#if he is it’s like she’s adrien’s sister bc someone once said they look more alike

[misfittq]

moodboards for my zoenette lovesquare au that i’ll never do anything about bc i can’t write :(

[sixtyeightdays]

Apologies don’t change anything

helloo so i did this today bc i probably would’ve procrastinated if i left this for tmr but i really wanted to write this bc i love the idea of it alot so yes here goes (yes i ended up writing half then procrastinating again but its done now so yay)

also the idea of this goes to this post by @flufflepuffle296 

⚠️TW: Mentions of murder

-

Marinette stared blankly at the airport she had just reached. Her class had gone on a trip to New York City, where Lila had oh-so-humbly bragged about all the famous people she knew here.

Lila had gotten Max to tamper with her alarm, setting it to go off a few hours late, at 5.30am instead of the 2am alarm she’d set it to, especially since their flight was at 6 in the morning. 

Marinette had gotten to her hotel room late because everyone hadn’t bothered to get their own luggage to the car, and Marinette was reprimanded for not ‘helping her classmates bring their bags on to the bus’, especially because of Lila’s ‘sprained wrist’. 

She had then been forced to carry all 30 luggages and carry-ons onto the bus by herself. Thankfully, the bus driver, who was staying at the same hotel as them for convenience had noticed her trouble when she’d tripped while carrying Lila’s huge baggage.

Lila had convinced the rest of the class not to bring suitcases that could be wheeled for no good reason, and everyone had brought large duffel bags, apart from Adrien, to which Marinette was very grateful for, even if the blonde boy was still bending to Lila’s whims.

Marinette had never appreciated lifting flour bags in the bakery more.

It had taken over two hours to get al the bags on the bus, especially since her class was stupid enough, or maybe they did it on purpose, and forgot stuff in their room, which they would then come down carrying, and forcing Marinette to unpack all the bags she’d piled on top of one another so they could put their item inside.

Marinette almost screamed when Max came down for the eighth time, carrying a stupid battery that could’ve easily fit into his pocket or Markov’s tail compartment.

Marinette was no exception and her stuff was on the plane, which was now on its way back to Paris-- without her.

She probably would’ve been more mad if she’d hadn’t seen it coming, and prepared a small backpack with her, with her phone, wallet, the binder she used to plan the class trip, a bag of cookies for Tikki, the box of power-up macarons, a jar of sugarcubes for Kaalki, and a spare change of clothes.

Tikki and Kaalki were safely hidden within the pouch Marinette had at her hip, which she was eternally grateful for. The Miracle Box was hidden in Ladybug’s yoyo, which was convenient for the girl so people wouldn’t steal it.

She let out a small groan in frustration until a hand gripped her shoulder. Panicking slightly, Marinette reared back her fist and clocked her attacker in the nose.

He yelped and staggered back as the lady with him looked slightly shocked. The lady faced Marinette, who was still on the defensive, but relaxed slightly when in the scuffle, the man’s badge fell out of his pocket, showing the golden unmistakable symbol of the NYPD.

‘Oh my gods, I am so sorry!’ Marinette helped the man up blushing slightly and panicking because she’d just punched a police officer in the face.

Marinette was very grateful she spoke fluent English.

He just groaned and with the help of Marinette and the lady, he stood up, clutching his bruised nose.

She introduced herself as Nette, because even if he was the police, she didn’t really want to give her name out to someone she punched in the face. You know, so she could run away, maybe Jagged would let her stay at his old apartment in Gotham--

She snapped out of her stupor as the lady tapped her on the shoulder cautiously and introduced herself as Amy Santiago and the man Jake Peralta.

‘What are you doing here, all by yourself? You can’t be more than 16.’

Frowning, Nette evaded the topic slightly and said she was here on a class trip, but she missed her flight back. The police officer looked disapproving until she noticed the binder peeking out of Marinette’s bag.

Her expression gave way to a happy delight as she plucked the binder out of her bag, gushing about how neat it was, how she used the correct fonts to emphasise everything, and she squealed when she saw the itinerary inside of it.

‘I am so sorry for her, she’s a bit of a nerd and she loves binders.’ Jake waved his hand side to side, making a tsk sound. Marinette could tell they were either dating or married, from the way he looked at her.

‘Why don’t you come with us to the police station? It’s about a 5 minute drive away, and we’re heading back anyway. We just had to drop my sister off.’ He explained, and Amy winced at the mentioned of Jake’s sister.

Huh, wonder why.

Marinette, still slightly wary but followed the couple to their car. He was a legitimate officer, and besides it wasn’t like she had anything to lose.

She clambered into the backseat and Tikki nudged her from the purse, a small show of support and a way of saying “i’m here for you”. She pressed her hand against the purse in response, listening to the somehow comforting banter between Jake and Amy.

When they arrived at the precinct, Marinette fidgeted in the lift, slightly nervous. Paris’ police department wasn’t the most friendly, and she was not welcomed there, since apparently Sabrina had complained to her father about Marinette.

When the lift doors opened with a small ding, Marinette clutched the string of her purse tightly, led around by Amy’s comforting hand o her shoulder. As she sat down in the seat Amy asked her to, facing Amy and away from the pigsty that was Jake’s desk holy shit were those rats?

Marinette placed her bag on the ground, making sure to keep it away from Jake’s crumbs.

She looked around her, taking in her surroundings before facing Amy who had a clipboard in hand, ready to write down her statement or Mlle. Bustier’s number she didn’t know.

She looked past Amy and her eyes widened when she noticed a familiar someone in the office behind Amy. She gasped, and somehow he winced totally not hearing it from a bug in Peralta’s desk and looked up.

His eyes widened and he strode out of the office, the door opening with a small bang which made Marinette raise her eyebrow.

Amy looked confused and turned around but shot to her feet when the captain stood behind her. He was not paying attention to his detective at all, staring at Marinette like he was seeing a ghost.

‘Uh, Captain? You look like your favorite detective just died, which he didn’t I’m right here, what’s up with the look?’

He ignored Peralta and started speaking in french, which Mari reciprocated.

‘Marinette? Is that you?’

‘Yep. Your detectives picked me up at the airport when I missed my plane back to Paris.’

‘I’m going to call Kevin.’

He switched back to English, looking to Jake and a rather dumpy looking man. ‘Boyle, do you remember when I told you I shared a croque monsieur with Kevin in France? And I made one for Kevin?’

The dumpy man, Boyle, nodded.

‘Guess who gave me the recipe?’ Raymond Holt smirked, pressing send on his phone. Marinette could make out a ‘Dear Kevin, Marinette is at the precinct. Sincerely, Raymond Holt.’

Dumpy man looked slightly awestruck.

She looked at him and deadpanned. ‘Still type like an old man?’

He smirked back, much to the dumpy man, Jake and Amy’s shock. ‘Still after model boy, Marinette Agreste?’

Marinette winced. ‘Consider me divorced.’

Holt looked slightly concerned. When he had gone to Paris with Kevin maybe a year or so back, the bluenette had blushed over the blonde model Adrien Agreste, her wishing that she’d have a relationship with the boy as successful as Raymond and Kevin’s.

The elevator dinged once more before he could question the girl that was so much like a daughter to him. Marinette noticed that two more people, a woman in all black that had a dagger in her boot and a katana strapped to her leg in a discreet way --badass, she noted-- and a buff man in suspenders that made Marinette want to gouge her eyes out.

Before she could rip into him, she was attacked by a blur of plaid and ginger. It was Kevin! The girl hugged the man fiercely and him likewise.

She socked him in the stomach as soon as he let go. 

‘That’s for not telling me you were leaving Paris.’ She glared at the man as he doubled over.

Badass lady smirked and whispered to Buff Suspenders. ‘I like her.’ Not that Mari couldn’t hear of course.

‘Thank you, Badass Lady.’ The lady in question looked mildly flattered. ‘My name’s Rosa, pinky.’

‘My name’s Nette!’ She chirped, the badass aura lessening slightly. ‘I like your dagger! Can you teach me how to throw one?’

Amy looked rather puzzled. There was no visible weapon on Rosa. ‘What--’

Rosa was staring at the bluenette with shock and newfound respect. Rosa reached into her boot and drew out her dagger, and it glinted in the light.

‘How’d you know it was there?’ The dagger was small enough so that while it fit snugly in her palm, the blade was still long and sharp enough to cause bodily damage. It was small enough so that it couldn’t be seen petruding out from her boot.

Marinette just smiled and shrugged, wiggling her fingers.

‘Magic.’ 

Marinette eyed Rosa’s pant leg that held her katana.

 Rosa looked very impressed by the petite girl.

Suddenly, a groan came from behind them, and whipping around, Marinette could see two men, foodies probably, gorging themselves on Tikki’s cookies.

‘Woah woah woah, my cookies are off limits!’ One of them, the shorter one, scoffed. 

‘Like you can finish this much food anyway.’ Marinette raised an eyebrow and the other man glared at the bluenette, and the two men waddled over to a room. 

Marinette followed and when she entered, she could see different types of chips, cookies, cakes laid out on the table. Jake let out a low whistle.

The two men were already seated there, napkins tied around their necks as a sure sign that they were going to eat.

Mari plopped herself on the chair opposite them and the taller man, looked at Marinette disbelievingly. No way that tiny girl could eat more than him and Hitchcock.

She took it as a silent challenge and waited a few seconds before starting to eat. The squad looked shocked at the fact that not only was the girl not vomiting from eating so fast, she was keeping up with Hitchcock and Scully.

The two had evidently noticed this as well, and shovelled more food in their mouth, causing cream and icing to drip everywhere. Their napkins, clothes and the chair.

But Marinette was still eating calmly, although her jaw was working at a furious pace. However, not one thing spilled anywhere which made Dumpy Man and Buff Suspenders look thankful, muttering something about a Marge.

But by the end of the race, contest, whatever, it was evident that it was a tie. While Hitchcock and Scully had eaten more food, Marinette had not made any messes at all. Plus, Marinette was only one person, while Hitchcock and Scully were two.

Needless to say, by the end of the day everyone had grown fond of the girl who could kick everyone’s asses and still look like a ball of sunshine.

She had ripped into Buff’s stupid suspenders, and he had been insulted until Marinette used the old sewing machine in Holt’s office that he had marched into the break room because he knew firsthand how amazing Marinette was at designing (Kevin had also been on the receiving end of her fashion administrations and it was not pleasant, although the end product was)

She fixed Terry’s suspenders, making the colors match for kwamis’ sake, and he had been very proud and paraded around the whole of the precinct.

Gina, who had just come back from the bathroom where she was totally not watching monkeys walk into an invisible wall had noticed Terry’s new suspenders and walked to the break room, and looking at the bluenette sew, fixing Charles’ tie because “yellow does not go with light orange what the hell were you thinking, dumpy”.

Gina asked Marinette if she wanted to be a fashion designer, because she definitely had the talent, and Mari smiled, saying that she was already one, but she went under an anonymous alias.

‘Ooh, we do love a good mystery. What’s your alias? Maybe I’ll commission a piece from you, I’ve been telling Charles to burn that horrible yellow tie for ages.’

‘My brand’s called MDC.’ 

She said this with the most innocent face she could as everyone around her freaked out that this barely 16 year old girl was one of the most up and rising designers, beating Gabriel Agreste in sales.

Even Jake knew who MDC was, but that was mostly because MDC was Jagged Stone’s personal designer. (He did freak out when Gina told him that MDC designed Jagged’s album covers from Rock Giant onwards)

Gina spent half an hour coaching Marinette on how to strut down the runway “like Catwoman slinking off into the night like the sexy queen she is”. Turns out, Marinette was a natural. (‘You need to work on that blushing though.’)

Eventually night fell and Marinette didn’t have anywhere to stay. Everyone offered their homes, even Rosa. 

She eventually decided to go with Terry because why not, and she also wanted to fix the rest of his suspenders and maybe make him a suit that wouldn’t tear when he moved.

Turns out, Sharon took to Mari immediately, Cagney and Lace even more so. Marinette had loads of experience babysitting, she babysitted terrors on a weekly basis, ahem Manon, Ella, Etta, Chris, and so Cagney and Lacey were bascially nothing.

She loved the two and they loved her too, saying that “Mimi” was definitely the best babysitter they’d had, and Sharon and Terry agreed after seeing how easily the three got along. Marinette knew what made them tick, what made them tired and what made them happy, and nothing got past her.

When Lacey tried to steal cookies, Marinette was there, booping the girl on the nose and handing her one and telling her that she would’ve given them one if they had asked, but since they didn’t, only one cookie for the night.

That had the two of them sharp at attention and they went to sleep without a fuss for once, Sharon and Terry cried at the peaceful silence they hadn’t had in almost a decade.

Rosa taught Marinette to throw knives, which was kind of the same as a yoyo, just with more force necessary and a different angle of throwing. Marinette, using her cool guardian voodoo, summoned an undetectable dagger, that couldn’t be detected by metal detectors.

‘Why do you have this?’

‘...Why not?’

‘...Fair enough.’

Dumpy Man, also known as Charles, had taken to Marinette almost immediately, firstly because of the brilliant croque monsieur, and secondly because of the amazing paella recipe she shared with him.

Nikolaj had declared Marinette his ‘big sister Arin’ after trying one mouth of the paella and saw the girl talk back to his dad. Genevieve loved Marinette, who had made her a new scarf as soon as she noticed the drabby scarf that she was wearing.

Amy loved that Mari could keep up with her puzzles and riddles. The bluenette was amazingly clever and even gave Amy ideas on making a new binder. Jake loved that the girl was the MDC and even more so when he saw how well Amy and Mari got along. 

Jake, Amy, Kevin and Holt got into a fight on who should have custody of Mari while she was here. (She ended up alternating the days she stayed with everyone in the squad.)

Marinette had ended up bonding with Hitchcock and Scully the most, forcing the two to clean their desks, goddamnit, and Hitchcock happened to be a big fan of Clara Nightingale, who was one of Mari’s closest friends and clients. 

The fact that Scully spoke French, Hitchcock loved French pastries and Marinette living in a bakery helped matter loads too.

Eventually, the fact that Marinette was Ladybug became the squad’s most closely guarded secret. She’d gotten caught because Holt was a nosy parent and decided to pry into Marinette’s purse and conveniently found a cookie nibbling Tikki and a haughty looking Kaalki. 

Jake had fangirled big time when Ladybug, looking rather grumpy, swung in and smacked the baddie on the head with her yoyo, hard enough that he’d go unconscious. Turns out, Ladybug was a very popular figure in New York.

After about a week in New York, Mari finally had to leave for Paris again. She was dreading it because of what lies Lila probably spun into making everything Mari’s fault, which made the girl dissolve into a small panic attack, and Rosa, Terry, Kevin, Amy, Jake and Gina wanted to commit cold blooded murder to the people that made this girl as sad as she was when she deserved the whole world. 

Holt was very tempted to let them.

The squad and Kevin took a week of leave and followed Mari back to Paris, escorting her all the way to her classroom. Mr. Damocles had tried to stop them but a glare from Rosa and the sight of Terry’s muscles made him squeak and back away.

They could all hear the false tales pouring out of Lila’s mouth as soon as they reached the outside of the classroom.

‘Mlle. Bustier, surely Marinette will be punished for skiving off school and playing truant?’

They could hear Mlle. Bustier’s voice dripping with disappointment. ‘Rest assured, Lila, she will be punished accordingly.’

This made Amy extremely mad, hearing them talk so crudely about the girl she cared for very much, and she slammed the door open. The class jumped at the sound of the door hitting the wall, and Mlle. Bustier winced when Holt’s deadly glare looked her straight in the face.

It was then that the class noticed Marinette, who was feeling afraid and hiding behind Charles and Jake. 

Max shot up to his feet when his eyes landed on Kevin. That was the Kevin Cozner, one of the most famous and respected teachers known to all of humanity.

Said Kevin had both hands on Marinette’s shoulders, pinning Max with a stare that made the boy’s feet turn stiff and he sat back down.

Murmurs and yells broke out in the classroom and Mlle. Bustier internally sighed at the trouble Marinette was causing. Really, if the girl didn’t skip school and cause a dramatic entrance, she would have been going through the lesson and maybe even getting a promotion, considering Kevin Cozner was here.

She mentally groaned and composed herself, wrenching Marinette out of Kevin’s grip and dragging her to the front of the classroom, where she proceeded to berate the girl loudly for skipping school for a week and causing an unnecessary scene in school.

Instead of looking frustrated or upset and cowing like the teacher though Marinette would be, Marinette only smiled coolly at the teacher. Amy strode forwards, plopping a stack of papers in the hands of the teacher before turning to Marinette and checking her arm, which now had purple bruises standing out in contrast to her pale skin.

Charles looked furious, and when Mlle. Bustier spluttered upon looking at the papers, which in bold, had the words ‘Sued’ on them, he took great pleasure in saying loudly, “You just got served, Caline Bustier.”

She opened her mouth to protest, but then seemed to remember her students’ presences, and those students were currently looking at the exchange between the foreigners and their teacher with rapt attention.

Mlle. Bustier smiled nervously and raised her hands as if to placate the squad and change their minds about suing her.

‘Let’s talk in the corridor. More privacy.’ She explained, striding to the door. She stopped adruptly a dagger was pressed to the teacher’s throat.

She gulped and went slightly crosseyed looking down at the dagger before saying that the children shouldn’t see this and repeating that they should go out in the corridor to talk.

Suddenly, a voice spoke up from the room. It was Sabrina, looking confident and proud and very unlike the meek and timid student who constantly answered to Chloe’s every whim.

‘You didn’t give Marinette that liberty.’

Chloe didn’t look surprised when Sabrina stood up, looking up at the girl proudly. She then stood up and put in a word.

‘You just dragged Marinette to the front of the classroom and tried to scold her when you were the one who listened to Lie-la and didn’t bother to do a headcount before leaving the hotel, hell, before boarding the plane.’

‘You left her in New York City,’ chimed Sabrina, leering at the teacher, who shrunk back into herself.

‘Who do you think paid for her ticket back?’ Chloe smirked.

‘Goodbye, Caline Bustier.’ They spoke in unison.

Mlle. Bustier paled. Gina looked like she wanted to run away with Chloe and Sabrina, and Marinette looked to the two gratefully, the former giving the girl a nod while the other smiled broadly.

Amy spoke again, grinning manically at the redheaded teacher, reciting everything that she’d done wrong in her years as a teacher, whether it be when she was teaching old students from almost a decade ago, or now, when she was teaching Marinette’s class.

“Yes, Rosa, I learnt French specifically for this. I took a seminar, called The French Way to Reprimand A Crap-sack.”

Mlle. Bustier dug herself an even deeper hole as she frantically tried to pile the blame on Marinette, who was pressing the bruises on her arm with morbid fascination.

Gina leaned towards Caline, her breath hot against the teacher’s ear as she drawled in a rather threatening voice. “I know every little secret you have. It’d be best if you’d just mosey on out.”

Bustier shook her head even more, doubting Gina, who took great pleasure in calling out Mlle. Bustier’s shortcomings and dirty little secrets that she’d tried so desperately to bury.

“Caline Bustier. You had a student named Bridgette Jaeng a few years back. She died. Her death was written off as a accident, when that really wasn’t the case, was it.”

Her voice, although rather soft, echoed loudly in the room, ringing in the ears of Marinette’s classmates who turned to look at their teacher with horrified expressions on their faces.

“No! She--” Gina continued as if Mlle. Bustier hadn’t said anything at all.

“She fell down the stairs.” Gina made air quotes when she said fell. “She was pushed down the stairs by her bullies. She broke her neck on impact, and Bustier?” She laughed wryly.

“She saw the whole thing, but didn’t do anything to stop her students. She even went so far as to turn the security cameras off.” 

Caline was growing increasingly pale but didn’t say anything for fear of making it worse.

“You bribed the principal of this school to hire you.” Gina’s voice, quiet and deadly cut through the tension in the room, and as if a dam broke, all hell broke loose and chaos was ensued.

Gina spoke up again, effectively making the class quiet down.

“You told Marinette to be the ‘best Marinette she could be’. You told her to not do anything when Lila and he posse bullied her. You turned off the cameras again when Lila walked down the stairs and sat there, bawling and lying about how Marinette pushed her down the stairs.” Gina’s voice came out in a hiss.

“You didn’t tell them how Marinette was expelled, huh. It was because Lila framed her for stealing a necklace that was found in her locker. But none of the students here are allowed to use locks for some stupid reason.’

The evidence was overwhelming. The contrast of the yelling from minutes ago was now replaced with a deadly silence as they mulled over Gina’s words.

Officer Raincomprix had shown up and arrested Caline a few minutes later, courtesy of Sabrina. 

As Caline Bustier was dragged out of the room, she yelled on last time. “What gives you the right to arrest me? I was only looking out for my students!”

Holt smirked smugly, and everyone in the squad, bar Gina and Kevin, held up their badges, with the very unmistakable logo of the NYPD. 

Caline was forcefully dragged away, shocked. And as she sat in the solitary confinement of her prison cell almost a month later, thinking about what she’d done, there was a knock on the door. The one person Caline thought she’d never see again stood in the doorway, the bars being the only separator between the ex teacher and her ex student.

Caline didn’t trust herself to speak, only staring at the girl. 

Marinette stood there, patiently waiting for her to speak.

When she did, the only thing that came out of her mouth was, “I’m sorry.”

Marinette smiled. Not a pitying one, not a smug one, no. It was a sad smile.

“Apologies don’t change anything.” Marinette told her old teacher. “I can’t speak for Bridgette, but for what it’s worth, I forgive you.”

- 

4.2k words

well yes. feedback and thoughts appreciated

i didnt reread this bc i dont like reading my own works they make me cringe so if there are any spelling or grammar mistakes im sorry oops

Asks are Open!

[kunstpause-archive]

From the scrap pile

Thanks to @elveny and @kittimau for tagging me ❤

This was surprisingly hard bc even though I scrapped easily over 100k words over the course of our big DA2 fic alone I keep reusing small bits and pieces in odd places and the stuff I totally throw out I don’t like enough to show to anyone really

But I did find something. This is from 2018, it was set pretty early on in our story Precipice of Change and was the original first meeting between Cullen and Cassia, before we heavily reworked the story.

I don’t know who did this already so feel free to ignore me but tagging @captainderyn @tishinada @curiousthimble @cornfedcryptid @faerieavalon @sharkapologists @fandomn00blr @serial-chillr @wardenari @ranawaytothedas @midnightprelude @charlatron @anchanted-one

Under a cut for length-reasons. :D

Cassia had underestimated the way towards the Gallows, it seemed. ‘They are really serious about this whole separation thing’ she mused while waiting for her boat to cross over. She had never been even near this place before and for good reason. The closer she got the more daunting the huge statues looked. All of a sudden, she could understand Adriene’s refusal to take any work that would require going here a little bit more. But on the other hand… they needed the money and the pay just seemed too good to not at least try. She only hoped she would get anywhere after her sister had already turned down the offer. Rather colourfully apparently, or so Cassia had heard. 

When she stepped into the courtyard for the first time, she couldn’t suppress a small shiver. There were tranquil around, selling wares. Some mages walked briskly, not looking around much. And templars. So many templars… She wasn’t sure she had ever seen so many templars in one spot before, and there was an eerie feeling in the air for some reason.

Cassia was used to hiding among regular people. Non-mages. Even hiding in front of templars at the chantry. It usually involved looking either as unassuming or as disarmingly open as possible for her. Light clothes that made it obvious she wasn’t hiding anything underneath, a bright smile and most importantly: no staff. For the first time, the absence of the most trusted weapon was something she could almost physically feel, though, before she shook her head. It wasn’t as if it would do her any good even if she had her staff with her. Under this amount of vigilance and raw power, she wouldn’t even get one spell off before they took her down. She shook off the sense of doom that seemed to permeate the very air in this place, put on her brightest smile and went up to the next patrol, asking for the Knight-Captain who had made her sister the oh-so-well-paid offer earlier. 

Cullen had been deeply immersed in the report on his desk when a knock on his door pulled him out of his concentration. “Yes?” he called out, trying not to lose track of where he was on the document.

“There is a Serah Hawke here to speak to you, Knight-Captain,” came the muffled voice of one of the recruits on guard duty from the outside. Irritation went through him at the reason for the disturbance. 

“Tell her I don’t have time,” he called out again. He didn’t know what it had been exactly but something about her had made him slightly uneasy, even though she had been a great help at the coast.

“She is standing right next to me and insists,” the recruit called through the door again, and Cullen felt the irritation grow even stronger. 

“Fine, send her in then.” What in the world did she want? She had made her disdain of templars in general quite clear only a few hours ago, and he had no desire for a repeat performance. 

“What do you want?” he sighed impatiently. “Because if I remember correctly, you said something about never wanting to set foot in the Gallows ever again rather loudly not that long ago.” With an impatient glare, he looked up from his documents at the intruder in his office only to be met with a pair of raised eyebrows that definitely did not belong to the woman he had met earlier that day.

“I get the feeling I have to apologise on behalf of my sister, Knight-Captain,” the woman standing in his office said in a light and slightly amused voice. “I am Cassia Hawke, and I am here about a job you offered her.”

Sister? His first thought was that he had probably never seen siblings look less alike than the two of them. They looked like complete opposites of each other. And from his first impression, they sounded like it, too. The woman in front of him was nothing short of charming, not a trace of the hostility her sister had shown him.

“Knight-Captain Cullen,” he introduced himself even though he was certain she already knew that. “Forgive my reaction, but I am somewhat confused, Serah Hawke.”

The information she had gotten from Fenris had not been much. Adriene hadn’t been willing to listen for very long, it seemed, but she was certain he had said Knight-Captain Cullen had been the one offering said job. She gave him a careful once-over. He looked… younger than she had anticipated. In her head, the Knight-Captain of a city as big as Kirkwall had been someone more seasoned. More looking at home behind a desk. Knight-Captain Cullen looked like he was around her age, maybe even the slightest bit younger. Like he should be out there, on the frontlines instead of in here, doing paperwork. He must have had a steep career to end in such a prestigious position at this part of his life already. 

“Confused about me asking for a job?” Cassia had put on her best, most pleasant smile for the occasion. 

“Yes, given that not long ago your sister told me, rather colourfully, her stance on working for us or even considering it,” he said drily. 

Cassia nodded in understanding. “Adriene has very strong opinions on several subjects,” she said, sounding as diplomatically as she could. 

The way she phrased it made Cullen think that their differences definitely went beyond the physical appearance.

“And you don’t?” he asked skeptically. She laughed softly, and he was surprised at the thought that it was a rather pleasant sound.

“Oh, I do! They do not always coincide, however. Which is why I am here.” 

“So you decided you want to help us, despite your sister feeling so strongly about the templars?” Cullen was still not quite convinced, too strong had the reaction of her sister been when he offered her the job. 

“To be quite honest, Knight-Captain, helping you is more of a side benefit,” Cassia shrugged. “I heard the pay is good and that working with the templars is quite reliable here.”

When Cullen didn’t immediately say anything, she went on.

“You don’t believe me? Maker, what did Adriene say? No, don’t tell me, I can guess. But no matter.” She sighed. “Look, we came here from Ferelden, fleeing from the Blight. We had to leave behind everything, start over completely here. If we ever want to get somewhere, hard work is the only way. So, there you have my motivation.”

Cullen gave her a speculative look. She sounded honest, surprisingly open in her explanation. Another complete opposite from her very guarded sister it seemed. Her sister who seemed to have been in a constant state of battle ready. Cassia Hawke meanwhile looked… soft. Her braids had flowers in it and she was wearing a simple, but very becoming dress. At first glance, he could not imagine her taking on fights in back alleys if it came to it.

“I’m not sure this job is right for you, Serah,” he started carefully. “You look… Not like a mercenary if I have to be honest.”

Cassia smiled brightly. “I dress for the occasion,” she said with a hint of mischief in her voice. “I am here to get a job, not to pick fights with people after all.”

“A fair point,” Cullen relented. It wasn’t like everyone who could carry a weapon did so all the time after all. “I apologise for the assumption.”

“Oh I’m not offended, don’t worry,” she said almost immediately before she gave him a calculating look. A hint of playfulness appeared on her face. “On second thought, maybe I am,” she said slowly. “Terribly offended actually!” 

Cullen raised his eyebrows. “Terribly offended?”

“Yes. It’s awful, really.” Cassia did her best, putting on her most practiced fake upset look. But she couldn’t quite quell her own amusement as she spoke. “I fear, only a job offer might be able to smooth this over…”

Her gamble seemed to pay off, the Knight-Captain definitely looked amused by now. “Would it now? And if I were to leave you in this offended state?”

“Then I would have to storm out of here in a huff and never talk to you again.” Cassia was delighted about his willingness to play along. She had expected someone stuffy. Someone she’d have to formally apologize to and who would probably give her a dry talk about appropriate behaviour towards authority in regards to her family. This was the opposite. This was something so much easier to work with. She gave him a coy look. “That would be such a shame really, you seem so fun to talk to.”

“I seem fun to talk to?” He gave her another skeptical look. It seemed he was almost thrown off by her more direct approach.

“Don’t let it flatter you too much,” Cassia assured him, “The last person I worked for was so incredibly drunk he could barely even sit upright. Second time I met him, he fell asleep while paying me.” She gave him a playful wink. “The bar for decent conversation is remarkably low these days.”

Cullen couldn’t help himself but laugh quietly. This conversation had been something he never would have expected. But to his surprise, he found it utterly delightful. “Glad to see I place above the inebriated and the unconscious,” he said dryly but not bothering to hide his amusement anymore. “But what would I lose out on really?”

There was a glint in her eyes that made them almost sparkle. “Why, my remarkable problem-solving skills of course. There is a reason there is much less work in Lowtown since I got here after all. And I’ll have you know that I am also fun to talk to.”

She was definitely right about that, but nonetheless, he gave her a most skeptical look, enjoying her small huff in obviously fake indignation.

“I am a delightful conversationalist!” she insisted. “And you have been smiling for the past few minutes when earlier you looked like you ate a shipload of citrus just before I got here.”

This time he had to laugh out loud. “Indeed you are,” he agreed. Cullen wasn’t sure when the last time he had had this much fun talking to someone even was. “Alright, we can give this a try.” He took a small pile of papers and letters he had put together for this job and handed it over to her. “Here is all the information you need, I expect you can find your way around the notes.” She was already flipping through the letters he gave her, looking a bit more serious. “There is a certain level of discretion advised,” Cullen added almost as an afterthought.

“I see, of course,” Cassia murmured as she went over the names and dates, starting to see why they would hire a mercenary for this. “None of these people would talk to a templar.”

“Or any authority even,” the Knight-Captain added. “That’s why we need outside help for this.”

Cassia folded the papers carefully, putting them away into her pockets. “Luckily I am as far away from being an authority as you can probably find in this city,” she gave him another bright smile. “I am definitely the woman you need. For this job, I mean. I’ll get back to you as soon as possible.” 

And with a good-natured but polite good-bye, she left the Gallows behind again, feeling considerably less anxious about the place than she had when first coming here. It still was a place she wouldn’t want to set foot in voluntarily, but she had gotten what she came for, and it had been easier and far more pleasant than anticipated. Now, she only had to get this thing done as quietly and as quickly as possible. And who knew, perhaps this could open a door for more well-paid work in the future.

The task was surprisingly simple for her. Cassia could see why a templar would have not gotten most of the relevant information from any of the people she talked to. After a while, she was almost glad that Adriene had turned the offer down. As much as she loved her sister, she could imagine that Adriene’s approach to this would have had the potential for more than one altercation. Cassia had always preferred to talk herself out of any situation if needed, and she knew she was good at getting people to see things her way, even the ones that needed a bit more convincing. ‘Why pull out a weapon when a well-placed compliment or a vague hint of a promise could do the trick’ had always been more her style. 

Normally, she and Adriene complemented each other perfectly in that regard. Cassia managed to avoid them some fights while Adriene was always ready and never missed a beat in situations where that simply wasn’t possible. It felt almost wrong now for Cassia to do this on her own, fully aware that she didn’t have a very well thought-through backup plan if things didn’t work out the way she wanted them to. But it seemed she was lucky this day, managing to get everything she needed without any major incidents. Well, almost without. 

It was dark already but still busy on the streets when she was done and made her way back to the Gallows, this time finding her way to the Knight-Captain’s office almost directly.

“Good evening, Knight-Captain,” she greeted politely after knocking. He seemed surprised to see her again.

“Serah Hawke, back already?” Cullen had not expected her back this day. Not even the next one if he was honest, not with the amount of information he had sent her out to find, yet here she was, in his office again.

“Please, call me Cassia,” she smiled. “Otherwise I’ll always think you’re talking to my mother. But yes, here is all the information I could find.” She handed him a staple of notes and he gave it a quick once over. 

“Impressive. And you did all this in a day?” He flipped through the pages after pages she had filled with all the things she had found out. On first glance, it looked like she had done a very thorough job. He couldn’t help being impressed.

“One of the notes sounded rather urgent,” she said with a shrug.

“It was, I thank you,” Cullen agreed, putting the papers aside to work through their content later. He took in her appearance. She looked different. Her hair was in a bun, and while she was still wearing a dress, it seemed to be a different one than before. “And I see you even had time to dress for the occasion again.”

Cassia looked down, for a moment looking confused before she smiled at him. “Naturally.” She shrugged. “But that was more of a necessity this time. Two hours of walking around town and my clothes still hadn’t dried.” 

Cullen felt his own eyebrows run up. “Dried? What happened?”

She held up a hand as she assured him, “Nothing relevant to the investigation, don’t worry.”

Cullen couldn’t help giving her a skeptical look. A look that sent her into a small bout of laughter.

“I’m telling the truth,” she said between laughs. “It’s… you’re gonna laugh, but there were some very angry ducks. And a pond.” He felt his eyes widen. “And perhaps a person you may or may not have hired for her skills who had a slight issue of paying attention.” She shook her head, giving him a pointed look. “It was not a very graceful event, let’s just keep it like that.”

Cullen hadn’t been certain what to expect from any of this, but her little story definitely hadn’t been it. He tried his best to not laugh out too loudly, but his efforts were in vain.

“And now you are laughing at me!” Cassia sighed. “I should have left it at the change of clothes. Kept some of the mystery.”

Cullen shook his head, forcing the laughter to calm down. “I have the feeling there is plenty of mystery left with you, Serah… Cassia,” he corrected himself.

“I have to disappoint you,” Cassia grinned, feeling pleased at his use of her first name. This was only their second time meeting, but she had a good feeling about this already. If she played her cards right, she might be well on her way to find an in with the templars here. Adriene would probably throw a fit if she heard about any of this, but Cassia could try to deal with that later, make her see the advantages. “No mystery at all,” she said, giving him her best ‘I have nothing to hide’ look. “I am an open book.”

Cullen still seemed amused, but there was a hint of something she couldn’t place in his voice as he answered. “In my experience people who say this usually aren’t. Not really.”

The conversation was still light-hearted, but there was something underneath that was almost intriguing to Cassia as she smiled. “I see I have to change tactics then.”

Cullen didn’t answer immediately, giving her a strange look. Was there tension in the air or was she imagining it? She was still deliberating when he broke the silence.

“I may have a follow-up job for you, depending on where this leads. Maybe come back in a couple of days?” he said, sounding a bit more formal again. His voice had lost some of the lightness from earlier but his eyes… His eyes seemed to look almost right through her. ‘Be careful Cassia’, her inner voice that sounded, not surprisingly, a lot like her sister said. ‘Don’t underestimate this one just because he has a nice smile.’

“I will. Thank you Knight-Captain,” she said simply.

He nodded, and it seemed like they were done when he suddenly added. “If you insist on me calling you by your name it is only fair I insist on you doing the same.” 

“You want me to call you by my name?” The words had left Cassia’s mouth before she had even thought to think about how wise it would be to crack jokes right now.

Cullen gave her an almost unreadable look and Cassia grinned at him apologetically.

”I’m sorry. I have a sister who never stops joking around - it leaves a mark on you sometimes,” she explained before smiling again, making her way to the door. “But I appreciate the offer, Cullen. And I’ll see you in a few days then. Have a good night.”

[sadrien]

goodbyes & hellos

on ao3

im so so so late but hey this is for first day of prompt week for @thinkoutsidethelovesquare​!!!! day one: wrong number

this was a lot of fun tbh and ive been dying to write this ship. alyas texts are italicized, adriens are underlined on ao3, just bold here bc tumblrs a butt. shoutout to @reyxa​ for the title <3

enjoy!

Alya narrows her eyes at the new message that lights up her phone. It’s an unknown number that she doesn’t recognize — not that she’s given her number to anyone recently — and it’s also seven in the morning . Anyone how knows her at all should know that she doesn’t wake up before at least nine on the weekends. (And that has nothing to do with the fact that she doesn’t sleep during the week and tends to go to bed after two in the morning.)

She groans as another message shows up on the screen. She squints and lets the messages flow in, figuring she can tell the person they’ve got the wrong number after they’ve finished whatever they have to say. Or she can decide that it’s unimportant and ignore it and go back to sleep.

She likes her second plan the best.

unknown number: Hi!

unknown number: Just wanted to let you know the start time for today has been moved from 10 to 9:15

unknown number: My father has a meeting at 1300 so he wants to get it all done as soon as possible

unknown number: And I know you mentioned wanting to have him on set yesterday

unknown number: I hope it’s not too much of an inconvenience! Your agent should be calling you soon, but I thought I’d give you a heads up

Alya squints at the screen. She doesn’t want to care but she’s curious. And curiousity killed the cat and all that but she’s used to letting her nosiness get the best of her.

unknown number: agents???

unknown number: 1st of all srry u have the wrong number

unknown number: 2nd of all were u talking to a movie star or smth???????

unknown number: book writer??

unknown number: what kinda person needs an agent

unknown number: Oh I’m sorry! I must’ve gotten the wrong number from someone

unknown number: I’m really sorry if I was bothering you

Alya rolls her eyes.

unknown number: u woke me up but its chill cause now im curious

unknown number: Curious? About what?

unknown number: way 2 keep avoiding the question

unknown number: ???

unknown number: u said the person u meant to text has an agent

unknown number: how fancy r they

unknown number: Oh! She’s a model!

Alya’s eyes widen. The most famous person she knows is that thirteen year old that was in her school who has ten thousand subscribers on YouTube because she makes lyric videos. The second is a boy who has a few thousand instagram followers because he has nice abs and lots of white boy clothing and muscle shirts.

unknown number: u kno a model????????

unknown number: Uhh

unknown number: I’m not sure how much personal information I should be giving to a stranger

Alya sighs. So close.

unknown number: its fine dude (dude? u good w that? lmk if u arent) i getchu

unknown number: u can just stop responding if u dont wanna talk

She locks her phone and slides it back under her pillow. She stares at the ceiling for a few more minutes, wondering if she’ll be able to fall back asleep. As much as she’d like to take the train back to dreamville, she can’t. Because now she’s awake and now she’s wondering. And once she stops wondering, she doesn’t stop.

She’ll probably stop thinking about this random wrong number in a few days and in a few months, she’ll forget about them entirely but…

Ugh.

Sleep definitely isn’t an option anymore.

Leaving her phone in her bed, she pads to the kitchen, twisting her hair up into a messy bun as she does so. No one is up yet — of course they aren’t, it’s seven on a Saturday and everyone is taking advantage of every precious minute of sleep they can get — so she has the run of the house to herself.

So she makes herself some coffee and a bowl of cereal and turns to television on. Her initial plan is to just leave it on whatever channel that’s playing when she first turns it on, and luckily the twins were the last ones to use it. Saturday morning cartoons. Score.

Alya stirs sugar in her coffee as Cyber Chase plays in the background. It’s not much more than background noise, it’s the middle of an episode and she doesn’t really know what’s happening, but she does snort at a few of the bad jokes.

“You’re up early,” her mom says before dropping a kiss on the top of Alya’s head.

Alya hums. “Got a few text messages and they woke me up.” She notes how her mom purposefully avoids eye contact as she opens a cabinet. Alya rolls her eyes and eats a spoonful of cereal.

“School friends?” her mom asks carefully.

“Yes,” Alya lies. Better than her mom asking more questions. The biggest one being why were you talking to a complete stranger?

“Are you going to see them before we leave?”

Alya glues her eyes to the TV. “If they’re around.”

Her mom makes an unimpressed sound and Alya resists the urge to roll her eyes. She texted a few of her friends the other week, but the conversation was awkward and stilted. They all had the same sort of idea about cutting ties.  

Alya sighs and puts down her spoon, twisting around in her seat to face her mom. “I promise I’m talking to them.”

Her mom gives her that look— the one where her lips purse and a crease between her eyebrows that’s becoming more and more permanent; the one that says she wants to push for more details, but won’t unless they’re volunteered first. Which Alya is not doing, thank you very much. “If you say so, honey,” her mom says, turning her attention to the breakfast she’s making.

Alya stares down into her cereal bowl.

Time to evacuate to her bedroom.

She finishes her cereal as quickly as she can without choking and dumps her bowl and spoon in the sink as she passes it, taking her coffee with her to her room. New plan: curl up in bed with her laptop and hope her mom just leaves her alone until they move.

Alya’s almost forgotten about her phone by the time she flops onto her bed. It vibrates almost as soon as she opens her laptop. She frowns as she pulls it out from under her pillow.

unknown number: Dude is fine for me

unknown number: He/him pronouns please

unknown number: Thanks for asking I really appreciate it, actually

unknown number: People don’t always ask

Plan trashed. This is a better plan.

unknown number: she/her for me

unknown number: and no prob man

unknown number: i wasnt gonna assume ur gender

unknown number: ok that mightve sounded bad but i didnt mean it in a bad way like the ‘lol dont assume my gender’ way jerks do sometime i meant it in like a genuine

unknown number: if u have smth u wanna say u should say it because i am very tired and i can go on for a while

Whoops.

Alya can’t say she’s known for her stellar first impressions but she usually doesn’t ramble her way into an awkward corner. She mindlessly flips through apps as she waits for a response.

unknown number: Don’t worry about it! I didn’t take it the wrong way or anything

Alya smiles to herself as she responds. He keeps leaving her openings which is nice. Based off his initial reaction, she thought he’d shut this down as fast as possible.

She realizes this is probably a little weird. But it’s the most exciting thing to happen to her since school let out so…

unknown number: so whats up stranger??

unknown number: b4 u ask im just sitting in my room doing nothing but text u so thats my morning

unknown number: I actually have work soon, so that’s fun

Alya raises her eyebrows. She forgot age was something else she didn’t know yet.

unknown number: oo work that sounds fun

unknown number: what do u do???

unknown number: I work for my dad, it isn’t anything special

unknown number: But it gives me something to do with my time so I don’t mind that much

unknown number: If I randomly stop responding without warning, that’s why

unknown number: good 2 kno

unknown number: can i ask what u do 4 ur dad or is that 2 personal

unknown number: I uh… I just do whatever he needs me to do

unknown number: I don’t get paid or anything but

unknown number: ay it still works as a resume builder

unknown number: Yeah exactly!

unknown number: thats cool that ur dad can get u a job!! my mom and dad could never w their jobs so i just suffer

unknown number: not that thats any different from what i would do anyway as a teenager

Alright, perfect. She’s brought up the age question in a really clunky and awkward way. Better than nothing.

unknown number: Oh how old are you?

unknown number: I’m 15

Alya lets out a sigh of relief.

unknown number: ayy same!

unknown number: just ur fav teenage superhero blogger

unknown number: doing nothing with her life

unknown number: You like superheroes?

unknown number: yeah!! i love comic books. you??

unknown number: I don’t have time to read many but yeah! I’ve always loved Spiderman

unknown number: wonder woman is my g i r l

unknown number: superheroes are just so cool

She waits a few minutes before she decides that he must have gone off to work. Bonding over superheroes, that’s good. A shared interest. She scrolls through their conversation, rereading some of the earlier messages before she creates a contact for him. She makes the name ‘stranger’ and leaves it at that.

It’s not like they’re meeting up or anything. Even if he is an ax murderer, can’t kill her if she never sends him her location.

Alya spends the next couple of hours avoiding her mom as much as possible. She takes her sisters to the park and then goes to the library after she brings them home.

She doesn’t want to talk about it.

She’s clicking through a webcomic that she missed a few weeks worth of updates when her phone buzzes. She glances down, expecting it to be a text from her mom asking if she has any plans or to do chores or something, but is pleasantly surprised to see a message from her stranger.

stranger: Sorry about that, work ran long

stranger: Admittedly, I don’t know very much about Wonder Woman, but she looks very awesome

unknown number: !!!!

unknown number: when ive got more time remind me to tell u all abou t her

unknown number: and to rec some comic books even if u dont have time

stranger: Is she your favorite?

Alya sits back in her chair. This conversation is going to be a long one.

Alya finds herself randomly texting her stranger for the next few days. He doesn’t always respond quickly, but he responds eventually, no matter how weird her original message.

That’s more than she can say for most of her friends.

She texts him as she’s sitting on the counter in her kitchen, stirring a pot.

unknown number: hey stranger whats up

stranger: Just reading, you?

unknown number: making box mac n cheese

stranger: Sounds fun

unknown number: yeah im gonna eat it straight from the pot

The three dots bounce on the screen as the stranger takes his time with the next message. Alya snorts and turns off the stove, straining the pasta and moving to the fridge to find butter and cheese. He’s found his words by the time she’s letting the butter melt in the pot.

stranger: Straight from the pot? Why?

unknown number: because i live life on the edge

unknown number: and also because im too lazy to clean the dish later

stranger: You know what? That’s fair

Sometimes, Alya thinks that she probably shouldn’t think about someone who she doesn’t even know the name of as often as she does, let alone text him as much as she does. But sometimes she’ll see something, and she’ll immediately think of him. Or she’ll just be randomly upset and feel the strong urge to pick up the phone and see if he’s available to vent to.

She knows it’s kind of weird, but she can’t help herself.

One night, at around two in the morning, she finds herself messaging him.

unknown number: hey did i ever mention i was moving

She’s almost asleep, slightly more okay than she was before she sent the text, when he responds.

stranger: You haven’t but we also don’t talk about where we live

Alya stares at the screen for a long moment, the bright light in the darkness making everything on the screen blur into nothing. She just feels kind of numb.

unknown number: yeah

unknown number: like 8 hours away from where i live now

stranger: Wow that’s a big move

unknown number: yeah

stranger: I’m guessing you don’t want to go?

unknown number: not really

unknown number: did u know ur my only friend right now

stranger: I am?

unknown number: me and my other friends sort of cut ties

stranger: The internet exists

stranger: Phones exist

stranger: FaceTime and Skype both kind of suck, but they exist

unknown number: yeah i guess

unknown number: i guess its just too hard for any of us to try

stranger: I have no idea how far apart we live

stranger: We’re doing just fine

unknown number: yeah

unknown number: yeah ur right

One of Alya’s small comforts that comes to mind whenever she thinks about moving is the fact that she’ll have her phone on her and a portable charger. Her stranger will be with her every step of the way.

He’d managed to get her to talk to some of her friends. She doesn’t really think it’ll last once she’s in Paris, but the attempt is nice. And it gives her other people to talk to for the rest of the summer.

It’s too early in the morning when they leave for the last time for her to get really emotional about moving. All she has the energy to do is to take a picture of her old apartment, caption it ‘one last goodbye to marseille’, and save it before sending it to her friends over Snapchat. Before she falls asleep against the car window, she texts it to her stranger.

She wakes up to a new text among the goodbyes from her friends.

stranger: Have a nice car ride! I’ll let you know when I get back from work <3

Alya hides her smile from her sisters and screenshots the text for later.

She texts him from the floor of her new bedroom while her dad starts moving boxes. They’ve been in the process of moving for a while now, shipping most of their things to Paris beforehand. Now all that remains is the actual unpacking.

Alya doesn’t have the energy for that. She just lays on the floor and stares at the ceiling for a while. Then she picks up her phone and sends him a text.

It’s been about an hour since they last talked. She’d talked to him for a good majority of the car ride, only stopping when he was busy and ending the conversation when they arrived so she could get her things out of the car and help her sisters with theirs. She’d sent him a picture of her empty bedroom and said ‘let the unpacking begin :P’. He’d responded with a ‘Good luck!!’ and ‘I’ll let you get to work!’

Alya’s thumb hovers over the send button for a few seconds. She’s never really pushed him for any sort of personal information before.

New city, new Alya. Or something.

unknown number: hey just wondering

unknown number: what do u have me in ur phone as??

unknown number: i have u in here as stranger

stranger: Your contact name?

stranger: Uh awkward but you don’t?

stranger: You’re the only one I just have the number for, so I know who you are that way

Alya reads his texts a few times before she responds. She doesn’t know what she expects in return, but she figures she has nothing to lose.

unknown number: im alya

unknown number: in case u were wondering

stranger: Hi Alya

stranger: I’m Adrien