Eve and I have made plans to catch up with Toru, he's going to pick me up at my house and together we’ll walk to the nature park where we’ll spend the night having a picnic and being in each other’s presence. In my small bag I have snacks and drinks packed, along with some board games - why not? After all, I'm planning on confessing to him tonight and I thought doing it while engaging in one of the things that brought us together was the way to go.

There is a timid knock on the door and I quickly run to answer it.

As soon as I open the door I’m met with a cardboard poster with the words ‘Happy New Years Eve, Yn!!’ written in big, large letters. I smile as I look at it, Toru definitely was not an artistic person but the thought was sweet and made my heart swell. I pull out my phone and text him a thank you before receiving one back from him; ‘you look extra beautiful… Yn.’

I read the text a few times before my brain finally gets the message, a large smile creeps up onto my face and I hear him try to stifle a laugh.

I turn away from Toru and yell out ‘bye bye! I'll see you tonight!!’

When I turn back I see Toru reaching out his hand; as if he were asking me to hold it.

Toru’s hand is pretty, our fingers are linked together and they rest comfortably. Nothing feels forced, it all feels natural. I look up at him and wonder if he feels the same, as if he knew what I was thinking when he squeezes my hand. Yeah, we definitely have some strange connection.

We spend the whole journey to the park texting, and as much as I love texting him and hearing him quietly chuckle during conversations it no longer feels like enough. I want more. As greedy and selfish as that sounds. I know I said I would wait for him - as long as it would take, but I'm getting impatient. Tonight i'm going to speak to him… I hope he does as well.

The park is beautiful, the flowers are trees surrounding the border and trap out the outside world. It almost feels like I'm in a magical fairy realm - or something like that.

We found a spot near a garden bed and I noticed the arrangement of flowers fairly quickly. I find it funny, the flowers almost represent everything i feel for Toru - maybe our meeting was indeed, fate and maybe this was fate telling me to confess.

I pull out a 5000 piece jigsaw and text ‘wanna play?’ which Toru of course agrees.

I have had fun, all night we’ve spent playing various games and eating snacks. We still haven't spoken and that's getting me down. I can't help the intrusive thoughts - ‘does he not like me?’ ‘he's not ready’ ‘you're just a friend.’ I try to push them out of my head but before I crumble I find a new thought: ‘maybe he's just too shy to make the first move.’

That is, it was up to me and it was the perfect time to confess - ten minutes until the new year. I quickly got up and made an impromptu bouquet of the flowers that resided next to us.

Shaking, I turned towards him. “Hey… i’m Ln Yn and this is for you…” I handed him the bouquet and tried my best to ignore the look on his face - I couldn't tell if it was shock out of happiness or anger, “you asked to know the meanings right?” I move closer to him and point out a flower, “well, see that flower? It's a light purple lilac that resembles young love… and this one here, it's called a belledonne which means silence, this one’s a begonia - representing dark thoughts, oh and this one! It's a pink camellia which symbolises longing - particularly longing for a romantic relationship with the receiver, and this daisy right here means innocence and hope. And lastly, the hibiscus represents delicate beauty.’ I swallowed a lump in my throat as I looked up at him, I didn't realise how close I got to him - our lips were mere centimeters away.

‘Hey… I'm Oikawa Toru and I like you too. Why don't we give a relationship a try?’

I smile. I smile so large I feel my cheeks hurt. This, this is the happiest i've ever been. ‘I’d like that.’ Toru smiles with me, he’s beautiful, even with the dak thoughts plaguing his mind.

‘I like your voice’ we say to each other before laughing.

‘Wow.. we really said that at the same time huh?’ he laughs. Instead of responding I grab a hold of his hand once more and squeeze it. ‘It’s kinda annoying, I wanted to confess first…’

‘Not my fault. Bet it wouldn't have been as romantic as what I did.’

‘So telling me the meanings of flowers is romantic?’

I gasp as he doubles over in laughter and without realising we fell into an easy conversation - much like one we would have over text. Everything with Toru felt natural.

The fireworks go off signalling the beginning of the new year, Toru leans in closer and his eyes don't leave mine.

‘Hey,’ he says softly, ‘can I kiss you?’ I gulp and nod, within seconds his lips were delicately pressed against mine, they were soft and smooth - even if they were slightly chapped. They felt natural against my lips. The kiss was short and sweet. Deciding that it wasn't enough to satisfy me, I went back in after we pulled apart and we both smiled into the kiss - our lips passionately moving together, like two jigsaw pieces that were made for each other.

When we pull back, Toru drags me into his chest and says, ‘I'm ready to love you.’

Taglist: @ladyrenart

Hushudhidwhuwihahuaf ïm im sorry this is horrible and I definitely don’t plan on using this style of writing anytime soon! I promise the rest of the series will be written nicely !

[maximumjinx]

Ladybug’s Finale Chapter 3

1, 2

Adrien woke up the next morning before daylight, which wasn’t unusual for him. It felt a little lonely without Plagg snuggled next to him (because despite his outward nature the kwami did, in fact, like to cuddle). He had said his good-byes to the black cat after Ladybug swung him to his window, and knew it wouldn’t be for long. 

Adrien quietly got dressed, favoring a plain black t-shirt and dark green joggers instead of the usual designer clothing Nathalie would lay out for him. This felt far more comfortable. He wrote a quick note to Nathalie that he would be going to school early for study group, then had Gorilla drop him off at the front steps. The sun just began to rise above the city skyline, and as soon as the coast was clear Adrien began his walk to the address only 3 blocks away. 

It...was a massage parlor. Had Ladybug given him the right address? Before he could knock, a small black mass flew through the door and into Adrien’s neck, the door opening moments after. 

“Kid, I know it’s necessary but Shelly here doesn’t like to snuggle and I miss that big, fluffy bed of yours.” Plagg whined, already nestling comfortably into Adrien’s hair. 

The Guardian smiled kindly from the doorway, a small green kwami looking unamused at Plagg’s antics. 

“My name is not Shelly, and you stink of Camembert.” He spoke, small paw over his nose in disgust. 

“Now boys, I won’t tolerate bickering.” The Guardian turned, motioning Adrien to come inside. “It’s nice to see you again Chat Noir. Ladybug filled me in when she dropped the black cat miraculous here last night.”

Adrien quietly wandered in, taking in the surroundings. 

“Yeah, uh- yes.” Plagg gently nudged his cheek. “I want to be a better Chat Noir, one that can stand by Ladybug’s side with pride.”

“You’ve been having trouble lately?” 

“I...got in my own way. I had a lot of feelings that I couldn’t work out, and I put it on Ladybug to deal with them. I see now it wasn’t fair to do that. I don’t want to be a hinderance to her.” She’s probably the only one to really care about me. 

Adrien didn’t know what else to say.

“Training is not easy. You will become tired, and sore. More so than you currently are.”

“I still want to do it. I need to.” Adrien was determined, he had managed to skip and get out of extra activities before, and if he’s quite honest, he feels no more motivation to please his father. 

“Good.” Master Fu nodded, and brought him to a small room in the back of the parlor. Mats lined the floor, there were staffs, sand bags, and other gym equipment neatly organized on the back wall. 

“It is not the training rooms of the temple, but it will do.” Fu walked up to Adrien, hand clasped tightly around something. 

“I usually do not tolerate when a holder reveals their identity. It becomes too dangerous.” Adrien held his breath. “You made the choice knowing it could end with the miraculous being taken from you. Yet you are here, making the effort to be worthy of it once again.” 

Fu smiled, a glint in his eye. “I knew I picked a good Chat Noir.”

Adrien let out his air in relief. Then stood straighter. 

“Please Master, give me everything you’ve got. I have caused Ladybug too much trouble to get off this easily.” He patted Plagg’s head. “I’ve got catching up to do.”

~~

For a 186 year old man, the Guardian was incredibly spritely. Adrien winced, his thighs aching with each step he took up the school steps. The foyer was clear of students, most already in classes as the bell was going to ring any moment. Adrien took his time up the stairs, thoroughly exhausted before the day really began. He entered his classroom just as the bell rang. 

The class gave him a confused look. He looked tired, he was in sweats, his hair was messy from Plagg nuzzling in it all morning, and most of all, he completely ignored Lila and her friends in the front row to climb to the last row in the back. He sat next to Marinette, who looked at him with wide eyes, and gave her a small smile while Bustier began class. 

He would’ve relished in the reactions more if he didn’t immediately pass out during the first lecture. 

He was gently poked awake an hour later. 

He opened one eye, Marinette watching him with furrowed brows and a finger still to his cheek. 

“It’s only been five minutes into break and everyone keeps staring.”

“Including you, I see.” Adrien grinned, and lifted his head off the desk, stretching. Marinette cheeks flushed for a moment, the hem of his shirt rising just enough to see a sliver of abdomen. 

(She may not have the same feelings for Adrien, but she was still human damn it.)

“Why are you sitting back here?” She asked, when he settled.

“Well-”

“Adrien, why are you sitting up there?” Nino called, already making his way up as Bustier left for their small break.

Alya and Lila weren’t far behind. Alya gave Marinette a small smile, but stayed close by Rossi’s side. 

“Adrien, I thought you were going to help me with my notes, you know how bad my wrist is!” Lila pouted, rubbing her arm tentatively. The rest of the class watched on, curious to the blonde’s unusual actions.

Adrien only shrugged. He felt sudden relief in not feeling the need to please his father, and in turn not having to please any that he didn’t care for. 

“Marinette is my friend, and I wanted her to keep me company. Lila has her hearing issue,” he narrowed his eyes at the girl, but continued on, “so I came to the back. Worked in a nap too, felt nice.”

The class began to murmur.

“That’s not like you dude, you never slack off in school.” Nino looked even more confused. Lila gasped dramatically.

“Is Marinette a bad influence on you Adrien? Just because she's late to class and with schoolwork doesn’t mean you should follow suit!” 

Marinette’s stare suddenly dulled, and her lips sealed tightly. Adrien however, wasn’t going to let that slide. Not anymore.

“Marinette is the second best student in this class, right behind Max. She always has been.” Adrien crossed his arms in front of his chest. “She’s selfless, hardworking, and kind. I would appreciate it if you didn’t accuse her of anything otherwise.” 

Lila looked as if she had been slapped. 

Marinette was trying to not smile. 

“I don’t think Lila was trying to accuse Marinette, Adrien.” Alya was quick to defend her. 

“I’m just protecting my friends.” He shrugged.

“Am I not your friend, Adrien?” Lila cried, knowing he couldn’t refuse her if he wanted to stay on his father’s good side. Pity for her. 

“Nope.” He popped. The class stilled.

“But you guys do shoots together. You hang out all the time.” Alix piped up. 

“Yeah, but personally? I’m not her friend, and I don’t want to pretend I am anymore.”

“That isn’t nice Adrien, I thought you were better than that.” Alya snapped. Lila was so shocked she didn’t have time to conjure tears. 

Marinette remained silent, looking at the exchange without reaction. Adrien felt fire in the pit of his belly. 

“I thought you were better than that too Alya.” He snapped. “I will always be there for my friends. But I won’t extend that kindness to those that hurt them.”

It looked like there may have been more to say, but Ms. Bustier entered and called the class to settle for Algebra. 

The trio made their way back to their seats, unsure of what just happened. 

“No more high road?” Adrien turned back to the girl next to him, a small smirk on her features. One she’s been holding back. 

“Hey I took etiquette classes, however I handle Lila I will do it with class.” 

“Oh, I’m sure.” She mused.

“I should have done this sooner. I’m sorry.” Adrien thought back to his talk with Ladybug. “I can’t make it up to you in a day. But I’ll try to everyday until I deserve your friendship.”

She looked back at the teacher, a few notes in her notebook. 

“I’ll try not to make it too hard for you.” Marinette glanced back, “but I appreciate the company.”

Adrien felt a flush of relief. He must be more tired and out of shape than he thought, his heart was beating unusually fast.

--TAGLIST--

@shannaro-sakura @uninspired-writer @magic-miraculous @mividaexo  @juhavs @salsyy301 @liamnl @reblog-trasher @autumnhunter1 @grimmhallow31 @f0xylegs @amelyhot @marichat00 @peachedpocky @sturchling @elmokingkong @corabeth11 @akana-sama @ephemeral-firefly

[cafedanslanuit]

I always wanted to marry rich || Jumin x MC (2/2)

genre; angst pairing; Jumin Han x MC notes; part two of two. read part one here. I finally wrote the last part! Honestly I had to rewrite it a couple of times because I wasn’t happy with how it ended. Now I finally do. Hope you like it! <3

~ ~ ~

“check your email”

Jumin didn’t even bother opening Seven’s text. He just read it on the notifications bar and opened his email app. He found a file with her future wife’s name and opened it. Two seconds later, his battery died out of the blue. Jumin sighed. The phone was charged, maybe it was starting to malfunction. He opened his laptop and his email. He printed the document Seven had sent so he could look over them more comfortably. Jumin poured himself a glass of wine and sat on the kitchen table.

MC’s bank account was rather small and the incomes where what he expected, savings from her last job she had told him about. She purchased small amounts in makeup stores, coffee places and other things. She had graduated top of her class at university in her homeland with a scholarship.

There were some pages about her estranged father. He was living in Spain and had remarried. He had two kids, ten and twelve. He hadn’t been in touch with MC or her mother apparently. There was a file about her mother. She was a teacher in South America and worked at a school. Jumin didn’t want to know how Seven got access to her bank account, but he had. She didn’t have much either and the purchases weren’t suspicious at all, MC seemed to send her money every chance she could.

Seven had even traced MC’s tweets back in her uni years. She had made some light-hearted jokes about being broke but nothing that made it seemed like she was planning something. Seven had been kind enough to write down some notes about those tweets not meaning a thing.

The last page was a message with Seven’s messy handwriting.

“Stop stressing! There’s nothing fishy about her”. There was a small drawing of a fish. Of course. “Happy wedding!”

Jumin sighed and crumpled the documents in his hand. Maybe he was overreacting. Maybe it was an inside joke? Tons of possibilities were roaming around his head when he heard the door opening and MC’s heels making their way into the penthouse.

She quickly appeared in the kitchen and smiled at him.

“Buenas noches, amor” she teased him with a grin.

“Why did you say you always wanted to marry rich?” Jumin blurted.

MC’s smile fell abruptly.

“What? When did I--” her eyes went sideways, trying to remember. Then she opened her mouth in realisation. “Oh, okay. You listened to me and my mom. Okay” she sighed.

She left her purse on the kitchen table and sat in front of her fiancé, who was looking at her sternly. Never before had he looked at her that way and it made her feel really small. Like she had gotten herself in trouble. She took a deep breath before she could start explaining.

“Okay. You know my mom had serious money issues when I was growing up. So, since I was little she would always tell me to find a wealthy man, seduce him and marry him. That she didn’t want me to live poor all my life, not knowing what it was to not worry about not having enough money to pay all the bills at the end of the month.”

“So, that’s what you did” grunted Jumin, crossing his arms.

“Let me finish, please” MC asked. “Jumin, I’m not marrying you for your money. Let me finish my story, but you need to understand this more than anything. That’s not why I’m marrying you. I didn’t even want to get married in the first place!”

Jumin raised his eyebrows in surprise. MC covered her face with her hands.

“Shit, I’m only making it worse. I’m sorry, I-”

“There’s nothing to discuss here, then” he said, picking up the documents from the table and getting up. MC stood up in front of him quickly, preventing him to leave the kitchen.

“No. No! You’re going to listen to me. You owe me that, at least”.

“I don’t owe you anything”.

“Listen to me!” she pleaded, raising her voice, her eyes filling with tears. “Listen to me. Yes, that was her plan for me but I turned fifteen and decided I didn’t want to become anyone’s wife or depend on anyone. I didn’t want anyone to leave me like they left my mom! So I started studying, got a scholarship to a good university, graduated with honors. I was in between jobs when I joined the RFA. I wasn’t looking for anything. So yes, I didn’t want to get married and then I met you!” she cried.

MC’s face was now full with tears, messing up her make-up. She took another deep breath and wiped her face with the back of her hand. Jumin’s expression softened and embraced her, burying his face on her hair. The soft strawberry aroma broke his heart, how could have he thought this woman, who had shown nothing but love to him was capable to feign that love because she only wanted money?

“But you changed my mind” MC kept talking, her face against his suit. “You changed my mind about wanting to spend the rest of my life with someone. It was not about they money, it was never about the money” she softly pushed Jumin away and looked up at him. “I don’t care. It’s okay, I’ll sign anything”.

“Sign?” Jumin asked, confused.

“Yes, those are from a prenup agreement, right?” she said, looking at the documents Jumin still had in his hand. “C’mon, it’s okay. I’ll sign them right now, I don’t care”.

She took the documents from Jumin before he could stop her. Right when he was about to take them back from his fiancée, her face changed drastically.

“Is this… my bank account?” she asked softly.

“MC, give them back” Jumin said, taking a step forward, but she took a step back.

Her eyes went back and forth the documents, searching through the pages she had in hand. She noticed Jumin trying to get them back, so she quickly walked to the living room. The information on them was correct, but why on Earth did he need to see all of this information? Was this about the comment he had overhead? Why did he-- Before she could comprehend what was happening, she saw a face she hadn’t seen in a long time. She didn’t recognize him at first, but after reading his first and last name -her last name-, there was no mistake.

She stopped, letting Jumin take the documents back from her. If Jumin was talking she couldn’t hear him anymore. Everything had gone silent in her head.

She startled a bit when she felt a hand on her shoulder, shaking her softly.

“MC, my love. Say something, I’m sorry, I--...”

“My dad had more kids?” she asked, in a broken voice. Jumin looked at her, furrowing his eyebrows.

“You didn’t know?”

“No, I… I haven’t heard from him since he left us. I didn’t know… He had more kids?”

MC walked to the sofa and sat down, still trying to process what she had learnt, tears falling down her cheeks in silence. Jumin sat by her side and put an arm around her shoulders, not knowing what to do. He hated himself for making herself feel like that. Her face showed how broken she was, how much weight the news had had for her.

Jumin hugged her, putting her small frame against his chest. He muttered countless apologies. Seven was right. He shouldn’t have dug up information that wasn’t his. He had hurt her more than he thought he could. MC cried in silence for a couple more minutes before she raised her head again to look at him.

“Why do you have this?” she asked, her hand grabbing his shirt and looking at him confused. “Why do you even have this information, I-- I don’t--... Was it too hard to just ask me? Would you have believed what I just said if it didn’t match up with these things?” she looked at the documents Jumin had left on the couch.

“I’m sorry” Jumin said, not counting how many times he had said that already. “I panicked. You know how many times my father has wanted me to marry someone that only wanted me for my money or my position at C&R. I… I certainly didn’t think this through. I’m sorry, I really am. There’s no excuse. I was scared, but I didn’t act like a man. I had no excuse to look into your family history, none”.

MC looked at the dark eyes of his fiancé and sighed. She pursed her lips and took his hand in hers, squeezing it softly. 

“I’m still mad at you” she said, her voice a little hoarse from crying. “And hurt. But I’ve already talked to my therapist about this thing with my dad so… I’m hurt, yes, but honestly… it’s water under the bridge, now. I don’t want to talk about him. What I really want… no, I really need my fiancé to bring me a cup of tea and stay with me tonight. You think you can do that?” she asked.

“Yes, I can” Jumin nodded and stood up quickly, grabbing the documents from Seven’s investigation and crumbling them in his hands.

“Wait, one more thing” she said and Jumin turned to her, expectantly. “You need to trust me, okay? I may not be always the best wife once we get married. But I will always tell you the truth. I meant what I said before, I will sign a prenup so please call your lawyers and tell them to prepare one for you, okay? Can we do this together?”

“No” Jumin said, turning around and making his way to the kitchen. MC felt a sharp pain on her chest.

“What do you mean no?”

“We’re not getting married with a prenup. I trust you. Even though tonight’s events may make you think otherwise, I do. And I want you and everyone to know that. So we’re not getting married with a prenup” Jumin explained from the kitchen. MC chuckled as she heard the sound of the electric water boiler starting.

“Okay” she muttered with a soft smile.

They were days away from the wedding. But somehow, instead of making her more anxious, it made her feel calmer. Jumin was going to mess up again. And someday, she would be the one to mess up. But if they could still find a way to love each other at the end of the day, maybe it was a good idea to get married after all. Honestly, she would have agreed to sign a prenup if Jumin had asked. She knew it wouldn’t have been for personal reasons, but mostly to protect C&R and all the years of work Chairman Han had given the company. But if he was willing to show her how much he trusted her by going against it and refusing the idea that she signed it, it definitely showed how much trust he was willing to show her.

MC saw Jumin coming back from the kitchen with a cup of tea and a bag of her favourite biscuits. She smiled and patted the spot next to her in the sofa.

They could do this. She knew they could.

[whats-the-story-tc]

9th of October, 2020

"The One with the Cards Laid Bare"

[INCREDIBLY LONG, SORRY FOR CLOGGING THE TAG]

There were very tense energies in our classroom before V's double class. We already knew she'd cried today, we knew where she'd be working from other classes, so we all knew what would come, and it still was bad. One of the boys said he heard that she hopes we're not all angry at her and that we won't hate her for her decision. There was not an inch of anger or hatred in any of us, just heartbreak. We knew how much we'd cry seeing her leave. We were afraid of this goodbye. But it had to come eventually. The last class she'll ever teach. The last two lessons she'll ever have.

She was late. Only a couple minutes, but seeing she's always on time, or even a bit early, it was worrying. I walked outside to find her, and when I did, I saw her, coming up the stairs with two boys from the class, fresh back from lunch. Immediately as she saw me, she raised her index finger and said: "No." I didn't really understand it, until she continued: "I'm not gonna cry. I'm trying to go at least two minutes without crying." My heart was in shambles, and nothing even happened yet.

She started by telling us an e-mail is not how she wanted us to find out. She wanted to tell us herself, but not until today, probably not until the end of class, even though she's known for quite a long time she wanted to leave. She didn't tell us, because she wanted these last days not to be chaotic, so we could still focus and do our best in class. There were signs, though. And I should have known. There's one in basically every post I wrote this year. Funny thing is, when I told you about how she was with the girl from the other class and I thought something was up, it was only my gut feeling. She hadn't told them yet. Only in the last 20 minutes of that double class.

She also told us who will be replacing her, just to get the professional part quickly over with. V said she expects us to treat them fairly, even if she won't be here to check on us. We keep this promise. Most of the time, it works.

Being a teacher doesn't pay well, and here, in our country, the profession itself is not respected the way it should be. 10 years of experience in the field means nothing, she said. The new education system is horrible, unbearable, and she's had enough of feeling like she's in a toxic relationship. Not with us, with teaching. She said she used to feel very anxious when she got here, and by now I know what she hadn't told us in that moment, that she still doesn't feel good thinking about school. She has to leave for her own sake, even though she feels incredibly guilty about it. Even though she'll miss us.

She said, through tears, constantly stopping to take a deep breath and gather her thoughts, that teaching is something she was planning to do her whole life long, but she has to step back now. Even though she has "the seniors, standing before their graduation exams, [us], whom [she's] bonded with", she can't do it anymore. And when one of the girls asked her if she really did love us, she said: "Would I have stayed so long if I didn't?"

We spent long minutes in class discussing the education system, and when I said I didn't know about something that supposedly came from the weaker one of the theatre universities here at home, V was surprised that I hadn't read it. She called me a nickname again, a new one. I've been babygirl and I've been fairy bug before, but not once have I been the name that translates to "my life". Spanish speakers, it's like when you guys say mi vida to someone you love. That's what V called me. I don't remember her ever having called someone that in class.

Between classes, Bandana Friend, who was sick, joined us via video call to speak to V, as she really wanted to say goodbye, at least like this. I stood right beside V as they spoke, out of the camera's sight, unlike my classmates, constantly goofing off in the background, making both V and my friend laugh a little. As I stood there, I couldn't help but marvel at V's eyes from up close, in the light. I don't think I've ever seen a more enchanting eye colour before, and I find nearly every pair of eyes I see pretty. Seriously, I wasn't overexaggerating in any of my posts. If you once catch her eye, you won't know when to stop looking.

After a while, though, my classmates got a bit much, still during the call, and there I was, gathering bravery and doing something I've never done before. I stroked V's arm for a second or two, like I've wanted to so many times before, to show sympathy. She didn't even look at me, didn't even flinch, she probably knew who was touching her. And, seeing how unresponsive, how calm she was about it, I couldn't help but think: "Is this something I could've done this whole time?"

Before the second class with her started, Debate Friend called her a derivative of her first name (though she made sure to say Miss with it), and V just told her not to be rude. Hours pass, and V lets her (and us all, indirectly) call her by her first name, which is something we're still adapting to, but I'm rushing too far ahead, let's slow down a little.

The second class went well, she wasn't crying anymore, on the contrary. We laughed a lot, she told us her honest opinion on a lot of us, who asked her what she thinks of them, and gave advice if needed. I didn't ask. I figured that if she wants to tell me something, she will. Then a very crazy chain of events happened.

She looked like she was gonna tear up again, and I couldn't sit and watch anymore. I stood up and walked right in front of her, not daring to ask for a hug, but hoping she'll get the message with arm gestures. It took her a bit, but when she did, she couldn't help but yell something that I would translate to: "[Specs] is jumping me!". The word she used here is something usually used in a romantic or flirty context. (Translation was never my forte.) You can probably imagine the laughter, and also my face as I realise that not even on her last day could she go without sassing me at least once.

But then. Oh, then. The next thing I hear as I turn towards her is as she says: "C'mere, Little Me." and before I know it, I find myself sobbing in her arms again, and thinking about how this happened. She seemed taken aback by or uncomfortable with the comparison the last time we spoke about it in March, before the quarantine. When did she accept it, or how? Now as I re-read that post, as I'm writing this one... could the turning point have been me calling her my sister? I had so many questions, but all I could do was cry.

Class was nearing the end when I finally managed to stop sobbing and ask her one thing I've been meaning to for ages: what her tattoos mean. "How much should I go into detail?" she asked with sparkling eyes. She wasn't even surprised I knew about the two on her shoulder blades — but I was, when she motioned with her fingers she actually had three. Before telling me about them, she jokingly said something along the lines of "I'm not gonna strip for you" (as all 3 are covered by clothes), and me being me, I immediately threw my hands up, face probably red, and said: "Nononononono, obviously [not]!"

Funny thing is, the two on her shoulder blades are actually quotes from the last book she had us read, the last thing we discussed with her in class on Wednesday. So this is what she meant when she said she had personal connections to it! After she told me which parts they're from, she jokingly added "Very English teacher [of me]...", to which I just laughed and responded "Yeah, very."

By the time I'm writing this, I already had to listen to the headmaster, one of V's replacements, as he bragged about knowing of these two tattoos. Heh. That's cute. It's still 2-1 to me, sir. Not only have I seen them partially before, which you said you haven't, but I also know about the one she most definitely never told you about. And the one I'm most definitely not gonna tell you guys about. Sorry. Some things just have to stay between V and I.

"Also, no one noticed that this is the first time since I came here that I've worn a band T-shirt!" she complains to me jokingly. "Well, I was used to your graphic shirts, so I didn't think much of it," I reply. She's very enthusiastic in telling me what exactly is on it, without me even asking. This woman put on a shirt that essentially disses Christianity — in a religious school. Unbelievable. I love her.

Somewhere around that time, I asked her to let me walk with her to the teacher's lounge, Bookworm Friend convinced her to take a photo with our squad (which had basically everyone I know, my own father included, telling me we look identical), I stroked her arm again (I no longer remember what the reason was, but she still must've felt it pretty natural, seeing she didn't react), and like 3/4 of the class came to hug V goodbye. Meanwhile, another girl I've been classmates with for ages, but never particularly liked, hugged me to try and comfort me. It caught me off-guard, but I've never felt more like our class is a community.

People from other classes came to talk as she walked outside, but I waited until she was alone, and most probably so was she. She promised, likely knowing that I wanted to talk privately, so we didn't leave until it was just the two of us left.

"Come, Little Me," she said again, as we got going. She liked this phrase so much that she repeated it in English. "Mini Me." Then I found out why the English. Turns out, her native English speaker boyfriend, who she name-dropped like it's second nature, as if she's telling a story to a friend (she's so whipped for him, it's adorable), knows all about this comparison, and had a good laugh at it. He knows who I am. I was important enough to mention at home to her boyfriend, something I always wondered about but never dared to ask her. Tears.

No, really, actual tears. I've told you before, I don't support confessing love to your teachers while you're still their student (I'd wait a year after graduation if I were you), and especially if you're underage, and I myself wouldn't do it either. And I didn't. My confession was a little different. My voice breaking from tears, I told her the one thing I wanted her to know most. "This is not how I wanted to tell you, but I've never got more (in life) from anyone..." The answer? The old classic. "Come on."

"[Specs], you really need to get more self-confidence" she tells me, as that's about the only thing I still need to get me where I want to be. "I have to," I reply. And I do. I'm trying. Funny thing, self-confidence. It comes up in both the first and the last conversation we have as student and teacher.

We get up, stand at the top of the stairs. Soon it's time to go. The memories get a bit hazy here, but I'll try my best.

She tells me she expected me to react this way, and was afraid of it, seeing what happened in January. I immediately corrected her. In January, I cried because seeing my classmates hurting and my teachers clueless and lost hurt me, whereas this time, it's personal. She doesn't say anything. I think she understands. I ask her if she'll be happy in this new situation, and she says she hopes so. Only time will tell.

"I probably won't be available at a moment's notice all the time, but if you ever need me, you'll find me," she reassures me.

My English (language) teacher walks outside in that moment, and starts talking to V like I'm not even there. V and I are both a bit uncomfortable with the interruption, but the teacher seems pretty fine with it. Fucking hell, woman, insensitivity much?

Anyway. When she's gone is probably the moment we realise this is it. That this is where it's over.

She reaches out, both verbally and physically, and there we are, hugging again, both of us stroking the other's back in an effort to try and comfort the other. "You always have your friends," she tells me. "Get a good rest," she adds somewhere during that moment. Then we pull away.

I don't reach out, I don't dare to. As soon as I step out of her arms, it's her, who takes a hold of my hand. Not clinging, just a gentle, meaningful hold. I have no idea what she was saying, as I focused on the fact that we were only bloody holding hands in plain sight — and another thing.

V's eyes were red, and full of tears.

She hadn't shed a single tear for the past 20 minutes or so. Yet there she stands before me, physically still holding on to me, and crying. That was all me. And all of a sudden, I understand everything. I no longer have the guts to deny that she loved me all this time.

That's where it ends. No grandiose confessions, nothing loud, nothing overly passionate. Just a scene of two women standing hand-in-hand, showing their true colours and not holding anything back for the first time since they've met, before Miss V, the teacher, forever disappears behind a glass door.

These two women, mentioned above, are the ones who laid the foundation for two friends, two equals to meet anew. They are just getting to know each other all over again as we speak, setting the tone for something to start that could possibly last a long time. And I don't think there's anything that could feel better than that.

~ S ♡

[Every story I share here, no matter how specific I get with my wording, depicts actual events from my own life.]