#prolog assignment help

[a-araiguma-a]

Between the serving and Her smile

Chapter 2. From Muggles to Wizards: Between Studies and Dreams

Fandom: Harry Potter Pairing: Oliver Wood x fem!OC, Charlie Weasley x f!OC, <?> Warning: fluff, mutual pining, friends-to-lovers drama, first love, jealous

Summary: He was the captain and keeper of the Gryffindor team, and his quest to win the Quidditch Cup became an obsessive goal. All his thoughts revolved around tactics, training and strategies, but sometimes his own heart reminded him of another, equally important side of life. He believed that love and Quidditch could coexist in his life. He swore to himself that he would do everything possible to preserve these two treasures, even if it required the impossible from him.

Start - Prolog (Episode 1 - Episode 2 - Episode 3 - Episode 4 - Episode 5) - Chapter 1 - Chapter 2 - Chapter 3 - Chapter 4 - Chapter 5 - Chapter 6 - Chapter 7 - Chapter 8

Everyday life at Hogwarts quickly settled into a familiar routine. Each day was filled with lessons, new knowledge, and magical discoveries. Gradually, Margaret began to feel more confident. She became better at understanding magical subjects and spells. She often thought back with gratitude to her lessons with her grandfather, which were now paying off. Thanks to their practice sessions, she found Charms and Potions classes much easier. She quickly mastered many basic spells and even helped her friends with their assignments.

“How do you manage so well?” Emma asked in surprise when Margaret once again effortlessly performed a spell in Professor Flitwick’s class.

“My grandfather helped me prepare,” Margaret replied, slightly embarrassed. “We practiced a lot before I came here.”

“Lucky you,” Sophie said with a smile. “I’m finding this all a bit more difficult.”

Her favorite class turned out to be Transfiguration, where she learned to turn matchsticks into needles, and she couldn’t believe that her own hands could perform such magic. She would hold the needle in her hands, marveling at the magic she could feel at her fingertips.

In Potions, she was particularly amazed by the ingredients, which seemed incredible compared to the ordinary spices and herbs used by Muggles. For example, the first time she used unicorn horn in a potion, she felt a deep reverence for magical creatures. Over time, she learned to handle these ingredients, understanding how they interacted with each other. One of the highlights was when she brewed a Sleeping Draught for the first time, and her partner, after trying it, immediately fell asleep for a few minutes, causing everyone to laugh and feel relieved.

In Charms class, it was an incredible feeling—realizing that words could bring magic to life.

Hogwarts itself was one big mystery for Margaret. Her Muggle fairy tales gradually faded into the background, giving way to real magic. One day, she accidentally stumbled upon a secret passage in one of the castle corridors. The passage led her to an abandoned wing where she found ancient paintings, books, and even some magical objects that, as she later discovered, had belonged to students from a century ago.

In the evenings, Margaret often talked with Charlie Weasley in the common room. He was older than her but always found time to chat about life at Hogwarts and his large family.

“I have six brothers and sisters,” he once said with a laugh one evening. “A big family is pure chaos, but it’s fun. Speaking of brothers, one of them, Percy, is studying with you. He’s a bit of a stickler, but only at first glance. Maybe you’ll become friends? I think you’d like our family.”

“That sounds amazing,” Margaret smiled. “I’ve always wanted a big family.”

Thus, six months passed at Hogwarts. Margaret had grown accustomed to her new rhythm of life, finding joy in each day spent among friends and books. Studying came easily to her, and Hogwarts felt more and more like home. But despite everything, by Christmas, she started to miss home deeply.

Christmas at Hogwarts was a magical time. The castle was decorated with hundreds of garlands, a giant tree towered in the Great Hall, and the air was filled with the scent of pine and gingerbread. But Margaret knew that soon she would be going home to see her family, something she had been dreaming of for weeks.

Mr. and Mrs. Denning, Bennett’s parents, also promised to visit for the holidays. The magical heritage was hidden from them, and Margaret couldn’t wait to finally return home and spend time with those she cared about.

On the last night before her departure, Margaret stood by the window of her room, gazing at the snow-covered slopes and the castle glowing in the moonlight. Her heart was filled with warmth at the thought of returning home, but she knew that Hogwarts would always be a special place for her, a place she would gladly return to after the holidays.

After spending long months at Hogwarts, Margaret finally returned home for Christmas, eagerly anticipating her reunion with her parents. Platform 9¾ was once again bustling with activity as students said their goodbyes to friends and prepared for their journey home. Margaret, having gathered her belongings, hurried to the station, where her mom and dad were already waiting for her. Seeing them, she couldn’t hold back her smile and ran toward them.

“Mom! Dad!” she exclaimed, throwing her arms around their necks.

“Margaret, darling, we’ve missed you so much,” Miranda said, hugging her daughter tightly.

“You’ve grown up so much,” Bennett added, looking at her with pride. “How’s school? Is everything going well?”

“Everything is wonderful,” Margaret replied, beaming with happiness. “I have so much to tell you!”

When they returned home, Margaret savored the familiar, comforting atmosphere. The house was decorated for the holiday, and it smelled of pine branches and freshly baked goods. That evening, at the festive table, they were joined by her grandparents, Mr. and Mrs. Denning, who had also missed their granddaughter dearly. They believed she was studying at a school for young ladies, only returning home during the winter and summer holidays. They were strict but kind-hearted people.

“Margaret, dear, you’ve grown so much,” her grandfather said with a smile as he hugged her.

“We’re so glad you’re home,” her grandmother added, her eyes sparkling with joy.

During the holiday dinner, decorated with Christmas ornaments and a sparkling tree, Margaret shared her academic achievements.

She also began to open up more to Miranda, telling her how much her grandfather’s lessons had helped her before the school year started and how they had made her assignments easier. Many of the spells and potions were already familiar, making her studies much more manageable. Sometimes, she was even asked to help with homework. She talked about her new friends and funny situations. Perhaps her heart softened toward Miranda, and she began to reciprocate her feelings.

“You’re doing great,” Miranda praised her, proud of her daughter’s achievements. “We knew you would succeed.”

The Christmas holidays passed quickly, and soon it was time to return to Hogwarts. Margaret spent the last few days at home relaxing and enjoying the warmth of her family.

Returning to her studies went smoothly, and she continued to excel. In the Gryffindor common room, Margaret spent more time talking with Charlie Weasley, who shared funny and awkward stories about his younger siblings and his love for magical creatures, especially dragons.

One day, she found Oliver Wood in the common room, reading a book about Quidditch, and he told her about his dream of joining the Quidditch team.

“I really want to try out for Quidditch,” he said, his eyes shining with enthusiasm. “But unfortunately, they only accept second-years. I can’t wait to give it a shot.”

“I’m sure you’ll do great,” Margaret replied with a smile, encouraging him.

Spring passed quickly, and soon it was time for the summer holidays. Margaret said goodbye to Hogwarts with a hint of sadness but comforted herself with the promise of staying in touch with Emma and Sophie through letters. That summer, she resumed her lessons with her grandfather, studying literature and the origins of magic. Now, with her newfound knowledge, she could engage in discussions with him.

“You’ve become a real witch,” her grandfather once said, looking at her with pride as they discussed ancient spells. “I never thought I’d be discussing such complex topics with you so soon.”

“I’m really interested in this,” Margaret replied, feeling her confidence grow with each passing day.

However, her grandmother insisted that Margaret spend more time relaxing.

“Once you return to Hogwarts, you won’t have as much free time,” she reminded her. “Enjoy the summer while you can.”

The family supported this idea, and one day they even went to an amusement park. It was Margaret’s first time in such a place and the first time she had spent so much time with her father. She rode the rides, ate cotton candy, and enjoyed every moment.

Autumn arrived, and Margaret once again found herself on Platform 9¾. She looked around for familiar faces and soon spotted Emma and Sophie, who were waving at her excitedly. They met and hugged, not hiding their joy.

“I missed you so much!” Margaret exclaimed with a smile. “How were your holidays?”

“We missed you too,” Sophie replied. “The holidays were great, but I’m glad to be back—there will be even more adventures this year!”

The second year at Hogwarts began with the usual hustle and bustle: classes, homework, and discussions of upcoming events. One of the most exciting moments of the year was the Quidditch team tryouts. Oliver Wood, with whom Margaret had become friends the previous year, was obsessed with the idea of making the team. Quidditch wasn’t just a game for him; it was a true passion.

Charlie Weasley, the Gryffindor team captain, was also eagerly awaiting the event. The excitement within the team was building, and as captain, he was eager to see who would join their ranks.

On the day of the tryouts, Margaret, Emma, and Sophie decided to head to the stands to watch the trials. Grabbing their scarves and cloaks, they made their way to the stadium, where students were already gathering. The field was bathed in light, the stands gradually filled with spectators, and the air was thick with anticipation.

“I think Oliver is definitely going to make the team,” Emma said as she settled onto a bench, glancing around. “He trained so much over the summer.”

“He’s got a good chance,” Margaret agreed. “I’ve seen him fly. He’s a natural-born Quidditch player.”

As the trials began, the spectators in the stands watched the action on the field closely. The players demonstrated their agility, speed, and broom-handling skills. Oliver, as always, was focused and determined, trying to showcase everything he could do.

“He’s relentless,” Sophie marveled, watching as Oliver skillfully maneuvered on his broom, dodging Bludgers. “He’d be perfect for the team.”

After a while, as the trials quieted down a bit, Sophie suddenly turned to Margaret with a mischievous smile.

“Why don’t you give it a try?” she suggested, her eyes gleaming with sudden inspiration. “You’re a great flyer! I saw you fly last year.”

Margaret thought about it for a moment. The idea of participating in the tryouts had crossed her mind, but she quickly realized it wasn’t for her.

“I love flying,” she replied, smiling slightly. “But chasing after balls is a whole different story. Quidditch requires a special kind of concentration and strategy. I enjoy the freedom of flying, the feeling of being in the air. I don’t think being on the team is for me.”

Sophie pondered this for a moment, then nodded, agreeing with her reasoning.

“You’re right,” she said. “Flying for fun is one thing, but playing Quidditch is something else entirely. But still, it would’ve been interesting to see you on the field.”

Margaret smiled, feeling that she had made the right choice. She knew that Quidditch wasn’t her calling, but it was nice to think that her flying skills had been noticed by her friends. Together, they continued to watch the trials, cheering on their friends.

When the tryouts were over, Oliver, exhausted but satisfied, climbed up to the stands to join Margaret, Emma, and Sophie.

“How’d I do?” he asked, catching his breath and wiping the sweat from his brow.

“You were amazing!” Emma exclaimed, genuinely impressed by his determination.

“Charlie is sure to pick you,” Sophie added with a smile.

Margaret, offering him a reassuring smile, said, “You did everything you could. Now it’s up to the captain.”

Oliver nodded, his eyes gleaming with excitement. He had dreamed of becoming part of the team, and now, finally, he had a chance to make that dream a reality. The results didn’t take long to arrive—Oliver was finally accepted into the Gryffindor Quidditch team. Just as Margaret had predicted, Charlie chose him as the team’s Keeper, and Oliver couldn’t have been happier. Now he could proudly wear the team uniform and participate in the matches he had longed for.

The second year flew by unnoticed. Margaret focused on her studies and continued to excel. Potions classes took place in the cold dungeons of Hogwarts. The stone walls, low ceilings, and flickering candlelight created an atmosphere of mystery. The students sat at long wooden tables, on which cauldrons, flasks, and jars of various ingredients were arranged. Professor Snape, dressed in a black robe, glided between the rows like a shadow, watching every move of the students.

“Today, you will be brewing the Polyjuice Potion,” Snape announced in a cold voice that carried a hint of menace. “If any of you feel the urge to mess up, be warned: the consequences will be most unpleasant.”

Margaret, like the others, held her breath. She knew that Potions required concentration and precision, and under Snape’s watchful gaze, any mistake could be fatal. He was a strict and demanding teacher who tolerated no negligence.

Each lesson began with an explanation of the theory and a description of the ingredients, followed by the practical part. Snape rarely praised the students, but his silent approval was often the highest reward.

“Margaret,” Emma whispered beside her as they began adding mandrake root to their cauldron. “Are you sure we need to do this slowly?”

“Yes,” Margaret nodded, carefully monitoring the process. “If you add it too quickly, the potion might explode.” She had barely finished the sentence when a loud bang shattered the silence of the dungeon, like thunder on a clear day. Margaret and Emma simultaneously jumped back as the explosive wave swept through the room, engulfing them in heat and showering them with tiny drops of potion. Several students screamed, and others quickly backed away from their cauldrons, fearing their mixtures might also spiral out of control.

“Silence!” Snape’s commanding voice cut through the noise in the class. His dark eyes narrowed as he swiftly assessed the situation. He strode toward the source of the explosion, and the students hurriedly made way for him.

Margaret watched the scene, her heart pounding in her chest. Where there had been a whole cauldron just moments ago, now there was a wreck. Snape silently bent over the shattered cauldron, then his cold gaze turned to the culprit. His face remained impassive, but tension hung in the air, as if the entire room was holding its breath, waiting for his reaction.

“Perhaps, Mr. Howard,” he began in a quiet but menacing tone, “you should pay more attention to instructions before attempting to prove you can improvise.”

Eric Howard, shocked and bewildered, could only nod, not daring to protest.

“The rest of you,” Snape continued, slowly surveying the class, “take note of this lesson. Alchemy does not forgive mistakes and carelessness. One wrong move can lead to catastrophic consequences.”

Margaret felt her hands tremble slightly from the tension. She knew how dangerous potion-making could be, but now it felt even more real. Out of the corner of her eye, she glanced at Emma, who stood beside her, equally shaken by what had just happened.

“You were right,” Emma whispered, afraid to attract the professor’s attention. “We need to be even more careful.”

Margaret nodded, trying to regain her composure. They returned to their cauldron, even more cautious and slow in adding the mandrake root. Snape’s eyes remained watchful, scrutinizing every move, but eventually, he returned to his desk, leaving the students to stew in their thoughts.

When the lesson finally ended, Margaret allowed herself to relax. She looked at her potion—the thick mixture in the cauldron was slowly bubbling, its color even and stable.

“You’ve done well,” a low voice suddenly said behind her. Margaret turned and saw Snape standing right next to her table. He nodded slightly, which for him was almost a sign of approval. “Next time, be even more attentive, Miss Denning.”

Margaret felt her heart skip a beat. It wasn’t exactly praise, but it was close. She nodded quietly, feeling both relieved and slightly apprehensive.

As Snape walked away, Emma quietly exhaled, “Well, if that wasn’t praise, I don’t know what is…”

Margaret smiled, feeling the tension gradually fade. This lesson had been a real test for her, but she had passed it, and the moment had bolstered her confidence—if she could endure Snape’s silent approval, she could handle much more.

Professor Snape often assigned complex homework that required not only theoretical knowledge but also the ability to apply it in practice. Essays spanning several feet of parchment on the use of rare ingredients, research on the history of potion-making, and detailed reports on experiments became an integral part of the learning process. These assignments demanded perseverance and attention to detail, and Margaret, like her friends, strove to complete them with the utmost responsibility.

Sometimes, she was asked to help with homework, and she was always happy to share her knowledge with those who needed assistance. Her successes at Hogwarts brought her great satisfaction.

The Hogwarts library was one of Margaret’s favorite places. Time in the library flew by unnoticed. The spacious halls with high ceilings and rows of bookshelves filled with ancient tomes and modern textbooks created an atmosphere of comfort and peace. Here, among thousands of books, one could find answers to any questions and delve into the study of the magical world.

In this library, among ancient tomes and mysterious books, she felt truly at home, as if her soul had found what it had been searching for—a place to explore, learn, and grow stronger, seeing how the knowledge they acquired began to come together into a complete picture.

Margaret smiled, bending over her notebook, where she carefully wrote down her thoughts on what she had read.

“I found something interesting about protective spells,” Sophie said, pulling a thick book from the shelf and sitting down at the table.

“Let’s take a look,” Margaret responded, sitting down next to her and opening her notebook.

Emma, sitting across from them, was rummaging through her notes, trying to figure out the structure of the essay they had been assigned for Potions.

“Snape certainly doesn’t go easy on us,” she sighed as she scanned the text. “But it’s interesting. I had no idea such complex potions existed.”

“He demands a lot,” Margaret agreed, looking up at Emma. “But maybe that’s how we’ll truly learn to understand potions. If Snape can teach us anything, it’s how to be precise and attentive.”

Emma nodded, setting her notes aside. “Yeah, you’re right. Sometimes it feels like he makes the assignments harder just to test us.”

Sophie, still flipping through the pages of the book she had just pulled out, raised her eyebrows.

“Have you seen this?” she asked, drawing her friends’ attention. “It talks about protective spells that were used during the First Wizarding War. Some of them are so complex that they require incredible concentration and willpower.”

Margaret and Emma leaned in closer to get a better look at the page. Before them was an entire chapter dedicated to rare and ancient protective spells, many of which had long been forgotten or replaced by more modern versions. Margaret felt her curiosity growing.

“This could be useful,” Margaret noted, quickly scanning the text. “You never know when knowledge like this might come in handy. Especially in a world where things are constantly happening.”

Sophie nodded, noticing the spark of interest in her friend’s eyes.

“I thought it might be worth delving deeper into this topic. Maybe we can find something truly unique that could be useful in Defense Against the Dark Arts or just expand our horizons.”

“I’m with you,” Margaret replied, already thinking about how this information could be used. “Let’s try to understand these spells and how they work. If we can figure them out, it will be a serious advantage.”

Emma, lifting her head from her notes, looked at her friends with newfound interest.

“You know, maybe this could even help us with our Potions essay. Some protective potions have properties that could be compared to spells. If we can link the two, Snape will definitely be impressed.”

“Good idea,” Margaret agreed, feeling her inspiration grow with every new thought. “Let’s analyze these spells and then try to find parallels with potions. It could be both interesting and useful.”

They once again immersed themselves in their reading, flipping through pages and discussing the complex spells, their applications, and possible consequences.

Classes, homework, time spent in the library, and conversations with friends filled Margaret’s days. But, as Charlie had suggested, she decided to try and find common ground with his younger brother. As she walked through the corridors of Hogwarts, Margaret began to notice Percy Weasley more often, but unlike Charlie, Percy was a very different kind of person. He was diligent, hardworking, and extremely serious about his studies and the school rules. He always had his nose in a book during his free time, his robes were always spotless, and his tie was always knotted precisely according to the rules.

Percy was tall and slender, with bright red hair and glasses perched on his nose, which gave him an even more serious and responsible appearance. He constantly carried a stack of books, always meticulously prepared for classes, and followed the school’s regulations to the letter.

“Percy?” Margaret had said in surprise when Charlie first mentioned his brother. “He’s always so serious. I’m not sure I can find common ground with him.” “Yes, he’s strict with himself and others,” Charlie admitted with a slight smile. “But he has a kind heart. If you can connect with him, he’ll be a good friend. Try talking to him about something you both care about—like studies. He’s a real workaholic.”

At first, it wasn’t easy for Margaret to establish contact with Percy. Her attempts were met with cold indifference. He was focused on his studies and didn’t like to be distracted by conversations that he considered pointless.

“It seems like he doesn’t want to talk at all,” Margaret complained to Emma and Sophie during one of their meetings in the library.

“That’s just how he is,” Emma noted with a shrug. “Percy is always serious and focused on results. It’s hard for him to relax.”

“Maybe he just hasn’t gotten used to you yet,” Sophie suggested.

One evening, after they had finished their tasks in the library, they noticed Percy sitting at a distant table, deeply engrossed in a book on magical history. Margaret gathered her courage and approached him.

“Hi, Percy,” she said quietly, careful not to disturb the library’s silence.

Percy looked up from his book, his eyes narrowing slightly as if trying to recall who was in front of him.

“Hello, Margaret,” he replied with a brief nod. “What can I help you with?”

“I’ve noticed that you’re very serious about your studies,” she began, her voice trembling slightly with nervousness. “I try to be diligent too, and I’m curious about how you manage all your work. Do you have any tips?”

Percy seemed to relax a bit, intrigued by her question. He put his book down and looked at her more attentively.

“Well, I just try to organize my time as efficiently as possible,” he replied. “The key is not to procrastinate and not to let yourself get distracted. I always plan my day in advance and stick to the plan. That helps me stay on top of everything and keep focused.”

Margaret smiled, feeling that the ice had begun to break. They continued talking, discussing different study approaches, memory techniques, and effective ways to prepare for exams. Percy turned out not to be as distant and cold as he initially seemed. His passion for learning was contagious, and soon they found they had a lot in common.

One day after class, when everyone else had already left, Margaret approached Percy, who was meticulously rewriting his notes.

“Hi, Percy,” she began, coming up to his desk. “I was wondering if you’d like to study together for the next Potions class? Snape’s program is tough, and I’ve heard you’re really good with ingredients.”

Percy looked up from his notes and considered her offer. He was known for his love of order and precision, and Margaret knew that this approach might catch his attention.

“It’s important,” she continued. “I try not to miss any details myself. Maybe if we combine our efforts, we can achieve even better results.”

This time, Percy thought more seriously. He clearly appreciated her diligence and eagerness to learn.

“Alright,” he finally agreed. “Let’s meet in the library after dinner. I have some ideas for the essay Snape assigned. We can discuss them together.”

Margaret smiled, feeling that this was a chance to get closer to Percy. They arranged to meet in the evening, and Margaret eagerly anticipated the meeting.

That evening in the library, Margaret and Percy met at one of the back tables, secluded from the rest of the hall. Books, parchment, and ink were spread out in front of them. Percy, as always, was deeply focused on his work, but now he was more willing to share his thoughts.

“I think the key difficulty with the potion lies in getting the proportions of the ingredients just right,” Percy said, carefully reviewing the textbook. “Many mistakes can be avoided by preparing the components in advance and strictly following the recipe. Snape emphasized that in the last lesson.”

“I agree,” Margaret nodded, jotting down his words in her notebook. “And it’s also important to maintain the correct temperature. If it’s not kept at the right level, the potion could lose its properties. I have some ideas, but I’m not sure if I’ve explained them correctly.”

Percy looked at her thoughtfully, then put down his quill and took her notebook, carefully reading what she had written.

“You’ve done well, but this could be refined a bit,” he said. “For example, when discussing the process of adding mandrake root to the potion, it’s crucial to understand the reaction of the ingredients.”

Margaret listened to his explanations with interest. His knowledge and attention to detail were truly impressive. They dove into the discussion, making notes and comparing their ideas. This marked the beginning of their collaboration. Margaret and Percy often met in the library, discussing various topics and helping each other with their studies. Gradually, they began to find common ground. Margaret grew to appreciate his love for order and pursuit of perfection, while Percy valued her ability to simplify complex ideas and get to the heart of any subject.

Their interactions, at first, were somewhat formal, but slowly, a genuine friendship began to develop between them, built on mutual respect and a shared interest in learning.

One day, as they were working on an essay for Professor Rakepick, Percy suddenly said, “You know, Margaret, I’m glad we started talking. I usually prefer working alone, but with you, it feels… easier. You help me see things from a different perspective.”

Margaret smiled, sensing their friendship growing.

“I’m glad too, Percy. You’re really smart and dedicated. I think we can learn a lot from each other.”

Over time, their conversations became more personal. Percy opened up to Margaret about his family, how seriously he took his responsibilities toward them, especially his younger brothers and sister, and how hard he tried to live up to the high expectations he set for himself. He was ambitious and wanted to achieve great things in the magical world, but he also felt a strong sense of responsibility toward his siblings.

“I feel like it’s important to be the best at whatever you do,” Percy confided one day, setting his quill aside. “I want people to be able to rely on me. It’s my duty to do things right and set an example.”

Margaret saw in Percy not just a strict and reserved student, but a person driven by deep internal motivation. He was devoted to his ideals and worked hard to achieve perfection in everything, which required great effort from him.

Margaret felt that their collaboration not only benefited her studies but also gave her the chance to understand Percy better as a person. They discussed not only school assignments but also the broader questions that concerned them, both within and outside of Hogwarts.

“Sometimes I think I’m too hard on myself,” Percy admitted one evening when they were talking about their future plans. “But I just want to make my family proud and be a role model for my brothers and sister.”

“I’m sure you’ll succeed,” Margaret said with a smile. “You’re already a role model for many here at Hogwarts. I believe that discipline and perseverance will lead you to great achievements.”

Percy nodded, feeling grateful for her words. Their friendship gradually strengthened, and Margaret was glad she had found common ground with him. They continued to support each other in their studies, helping each other understand complex topics and sharing their thoughts.

Margaret saw how Percy slowly began to trust her more and even smiled when they solved a problem together.

This friendship became important to both of them. Percy learned to relax a bit and see the world beyond rules and regulations, while Margaret grew to appreciate the discipline and pursuit of excellence that were so important to Percy.

Margaret, Emma, Sophie, and Percy often spent their evenings in the library, discussing lessons and working on homework together. They became a team that could always rely on each other, making their school life even more enriching and enjoyable.

[mod-makoto-yuki]

Dangansona Prologe ((please Fill Free to ask me Mod about the killing game so far and who do you think is gonna to survive ?)) ⁃ Danganronpa Prologue : Velvet room of Death ?? The game starts In the Velvet room as a normal persona game would. Igor :” Greetings Everyone I am Igor I’m the Master of the Velvet room it seems it’s a few velvet attendants missing I’m sure they will arrive here to Greet you” As Igor was speaking to unknown figure the others Have Arrived. Protagonist pov I was in the velvet room as always with my master Igor The protector of the velvet room. I’m happy to be the oldest Sister of the velvet attendants oh right my apologies I haven’t introduced myself the names Elizabeth velvet - Ultimate velvet attendant I’m assigned to Makoto yuki as to help him with his personas while My brother Theodore is assigned to Hamuko so on and so on but somethings off I can feel it . I decided to Shrug it off and continued my daily tasks. Blackout appeared in the velvet room I was shocked and screamed “What happened here?” I sense someone nearby me put Right hand 👏 on me and said”I don't know Elizabeth this never happened in the velvet room before” It was My brother Theodore. *Elizabeth's eyes widened in surprise as the mystery person suddenly appeared right in front of her. Elizabeth tried to stay calm and collected, despite her unease.*

This is what I have so far

[lemonandlime22]

General headcanons for the Demon Lilith & Satan | Angel Brothers AU  

PT. 1

Context

Prolog pt1 Prolog pt2 (kinda, it's not all the way done and I'm probably going to redo it later on)

A/N: I made this au like 8 months ago and am just now picking it up smh.

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~ When Satan was younger, Lilith loved to tease him. Whether it’d be about the ladybug that set him off or how messy he was with his food, she decided it would be teased  

~ and when you two get closer he’ll tease you nearly the exact same way Lilith did (it's way less funny when you're at the receiving end of the teasing) 

~ Lilith tells you all sorts of stories from when Satan was young. As you spend more time together she does the same to you.

~ she loves doing/playing with your’s and Satan’s hair. It doesn't matter how long or what type of hair you have, as long as you allow her to she will play with it and would love it if you asked her to do it for you.

~ she sees it as a form of bounding, Asmo used to do it all the time with her. 

~ Lilith started doing it to Satan as soon as he started to warm up to her, (he acted like a cat, no surprise there) and it relaxed him a lot. She started doing it to you in a similar way, 

You were sitting at the coffee table trying to understand the potion formula the professor had assigned to you, they said it would be easy and perfect for a beginner but it definitely was not easy. It was getting increasingly more and more frustrating to the point that you started to tear up and you nearly broke your pencil because of how hard you were clenching your hand. 

Feeling a hand land on your shoulder, you looked up to see Lilith looking at you with a very obviously worried expression.  “Are you do’n okay kiddo?”, she gently asked before sitting down next to you. You nodded your head and looked back to the paper, but you had started to tear up again, and all that bottled frustration started to rise and you felt like you were going to pop. Your hand started to shake as you clenched it titer until you heard a loud,

                                                       *SNAP* 

You could feel the tears start to well up and you felt like you were about to cry, until you felt a gentle yet firm hand start to stroke your head and pull you towards Lilith until your head was resting on her chest. You near-instantly felt yourself relax into her as she slowly stroked your head and hair. After a few minutes of this, you felt your breathing finally slow as you slowly drifted off to sleep.

~ when you woke back up both Lilith and Satan helped you understand the formula (Lilith was never good at memorizing potion formulas so Satan had to come in and help).

~ Whatever you do, don't allow her to get ahold of any baby photos of yours, she will make copies to show off to anyone that will

let her. On second thought, maybe give her one or two when she asks for it. She may not be good a memorizing formulas but she is good at making potions and if you aren't careful she might turn you and Satan into little kids just to get the photos. And I can't promise she will willingly make the antidote. 

~ Satan will uncharacteristically talk your ear off if you ask him to tell you about something he's really interested in. 

~ he enjoys it when you indulge him and let him ramble about whatever has his interest at the time. 

~ cute little trinkets are used as piece offerings for when you get into arguments. Lilith thinks it’s very cute, she even started to give you guys little trinkets when she sees either of you upset.

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

[leowithyou]

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Obsession - Chapter 3

Read the prologue here: https://lurafita.tumblr.com/post/184483191964/obsession-prologe

Chapter 1: https://lurafita.tumblr.com/post/184510347369/obsession-chapter-1

Chapter 2: https://lurafita.tumblr.com/post/184622702054/obsession-chapter-2

Obsession – Chapter 3

 “Okay Parker, try to top this. My first couple today: the guy orders a plain hamburger and the woman with him a hamburger ketchup only, right? So, I serve them and am about to go to my next table, when they call me back. The man says he ordered it plain but got ketchup and the girl says she wanted ketchup but got a hamburger plain. Apparently I mixed up the plates when I set them down. Big deal, right? So they look up at me like I had ruined their whole meal. I bent down again and picked up the plates, walked around to the other side of their table, and then set the plates down again, this time in the right order. The guy goes 'That's better. You be more careful in the future, young man. Not everyone is as understanding as us.' I have no idea if they were trolling me, or if it really didn't occur to them to just switch the plates themselves.”

His fellow waiter said, as he struggled out of his work uniform and into his usual street clothes. Peter laughed as he did the same.

“Sorry Brian, but prize for 'worst customers of the shift' is definitely mine tonight. I had just asked this sweet looking elderly lady if there was anything else I could do for her, she says no, so I continue on my way through my section. I haven't even taken five steps away from her table, when she throws her teaspoon at my head. Turns out she wanted to see the dessert card again, and couldn't be bothered to think of this two seconds before, when I specifically asked her, or just call out to me to come back. She did this two more times. I was this close to replacing her cutlery with a plastic spork, though she would have probably thrown her glass at me then. When she finally demanded the check, via spoon to my head, of course, she gave me a tip of exactly ten cents, and wrote on the receipt that I needed to be more attentive to my guests.”

Brian laughed as well (because in this business, you either learned to take people's atrocious behavior with humor, or you developed an ulcer from all the repressed anger)

“Fine, you win on account of flying silverware. You gonna be in tomorrow?”

Peter shook his head as he finished putting his work clothes into his locker and grabbed up his backpack. He noticed that one of the straps needed to be taped together again, the old duct tape beginning to peel off.

“Nah, man. I need to finish an assignment for my main, so I traded shifts with Becky. I'll be here for the late shift on Friday.”

Brian grimaced in sympathy. “Damn, my condolences, man. All those nine to five, Monday to Friday people ready to cut loose.”

Peter let out a forlorn sigh. “Tell me about it. Friday's are the worst.”

The two left the restaurant through the back door, thankfully being able to navigate the narrow alley easily by now, as it was already dark outside and the lamp that was supposed to light up the backstreet, had been shattered a long time ago. The two walked together, bantering friendly with each other, until they reached an intersection.

“Well, see you later, Pete. Good luck on Friday, try not to let yourself get groped too much!”

“Like anyone has ever been able to work a Friday night without a bruised butt to show for it. Later!”

They bumped their fists together in farewell, before Brian went right and Peter turned left down the street.

He was exhausted. While it hadn't been a particularly busy shift at the restaurant, Peter had had a very early class this day, as well as two tutoring sessions in between his afternoon lectures. Thank god their manager had taken pity on them and closed the restaurant thirty minutes earlier than usual. Now Peter might just make it home before midnight. It was a bit of a walk to his and his aunts apartment, but the restaurant paid it's workers above minimum wage and the tips were usually pretty decent as well. So the almost fifty minute travel on foot was well worth it. Also, the lengthy walk presented a chance for him to go through his mental check list and think through the assignments he still needed to hand in, as well as his schedule for the next few days.

So deeply in thought was he, that he didn't notice the group of six men that followed him into the alley he used as a shortcut.

Until he was suddenly grabbed by his shoulder and spun around and against the dirty wall to his right. His eyes widened in fear when he looked at the group of rough looking men in front of him.

“Now what do we have here? Out for a late night stroll, little lamb?”

The brunette resented that remark. He was not a 'little lamb', okay? Just because he had a bit of a baby face and wasn't as brawny and muscly and tall and intimidating and rough looking and... on second though, he got it. He pressed himself further into the brick wall at his back, when the man in front of him, (the apparent leader of the group) slowly pulled a jackknife out of his pocket. He held his hands up defensively.

“U-uhm,... hey,... uh.. look, I don't want any trouble, okay? If, if it's money you want, I d-don't have much, but you can have it! Okay? There is totally n-no need for any violence.”

The man in front of him and his compatriots grinned widely and dangerously at that.

“Oh really? Well then, why don't we-”

“Hey! I called the police! Drop the knife and get away from him!” Was suddenly shouted from the entrance to the alley. The group of thugs looked at each other, at Peter, and then at the figure that was speedily making their way towards them.

“This isn't worth the trouble, let's scram!”

And just like that, the six would-be robbers ran the other way, out of sight.

Peter's knees nearly buckled with relief, and he hastily bent over and breathed deeply.

“Oh thank god...”

“Hey, you okay there?”

He almost flinched at the words, before realizing that his timely rescuer must have reached him while he was fighting off his shock.

“Yeah,.. yeah, I'm... I'm okay. I'm... thank you. Thank you so much! I-”

“Hey, hey, breathe. It's alright. All safe now, okay?”

The male voice was deep and calming, and as a strong hand started stroking his back in comforting circles, Peter slowly managed to relax. He took a long breath, and then straightened back up.

“Thank you, again. I... I don't even know why this stuff still gets to me like this. This is hardly the first time I have been mugged.”

It was hard to make out detailed features in the dim light of the alley (all Peter knew regarding his rescuers appearance so far, was that he was a bit taller than himself, a lot broader than himself, and had a beard), but he noticed how the man in front of him stiffened at his words.

“You have been assaulted before?”

Peter shook his arms out, feeling like he needed to move a little, to get rid of what was left of his shock.

“Well, I wouldn't call it assault. I mean, if you just give them your money, they leave you alone. Sometimes they don't even get their weapons out.”  He almost didn't notice when the man wrapped a supportive arm around his waist and steered him out of the dark alley and to the main road. He let himself follow the others lead easily, thankful for the strong arm around him, as his knees were still a little shaky. He just kept rambling. “So, nobody gets really hurt. But, yeah, muggings are pretty common here, especially when it's this late at night. I know this sounds bad, and it kinda is. But I'm really, really glad that you were there, because I really need the money I made tonight to buy some parts to repair that stupid heater in the apartment, since the landlord refuses to acknowledge that there is a problem with it. And the forecast said to expect a cold wave for next week, and my aunt just got over her bout with the flu.” They had at this point made it to the well lit street, and Peter was finally able to get a real look at the man who saved him, while the slowly decreasing adrenaline continued to make him spit out a horrendously embarrassing amount of word vomit. “So, really, I'm so very, very grateful to y-”

The following words got stuck in his throat.

That was Tony Stark.

He had been saved from being mugged by Tony Stark, and then made an absolute fool of himself by babbling like the complete idiot he truly was. Oh god. That thug should have just stabbed him, at least he wouldn't have embarrassed himself by bleeding out on the ground. Then again, if anyone could make a fool of himself while dying, it would be Peter Parker.

And now Tony Stark was looking at him weirdly. Oh god, he hadn't said any of that out loud, had he?!

“Are you okay, Peter?”

As soon as the name slipped out, Tony wanted to kick himself. He wasn't supposed to know Peter's name yet!

“I-I,... yeah, I,... you are Tony Stark... you are one of the brightest minds of this century and I just... I uhm. I uh, hi. … Hi, I'm Peter Embarrassed. PARKER! Oh, my, god. I'm Peter Parker. And really embarrassed. Hi.”

Tony almost sighed in relief. It seemed Peter hadn't noticed his little slip. He smiled.

“Hello Peter Embarrassed Parker. I'm Tony Stark, but you already know this.” He couldn't help but tease a little, and he relished in the deeply red blush that overtook the brunettes face.

The younger man then buried his head in his hands.

“You know, I should just legally change my name to this? It would be accurate, at least.”

Tony snickered, and then gently pried Peter's hands away.

“Don't worry about it. I would pick the embarrassed, tousle haired, cute guy, over the usual reaction my name inspires, every day. It's very charming.”  Which wasn't an exaggeration at all. The last rabid Tony Stark fan he had encountered during the Stark Expo, had ripped his shirt off and thrown himself bodily at the genius.

He didn't think it was possible for Peter to blush even more, but there you go. Damn, he really was cute.  But even Peter's adorably flustered self couldn't change the fact that it was well past 11 pm, and there was a chill wind out. And Peter was only wearing a thin jeans jacket. Tony really needed to get the precious thing home.

“You probably already figured that out, but that bit about me calling the police was a bluff. Which means there is no reason for us to keep standing around here. So, where to?”

He gestured to the sleek, red sports car that was parked, only a few feet from them, along the sidewalk. (Was the hot rod red polish a bit much? Possibly. Were the golden hubcaps a bit much? Definitely. But what could Tony say? He wasn’t a very subtle man) Peter's eyes widened dramatically, when they landed on it, and he quickly shook his head.

“Oh, no, Mr. Stark. I couldn't possibly make you drive me home after everything you have already-” But Tony nipped this in the bud right away.

One finger placed over his lips had Peter all but holding his breath. Tony looked directly into the deep, brown eyes before him, his voice just a touch lower than before.

“Let me drive you home, Peter.”

He didn't remove his finger from the soft lips until the younger man nodded his head slightly, and instantly missed touching them.

He would taste those lips soon enough.

He guided Peter, hand gentle but firm on the small of the brunettes back, to the passenger side of his car and opened the door for him. Peter tried once more to feebly protest.

“Really, Mr. Stark, you don't have to-” and was just as easily rebuffed as the first time.

“I insist. Wouldn't do to have kept you from being mugged by those guys, just to give someone else a chance on the rest of your way home now, would it?”

He narrowly kept himself from buckling Peter in, that might have been just a bit too much at this stage of their relationship acquaintance, and simply shut the door when Peter was seated. He quickly walked around the hood of the car, glancing covertly through the windshield to see as chocolate brown eyes stared in amazement at the luxurious furnishings of the car’s inside. Peter's reactions were so endearingly genuine. Then he was behind the wheel, forgoing the seat belt as he usually did, and started the engine.

“Where do you live?”

He knew, of course, but he could not allow himself to slip up again. He had gotten lucky the first time. So he waited for Peter to rattle off the address and pulled onto the street.

“So, how come you were out so late in the first place, especially in an area where people regularly get robbed?”

Again, Tony already knew this, but he wanted to get Peter talking a bit more. It would help alleviate the younger man's nervousness, and also, Tony enjoyed the sound of the youngers voice very much. He listened contentedly as Peter told him about his job as a waiter at the 8 Islands restaurant, which he had taken on to help his aunt pay the bills, while he studied at Berkeley college in New York. Skillfully asking questions about topics he knew Peter would answer passionately to, Tony relished in the conversation they were having. While most of the the things Peter 'revealed' to him, were already known by Tony, the simple act of talking with the younger man was so... so... He didn't know how to describe it. Though Peter was still a bit embarrassed and rather shy, he answered all of Tony's inquiries openly and honestly. Honesty was such a rare treat for Tony to come across. People always tried to make themselves out to be more interesting, more daring, more experienced, more smart, just overall more than they truly were. The billionaire couldn't remember the number of fake personas he had met in his life, who would tell him all the things that they thought he wanted to hear, that they believed he would find alluring, just for all of it to come crashing down at a later time.

But Peter was different.  He freely admitted that he personally didn't hold more than a passing interest in mechanical engineering, though still admired the progress that Tony had made in the field. No false praise along the lines of: 'Oh, Tony, you are the most genius man on this earth.' even though it was readily apparent that the person knew nothing about what Tony even did.  How often had Tony heard things like: 'Oh, Tony, I was so fascinated by your presentation of the latest Starkphone design.', even though the person had no idea what the terms 'Interface', 'CPU' or 'AMOLED' meant.

Peter didn't try to make himself seem perfect, or flawless. “I should have known that those chemicals wouldn't mix the way I needed them to, and I would have, had I just taken the time to research them properly. But I was just being a brat. Totally full of myself, thinking I knew better than the teacher. So, yeah, that literally exploded in my face. I definitely deserved having to clean it all up myself.”

How often did people just try to skirt around their own accountability? How often did they try to shrug off any responsibility for their own actions? How often had Tony heard the phrase: 'Well, that wasn't my fault.' and 'Well, someone else messed up.' or 'Well, I couldn't be expected to account for that.'

Peter was curious, but not invasive. He asked Tony questions about one of his current projects, but didn't even try to pry into his private life. (Though Tony would gladly allow him to) One would think this common decency, to not ask deeply personal questions of someone you had known for barely five minutes. But normal etiquette rules didn't apply to famous people. Be it reporters shoving their microphones in his face, screaming questions at him about how his break up with Virginia Potts would impact the future of Stark Industries; or the runway model that approached him in a club, asking if it was true that he was into orgies; or any random person he would come across anywhere, feigning sympathy while inquiring how his rehab was going.

Peter was a rambling fountain of scientific curiosity (and maybe he had a little oversharing problem), but he was respectful and polite and sweet.

Tony had already purposely taken three wrong turns, just to extend their time in the car together that little bit longer. But all good things had to come to an end, and soon Tony parked his car on the side of a dilapidated looking apartment building. Which meant that now it was time for part two of his plan.

“I really can't thank you enough, Mr Stark. Not anyone would have done what you did, you know? I just,... if there is any way I can make it up to you...”

Most people in Peter's situation right then, would have said this in a tone of voice that suggested a sexual favor in payment for the good deed. Would have moved their body in an alluring way, would have licked their lips seductively, would have touched his arm or thigh in a clear indication of what they had in mind.

But not Peter. Peter was genuine in his gratitude. Peter really just wanted to find a way to thank the man who helped him. No ulterior motives, no underhandedness.

And he had played right into Tony's hand. 

He killed the engine and turned to the younger man.

“Well, if you are that hellbent on thanking me, there is actually something you could do for me.”

Peter nodded eagerly. “Anything.”

And oh, what delicious, debauched, fantastical images ran through his mind at that word. Anything.

But he shook such thoughts off. It wasn't time for that yet.

“See, there is this charity event coming up, and I just know that it's going to be dreadfully boring, just as these things always are.” He rolled his eyes for effect, before fixing them on Peter again. He allowed himself to be a bit daring, and brought his hand up to cradle the side of Peter's face in it. “Being in the company of such a delightfully brilliant young man as you, would surely make it much more bearable. So, wanna be my plus one?”

Tony had no idea whether it was the sudden physical contact, or the matter of the question itself, but his gorgeous sweetheart looked completely overwhelmed.

“I... I couldn't... I... but I'm just... “

It seemed the only words Peter was capable of forming right then, and Tony decided not to give him the chance of coming up with a reasonable excuse to decline the invitation. He softly stroked his thumb along the heated skin of the others reddening cheekbone.

“Of course you can. Here, give me your phone number, I will send you all the details tomorrow.” Peter drew his phone out of his pants pocket on autopilot, and Tony snatched it up with his other hand, before the sweet thing regained enough of his faculties to register what he was doing. He quickly called himself with Peter's phone (and used the connection to install a cloning program on it, that he had prepared before hand.) “When are you free to go to a tailor? I bet you would look ravishing in a smart suit.”

Peter didn't answer, still caught between trying to find the words to convince the older man that he was not 'important-charity-event' material, and the hypnotizing sensation of having a rough, strong thumb running along his cheekbone. The sudden click of his seat belt releasing, and the slight pressure of his phone being pressed back into his hand, partly brought him back to reality.

Mr Stark smiled at him.

“Let me walk you to the door, Peter. I need to make sure you make it all the way home safely, don't I?”

And before Peter really knew how he had even gotten out of the car, he was two steps away from the door to his and aunt May's apartment complex, his phone clutched in his hand, backpack slung over his shoulder, and Mr Stark's arm once again solidly wrapped around his waist.

The man steered him the last two steps before the buildings entrance, and then leaned down to his ear.

“Open the door, Peter.”

And Peter did, fishing his keys out of the side pocket of his backpack and unlocking the door, all in quick succession, not even thinking about it. As soon as the door sprung free of its lock, Mr Stark tightened his arm around his waist, giving him a slight squeeze.

“Good boy.”

Peter blamed the shudder that ran through his body right then on the cold wind.

Then the arm around his waist carefully turned him to face the taller man, while also maneuvering him through the opened doorway and into the entrance hall.

“I will contact you tomorrow.” The arm was gone from his waist, but the hand was suddenly back on the side of his face, and the thumb was again stroking lightly over his cheek.

“Go to sleep now, Sweetheart.”

Had he really heard that? Had Tony Stark really just called him, little nobody Peter Parker, Sweetheart? But before he could think even further on this, there was the sensation of a pair of lips on his other cheek.

“Sweet dreams, Peter.”

“Y-You t-too, M-Mr S-Stark.” He somehow managed to stammer out, while bringing a hand up to the cheek that had just been kissed by the genius engineer in front of him. The same genius engineer who then smiled sweetly at him.

“Call me Tony.”

He could not do that. He could not possibly be that informal with someone of Mr Stark's stature.

“Sweet dreams... T-tony.” How the hell had he done that?

And then Tony smiled at him again, and as he leaned into the entrance way, Peter didn't know if he expected to be kissed again on the cheek, or maybe this time on the lips, or for Tony to follow him in, but what he certainly didn't expect, was for the other man to grab hold of, and then close the door. 

As the 24 year old Berkeley student stood there, staring at the closed door, unmoving for a whole 31 seconds, he couldn't decide if he was relieved, or disappointed that Tony hadn't kissed him again.

Making his way back to the car, Tony felt like whistling to himself. This had gone exceptionally well. More so, the way Peter had reacted to him had trumped all of his expectations. It had been perfect. So perfect in fact, that not even the sight of Barnes leaning against his car, arms crossed over his chest and looking absolutely unimpressed, could dampen Tony's mood right then.

He grinned at the man.

“Gotta hand it to Natasha, you really are good. Since when have you been following me?”

He wasn't even perturbed about not having spotted the man sooner. Just thinking about that shudder that had gone through Peter when he had called him a 'good boy', as well as the easy way Peter had followed his lead, killed any annoyance he might have felt otherwise right at the spot.

The bodyguard shrugged. “Since you left the tower. Without telling anyone. Again.”

Interestingly enough, Barnes didn't seem all that annoyed by that, either.

“You know there are easier ways to ask someone out, than to hire a group of thugs to stage a mugging, right?”

Tony scoffed as he climbed into his car, only a little surprised when Barnes got in on the other side.

“I didn't hire anyone. Diego and his little gang still owed me.” He turned the key in the ignition, giving the gruff looking man next to him a questioning look.

“Don't you have to get your bike or something? Or did you follow me all the way on foot?”

Again, the other man just shrugged.

“It's taken care of. Should I be preparing a security detail for Mr Parker?”

Tony was almost impressed by Barnes knowledge of Peter, but then again, he probably shouldn't be. After all, this was the man that Natasha had recommended.

“Yeah. As I have very recently discovered, this part of the city is even more unsafe than I thought. But get someone discreet. Or better yet, you do it. Natasha is scheduled to arrive back tomorrow, which should free you up some. I don't want Peter knowing that he is being watched protected. At least not yet.”

Barnes only nodded, and Tony decided he liked the man.

tbc.

I have simply added everyone who has commented on previous chapters to the tagging list. If I have forgotten anyone, or if you at any point loose interest in the story and don’t want to be tagged any more, just let me know.

@professional-fangirl75 @djspooky-jim @the-neon-demon @itfeelssogoodmrstark @haylove5 @unknownshadyperson @diamondheart31 @spadestorm696 @starkravingspiders @goldenbadass @hoe4parker @harmonystarker @kawaiiloverofanimu @httpkye 

[bellenoire-scripts]

metanoia ; chapter i.

cast. mark tuan x you genre [rated]. chaptered, a slice of life [G] college student au. prolog // i. // ii.

March 2016.

His name is Mark Tuan. Everyone in your Department knew him — because he was a whole package, they said. Visual — check. Good in Sports — check. Kind in person — check. Nice family background — check. Everyone adored him; girls wanna date him and boys envied him or wanna be friends with him. But not for you. It wasn’t like you despised him, but you just didn’t believe perfection in person. It scared you. So, even though you both were in the same batch and major, you didn’t wanna engage him in person. Thank God, your interest was different than him. Even though you both were a foreign student in Kyunghee University, your interest in peace and resolution conflict saved you from bumping into him. You always took courses related to your interest meanwhile, he and his Chinese-American gank preferred to take business-related courses.

“What do you want to take for next semester?” your thoughts were interrupted by Amanda, one of your close friends in your major. You shifted your gaze at her —  meeting with her pale grayish orbs as you took a minute before replying her question.

“Mhm... I don’t know. But, Mrs. Kang suggests me to take Entrepreneurship as my collective course. I think it’ll be fun, too.” You answered, telling her your relative choice for next semester. Honestly, the course was out of your comfort zone and interest, but after living all by yourself since you were in High School. You really thought you need to take this collective course to explore and enhance your entrepreneurship skills — in order to survive in this harsh world.

“You... are taking entrepreneurship?” questioned Amanda, head tilted as her eyes widened in disbelief. Like she was hearing a shocking news — which half true because entrepreneurship wasn’t your thing. “Who are you? I don’t know that you take interest in Business now.”

You let out a bitter chuckle, shaking your head as you explained. “Ya! It’s not like that. It’s just I think entrepreneurship would be helpful for me in the future. And, since Mrs. Kang really suggests me to take that. I think it’s worth to try.”

“Oh, right. now it more makes sense.”

So here were you, sat on the empty chair in the last second row as you were waiting for Mrs. Kang, your favorite lecturer who also taught Entrepreneurship course. As promised, you ended taking this elective course just for fun. You gazed around, studied your future classmates before placing your notebook on the table. You exchanged polite smile to a few people you knew from your major and batch. Maybe taking this class won’t be so bad.

“Hi.” The chair next to you was empty, and you were sure the person who just greeted you wanted that spot. You turned, found the person who just greeted you as the last person you want to meet. Mark Tuan.

“Hi..” you greeted him back, tried your best to sound polite despite the icky feeling which started growing inside of your stomach.

“Is this seat taken?” he asked with a small smile curved on his perfect features.

Yes. “No.”

“Do you mind?”

Yes. But you only gave him a shrug before focusing on your notebook. Maybe if you ignored him, he’d lost his interest to make a small conversation with you. But you were so wrong as you heard him start talking again.

“Y/n, right?” he asked after sat on the empty spot next to you. You could smell a scent of beach breeze which reminded you of summer from his cologne. And, now you knew why girls could faint just by smelling his scent. His scent was amazing and could cause light-headed. You shook your head gently, trying to not focus on his scent before you answered him shortly.

“Yes.”

“Nice to finally meet you here.” he stated, along with a gentle smile on his lips. The smile which could win over everyone.

Huh? But you couldn’t help to not curled your thick brows – arching your left brow upon his remark. But maybe he was just doing the polite act and such. Though you still questioning his intention by talking to you instead of the others.

“Yeah, you too.”

“Good morning, class!” You thanked Mrs. Kang (in your mind) who just entered and greeted the class, made your awkward conversation with him stop as you both focused on your lecturer.

Mrs. Kang started the class by doing the roll call. A smile bloomed on her red lips as she saw you in her class. Well, as you were favored her over other lecturers, Mrs. Kang also favored you amongst her students. You both had established a good teacher-student relationship. Amanda even joked that she won’t be surprised if one day Mrs. Kang would adopt you as her child.

“Since it’s the first meeting, we’ll be only talking about the contract, assignments and short introduction of this course. I’ll email the course contract to y/n, and she’ll forward it to you because she’ll be your class rep for the rest semester. Next, assignments.” You could hear some students groaned—responding Mrs. Kang’s remark about assignments. “If you’ve heard it from your senior, yes — this class have no mid-term examination. But, you have to work in a pair for a business project and showcase your product in Spring Festival. Your half-grade will depend on your performance in these assignments. So, do your best, guys! Alright, I’ll start making the pair now. Our first pair is Ravi and Luna.”

Without her instruction, you started writing down the pair names for the project. The second pair was Taemin and Naeun, and the list went on and on. You knew something bad would happen as you hadn’t heard your name — and Mark — being called. But you ignored your instinct, though it was right. Mrs. Kang called his name right after she called your name. Make the two of you as a partner for the pair project. You bit your bottom lips, tried to ease down your pique towards him. You didn’t even want to see your partner’s reaction. But, like he knew how to press the right button just to rile you up, he leaned on — whispered right into your left ear in a playful tone.

“Guess we’re also a partner for the project, huh.”

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