#((Edit: Might add her classmate in the next reply))

[apenapaperandadoofus]

Imaginary (Jumin x MC)

Chapter one here!

(Also to explain something! Both Bada and Eun are random characters I made up, I like to think that the island was already inhabited by some people, and that Jumin’s father bought part of it, in Saeran’s Normal End, he and MC talk about how the locals are all nice and stuff, so I wanted to add something like this here :D, OH AND! These are the sort of edited chapters, I will post the fully edited ones in AO3!)

AND feedback is greatly appreciated! Sorry if this one was kinda short! Next chapter we WILL get some cute kiddo Jumin, I promise :P

Chapter 2

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In the end you weren’t able to find the ghost. That week your mother had been leaving you with heavy amounts of homework, and you hadn’t been able to go outside since by the time you finished it was always too dark, and your mother was home. You were also tired from the amount of history dates and math formulas you had to learn. Your mother wasn’t going to let you fall behind all of your classmates, but she also took it a bit too far and made you study things that even they hadn’t even seen yet.

Thus, your search for the ghost was cancelled. You weren’t able to see Bada and Eun either, which sucked since their food was so delicious last time, and you really wanted some more. In the meantime though, you spent your days reading about ghosts, and how to capture them or see them.

You wanted so badly to find the ghost! But you didn’t have the time. The thing that made it worse was that you were sure there was someone there, you always saw a small shadow by the windows, but as soon as you tried to get closer, it disappeared.

One night, you laid in your bed, unable to sleep and thinking about the ghost. It was about 11pm, your mother was already sleeping and you were sure everyone on the island was too. It made you feel weird, thinking that maybe you were the only one awake. Still, you decided to do something.

Soemthing reckless.

Slowly, very, very slowly, you got out of your bed and put on some shoes that you had in your closet. Then, you grabbed your favorite sweater, and gently opened the sliding door in your room, that led to a little porch. You tiptoed and went down the stairs, quickly running towards the enormous mansion. It was way closer than you had actually thought, and you saw a fence that probably led to the backyard. The fence was tall, no way you could’ve climbed that thing.

But that wasn’t going to stop you.

Somehow you managed to get on top of the fence. It was pretty tall, but you found that if you climbed a tree, and then jumped off from there to the fence, maybe it could work.

It- it didn’t.

Well it did, but you landed on your face and you tried your best to hold back a cry. Still, not wanting to give up, you slowly stood up and walked into the garden.

You were trembling, afraid of the dark, and you were about to reach for your flashlight when you realized...that you hadn’t brought your flashlight.

Welp, you’re dead now, I guess.

You mentally slapped yourself and gulped. There was no one around, and who knows when an opportunity like this might come again? But at the same time, it was way too dark, and you were going to be looking for ghosts. That was way too scary, especially without a flashlight. Then, an idea popped into your head. How about, you go running to your house, quickly grab the flashlight and then come back? You were pretty fast, and you were sure the ghosts couldn’t have noticed your presence yet.

You quickly turned around to go, open the fence door and race to your home, when you heard some footsteps behind you. And you froze.

“Who are you?” A voice said. It sounded like it belonged to a boy, but you didn’t want to find out if that was true or not, and you didn’t even turn around as you let out a small scream. You quickly ran towards the door, struggling a bit to open it.

Fuck it was stuck.

You pushed and pushed, the sound of footsteps coming closer towards you, and a different deeper voice coming from inside the house. Finally, the door bulged and opened, and you took your chance to run away. You didn’t stop until you were safe, under your covers and with all your plushies surrounding you.

That was scary as fuck.

You weren’t able to sleep that night.

When your mother woke you up at 6am, you stared up groggily at her, and she scolded you about staying up late, and that no matter how tired you were, she wanted to see all your work done when she came home.

You of course, decided to leave at lunch time to go and talk with Eun and Bada. You hadn’t seen them in a while and you were actually pretty hungry, the only thing that your mother had left you was another container filled with spaghetti and you were honestly tired of eating it for both lunch and dinner four days in a row.

So, you took your leave and followed the little path towards the village, this time stopping to admire the whole place. The village was up on some mountains, so you were able to see the sea from up above. You could see some men in boats, carrying heavy bags filled with fish, and women with scuba diving equipment coming out of the water. Then, when you looked up towards the other mountain, you saw what looked like a temple. It was red and huge, and you made a mental note to ask both Eun and Bada about it.

Finally, you made it to their house, and you were about to knock on the door, when Bada suddenly opened it.

She was going to say something when she looked down at you and you gave her a big smile.

“Well look who’s back! If it isn’t our little explorer. Found anything interesting these past few days?” She asked, as she motioned for you to come inside. You replied to Bada that, yes you had actually found some very interesting things, but before she could reply Eun came out from the shower, her hair dripping wet, and singing some really catchy song in another language. Then she stopped, looked at you and squealed, running over and giving you a tight hug.

“Hey Y/N! How’s your little ghost adventure going? Come come, we were about to have some lunch, you came at the perfect time! Oh sir here! And tell me everything about it, I don’t want you to skip over any detail.” She gently shoved you into a chair and then gave you a plate full of some Korean dish you didn’t really know the name of, but looked absolutely delicious.

As the two women sat down in front of you, you explained your adventure with the ghost yesterday.

“There was really someone there! He even talked to me!” You said.

Eun raised and eyebrow and gave you a quizzical smile. “Really? Do you have any proof?”

You quickly stopped and became quiet. Dammit!

“I...I don’t have any yet! But, there really was someone there! Seriously! I just...I forgot to bring my camera....” you confessed.

“Well there you go! You need evidence if you want to convince us you know?”

“You mean convince you. I believe in ghost and I think it’s probable that Y/N saw one.” Badda said, as she glared at Eun.

“Ah Bada seriously! Listen kiddo, I will admit that ghosts are real if I actually get to see one. If you manage to give me evidence I’ll believe you, but for now you don’t have any proof.”

“I will get some! You’ll see!” You confidently said.

The rest of the evening passed by quickly, as Bada explained about the temple up in the mountain. Appears you it was a temple that was able to grant each person one wish.

After wards you thanked them for the food and then you quickly looked at your watch and let out a little yelp. “Oops! I have to go now! Thank you for the food, it was great!”

“Wait Y/N, what about my book? Have you-”

“BYE BADA!” You quickly said and left the house in a hurry before Bada could finish her sentence.

You could hear her grumbling and Eun laughing from the other side of the door and you smiled.

You were going to get that evidence!

You quickly went home, and then started working on your homework.

......

That day, as you stared at your blank notebook while sitting on your desk, you went through the events that had happened last night.

There was certainly a ghost there, maybe even two, since you had heard two people talking. The ghost knew you were already there though, and that would make things hard. So you decided to make up a plan to show Eun and Bada that you were telling the truth. You quickly grabbed your pencil and took off a blank page from your notebook.

Ghost hunting plan:

You wrote, and then you bit the end of your pencil as you thought about what to do.

First of all, you had to bring a flashlight. That was one of the things that was the most important. You weren’t going to deal with two ghosts, in the dark.

Second, you had to bring your camera. That was on the top of the priority list too, since you did need it to take a picture of the ghost.

Still...you were pretty shaken up from yesterday and you didn’t want to be completely alone.

What if you brought one of your favorite toys? No that would make the whole process of climbing the fence harder....and if you were to bring something else, it definetly had to be that book about ghosts. Somewhere in there had to be some sort of ritual or spell or something, that would protect you from ghosts. So you decided to bring it!

And hell, to do it that same night!

Satisfied with your plan, and now a bit more confident with everything, you started doing the homework you mother had left you. Normally you would leave it and do it at the last moment, but today you were inspired and you had to have everything ready for the ghost hunting trip!

When your mother came home she immediatly went to bed, taking your work and locking her door. You then did your normal bedtime routine, washing the dishes, brushing your teeth and taking a warm shower. But then, instead of going to sleep, you sat on your bed with the book in your hands, and you counted down till your mother was asleep.

It was about 10pm, you could hear your mother snoring al the way from her room, and you slowly stood up and grabbed your sweater, some sneakers, the flashlight, the camera and the book. Of course you couldn’t hold everything at once, so the book was in a tiny backpack, and the camera was hanging from your neck. Alright! You were now ready!

Slowly, you opened the sliding doors, and tiptoed out of the porch. You turned on your flashlight and began walking towards the mansion, your camera ready. The lens cap protector thing, was off, and you had night vision on, so you were pretty good!

You finally made it towards the fence, and managed to climb it, this time without falling flat on your face. You gave a little victory dance as you looked around the garden.

It was...really beautiful.

The garden was filled with all kinds of flowers, purple, yellow, red, blue, and there were the bushes you had always heard about! One was in the shape of an elephant, the other one was in the shape of a horse and on and on. In the center of the garden, there was a huge fountain, that was turned off at the moment, which was a bit disappointing. There was also a stone path, that went all around the garden and then probably led somewhere inside the house.

You stood there for a bit, admiring the view. Yesterday was so dark, and you were so scared that you hadn’t been able to see anything. But tonight the moon was out, shining brightly and illuminating everything in front of you. It was beautiful.

Then, you heard some footsteps, and you quickly hid behind a bush. That’s right, you were here looking for a ghost, not to gape at that wonderful garden!

Dammit Y/N, pull yourself together! You thought, as you tried to figure out where the footsteps were coming from. You cowered a bit as they came closer and closer, almost in front of you. You slowly peeked from behind the bush, and saw a silhouette.

A boys silhouette to be more precise. He looked to be around your age, and he was wearing blue stripped pijamas, his hair all messy on top of his head. It was clear he had just woken up, and was looking for something...or for someone.

You.

Drat! You thought. The ghost of the little boy already knew you were going to come back again! Maybe you should have waited a few days before coming back, but you were just so impatient.

Anyway, you had to make up a plan. You had left the fence door open in case you needed to make an impromptu escape, and you gave yourself a pat in the back for thinking that far ahead. What you had to do now, was to take a picture of the ghost. Slowly, very,very slowly you raised your camera to get a picture of the ghost.

He had his back to you, the moonlight shining behind him, giving him a very paranormal aura. Still, for some reason the lense wouldn’t focus, so you decided to move forward a bit to get a better look. Sadly, you miscalculated and you accidentally stepped on a dry leaf, making the ghost turn around in your direction, his face filled with worry but at the same time, confidence.

Then you stopped.

Damn he was cute.

You hadn’t seen his face till now, and you were taken aback by it. He was definetly a very good looking boy, one the girls in your class might go all crazy about. Never in your life had you felt something like you were feeling now. Could it be....love at first sight?

No! He’s a ghost, I can’t fall in love with a ghost, how would that even work?! You scolded yourself. Still, you didn’t stop your staring at the boy. Thankfully he hadn’t seemed to notice you were there, and before you could even think about it, you pressed the camera button and a loud CLICK was heard through the bushes.

And then a bright light came on.

You forgot to turn off the flash.

The boy let out a surprised gasp, and called out, but before he could once again catch you, you quickly got up and ran away from the place. You heard the footsteps following behind you, but you were faster and a few minutes later you didn’t hear anything else, and you slowed your pace.

That was close.

You triumphantly smiled as you looked through the pictures on your camera. Granted they weren’t super high quality, but you could make out the boys silhouette.

Hehe, now to become a millionaire! You celebrated. You sneaked back into your room and placed your camera and flashlight on your desk. Then you were going to grab your paranormal book from your backpack when...you didn’t find anything.

What?

You turned your backpack upside down and staked it as hard as possible, but still nothing would come out.

Bada’s book.

Oh no.

Oh no.

If Bada found out you lost her book, you wouldn’t be able to have lunch at her home ever again! And you would loose the only...friends (?) you had in this island. You couldn’t allow that! You always had to return what you borrowed, that was one thing your mother would always say, and this time she was right! After all, Bada lent you soemthing really important to her, and you couldn’t bear to think about coming back to her home empty handed.

Still...you weren’t going to go back into the house. It was way to dark now, you were sleepy and you were sure the ghost was porbably waiting in the garden, somewhere.

What to do, what to do? You asked yourself as you put on your pijamas and laid in bed.

It must have fallen off somewhere along the way, you thought, so maybe you wouldn’t have to go into the garden after all.

Then you got it!

What if, tomorrow morning you went into the garden? There weren’t going to be any ghosts since it was daytime, you reasoned, and it would be way easier to find the book. After all, there would be no one around the mansion to scold you, or to tell you to leave! It was the perfect plan!

You tucked yourself into bed and looked up confidently at the ceiling. You were going to get that book!

[amazingphanisnotonfire-imagines]

FP//The Midnight Club (part 4)

hey! thats right, after the long awaited return, its back!!! and because i feel so terrible about leaving it for so long, the rest of the series is written too (and edited!!!), it just needs posting. anyway, i hope you like it!! and i hope it was worth the wait. seriously, thank you for being so patient, i love you all. (part 3)

In movies, Saturday detention always looks fun. Sneaking around, pouring your heart out to people you see everyday but know next to nothing about and making new life long friends. In reality, its spent doing a whole load of nothing.

You rest your chin in your hand and stare at the blank board ahead. You were the second one here, after Penelope Blossom and as soon as you walked through the door she sent you a disapproving look.

You and Penelope get on almost as well as you and Alice. She’s an annoying teachers pet that likes to write you up when she catches you and FP so much as holding hands.

The seat you chose when you got hear was a good one, near the back and away from Penelope. But then the rest of the your classmates turned up and suddenly you found yourself sat between FP and Alice, both of which were trying to kill each other with just looks. 

“Leave me alone FP.” You whisper. It’s the third time he’s tried to talk to you since he got here, and every time you’ve told him to go away. It seems finally he gets the hint and huffs loudly before leaning back in his chair.

You glance behind you to see Alice already looking at you and you send her a small, unsure smile. She just scoffs and looks down at her gloved hands, leaving you to stare at the top of her head.

“Welcome...to Saturday Detention.” Principal Featherhead’s loud but tired voice draws your attention the front of the class again and you force yourself to try and listen to whatever’s he’s droning on about, but in the 2 seconds its taken for him to let out a breath, you’ve tuned out.

It’s weird when the closest thing you have to a friend is Alice Smith. The rest are just acquaintances...and FP, who right now could be dead for all you care. You’re still not over last night. 

There’s clearly something going on between him and Alice, the more you think of it, the more it makes sense. And you’ve thought about it a lot, all of last night in fact. 

Your boyfriend knocked up Alice Smith...and then you. It makes you wonder if anybody else is expecting, you could make a little football team at this rate. 

It’s bad enough having Saturday detention, but it’s even worse that he’s here, especially when you’re running on less than an hours sleep. 

It’s just one Saturday. Eight hours, seven people with nothing in common.

Well, almost nothing.

The bad girl

“Alice Smith?”

The rebelling Catholic

“Hermione Gomez?”

The teachers pet

“Penelope Blossom?”

The artist athlete

“Fred Andrews?”

The political animal

“Sierra Samuels?”

The good girl

“Y/n Y/ln?”

And the ladies man

“Forsythe Pendleton Jones, Jr?”

You piece together the reasons everyone’s here. Alice and Penelope are here for fighting, something Alice told you about in detail last night, despite you wanting to sit in silence and watch Winona and Johnny fall in love. But you will admit...she did deserve it. 

Sierra and Hermione are probably here because they were in the bathroom just before you left, so they got caught in a wrong place, one time thing like you. The friend that you’re covering for isn’t even here, instead she’s probably in bed, or at Pop’s while you’re sat here taking the fall for her. 

Fred and FP were caught streaking, which was funny at the time. Seeing FP and Fred run down the corridor with no clothes on was a sight, made even funnier by Principal Featherstone catching them. But now you just want to slap the smirk that seems to permanently reside on FP’s face off. You have never hoped he has a hangover more.

“While you’re here today you will not talk.” Featherhead starts while making his way around the desks, handing out paper as he goes and you have to hold in a sigh. “You will not play” He says and snatches Fred’s drumsticks away, making the boy huff quietly and sit up straighter. “You will not move. I don’t even want you to breathe.”

“Charming.” Alice mutters and you stifle a laugh. Sierra clears her throat and everyone looks at her.

“Yes?”

“What if we have to pee?” She asks.

“You hold it, Miss Samuels. And at the end of the day, you will deliver a 1000-word essay as to why you’re here today.” He replies and you all let out a collective groan. “I will be right down the hall, in my office, all day long...cause I have nothing better to do.”

The clock reads 11am, meaning you’ve only been here for two hours and they’ve been the longest two hours of your life. Staring at the blank sheet of paper in front of you for so long has made your vision go weird so you  focus on the clock instead. You know why you’re here, ‘caught smoking’ is what you’ll have to write, despite the fact you were just holding it. But how are you supposed to stretch that into 1000 words?

A scratching behind you distracts you from your thoughts making you look behind you. Alice sits on the windowsill with a knife in her hand as she scratches against the wood.

“Dude, can you not?” Fred asks annoyed and she stops abruptly.

“Dude? Can you bite me?” She retorts. Fred rolls his eyes before turning back around.

“Oh, my God. Shh.” Penelope says loudly and now its your turn to roll your eyes.

“Psst. Sierra.” A different voice is a welcome distraction for all of you and everyone looks at the door, hoping and praying that its something exciting.

Tom Keller peeks his head round the door, a smile growing on his face when he spots Sierra and she quickly stands up, making her way towards him.

“Sit down. We’ll get in trouble.” Penelope scolds but Sierra ignores her.

“Tommy.” She smiles and the two of them kiss. Your eyes widen at the sight and you hear a few muffled gasps from the other students.

“Brought you some sustenance.” He says and waves a paper bag at her. She smiles again and grabs the bag from him, holding it close to her chest.

“Thank you.”

“I love you. I’ll see you tonight, okay?”

“Okay.” She nods and kisses him again before he leaves as quickly as he came.

“Sierra?” Fred is the first to break the stunned silence. “You and Tom Keller?” She nods and he lets out a short laugh. “Guys we’ve been going to the same school since kindergarten. How do we not know anything about each other?”

“We’re not friends. Cliques don’t cross pollinate.” Penelope replies. “Haven’t you seen Heathers?”

“Well, we’ve got six or more hours to kill, and no one to impress. How about a round of Secrets and Sins?” Sierra says, a small twinkle in her eyes as she looks at each you.

You gulp and share a look with the rest of the group, yours and Alice’s lingering for a little longer than the rest.

Sierra is the first to sit down, an excited smile on her face as she watches the rest of you reluctantly sit. Fred’s next, and then Hermione who sits beside him. Penelope sits on the other side of Sierra, FP sits next to Fred and you sit beside him, making sure to put a good amount of distance in between you. Alice is the last to sit, doing it as dramatically as she can and earning an eye roll from Sierra and FP.

“I’ll start!” Sierra says. “Tommy and I have been secretly dating for a few months now.” She admits.  

“Why secretly?” Hermione asks.

“Our parents don’t want their children dating someone so...different. To use their euphemism of choice.” She replies, the previous happy smile is long gone. It’s replaced by sadness and she looks at the old, faded carpet, trying hard not to think too much of it. 

“My mom’s all up in my relationships, too.” Hermione adds. “You know Hiram Lodge?”

“Uh, yes.” Fred replies and a few of you giggle at his response. “Dude is ripped.”

“And a petty criminal.” Penelope mutters.

“He’s a self starter who provides for his family.” She defends. “But to my mom, he’s a scrub. ‘Thats the way to to the American Dream, mija.’ But what dream? She cleans hotel rooms in that stupid Five Seasons, 16 hours a day. Hiram’s got the right idea. Get out of Riverdale. No matter what you have to do.”

“Yeah.” Fred starts. “Except...Riverdale’s not the problem. Me? I wanna stay here my whole life.” He says making Sierra laugh and you shake your head. You can’t think of anything worse. 

Although now, you just might be stuck here. You’re destined to live in a crappy trailer, barely keeping it together and watching your friends move on with their lives. Oh god, the thought alone makes you want to cry and throw up all at the same time and you let out a shaky breath. Your hand automatically moves to your stomach as you try to slow your breathing. 

“Are you okay?” Fred asks and you force yourself to look at him, faking a smile and quickly dropping your hand to your thigh.

“Yeah, I’m good.” You nod. FP moves to hold your hand but you quickly pull it away, sending him a scowl and he quickly retracts his hand back. Fred notices of course, but decides to stay out of it, instead looking at the old carpet. Alice rolls her eyes at the two of you and looks straight at Fred. 

“Is that how longs its gonna take you to decide between music or baseball?” She asks and Fred flips her off.

“Our minor league is solid. And we’re close enough to the city to play music gigs. This towns got it all. Could even see myself running for mayor one day.” He says, and he’s the only person in this room that you believe could actually do that.

Fred Andrews is something different. He’s friendly to everyone, no matter where they come from or what they are. He’s somebody you wish you could be more like, and you can see him changing the world someday.

“Ugh. Nightmare job.” Sierra huffs. “Why not shoot for something bigger? You can do all those things in a real metropolis.”

“Yeah. Except look after my dad. He’s sick. Real sick. And he took care of me my whole life, so, now it’s my turn.” He replies, his expression saddening and a frown appears on your own face. Tears well behind your eyes and one rolls down your cheek. It lands on your hand and your curse your hormones for making you cry.

FP reaches out again but you just shuffle further away from him, wiping your tears as you go and he lets out an annoyed sigh.

Hermione places a comforting hand on Fred’s knee and he looks at it for a few seconds, seemingly getting lost in his thoughts for a while before quickly changing the subject.

“Alice, you’re up. What’s your deepest, darkest secret?”

The tension in the room shifts. Penelope, Sierra and Hermione share a look and you watch as FP and Alice glance at each other.  

“Um...”

“Lets skip her.” You interrupt and she sends you a glare.

“I don’t need your pity Y/n.”

“Alice just tell them about the time you lit a dumpster on fire on the southside” FP says bored.

“Wait, that was you?” You ask, earning a few confused looks from the rest of the group. You remember that fire, it caused quite the rage on the Southside because the serpents thought it was a rival gang seeing as though it was right outside of the Wyrm. “...FP told me.” You add quietly.

“Why don’t you tell them that you actually live in Sunnyside Trailer Park?” She replies and for a second you freeze, thinking she’s talking about you.

“I thought you lived on Elm Street.” Penelope says shocked and you realize she was actually talking to FP.

“Yeah, of course. Because it’s what Forsythe wants you to believe. You parade around the school in your varsity jacket like a Northsider. You even got yourself a northside girlfriend to help you fit in.” She says and looks at you. “But don’t kid yourself. You’ll never escape the Southside. You’re gonna end up just like your dad.”

“Alice.” You warn. He may have pissed you off, gotten you and some other girl pregnant, but he is not his father. He never will be and you feel yourself jumping to his defense quicker than you probably would have liked.

“Downing six-packs in your double-wide.” She continues, staring straight at him.

“Maybe, but I’m not gonna hit my kid. Not like my old man hits me.” He replies and looks at you, his eyes glancing at your stomach for a split second before looking back at her. The group goes silent, no one daring to look at each other and even you avoid eye contact with him.

“Oh really? Which one?” She laughs and you quickly look up. Everyone looks up surprised, but before they can question anything Alice storms out, slamming the door behind her.

Its quiet for a few minutes, before FP takes a deep breath and continues his story.

“I told him I didn’t wanna join his gang. That I wanted to be the first Jones to go to college. He didn’t like that.” He holds up his broken wrist. He hates the way they’re looking at him, like he’s broken, like he’s a victim. But he feels better when he feels your hand resting on top of his. “I guess he sort of got what he wanted. It looks like I won’t be going anyway.” He whispers the last part, turning his hand over and holding yours as best as he can.

“Okay. I guess I’m next.” Penelope interrupts the moment you’re having but you don’t let go. Instead you shuffle closer to him, you’re still pissed, beyond pissed even, but it doesn’t mean he doesn’t deserve a hug. “Fair is fair. The Blossoms. They’re...terrible people.”

“But, Penelope, you’re a Blossom.” Hermione replies confused.

“No, I’m not. Not really. I grew up at the Sisters of Quiet Mercy orphanage.”

“Oh, my God, Penelope. That place has like, violated every humanitarian code.” Sierra says.

“When I was eight, the Blossom’s came and asked to see all the red-headed children. The next thing I knew, I was leaving with them. I was so excited. I very quickly realized this was not an altruistic adoption. I was being groomed. To first be Clifford’s sister. Then, eventually, his life companion. Every second away from that house, even today, is a relief.”

“Why are you still living there?” You ask, genuinely curious as to why she would stay there.

“They’re my family.” She replies.

“That’s not family. It’s basically incest. It’s disgusting.” Hermione adds.

“At least I’m not cleaning other people’s toilets like your mom.” Penelope argues and Hermione stares at her annoyed, trying to think of an insult.

“Well, at least she has class. She’s not stealing child brides out of orphanages.” She spits and Penelope gasps.

The two of them start fighting and you hear Fred and Sierra complain before moving to separate them. FP stands and helps you up, quickly moving you out of the way and you end up backing into something much worse that an accidental punch. 

“Congratulations. You all just upped your sentence from Saturday detention...to four.”

[lnarizakis]

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ COACHES DON’T PLAY

MONTHLY NEWSLETTER #3

HOT OFF THE PRESS ! Thanks for picking up the third monthly newsletter of the school year! Not what you’re looking for? Please view the masterlist [here]! This month we’ve got (Y/N)’s third piece of dating advice, and what’s this...? Our very first submission that’s not anonymous! Let’s see what (Y/N) has to say about this!

EXTRA ! miya osamu x fem! reader. 1.8k words. original characters.

DATING-SAN HELPS INARIZAKI HIGH !

Dear Dating-san,

My name is Miya Atsumu but you probably already know that. I am a second year in Class 2 and I am the setter of the volleyball team of our school. You probably heard about us at nationals last autumn. My brother, who is in your class, has a crush on someone and he doesn’t know I am writing this. If he did, well, he’d probably kill me. Anyways, I found out by strict interrogation and a couple outside sources that he has a crush on your pretty third-year editor, Asai-san. He doesn’t know much about her but he met her through seeing each other during a Cooking club meeting.

He’s constantly thinking about her and I know this because his mind wanders far more often than usual. He is not playing very well during practice and frankly it’s getting me a little annoyed. That is the reason I am writing this letter to you. Please help Osamu get together with Asai-san before his little crush on her gets him kicked off the starting line-up for our games.

Thank you very much.

From, Miya Atsumu of Class 2-2.

(Y/N) stared at the email on the screen of the school-provided computer until the words didn’t look like words to her. Everyone else in the club room with her was focusing on whatever they were focusing on themselves, and they didn’t notice the boggling eyes of the author. She swallowed dryly down her throat, and the words on the screen blending together began to look similar to fuzziness that she didn’t care to make out to read anymore. (Y/N) blinked a couple of times to get rid of the dryness in her eyes, and as she looked up from the screen to focus on something else, she saw Asai Kanako, her editor, walk by in front of her.

“Asai-senpai. Come look at this email,” (Y/N) said, catching the editor’s attention. The short-haired brunette turned towards (Y/N), and hummed, asking what was up. (Y/N) becomes for Asai to read what was on her screen. She made her way towards the author and situated herself behind where (Y/N) was sitting. Asai leaned forward and read the email with her big, hazel eyes. She scanned the email, and stifled a laugh as she read how Osamu, (Y/N)’s classmate that Asai had the pleasure of knowing she liked, ironically liked her. When she finished, she leaned back and gave (Y/N), who turned around to look at Asai’s reaction, an awkward yet teasing smile.

“Well, good luck writing your advice for this month. You’ll need it,” Asai said, with a terribly taunting tone, as she walked away. She regrouped with the other editors at a different table in the room as they gathered around to look at some funny video that the editor of the sports column was currently sharing on his phone. (Y/N) turned back to the computer screen in front of her. She placed her chin on the palms of her hand and sighed lengthily.

Just how was she going to write something for this month?

✫’ﾟ･:*:･˙

Back in March, before the next school year had even started, (L/N) (Y/N) had assumed the role of the next Dating-san for the next year and her third year. She was extremely proud of taking up the responsibility, despite the multiple warnings that the previous Dating-san, her cousin, had given to her. He warned her that she could potentially receive dark or stressful emails, or perhaps even a letter that could possibly turn things for the worse. (Y/N) swept all of her cousin’s worries under the rug, as she was currently basking in the fame that she was to receive.

Her first letter she received in April was not at all bad. She had to help a girl, whose boyfriend she had suspected was cheating on her, come to terms with if he was actually cheating on her. (Y/N) advised that the girl must reconcile peacefully with him instead of coming after the girl with whom the boyfriend was cheating, which would cause so many unnecessary problems. A couple days later, (Y/N) received a couple of looks as she walked down the second-year hallway, and the stares confused her slightly until she passed by classroom 2-4, where she was met with the girl who wrote the letter, wrapping her arms around her and praising her. The whole situation was so comical it looked staged.

Her second letter that she received in May was way easier than the first. A first-year boy, whose email came out to look like he was crying as he wrote it, needed help with a crush he had on a girl he thought was so pretty he couldn’t muster up the courage to talk to her, let alone confess to her. (Y/N) helped him gain the confidence he needed to introduce himself to her—with style, too, as he fixed up his hair and showered with a scented wash. He sent a follow-up email a week later thanking her like the god he had made her out to be. (Y/N) thought about that email for the next few days, strutting around the hallways like she owned them, hearing—or perhaps imagining—applauses all around her wherever around the campus she walked.

And now her third letter, sent to her one hot June afternoon, by a brother of the twin set that probably almost everyone knew as the Miya Twins. To make things worse, he sent the letter on behalf of someone—that someone being the one guy (Y/N) just happened to have a crush on. How does it get worse from there? She was doing so well before, and now this could possibly ruin her entire reputation as Dating-san. If she messes up her advice for Osamu (although she wishes she could, for everything in her wanted to pull Osamu to herself, claiming him as hers), the entire school would go against her and possibly riot. Oh, the possibilities! She had to get things right or else her entire career would crumble into shambles. What (Y/N) realized was that her affection for Osamu blinded her from being able to write the best advice she possibly could, since this letter that Atsumu had sent was far easier than the first (the May letter was still deemed the easiest in her opinion).

So here (Y/N) was, sitting at a blank word document opened up for her on the computer to write the best advice she could as Dating-san, but the crush she had on him blocked her from writing. Her hands hovered over the keyboard; she could imagine herself typing out what she wanted to say, but she just couldn’t. (Y/N) tapped her fingers over the keyboard lightly, so as not to keyboard-smash onto the word document, and her eyes wandered all around the club room. The person across from her, a fellow author whose name she did not know, watched as she continued her actions, slightly amused by her writer’s block.

“Cat got your tongue?” He asked playfully. A smirk ghosted upon his lips, and (Y/N) tilted her head away from the computer screen to get a better look at the person in front of her. She too smiled and shook her head no.

“Nah, more like: crush got my tongue,” (Y/N) replied, and the person in front of her nodded in understanding. He hummed, and laughed slightly. He apologized, and jokingly said that if she wanted to, she could take a walk around the campus to clear her head. (Y/N) declined the offer, not wanting to get reprimanded by their very intimidating, and—might the two authors add— very, very scary chief editor for leaving the club room without notifying him first. The two shuddered at the thought of getting reprimanded by him, especially with his scolding tone, and they went back to work.

After a couple more minutes of staring at the (still blank) word document, (Y/N) groaned into her hands, exclaiming out loud that she didn’t want to write a word of advice for her crush. It was something that everyone in the club room heard, at which they all laughed.

By the end of the club meeting, (Y/N) was able to complete a first draft of her advice column for the newspaper. She removed her hands that seemed glued to the keyboard, and stretched out her hunched back. Stretching out her arms, she groaned out loud. The author across from her stopped typing whatever it was he was currently writing and he watched and giggled as (Y/N) groaned out loud while stretching her arms. (Y/N) turned her head towards Asai, who was currently leaning back in her chair while drinking boxed milk that she got from the vending machine while sneaking out of the club room a couple minutes ago.

“Asai-senpai, can you please read over my work? I’ll send it to you,” (Y/N) asked as she clicked over some things on her computer to forward her document to Asai for her to edit and read over. Asai rolled her eyes, an action which (Y/N) had overlooked, given the distance they were apart from each other, and opened up her laptop where she would be reading the first draft.

Asai’s eyes scanned over the document quickly, not giving her full attention to it since the editor of the academic achievements column was currently telling her a story of how he almost picked a fight with someone from a different school. After reading through it once, Asai closed her notebook and promptly said that the draft was okay to be published. (Y/N) tilted her head confusedly and looked back at the document on her own screen.

Really?

Miya Atsumu:

Thanks for sending in a letter to Dating-san!

I think your brother would really appreciate the thought of you sending a letter on his behalf. It’s not easy confessing that you have a crush on someone, let alone if that someone is an upperclassman of yours.

As Osamu’s brother, you should let him off easy with volleyball practice. He may feel stress added on to what he is currently feeling. It may be difficult, but it will help him—and even you— in the long run.

For Osamu himself, he should know that Asai is a nice and easygoing person who enjoys talking with almost anyone. She has a soft spot for food, so he should probably try cooking something for her if he does fess up the courage to confess to her. He shouldn’t be shy when he talks to her because she can immediately be put off by people who don’t have a direct object in mind when talking to her. She is a very direct person and can be intimidating sometimes, but this shouldn’t deter you from wanting to make conversation with her.

I wish you luck on your endeavors! Have a great day.

From, (L/N) (Y/N), Dating-san.

taglist: send an ask to be added ! [ @lcaita @reogou @alienvarmint @annalyn-annalyn @kunimwuah @akaarin @wansseul @anime-simp ]

[xcactusarto]

Heaven Help Me

an Aoyama Yuga x Iida Tenya university au fic

Ao3 link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/33615358

Summary:

What would happen if you found out the person that ordered art prints from you is the guy you’ve been interested in and lives 2 dorms away from you?

Poor Aoyama is denying his feelings from all the times boys broke his little heart, but this guy seems different and became even more special after Aoyama finds out this dude is a big fan of his art! Will he deliver the art prints himself or just leave the package at his door?

Part 1 / ?

Chapter 2 -

Aoyama was anxious to spill the tea on what had just happened to Bakugou once he could go back to his dorm. Even if he was excited to spill the beans, his stomach was not in good shape. He knew this feeling all too well.

He wanted it gone.

Aoyama arrived 5 minutes late after having to change routes and hiding between the bushes next to the art building to throw up dramatically. Thankfully his teacher was late so he could calm down and sit down. Aoyama felt seasick despite only having butterflies. Throw up could happen or the shits. ‘Not in this outfit’ Aoyama thought as he gripped his phone. The class only lasts 30 mins. Since his teacher was late probably less. Maybe he could text Bakugou about how sick he felt maybe they could walk together to the dorms.

.

.

.

Baku dear! My stomach is being very bitchy ~(>_<~) could you pick me up???

.

.

.

.

5 mins passed and Bakugou didn’t answer. Nor did the teacher show up yet. Aoyama looked around and his classmates looked confused as well. Aoyama looks a little to his right and whispers to his classmate.

“Dear, uh do you know if we had class today?”, his classmate looked at him and whispered back.

“Gurlie I’m not gonna lie, this is the first time in the semester I have come to class”, The classmate giggled and said,” Oh, but dude your outfit is hella cute”. Aoyama smiles at his classmate. A girl with a pink afro, a pink headband that made the knotted ends look like horns on her head, and hazel eyes.

“Oh thank you! But I gotta say you look absolutely dashing! Love the colors!”, Aoyama looked at his classmate up and down scanning her outfit. A blue tie-dye crop top with purple spots that went down to her chest. A black bralette under and some pastel yellow sweatpants that gave Aoyama the idea that she could be a dancer. White sneakers with colorful shoelaces. “What’s your name dear?”, Aoyama asked smiling. A small link formed and it was the start of a very nice and stylish friendship.

“Mina Ashido! And you?”, Mina said excitedly as she almost jumped from her seat. She could see this dude could be a great way to pass the class without having to show up. “Yuga Aoyama. Pleased to meet you.” Aoyama and Mina chatted as they waited for their teacher to show up. Slowly the people around them would get up and leave or just chat with each other. The silence of the room cleared up as Mina and Aoyama laughed and talked about their passion for fashion and their hobbies. Aoyama’s perception of Mina was right, she was a Dance major. She was currently doing ballet because she didn’t want her parents to know she was an underground street dancer. On the other hand, Mina learned Aoyama was a digital artist and even got to see some of his pieces. Both were very passionate and frankly, they could be each other’s moral support.

“Hey how about we exchange numbers?”, Mina said and quickly looked around. They were the only ones in class. The classroom was empty and the clock ticking at the front of the class. The class had just ended. Maybe coming to class wasn’t so bad since Aoyama was here. They both looked at each other and laughed. Aoyama’s butterflies were gone and Mina took away his anxiety of shitting himself.

“Yeah that would be wonderful”, Aoyama and Mina then tapped their phone and so they could now talk to each other without having to be in class. Maybe even hang out sometime. As they walked to the door and parted ways Aoyama could notice Bakugou never replied, but his bitch ass left Aoyama on seen. Aoyama was used to it and knew Bakugou would come. Bakugou often forgot to reply , but would do stuff Aoyama texted him to do or asked.

Aoyama waited outside the building for a while. He then sat down and looked at his phone. Scrolled down on his Twitter and Instagram timeline for some time. Aoyama then let out a sigh and got up. He then plugged in his earphones and as he was about to walk away his dorm neighbor called out to him. “Aoyama-kun! Wait up”, A slightly freckled buff guy with green fluffy curly hair called out to him. He wasn’t very stylish , but was always kind to Aoyama. Even though at one point our little Aoyama stalked him because he wanted to be friends with him. I mean he needed a reference for his styling assignment and he was perfect for the outfit. Aoyama stood there and waited for him to catch up to him. “Did class just finish for you too?”, The green-haired hunk asked Aoyama. Aoyama looked at him and explained his situation of waiting for Bakugou.

“Ah, Kacchan didn’t come to pick you up? I can walk you then since we are going to the same dorms!”, his dorm neighbor was always a lifesaver. “Denki is probably at our dorm so I can text him if he can check if Kacchan is there”.

“Please Midori! I’m worried he is oversleeping again. Which I doubt it...He’s probably working out”, Aoyama said as he locked arms with his neighbor. Midoriya Izuku or as Bakugou called him, ‘Deku’, shared a room with Denki Kaminari. Both Midoriya and Denki were his dorm neighbors and often came to watch movies or just help Aoyama with styling assignments. Midoriya was known by the fashion majors as the guy that wore weird shirts. Today he was wearing a pastel blue pullover that had ‘tiny weenie baby’ on it. Aoyama wanted to chuckle , but decided to hold it in. Midoriya’s boyfriend could probably say that was true. They walked to the dorms and as soon as Aoyama got close to the door he slammed it open.

“BITCH YOU HAD ME WAITING FOR 20 MINS OUTSIDE!”, Aoyama said hand still on the door. Midoriya looking over Aoyama’s shoulder. They had caught Bakugou at a...uh special moment.

“CAN’T YOU KNOCK?!”, Bakugou shouted back as he was making out with a purple-haired dude that looked exhausted. Bakugou was still in pajamas while the other was dressed like an e-boy that had just come out of hot topic after his mother had given him an allowance of $10 to spend on my chemical romance merch. That emo boy was Shinso Hitoshi, Bakugou’s boyfriend, and Aoyama’s ex-boyfriend which actually ended well with no heartbreak. I mean they lasted 1 week. Midoriya sneakily walking away then bumped into Denki who was joined by his dark-haired friend. Aoyama looked behind him and immediately then pulls Midoriya as to show proof in an Ace Attorney game.

“I can’t believe poor little Midori had to take time out of his day to walk me back!” Aoyama said as he hugged Midoriya with puppy eyes.

“W-Well uh technically I was walking back so might as well accompany him, right?” Midoriya nervously smiled as Denki walked into the room and held in the laughter he had from seeing Bakugou slightly flustered from being caught getting it on with Shinso. Bakugou then of course starts arguing with Deku as if Deku was the one at fault. Oh well, Aoyama needed to spill the beans on the guy he saw and interacted with so he gathered Denki, Shinso, and Denki’s friend who was just watching the chaos happening in a room full of gays. Except for Denki he had a girlfriend. I mean he isn’t straight, but bisexual so yeah a gay too. Aoyama shoved them to the other side of the room onto his bottom bunk. They all proceeded to sit down and let Aoyama sit cross-legged in the middle while he held a pillow.

“Oh my gosh, guys please help me snap out of these feelings I’m having! I’M GONNA DIE!”, Aoyama said as he swung his arms around dramatically.

“Is he gonna scooter ankle or is he being dramatic?” Denki’s friend leaned over and whispered in Denki’s ear.

“No Sero, he is just being dramatic about something .”, Shinso said as they looked at Aoyama giving them puppy eyes. Sero Hanta, Denki’s friend who was wrapped up in this situation. Sero is a black-haired dude with a nice wide smile. He often just wore pullovers and looked like those dudes that sits right in front of you in computer class and just watching memes or editing Shrek on Ronal McDonald’s body. Those dudes are pretty chill once you start talking to them.

“Just let him spill the tea guys. I wanna know what made him so anxious”, Denki said as he nudged both of the boys to listen.

“So I was walking to class alright?? And then and then I bumped into this guy while I was checking the time on my phone! And then bam this dude was holding me so sweetly and he was so strong might I add!!”, Aoyama said excitedly as he gripped the pillow close to his chest. The boys on the other hand looked at him. Maybe he’s being dramatic, Denki thought. The room of course was still noisy while Aoyama spilled his feelings on the hunk of a man that literally held him as if it was a shojo manga.

“And then he even HELD MY HAND!! MY PRECIOS HAND TO HAND ME MY PHONE!! He also told me to be careful and walked away as if nothing happened!!”, Aoyama sighs after this and just lets his body lay on the boys legs as he dramatically puts his left arm over his face.

“Well, that was something. How did he look like wey?”, Sero asked as he held Aoyama’s arm away from his face. Denki and Shinso nodded. Aoyama then puts a finger on his lips and thinks for a little. “Mind if I sketch him out?” Aoyama says as he signals Shinso to pass him his sketchbook.

After a few minutes, he then shows the boys as he had decided to sit between Denki and Sero. “He looked like this!! He had some weird eyebrows that looked like the Nike symbols!”, Aoyama pointed at the drawing. The boys felt like they had seen him before. They just couldn’t find this dude’s name in the glossary of their minds.

“Isn’t that Iida-kun?”

[remedialpotions]

It’s December and I’m fully in the Christmas mood. Could I request Some Harry-Ron-Hermione friendship fluff doing something Christmas-y while at Hogwarts? Any time between first and third year? If not maybe do you have any Harry Potter Christmas themed friendship centric fanfics to recommend?

Hermione Granger has always been called an ‘old soul’. She’s never been naive enough to believe in Father Christmas - the handwriting on her gifts from him always looked a bit too much like her mother’s, and the logic of one man visiting every home on the planet in one night was never sound - and she’s never been particularly swayed by all the trappings of the holiday season. Elves and carols and decorating the tree have always seemed frivolous, a waste of time that could be better spent on almost anything else.

So at first, she wasn’t particularly fussed about staying at Hogwarts over the Christmas break. The Polyjuice plan, as ill-executed as it had ended up being, had required it, and Hermione felt it was much more important to protect her fellow students from Slytherin’s monster than to drink hot cocoa and watch It’s A Wonderful Life with her parents.

But now, on Boxing Day, lying in the hospital wing with glowing yellow eyes and whiskers and a tail - a tail - she cannot help the childish thought that continues to cross her mind over and over again: Christmas is ruined.

[[MORE]]

She knows it’s immature. It sounds like the sort of thing Harry’s cousin might say if he doesn’t get the gifts he wants. But she can’t help that none of this has gone how she imagined it. All they’ve learned is that Draco Malfoy isn’t the one setting Slytherin’s monster on all the Muggleborns, but they’re not much closer to finding out who is, and she’s stuck here looking like something out of a low-budget horror film. Her only company is the disturbingly-still figures of Justin Finch-Fletchley and Colin Creevey, and she can hardly bear to look over at that side of the room.

She’s not one to get all worked up over Christmas, but she’s had better holidays.

She doesn’t even have any proper reading material. Madame Pomfrey has the hospital wing stocked with plenty of magazines, but they’re all wildly outdated and pertaining to subject matter that doesn’t interest her. The most recent one is the summer edition of Quidditch Quarterly from 1987, and with a sigh, she picks it up and starts paging through. Headlines in big bright letters pop off the page at her:

Kenmare’s King: World Cup Hopes Rise for Kestrels’ Keeper

“Wimbourne are Winners”: Ludo Bagman’s Predictions for the Upcoming Season

She rolls her eyes and keeps turning the pages. Is there really this much to say about Quidditch? It’s rather a straightforward game - and it is, truly, just a game - and yet grown men have dedicated their entire livelihoods to it.

“Harry,” comes a loud, boisterous voice from the corridor. “Call the Daily Prophet - no, the Evening Prophet, they’ll want the world to know about this right away.”

Hermione lowers the magazine and her heart leaps gleefully in her chest: her two best friends - best friends, she’s not even used to having any friends, let alone ones she can call best - have just walked through the door, rucksacks over their shoulders.

“Hermione Granger,” Ron continues, “is reading about Quidditch.”

Harry drops his jaw in mock astonishment. Despite realizing that she’s probably difficult to take seriously with cat ears poking out of her bushy hair, Hermione can’t stop herself scowling at the pair of them.

“It isn’t by choice,” she tells them haughtily. “There’s nothing else to read here.”

“That’s not true,” argues Ron, his rucksack dropping with a heavy thud as he reaches her bedside. “Not anymore.”

“Mate!” laughs Harry. “Careful with that!”

“Oh, shit, you’re right.” Ron picks up the rucksack and sets it gingerly on a nearby wooden chair. “There, that’s better.”

“Better for what?” asks Hermione, warily eyeing the bag. “What have you got in there?”

Given that they’ve recently stolen ingredients from Snape, brewed an illegal potion, drugged two of their classmates and snuck into a common room that isn’t theirs, she’s not sure their next rule-breaking stint should take place quite so soon.

“You’ve got other magazines,” says Ron, leaning over the bedside table and rifling through them. “Look, what about this one?”

He holds it up with a cheeky grin: 1,001 Knitting Patterns.

“I think I prefer Quidditch,” says Hermione dryly. “But really,” she continues as Harry crosses the room to an empty bed and seizes the two chairs flanking it, “what have you brought? There’s things that aren’t allowed in here.”

With a discordant scrape, Harry drags the chairs over to Hermione’s bedside and drops into one, rucksack in his lap. “Did they tell you how long you’ll have to stay?”

“Madam Pomfrey isn’t sure,” Hermione tells him as Ron takes a seat as well. “But it sounds like it’ll be at least until term starts again.”

“Good thing we’re here, then,” Ron declares. “We figured you’d get bored in here, so we’ve brought you some stuff.”

As Hermione watches on, words momentarily failing her, Ron upends his rucksack - the one Harry had been so concerned about the safety of - onto the foot of Hermione’s bed. Items spill out over the bedclothes, and a few of the smaller things - quills, sweets wrapped in acetate, the page of the Daily Prophet with the crossword puzzle and the word jumble - tumble onto the floor.

“See, it didn’t get squished,” says Ron to Harry, picking up what looks like a loaf of bread wrapped in wax paper and holding it out. “It’s pumpkin bread,” he adds to Hermione. “My mum sent it to Percy but I guess he doesn’t like pumpkin bread, he was all put out - anyway. You can have it.”

He sets it on the bedside table with a thud. Before she can even find her voice - to thank him, or ask what’s inside the little tin that appears to be rattling of its volition - she catches sight of the books hidden beneath Ron’s old chess set.

“What are these?” she asks, pulling them into her lap. Their heavy weight is immediately comforting. “A Brief History of Transfiguration Theory?”

“He thought you’d like that one,” says Harry quickly, pointing at Ron. “I said it looked boring-“

“Oh, it’s fascinating,” Hermione gushes, opening the book with a satisfying crack. “Did you know they used to consider Transfiguration as a permanent state - so that time you tried to turn Scabbers into a teacup and it only worked halfway, they would have just left him that way. It wasn’t until the fifteenth century that…” Noticing that their eyes have glazed over, she trails off. “Well, thanks for getting it for me, anyway.”

“Told you,” Ron grins over at Harry. “Figured the most boring books would be your favorite.”

Hermione gasps, affronted. “They’re not boring-“

“Well, save it for when we’re gone, will you?” Ron requests. “‘Cause we brought things that are actually fun-“

“Just because I don’t care what Ludo Bagman thinks about Quidditch, whoever he is, that doesn’t mean-“

“Let’s play chess or something,” interjects Harry. “Before Madam Pomfrey kicks us out.”

Ron starts setting up the board, ordering the pawns and the knights and the bishops into place, as Harry opens up the rattling tin. It’s nearly overflowing with fudge and toad-shaped peppermint creams, the latter of which leap immediately out and hop across the blankets.

“Sorry we didn’t come to visit sooner,” says Ron, words muffled around a mouthful of fudge. “We thought we’d get all this stuff together first.”

“That’s all right,” replies Hermione. “It was really nice of you to bring me all of this.”

Ron’s ears go pink. “We just didn’t want you to be bored. The time I was in here, after Norbert hit me…”

And as he chatters cheerfully on, Hermione reaches for a cube of fudge and decides, as dire as things are, that at least she’s not here alone.

[randomguywithwords]

Thanks For The Assist Chapter 1 (Itsuka X Neito)

26/5/20 Update: Posted on AO3 with the proper edits (I hope I got them all). https://archiveofourown.org/works/24384310/chapters/58814230 . Enjoy!

––––––

The stage meant something to Neito Monoma. It was a platform for performance, for showmanship, for bedazzling and leaving your audience awestruck. But it was also a place to wear a mask, or several. The character on the stage is not the same as the actor leaving it, no matter how dedicated they are to the role. 

And as a famous playwright said, “All the world’s a stage, and the men and women merely players.” 

As he walked to the test ground, he surveyed the crowd. A large ensemble cast present, all doing their own thing. Some were concentrating in silence, some looked as though they were about to breakdown (stage fright, he smirked), and others were engaged in excited conversation.

He wondered how many of those faces were masks. Perhaps the nervous-looking ones were simply trying to let their competitors’ guards down so they could upstage them in the midst of the exam. The ones chatting – he saw their masks just fine. It could not have been more plainer. All of them were thinking the same thing, Will I beat you?

Exams were like that. A cutthroat competition, and he played along. He wouldn’t be able to do anything first but watch the rest use their quirks. 

His lips widened into a grin as he overheard a conversation behind him. Some side character talking about his quirk. “I can launch any object I pick up at high velocity! This test’s gonna be easy dude!” 

Spinning around with invigorated interest, he gave a light slap on the guy’s back and smiled. “Dude, that’s an awesome quirk! You just gotta throw it?”

The student looked startled at first, but quickly put on his cordial mask. “Yeah!” 

“Wow, I’d wish you good luck, but I don’t think you’d need it!” Monoma stroked that student’s ego, eliciting a prideful look from him. Neito could practically see the plot device’s chest inflate twice as large. 

Then, as he bent down to pick up a couple of stones, he heard the buzzing of the horn. Then it was a race, as the crowd of students poured through the gates like the bulls at Pamplona, leaving Monoma behind with the slower lot.

He’d have to work out if he got in. 

Dashing into an alleyway, away from the rabble, he grinned as he encountered a 3-pointer. Feeling his stolen quirk activating, his fingertips ignited with a warm feeling as the stone in his hands grew warmer with kinetic energy. With a yell, he threw his pebble straight at the robot point-blank.

And watched in a mix of horror and embarrassment as the pebble sailed just past its head, disappearing into the sky. 

He had to throw another one to take it down in a shower of sparks. 

“My accuracy needs work too, apparently.” He sighed as he moved on. He had around 4 minutes left on that quirk, and with luck, he could net a decent amount of points before he had to take someone else’s. 

The next few minutes he spent chucking random objects at whatever robots he could find, whether they were stones or pieces of metal from the robot corpses. 

As he sniped one from 20 metres away in a stroke of luck, the person who had been attacking that robot turned back to glare at him with venom. He shrugged it off. Part of the game, pal. 

He heard that person shout, “Don’t steal my points, asshole!” but he was already moving on to the next. 

Not very hero-like, buddy, he quipped, but didn’t say it. Then he growled in annoyance as he realised his time was running out. 10 seconds, tops.

With a last throw, the quirk ran out of time. Damn, I need another person –

And a Deus Ex Machina appeared in the form of a figure slamming a robot on the ground beside him – a figure with abnormally large hands and long orange hair tied into a ponytail. Ah, thanks. 

“Sorry about this.” Neito felt awkward touching a girl, but in the heat of battle, he hoped she wouldn’t mind. He tapped her left hand (it wasn’t hard), and dashed off before she could reply. 

Enlarging both his hands, he raked aside an oncoming 1-pointer and slammed another into the ground like a pancake. 

Damn, this is weird to control. It’s not that much heavier, but swinging it gives too much momentum. 

Could he shrink his hands down? He didn’t dare try it, for fear he couldn’t enlarge them again. 

“Watch out!” He turned to see a 2-pointer barrelling towards him get punched into a building by that girl, spraying dust eveywhere.

“Thanks,” Monoma said, Point-stealer. I would’ve gotten it anyway. Gritting his teeth, he charged into another onslaught of robots. He wouldn’t lose to that side character. He was going to pass this test. 

He spent the remaining time wielding his hands as weaponry before switching to another quirk, some fireball quirk. And then one that threw porcupine quills. 

By the end of the exam marked by the horn, he collapsed onto the ground in exhaustion. His arms were sore, his hands were even worse, having to adapt (which was partially unsuccessful, he might add) to the quirks he’d taken. His hands were singed slightly from wielding fire, bruised from punching robots and bleeding slightly from where the quills were shot out. Not to mention the first quirk he had taken that made his arms ache. 

Gratefully, he took the candy that some of the robot helpers were offering – they claimed it would help with their injuries. He watched some of the other students eat it first before munching down on his. Could be some sedative or poison. 

He sighed, chuckling to himself at his overdramatisation, but it faded as he spotted a glare from the corner of his eye. 

It was that person that he took the two points from. Pretending he hadn’t noticed, he closed his eyes and leaned against the wall to rest. 

After waiting for a minute or two, the loudspeaker blasted Present Mic’s voice, telling them that they could leave the exam venue. 

Getting to his feet, Monoma shuffled out alongside the many other tired ones, stifling a yawn. He prayed he did enough. He had lost count of his points midway through. 

He was nearing the train station, trailing through a parkway when he saw a couple of familiar faces in a reflection off a dustbin. Shit, it’s those guys.

They were following him. His eyes flickered to the sides. No one, huh? That’s convenient for them. I just gotta make it to the station. 

But those behind him knew it too. The footsteps sprang into a sprint as a hand latched onto him and dragged him to a stop. 

“What?” Neito scowled as he faced Fireball and Guy-Who-He-Took-Points-From, and a couple more. 

“We were talking, apparently you took our quirks and stole some of out points. We wanna settle the score.” 

“How barbaric.” Neito said with a bored tone, incensing them into expressions of rage. I touched that guy, what’s his quirk? I don’t recognise him. 

He noticed that a few of them were wearing the same uniform. Presumably they were Fireball’s goons. Classic. 

“Get him.” Fireball’s orders sent the two goons to grab Neito’s arms. 

Fuck, should I just use whatever quirk he has? 

“Hey!” A feminine voice rang out, drawing the attention of all of them to it behind them. Monoma’s eyes widened in realisation as he placed her as that girl with big hands. “Get off him!” 

“Get out of here, girl. This doesn’t concern you.” GWHTPF (Monoma abbreviated it) gave a dismissive wave. 

“I already took a picture of you lot. I’ll send it to U.A if you guys don’t leave him alone now.” She held her phone up to signify her threat. 

The colour drained from their faces as they quickly backed off. “Alright, alright,” Fireball said, chuckling with laced worry. “Just delete that picture, and we’ll call it even.” 

The girl did a couple of taps and showed a blank photo library to them. “Done, now get out.” 

They might not keep up their end of the deal, Monoma thought. Jerks like them never do. 

But to his bewilderment, they actually stalked off with constricted fury in the opposite direction (all this walking just to beat me up? Neito scoffed internally), leaving just the girl and him, who helped him up. 

“Thanks,” Monoma said truthfully. “I assume you have a score to settle with me as well?”

The girl frowned. “No? Why would I?”

“Those guys were pissed I stole points and their quirks during the exam.” 

“I see, so that’s your quirk? You take other people’s quirks?” She pocketed her phone. Before he could respond, she followed up, “Are you heading to the station too?”

“Yeah.” The two continued down the path. “To both questions, but I don’t take them. I just borrow them for a short while.”

“I see.” She pouted. “I thought I met someone with a similar quirk to mine. I’m slightly disappointed.”

Neito chuckled. “Sorry to disappoint. My name’s Neito Monoma, by the way.”

“Itsuka Kendo.” She gave a smile, and Neito was confused to see that it wasn’t a mask. Was she always this friendly to strangers? 

“So you took some of their points?” Itsuka’s question sounded more like an interrogation. 

“Well, y’know, it’s part of the exam.” He shrugged. “I’m desperate.”

“Fair enough, I suppose,” She said. Neito studied her expression. She looked like she had something to say, but didn’t. 

“Your quirk was the hardest to get used to, though. I have no clue how you do it,” Neito said, changing the subject. 

Itsuka rubbed her head bashfully. “Yeah, it took me a while to learn how to use it well. Hope you enjoyed the trial run.”

“Does that mean there’s a subscription?” Neito joked. 

“Well, if we both pass the exam and become classmates, it could be,” Itsuka replied with a cheeky smile, just as they reached the station. 

“Fingers crossed. Good luck then. I hope you pass.” Neito said. “I’m, uh, going this way.” He jerked a finger behind him. 

“Ah, ok then, I’m going on the opposite line. Good luck to you too, Monoma!” Itsuka gave a last wave as her train arrived. Then she boarded it, leaving Monoma on his side of the platform, and with the realisation that he meant what he had said. 

Fingers crossed. 

––––––

Ĭ am way too tired to edit this, so I apologise for any grammar or spelling errors. It’s 2am and I’m gonna go sleep. But I wrote this to get rid of my writer’s block, and honestly I really like this and it might become a full story. I’ll do some more planning and see how this turns out. 

Really like this ship, originally I was hoping for some Monoma X Kodai (but I just really like Kodai’s character). Maybe ItsuYui? Dunno. I’ve never tried writing an FxF full story. I’m nervous writing from a female perspective, since, you know, I’m a guy. So, idk. 

Hope you guys liked this piece. I’d appreciate it if you had any feedback.

[random-aya]

New Girl in Town | Chapter 5

Teen!SamxReader

Chapter 1 - Chapter 2 - Chapter 3 - Chapter 4 - Chapter 5 - Chapter 6

Word count: 3,562

A/N: I’m so sorry to have taken so long to post Chapter 5. My beloved @libertalia-bitch will be on holidays for a long time and won’t be able to edit my chapters. That’s why I didn’t know what to do, if to post them as I write them without her edits or find another editor.  Finally I’ve decided to post them as I write them. This chapter, though, it’s half edited by her, so you‘ll find half of the chapter well written and the other half poorly written, that’s me. English is not my main Language. Thanks to all who have read the previous chapter and liked it and send me a note or a comment! Love you all!

Tags:  @dragonjedihobbit , @fhujami, @missdictatorme, @phangirlkelsey

They inspected the room you were just in. "I don't see anyone." Said a voice that made you shiver. They closed the door and went to the room you were minutes before. When they closed your room door you let out the air escape between your lips and started to breathe normally. You could clearly heard the voices from the other room. They were inspecting the mess you made while looking through the files. Saying that you might entered by the fire escape and it seemed you didn't take anything valuable. Who knows what you were looking for. They also doubted you were still inside the building. They thought you might left when you saw there was nothing worthy to steal. Sam slightly opened the closet door to make sure there wasn't anyone still in the room.It was clear. He got out and held up one finger as he motioned you to wait. Sam got close to the corridor door and tried to open it as silently as he could. He managed to see that the men were inside the other room so the corridor was clear. Sam looked at you and gestured you to come over to him. "We'll go to the fire escape as quietly as we can, okay?" He explained in a whisper. You nodded you were as worried as you were excited. The adrenaline ran through your veins making your heart beat faster. Sam opened the door and let you through. You crouched down and went over to the window you used to enter. You lifted your arms, trying to push it up while still remaining crouched, but it was locked. The two men must have locked it when they were inspecting the scene. Sam strayed behind, keeping an eye out for the security guards. You tried to pop back open the window with the knife, ramming it back in and moving it around, you were very careful to be quiet. You finally got it, and you started to lift the window up but a strong gust of air from outside caused the window to rattle loudly.  You froze, the bottom of the windowsill still in your hands and a breeze coming in. You listened out for the guards when you heard two pairs of heavy footsteps quickly approaching. You turned back to the window, scrambling to push it up. Sam jumped up and held it while you ducked under and swung one leg over. "You two, don't move!" One of the men shouted, shining his torch towards you. Your blood froze when you recognised that voice.  It couldn't be, right? Your head snapped around and you saw two policemen coming closer, you squinted in the bright light but couldn't make out anything other than the two silhouettes. That made you panic, you were still with terror and didn't know what to do. "Y/N! Go!" Sam shouted, ducking through the window and grabbing your hand. That brought you back to your senses, you used the leg still inside to launch yourself through the window and out onto the fire escape. You felt a hand try and grab the back of you and you yelled out. Sam swung around and grabbed your arm, pulling you free of the officer's grip. You stumbled forwards and Sam barely steadied you before he turned around and slammed down the window. You clumsily started climbing down the ladder without thinking and not daring to look above. Your heart was racing so fast you wondered if it would burst out of your chest. Sam followed you closely. When you touched the ground he jumped from the remaining height and grabbed your hand and started running, above you were the policemen yelling out at you two from the fire escape. By the time he had got outside, you were too far away for him to follow you.

You two were in a back-alley trying to recover your breath after the race. You were both panting in exhaustion and excitement. You were leaning against the wall when you suddenly burst into laughter. You couldn't deny that was the most exciting thing you had ever done, you actually had fun and the adrenaline still ran through your veins. You felt very excited, and you wanted- no, needed more action. Sam looked at you smiling, but clueless. "Are you okay?" He asked, a little worried, he didn't understand why were you laughing and he was worried that something happened to you. You didn't give him time to react as you jumped up, locked your arms around his neck and kissed him. "Woah!" He exclaimed, gently pushing you back. But he couldn't add anything else before you joined your lips to his again. Your wound hurt you but you didn't care. You were filled with confidence and strength that the adrenaline gave you. Sam at first didn't react as you expected, he was confused by your sudden attack. And you felt how confused he was, but he didn't take long to kiss you back. He was gentle, he didn't forget about your wound and went easy, but you didn't, you were eager for him. You wanted more and couldn't let him go. You caressed his hair and the back of his neck while you felt his hand slipping under your hoodie touching your skin, making you shiver and to get closer to him. Your tongues were looking for each other and fighting for dominance. He was winning, of course.  Sam spun the both of you and pushed you to the wall claiming full dominance of the situation. You noticed something under his pants, something that was pushing you. You felt a wave of confidence through your body to be able to provoke that kind of reaction from him. Sam suddenly stepped back, he looked at you with surprise and embarrassment in his eyes and then looked away. "Better we leave it here." Sam declared, recovering his breathe.  He cleared his throat and added,  "I'll take you home." He took your hand, avoiding your gaze and started walking. Your heart raced at a high speed and you needed to recover your breath. But just like the first kiss, he was distant. You knew you had to change that, at all costs.

When you reached your front door you invited him in, you didn't want to let him go, not that easily. You knew you were not mentally prepared for what might come next but you wanted to prove him you were not a child. "My father isn't here, he's on the night shift." You explained, a slight pink on your cheeks. "No, it's okay," Sam replied clearing his throat. "I gotta get going." You closed your eyes waiting for a goodnight kiss, Sam chuckled and leaned in and kissed your forehead turned around, walking down your front path with his hands in his pockets. Your small blush turned into a large on as it spread across your face and to your ears. You stepped back, closing the door in front of you and you leaned your forehead against it, letting out a breath. You felt how he guarded he was with you, you had to change that.

You woke up in pain, you tenderly touched your face, trying to feel the damage. Your lip felt almost double its size and you could barely touch your cheek. You stood up and stumbled over to the mirror, you looked at your reflection and grimaced at what you saw. Your lip was swollen and there was a deep cut. Your eyes traveled up to your cheek, the bruise that was already there had gotten worse overnight and was now a deep purple tinged with green and blue. "Shit!" You exclaimed. You didn't have any makeup to cover it, you'll have to make a stop at the drugstore on your way to school to buy some. Luckily, your father won't see you until the end of the day. He will get home at midday and you won't come back until late afternoon if you don't go meet Sam... You remembered yesterday's kiss. You felt so proud of yourself. You knew that the adrenaline and the excitement helped you do it and you felt that Sam let that drive him too. But you knew you were doing great. It was the second time Sam kissed you back, he wouldn't kiss a girl he didn't like, right? You felt yourself full of confidence and went to school with that attitude. On your way, you bought some makeup and used the store bathrooms to apply it carefully.

You entered your class as everyday. Some of your classmates gossiped as you passed by them about your face. You tried so hard to hide the bruises but make up didn't do miracles, especially when you are not use to wear it and use it. Crystal's desk was empty. You though she might not come today too. But when the first lesson already started she appeared. She looked radiant as always but you noticed some dark circles under her eyes. She eyed you before sitting, looking at your bruises suspisciously. She looked at your denim jacket on the back of your chair and frowned. A triomphant feeling got you at his reaction. But she suddenly sneered as she sat down she pulled her hair to one side and let you see a big mark on her neck. It was a hickey. You were confused and panick took control of your mind that started running with wild ideas. Why did she show it to you? It wasn't Sam's, was it? It's impossible, he was with you most part of the night. Most part of the night... But Crystal looked so confident about it. He could might met her after leaving you at home. You started to fill dizzy. And you kept thinking about it over and over again. All the confidence you had disappeared with just a second. You needed to see Sam and ask him what was all about. Were they back together again? What might have happened when he left you at home are thousand of possibilities. Did he really go to see her?You knew Sam liked Crystal but you couldn't help but hope that he might change his mind. Shit! You didn't know anything but that simple gesture Crystal made, turned you crazy! And the worst of all, she knew it!

When you ended your classes you were ready to go to the park to see if you could see Sam and talk to him, you have decided, it was time to confessed your feelings and him to make a decision. If he wanted you or Crystal.  But at the entrance of the school there was a police car and you knew it was waiting for you. "Shit!" You exclaimed as you saw your father in his police uniform waiting outside the car. "Someone is in trouble." Crystal mocked when she passed by you. You wanted to kill her. But now you had other matters to be worried about. Your father lifted his eyes to you, his expression was severe. When you got close he checked your face and without any delicacy he removed the make up on your bruise. "That hurts!" You protested. "Got inside the car." He ordered you with his mandatory tone ignoring your protests. You wanted to object but you knew it was no use for. He was angry and you knew perfectly why. "So, Y/N, What are those bruises?" He started his interrogation when he turned on the engine of the car. "Nothing..." you answered looking through the window, avoiding his eyes as much as you could. "Wrong answer." he warned you. "What are those bruises?" "I fell skating..." you lied. "And your skateboard?" he didn't believe you but he followed your game. "Broken..." still kept your eyes on the window. "Let's say I'm happy with those answers." he continued. "Now, to the main matter" he paused a few seconds as he stopped the car in a street corner. "What the fuck were you doing last night with Samuel Morgan at that goddamn building?" You closed your eyes. You knew it was him you heard last night, you just didn't want to believe it or just hope he didn't recognise you. "I can explain it..." you started with a trembling and nervous voice turning at him. "Yeah, you better do." he challenged you. Damn, he was angry, very angry. "You can be happy it was me who was there, Y/N, if it was one of my mates you might have spent your first night in a cell. And who knows what could have happened next!" You didn't say anything, you couldn't. You felt a lump in your throat that didn't let you speak. You felt the anger in his voice, his disappointment, and you were scared of what he might do to punish you. "I'm sorry.." you finally said holding back your tears. "I don't want you to meet that Morgan boy ever again." he said as an end of the conversation. "From now on, you go straight home at the end of your classes. Do you understand?" You lowered your head and messed your hair trying to hide your face and your tears. You knew he was serious about this. And you better obey him or you knew he'll sent you to your mother. Not being able to see Sam was a thing, but being far away from him, that could kill you. Your father keep driving in silence, hearing your sobs. He stopped the car in front of the your house and left you there. He had to go back to work. He will get home as early as he could. "I'll call you every half an hour." he warned you. "You better be at home." You closed the car door with fury and not looking at him and went straight to your room. Half an hour later like your father warned you he called to make sure you were at home. That pissed you off more than can you ever imagine. You felt like in a cage. The third time he called you took the phone but hang up immediately without saying a word. He called again and you redid it. Then he called once more and you finally answer it tired of the ringing bell. "I want you to answer the phone." he told you.You closed your fist so hard that you hurt yourself with your nails. "Stop calling!" you yelled at him. "You are turning me crazy!" You didn't gave him time to replied to you since you hang up, unplughed the phone and threw it on the floor. You didn't want to hear it again.You understood, he was angry at you, you did something stupid and he wanted you to learn your lesson. You will stay here at home from now on unable to see Sam, knowing that he might be with Crystal.Instead of sadness what you felt was anger and frustration. You sat on the couch and turned on the TV.

Later at night someone knocked your door. There was a door bell. Who would be so stupid to knock the door? You heard the knock again and went to open it. "Sam!" You exclaimed happy and surprised. "Hey, Y/N!" He replied back waving a little his hand to you. You looked at him, he looked tired , dark circles around his hazel eyes and... He also had a hickey on his neck. Your happiness went away. "Crystal told me..." You didn't let him finish that you were already closing the door at his face. At Crystal's name you frowned and didn't want to hear anything else.He was with her again, and he came to tell you! "Hey!" He used his foot to prevent you from closing the door. "What's wrong?" You opened the door furious. " 'what's wrong?' " you repeated incredulous. Sam got inside despite your protests. He was taller and stronger. " Yeah, What's wrong" he repeated bothered closing the door behind him. "Crystal told me a cop came to take you at school.” Sam looked at you worried. You avoided his eyes by staring at the floor. So, Crystal went to Sam to make fun of you. "That cop is my father." You said with bitterness. Sam looked at you surprised. "And he was the cop from last night." You continued before he could say anything. "He recognized me and he recognized you. Now, get the fuck out of my house!" That was the jealousy talking through you. You couldn't bear it. Sam looked at you without knowing what to do or what to say. Deep inside you knew you didn't had the right to be angry at him, you were not his girlfriend. You didn't know what you were to him. You never dared to ask. Your breathe was accelerated and your thoughts were running wildly in your mind. "Did you go to her last night?" You spitted out looking at him since he didn't move. Sam avoided your gaze, bit his lips and remember to hide his hickey, but it was too latr, you already saw it. "Look, Y/N..." He started feeling guilty. "She came to see me last night..." "And you couldn't say no to a sex night, right?" Your words were poisoned with jealousy.  You were regretting every one of them as you said them but you could not stop. "It's not like that...." He tried to explain coming closer. "It's not like that but it is...." You closed your fist so hard that your knuckles turned white. You were being unfair but you couldn't stop yourself. You felt betrayed even though you were nothing to him, you were not his girlfriend. You. Were. Not. His. Girlfriend. You were repeating that to you but it was no use. From outside you heard the engine of your father's car parking in front of your house. Your eyes widened and you panicked. You looked at Sam full of panic. Your father was already angry, he might be more because you unplugged the phone but if he saw Sam here... "Shit!" You exclaimed. "If my father sees you he will kill you! And he will kill me!" Sam looked the front door behind him then looked at you. "Go to my bedroom! Stay there!" You guided him through the stairs. "I'll come in a while!" He got upstairs while you sat on the couch pretending to be watching the TV. Could something else go wrong? What did you do to the universe to be treated like that?

Your father came inside and before saying anything to you, he looked at the phone on the floor and put it in its place. You looked at him while he did it but when he lift his gaze to you, you returned to the TV. He sighed and sat by your side on the couch after taking a beer from the fridge. He kept silent for a few moments. You avoided at all cost to look at him. "You know.." he started hesitating a little bit. "I hate this as much as you do, Y/N." He waited for a reaction from you but you kept your eyes locked on the screen. "If you understood that what you did was wrong" he continued slowly. "And ever again you'll do it... I might short out your punishment." You turned at him with wet eyes. You were fighting back tears so hard. Angry, desperate tears. "You know I do..." You said. "Then, why did you do it?" He asked worried. "I can't tell you..." You dried the tear that was rolling down your cheek and turned to the TV again. He kept silent for a few seconds and took a sip of his beer. "Are you in love with that Morgan boy?" The blush appeared in a flash on your cheeks. Your father chuckled at himself at your reaction. "I don't like that boy." He continued looking at his beer. "He is not a good influence. But I also know you can change your feelings and when you are a teenager you will do the opposite of what I tell you." He looked at you seriously but not as severe as this morning. "Please, don't do anything stupid." He stood up still looking at you. You nodded. "Good girl." He added messing your hair. "Time for you to go to bed. I'm going to take a shower and go to sleep." You looked how he climbed the stairs but he stopped at the middle of them. "I will keep your punishment until the end of the week. You will come straight home every day." He said. "I have to warn you, Y/N. If you do anything stupid again, I'll send you to your mum." You bit your lip and nodded. He went to the bathroom to take a shower. You stayed on the couch for a few moments thinking about everything that happened, then remembered that Sam was in your room waiting for you or he just might have go home. In the end, he didn't had any reason to wait. You ran upstairs finding Sam sleeping sitting on the floor leaning to the side of the bed.

[miraculousturtle]

to you, i thee wed (chapter nine)

They didn’t know they were marrying each other until the bride got to the altar. And then panic ensued. Married at First Sight AU.

(AO3//FF.net)

Parts: 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9

WC: 8.5K

thanks @booksfullofme for the edits :)

The morning air is crisp, an icy wind settling into her lungs as Marinette gazes into the Atlantic Ocean shining brightly from the warm sun. They have oddly been blessed by good weather despite the first snowstorm that trapped them here. Not that Marinette is complaining; Faroe Islands—Vagar, to be exact—has been wonderful and a breath of fresh air.

It’s almost like magic, she thinks. The quaint little villages, the supple snowfall, the way her heart easily and speedily beats with her husband. It’s almost like magic, she can maybe see the way that things are more than what they seem, almost as if some greater force in this universe planned everything to be more than happenstance.

She tucks that thought behind her ribs and opens her arms wide to catch sunshine that beams from the heavens above her. Warmth trickles through her borrowed clothes, sinking through the well-loved fabric and seeping into her bones. The snow from yesterday melted and has left a world of green where white once laid.

She’s only slightly winded after sprinting past Adrien to reach the top of the cliff, the ocean before her as if that is more than a reward. Little islands pebble her view, just as green as the grass that lays at her feet. To the right, a waterfall cascades into the sea, and to the left, a small village weathers daily ocean breezes.

She stands at the edge of the world, ocean waves washing over her, leaving an impression on her soul. In this moment, it is only her and the sea, cradled lovingly by the sun. Light and water blend together, stitching up her seams and her heart is full with the simplicity.  

“Wow, it’s—breathtaking,” Marinette mumbles, words only half-forming on her lips.

Her fingers itch for her sketchbook: she can see the way the grasses could become a fringe, can see the way the ocean waves puff out a skirt, can see the way gold stitching swirls into blue. If she holds out her thumb and her forefinger and frames the world with her hands, maybe she can commit it all to memory; let magic be part of the memory instead of relying on a photograph.

Not that she has anything against photos, no. That would be silly, but sometimes memories that are hazy are better for documenting the world between reality and dreams, and Marinette feels like she’s been walking in a dream for days now.

“God, I am out of shape,” Adrien groans, interrupting her thoughts and snapping her back to reality. He was a few steps behind her when she had raced forward, unable to contain her excitement at reaching the top.

(She’s only slightly competitive. Only slightly. Just slightly.)

Marinette tears her gaze away from the endless inspirations before her and lets her eyes fall on her huffing husband, a smile dancing at her lips. “You don’t play basketball, fence, or whatever else you used to do?”

His eyes narrow slightly as he digs into his backpack, trying to paw at a water bottle seemingly lost among his things. “Ha. Ha. Very funny. Make fun of the rich kid who did every extracurricular under the sun.”

She unclips hers first from her strap and hands it to him. Their fingers touch, sparking electricity and lightning through her skin. “Not making fun,” she says a second later. “Just stating a fact. You were always so busy, but never dropping the ball? It was kinda cool.”

“Cool?” Adrien asks, his glare softening and stumbling into a gratuitous grin as he flips open the lid. A silent thank you is exchanged between them for the water as he drinks half of it in haste.

Which makes him choke, much to Marinette’s amusement. He narrows his eyes at her again and she schools her smile into a trembling and haphazard mess. She feels so mischievous with him that it strikes her funny sometimes, almost if he’s been a friend she’s actually had all along. Not that he hasn’t per say, but—

It’s hard to not remember Adrien when he was a child, Marinette thinks. That’s who she knew best, figuratively speaking. She really didn’t know him at all, but her memories of him then are always with her now. Always surfacing in the way he smiles or laughs, there at the edges when he talks about his family, breaking through when they talk about their friends.

But she also forgets that Adrien didn’t know she knew him. Didn’t know that she loved him. Were only friends because their friends were friends. Didn’t keep in touch after high school because theirs was a relationship that required being classmates to continue.

Instead, she tells him. “But yeah, to be so busy but still be so amazing.”

He pauses for a moment before grinning broadly and walking towards the drop-off. “Thanks, Marinette. That’s really nice of you to say.”

“I’m just saying the truth!” she laughs and skips to his side.

Shly, she takes his hand and gives it a squeeze. “Really, I meant it. You’re a really hard worker.”

Adrien doesn’t say anything in return, his own fingers tightening around hers.

They bask in the sun for a few moments, Marinette grabbing her phone and making the two of them take selfies together. It’s natural the way the fit against each other, the way her back sinks into his chest and his arms come around her. Adrien presses his cheek to hers, his chin resting on her shoulder and she swears he can feel how big her smile is despite that he can see it on the screen. She’s happy.

(She labels the words #honeymoonbabes over the photo. Add a few hearts, a couple of smiley faces and—perfect. It’s sent to Alya in a heartbeat. )

The dirt crunches beside her and Marinette finds that Adrien has perched himself on the edge of the cliff, his feet dangling thousands of feet in the air without a care. She’s done the same countless times, sometimes feeling more at home above a city’s skyline than beneath it. He must feel the same with the ease he displays when he pats the spot next to him.

She counts the seconds as the waves lap against the rocks below them. One, two, a cymbal crash signifying the water smacking into land. One, two, the water climbs up as if it wants to be a man. One, two—

“So, let’s see today’s homework. Oh, um,” Adrien says, his brows pinched together as he reads the newest email from the doctors.

Marinette leans into his shoulder. “Yes?”

He leans back. “It says we should talk about failed relationships.”

She laughs, surprise bubbling at the thought. “Oh god. Wow. Okay, should I go first?”

“Please?”

She takes a deep breath, anchoring herself to the wind and the waves and the heat from the man beside her. There is nothing wrong with what she’s about to say. They’re married now. And he might not be in love with her, but they’re married now.

It’s the assignment , she tells herself. Kill two birds with one stone .

“Okay. So. I’ve had a few partners. Not many, but I think the most important one I had was the one that was the shortest. Kinda. In that we-were-dating way. We were unoffical for a lot longer, but we were only really together for a bit.”

“How come?”

Marinette sighs, bittersweetness swelling through her being.. “Well, first off, I’m happy to say I don’t have any ill feelings towards her....”

Adrien waits a half second longer than usual to reply. “...her?”

This is fine, Marinette , she tells herself. He’s allowed to be curious.

She fights the need to be defensive, to be aggressive, to maybe pretend she actually said him instead of her, blame it on the slip of the tongue. “Uh, yeah...sometimes, not usually. I usually like men, but this time...it was a her.”

“Cool. Go on?”

She lets out a breath that had tucked itself between her ribs, pressing up against her heart. “Thanks,” she breathes, then continues. “I went to Italy for a summer and I fell head over heels for her. This girl named Francesca. A beautiful Italian girl with sun-kissed skin and the most mysterious dark eyes. She was. Yeah, she was wow .

“We both were in the same program and we shared a room together. It was...I was instantly attracted to her and I clicked with her so much and I really fell for her. We had so much in common! I’ve never been with someone where we had so much in common. And her designs were breathtaking…”

Adrien grabs her hand, his thumb rubbing soothing circles.“What happened?”

Marinette sighed. “Well, the summer ended, you know. We kept in touch for a while, but it was hard to be in a long distance relationship like that. She did come for Christmas once, but while my family was accepting...hers was not…” she trails off.

She remembers the snow in Paris as Francesa said goodbye, the way her lips felt upon hers, the sorrow they left behind when they parted. Hairline fragments of what could've been shattered by distance and unacceptance.   

“In the end, she wasn’t happy and neither was I,” Marinette says says quietly. “And, well—she’s happy and I’m happy now. A part of me will always belong to her, but it’s okay. We never could be.”

She says the last part with her eyes fixed on the light reflecting off the water. Sunshine and Francesca go hand in hand. Bright, beautiful, vivacious beings that although Marinette loves both deeply, she also can’t particularly keep either contained. And that’s okay.

Adrien brings her hand to his lips, kissing her knuckles. “You love people so intensely. I think it’s amazing how you’re not jaded by that relationship, but it sounds like you grew from it. Doesn’t sound like a failure at all.”

“Well, Francesca was an easy lover,” she chuckles.  “Kind and understanding. My real last relationship actually wasn’t as great. I became a doormat and I hated every second of it. He was a real douche, but I don’t want to talk about him right now, if that’s okay.”

Adrien squeezes her fingers. “That’s totally okay,” he assures her. “You said your piece and now it’s mine, I guess.”

Marinette gives a small smile and nods. “Yes, let me guess, you were a heartbreaker, right?”

He wrinkles his nose and rakes his other hand through his hair. “I guess? I don’t know...I don’t really have much to say. They were nice, but that’s about it…”

“Just nice?” she teases.

“Yeah, just nice. Like I had a few girlfriends and they were nice. Our first dates were nice. Our, you know,” he blushes, “sex lives were, uh, nice. But that was it. Everything was just—we dated.

“And you know, I thought I would fall super head over heels for them, but I never did. I was happy, but not ecstatic or thrilled or—well, I never felt as excited as I do right now. With you.”

Marinette’s heart skips a beat. She grips the ground to not tumble over the cliff, her mind reeling. “You feel ecstatic?! With me?!”

He—how can he? Be so happy with her? It just doesn’t make sense. He’s had this whole life to live thus far, but with her—?   

“Haha, yeah,” he says, blushing more, his gaze far from hers. “Like when I was young, I was able to crush really hard, but that’s just a crush. When I got older, dating didn’t excite me much, so I thought that maybe something was wrong with me. Maybe I only liked the idea of love, not actually being in love. I wasn’t sure, but when I saw the ad for the arranged marriage, I applied on a whim….” he admits softly. “Because I didn’t think they would want me, but they did and I realized that I really wanted it too! I forgot what it was like to want someone...”

“Oh,” she says, dumbfounded with lips parted.  

Marinette is stuck staring at the smile buried in his cheek as he looks fondly over the ocean. The sun always finds him, making his hair gleam, and she wonders how she got so lucky. She—wow. Adrien looks at her then, his face prompted into a bemusing smile at her expression.

“Hmmm?”

“I just...you wanted me?” she asks, heat crawling up her neck.

Oh god, that sounds so dumb to say out loud, she thinks and wishes she could stuff the previous words back into her mouth.

(A part of her whispers that she won’t be good enough, that he’s going to realize the ugliness that hides under all her pretty fabric, that she’s just going to be nice in the way the others were nice .

Another part of her tells that little voice to fuck off.)

Adrien rubs the back of his neck, bashful and happy. “Of course I did. I— actually filmed a video diary for my future bride— you,” he emphasizes. “It’s really grossly sappy and I’ve been meaning to give it to you…so you could see how happy I was when I found out I had a match, but—after I learned that you were my wife I was so embarrassed.  Because we knew each other, ha ha. It’s part of your wedding gift, actually...”

Marinette stops breathing before scampering to her feet. “Up, up, up!”

She pulls her husband up to stand with her, a good bit away from the edge, and she shuffles her feet, feeling herself swinging side to side.

“Yes?” Adrien asks, amused at her antics.

With no grace and complete wiggling, she blurts. “I—can I hug you? I really want to hug you.”

“Uh.”

“Like, I know we just started kissing and things and cuddle,” she starts, halfway to shouting awkwardly. “Like yesterday!  But I just—really want to throw myself at you and have you catch me and oh my god, who says these things to their husband?!” she finishes, throwing her hands up in the air.

Adrien’s face goes blank, his grey scarf flapping in the wind before he breaks down in laughter, doubling over. “Oh my god, Marinette,” he wheezes. “You’re—you’re—”

Mortification crawls up her throat and Marinette covers her face with her hands, turning around so he can’t look at her. Embarrassment rolls off her in waves.   

Adrien laughter settles down and a kind hand is at her shoulder, dragging her into his arms. “You never have to ask to hug or kiss me, Marinette,” he tells her, mirth and good things intertwined with his words. “I’m yours, anytime. And it’s okay! I feel like a dweeb too just about every second. I feel really exposed. This is...hard, and I get that.”

She buries her face at the base of his throat. “Yeah. Exposed is a great way to put it, you know. We’re already married and everything is moving fast.”

His touch feels warm through her jacket. “G-good fast?” he swallows.

“I think so,” she hums and sinks into his embrace. “They told me that this would happen. The doctors. That this wouldn’t be easy.”

He lays his head atop hers and takes a little breath. “Yeah. Me too. It’s different when it’s happening than when you think about it.”

Peace caresses over them and Marinette feels so warm. And protected, if she has to be honest. She’d didn’t think her husband would make her feel at such ease, but maybe that’s the benefit of marrying someone you know in a blind marriage. You can let your guard down around them a lot better and—

It’s been a long, long time since someone has made her feel as comfortable as this. She grins to herself a bit, different green eyes flashing in her mind followed by some god awful pun.

Cat-ch you later, my favorite Bugaboo.   

“Gah, okay, you know what,” she declares as she pulls back from his embrace. “Let’s stop being sappy. I don’t think I can handle baring my soul anymore for today!”

Adrien rolls his eyes with a chuckle. “Okay, wife,” he says as he brushes his lips against her forehead. “What do you have in mind?”

Marinette smirks, looking devilish. “Well, I think I saw a pub or two in town. And there should be some music. I think that would be an awesome way to end our honeymoon.”

“You want to go out?”

“Nah,” she dismisses playfully. “I want to go drinking. Think you can keep up?”

Adrien waits a moment to respond before breaking out in a challenging grin. “Oh, I’ll drink you under the table!”

Marinette laughs and pushes him away. “Ha, I highly doubt that. I’m practically a tank!”

She dances away from him, her step springy with her excitement. The sun is higher in the sky now, trickling further towards noontime than morning.    

“A tank?”

“Yeah, dude. I outdrink everyone. It’s like my special power.”

“Okay, Nino,” Adrien snorts before saying, “Look, I was a model. I think I know how to party.”

Marinette puts her hands up in a mock sign of surrender. “Not saying you don’t, but I’m just saying I know how to better. That’s all.”

Adrien laughs and grabs her hand, leading her back towards the path they took before. Their steps are in line as they descend away from the cliff. “Okay, you’re so on. Tonight, I shall show you who the real victor will be.”

All around them, the mountains are green and alive and Marinette feels just the same. She feels just as tall, just as powerful, just as everlasting.

“Sounds good, but let’s play a game.”

“What do you have in mind? I don’t know many drinking games for two...”

Marinette kisses the back of his hand. “The bigger the drink, the bigger the secret. I mean, since you’re totally able to handle it, you should be able to open up. Right, husband?”

“Doesn't that seem counterproductive? Who needs to take the shot? You or me?”

“If I want to learn something big about you, I need to take the drink. Same goes for you. Fair?”

“...did you just come up with this on the fly?”

Marinette laughs. “No! Alya and I play it, though now that we know everything about each other, we just drink our sad lives away.”

Adrien shakes his head. “Ah, a noble pastime,” he responds sagely. “Anyway, you’re on! I hope you’re prepared to bare your soul to me again. I gotta beat Alya now.”

“In your dreams, Adrien. You’re the one who is going to have to tell me everything.”

“Do you think you’re ready?” he jokes. “I mean. We have only been married for four days. We can just, you know, take things slow?”

“Adrien, let me tell you something,” she says. “If I didn’t jump feet first, I would never do anything. So. We’re gonna do this!”

He laughs. “Okay, Marinette. Whatever you want. I just want you to know that we have all the time in the world. I am excited to go out though. It will be a fun way to spend the last night. I’m a little sad that the plane got fixed so quickly.”

They take a swift left and find some other hikers on the path going the way they just came. Both couples exchange pleasantries, waves and big smiles and Marinette would be lying if she didn’t say that she liked the way everyone thought she and Adrien were a real couple. They don’t know them, but to strangers, they seem happy.

“Me too,” she agrees. “We’ll have to come back when the weather is warmer. And I know that we can take things slow, but I’m just—I don’t know, itching to do something crazy?”

“Like marry a stranger?” he teases.

“Mmmm. Pretty sure I’ve done that.”

“Ah, you’re right. You have,” he says. “God, I hope there’s no turbulence tomorrow.”

“Eh, we’re leaving in the evening, right? So we can just sleep through most of it. Plus, even if we’re hungover, we can have some of Ebbi’s mom’s breakfast.”

“Thank god for that, but I’m going to miss her cooking.”

“Well, we’ll just have to go to my parents’ the morning after we get back. My dad seriously loves breakfast.”

Adrien dramatically faces the heavens, mouthing praises. Marinette tries her best not to laugh, but fails miserably.

He’s kinda perfect, she thinks. She hasn’t laughed so easily with someone in a long time.

His face shifts and as he slows his pace, she matches his. They take their time, just like the clouds rolling in overhead.

“That reminds me,” he starts, “we’re supposed to go house hunting when we get back. Find a place that’s ours rather than staying at mine or yours. Do you have any preferences?”

Marinette remembers that email, the one that said that house hunting is to start immediately after they get back from the honeymoon. Truthfully, she just wants to rest, but apparently when you’re part of a six week study, there is no such thing.

“My shop isn’t too far from the university you work at, if I remember correctly,” she mentions. “So, we can try my neighborhood? I just—not to talk about finances right now,” she quickly adds, “but you do know that I can help pay for things. Even if you’re, like, super rich.”

“I know,” he says, his fingers drumming on the back of her hand. “We’ll figure it out when we get home. There’s no rush and even if you can, I don’t mind paying for everything.”

She presses her lips together, annoyance starting to surface. “Well, yes. I know, but I do. I just—”

Adrien must feel the same. “Marinette, I’m serious. I’ll take care of you. If you’ll let me.”

“And Adrien,” she says. “I’m serious. I’ll help and take care of you.”

“Mari—” he starts to say.

But she cuts him off, determined and keeping her growing irritation at bay. “Can we drop this? I really don’t want to talk about money.”

Adrien sighs and takes a deep breath. “No, I understand. This isn’t the time and place. We can talk more about it later.”

“Exactly,” she says, and the mood shifts back into something lighter. “Besides, I just want to enjoy what time we have left before we go home.”

Adrien hums in agreement as they wind around some trees, their fingers grazing over moss covered rocks. They don’t say much, the air between them better but not the same as when they found the ocean, the sun shining and bright.

“Oh my god,” Adrien says before breaking out in hysterical laughter.

Marinette shoots him a funny look, raising an eyebrow. “Um, are you okay?”

“I just remembered.”

“What?”

Gesturing to the air, Adrien manages to calm down enough, gasping in between breaths until he keeps his smile only slightly twitching. “When I was trying to tell Nino, I took him to come pick out wedding rings, right?”

“Uh-huh,” Marinette says, curious and confused.

“When we were there, he mentioned that if things didn’t go with my girl because I was obviously buying jewelry for a girl, I should date you .”

And it might be because her left hand is clasped in his, the glittering diamond refracting the rays streaming through the trees above them and—

This is real, isn’t it? We’re real, you and me.

A smile tugs at her mouth. “He did not.”

“He did! I was like, dude, I’m actually getting married and lo and behold,” he says, throwing an arm around her as they walk side by side, “here we are.”

Marinette wraps her own arm around his side, his hip digging into her waist. “Here we are.”

Their steps align like the sun at high noon as they descend the mountain back to civilization.

The moon is fat as Adrien and Marinette walk to the pub bundled up in thick coats, breath misting in the night air. Snowfall from a few days ago has turned to slush, the sidewalks black and illuminated by store lights instead. Laughter rings in the air, people rushing to and fro from pub to restaurant to pub again.

Ebbi is with them too, carrying a large guitar case slung over a shoulder. His bright red hair is pulled back, and he reminds Adrien of Jagged Stone. Easygoing, tall, and cool. No pet alligator though.

“I’m so glad you both decided to come out tonight,” Ebbi says. “My band is playing and I promise you that it’s going to be awesome.”

Marinette grins, her pink lipstick looking plum in the darkness. “I’m sure you’re going to be great! Do you sing too?”

Ebbi awkwardly tugs on his scarf. “Kinda. I’m getting better at it. My cousin is a lot better and her voice is kill-er.”

“Which one is she again? Was she at the big breakfast?”

Ebbis snorts. “She’s always at the big breakfast. Ah, but Alice was the one manning the stove. If she never lives her dream of being a rock star, she wants to open a really fancy restaurant on the island. Serve celebrities and whatnot.”

Adrien pipes up and a part of him wonders why he must always talk about food. “That’s really dope. I hope she gets both though. A rock star chef would be super awesome. She’d serenade me while serving some soup.”

Marinette laughs. “Wow, say that five times fast.”

“Well, I think she’d sere—”

“Adrien! I was kidding!”

“Sure you were, that’s why you dared me to say it.”

“Wow, Kim much?” Marinette huffs. “I didn’t dare you!”

He doesn’t say anything, but her nose crinkles when she’s miffed. It’s kinda really adorable. Okay, super really adorable. Her hair is pinned away from her face and her cheeks are rosy from both the cold and her blush. Also, if he has to be honest—and he’s usually always honest—her eyeliner makes her eyes look more dangerous, and, well—  

—Adrien might have a thing for dangerous women who could definitely punch someone’s lights out when needed.    

“Uh-huh.”

“Seriously—”

“Okay, lovebirds,” Ebbi says, breaking their banter with an easy smile. “Enough fighting. We’re here. I hope you brought some strong stomachs. Prepare to drink, motherfuckers.”

“You gonna drink with us too, Ebbi?” Marinette asks.

He shakes his head. “Most likely not. I can’t drink when I perform or I’ll throw up, but I will come check on you guys later!”  

“Sounds good, man,” Adrien says, giving his friend a strong handshake.

Ebbi heads inside as Adrien and Marinette stand outside the small venue. It looks like any other bar he’s seen. Brown walls and dark windows. Voices from inside pour outside and music plays a little loudly.

Adrien grabs Marinette’s hand and opens the door. “Are you ready to lose, my dear?”

She smirks. “In your dreams, sweetheart .”

Sweat, booze, and good vibes instantly hit them in the face. It’s mildly crowded and the atmosphere is lively, everyone happy as they chat and grab drinks from the bar. On the stage the band sets up, Ebbi greeting his fellow bandmates with an enthusiastic cheer. They pause for a moment to say hello before going back to setting up.

Marinette pulls Adrien to the bar. “What’ll be your poison?”

Adrien smirks. “Ladies first. I’ll have what you’ll have. I’ll even pay this round.”

She rolls her eyes, stifling a laugh. “Oh, thank you, Mr. Moneybags. Okay, let’s see. Let’s start easy,” she says. Turning to the bartender, she points at an expensive bottle of vodka. “Two shots!”  

(She says it in minced Faroese learned from a haphazard lesson taught on the walk down from the inn.)

Adrien opens up his phone and loosely translates the words to put it on a tab when the man delivers the drinks. Both he and Marinette grab their glasses. “So, how big is a shot versus a sip before we start? For secrets, that is,” he asks.

She taps her chin in thought. “I think a sip is something simple like favorite colors, a shot is like a medium secret, and to drink the whole glass or whoever buys the next round gets a big secret. Sound fair?”

Adrien laughs. “I hope you brought your wallet, Mrs. Moneybags, because if not, then I get lots of big secrets.”

Marinette points at her purse at her side, smirking. “Don’t worry, I got cash, so it’ll be even-stevens.”

“Alright, alright. Drink your drink, wife, and tell me a medium-sized secret.”

Marinette smiles and downs her drink, visibly shaking as the icy drink goes through her. “Ah, okay,” she starts. “Let’s see, for a medium-sized secret. I was actually rejected from my fashion school when I first applied.”

Adrien blinks, a bit stunned. Had he heard right? “What?”

“Yep, totally rejected. Little letter in a little envelope and everything. It was awful. I just—couldn’t accept that I was rejected, so…I might have...you know, gone back and demanded that they evaluate my application. I’m, what do they say, headstrong and stubborn? So yeah, that’s what I did.”    

“Oh my god, Marinette, what did they do?”

She looks so satisfied when he asks, smug and pleased as she leans against the bar. Adrien is right, he thinks he likes dangerous women, and there is nothing more dangerous than Marinette—a woman who at first glance appears cute and calm, but if you peel back a few of her layers, she is ruthless and cunning. It’s…intoxicating, and he’s not talking about the vodka.

“So,” she starts, her finger tracing the rim of her shotglass, acting coy. “The director actually came out and stood really important-like and told me if I was able to create a brand new dress using a potato sack and a garbage bag that was actually stylish and wear it to the office the next day, he’d admit me. So I did. Much to his surprise.

“We found out a few days later that they wanted to accept me,” she adds sheepishly, her coy demeanor slipping away and becoming awkward, “but my high school didn’t put the correct graduation date so they thought I didn’t have my basic education. Which was really embarrassing? But commendable, he told me.”

Adrien wheezes with laughter. “Oh my god, so you really marched up to the school wearing a sack and a trash bag. That’s so wonderful.”

“It was summer and really hot so yeah, not so much, but,” she singsongs. “Your turn!”

“Ah, yes. My turn. Hmm, okay. Um, well, did you know that when I moved to America I did acting for a little bit and starred in an indie film?” he tells her with a cringe.

“Um, what?” Marinette asks, somewhat giggling.

Adrien pulls out his phone and googles it for her. The movie is titled The One In Your Arms and the cover is Adrien and this pretty redhead laying in the grass. Underneath it, Marinette can clearly see that it has 3/10 stars.

Marinette steals the phone and clicks the description.

Meet Tristan, lonely French boy far from home. Meet Annie, the quirky country girl trying to see the world. They meet at a crossroads when one is trying to settle somewhere while the other is trying to run away. Of course, love tends to get in the way.

Marinette lets out a peal of laughter. “Oh my god, Adrien. This looks glorious. Can we please watch it? How long is it?”

He sighs with defeat, but smiles. “It’s a little over an hour. And we can watch it. It’s awful, but it’s a good movie to watch when drinking.”

“Excellent! Okay, we need more drinks. Let’s get some actual drinks.”

Marinette fishes out some cash from her wallet and hands it to the bartender. Adrien orders a whiskey sour while Marinette gets a margarita. Two tangy drinks for some tangy people, Adrien thinks, but doesn’t say. That would be extremely weird.  

“Okay, now that we both have ordered drinks, big secrets are up for grabs!” she exclaims as they settle into a secluded booth on the other side of the bar.

Adrien smiles, holding his glass up to clink hers. “Easy there tiger, let me sip some, okay?”

They exchange small secrets for a while.  His favorite color is green, hers is pink. They both enjoy cracking the shell of a creme brule. She’s never had enchiladas before, and Adrien has never tried crawfish. Adrien learned Chinese because at first he thought that was the language people in anime spoke when he was little. It all started with a tutor who only had Dragonball dubbed in Chinese, didn’t even realize that Japan was an actual place until he was about nine. Marinette didn’t learn to tie her shoes until she was ten.

Adrien finishes his drink first. “Ah! Tell me something big!” he demands with an easy smile.

Marinette sighs and downs her drink right after. “Okay, so we both know that I had a big crush on you, right?”

Adrien nods, his face flush and smile wide. “Yes, this has been brought up many times now, much to my amusement.”

She narrows her eyes at him and kicks his shoe, making him yelp in surprise. “Anyway,” she says loudly. “I may have been a crazy girl with a crush. Only slightly. Intensely?” she says, wincing. “And I tried asking you to the movies and may have left you a voicemail calling you hot stuff…”

Adrien pauses for a moment, thinking back, tapping his chin. “I..I don’t remember this?”

Marinette takes a deep breath and stares at the ice in her glass, her straw swirling the cubes. “Exactly. Because, well, I might have stolen your phone and deleted the voicemail?”

In the background, the band introduces themselves and starts to play, people in the crowd cheering. Adrien says nothing and neither does Marinette.

He swallows and quietly asks. “What?”

Marinette awkwardly looks up at him, fiddling with a lock of her hair that slipped from behind her ear. “I stole your phone to delete a voicemail because I accidentally called you hot stuff when trying to ask you to the movies.”

“Hot stuff?”

“Yes,” she confirms, eyes looking away.

“As you thought I was hot? Stuff?”

“...Yes.”

“And you deleted the voicemail?”

Marinette doesn’t say anything this time, her eyes far away, her cheeks darkening from the light of the room as he stares at her profile. She looks beautiful, he thinks, the shiney silver of her necklace turning technicolor. The black leather of her jacket sloping her over her shoulder, the magenta color of her top, the way her hair is slicked behind her ears. She looks like an editorial piece. But she’s still Marinette, nervous and sweet in the way her body shakes in the way her knees are bouncing, chewing on the inside of her cheek, her blush crawling up her neck.

This moment is perfect and Adrien decides that he’s happy.

He laughs deeply from his belly and clutches his sides, in part at finally reacting to Marinette and in part finally relishing in his own feelings. “Oh my god, Marinette, you should have left the voicemail! That would have been the best! I wouldn’t have known what to do and would have been so confused. Oh my god!”

He can see it now, fourteen year old him panicking and asking Plagg what to do, but the little god would have gave awful advice. Most likely would have told him to just stick to cheese than girls. He could see himself asking Ladybug, blushing and stumbling and utterly a mess. It would have been fun he thinks.

He briefly wonders if he would have said yes.  

Marinette’s tension slips from her shoulders. “You’re not mad?”

Adrien wipes his eyes, feeling warm and light. Contentment washes over him as he leans back in his plush seat. “Why would I be mad?  This happened years ago! I honestly think this is hysterical.”

“Oh, good to know,” she says with a small smile.

He reaches across the table and takes her hand, his thumb rubbing her knuckles. “Just one thing.”

“Yes?” Marinette asks, leaning closer.

If Adrien was a smidge braver, he’d kiss her right now. He wants too, but they’re in a room filled with people and the things between him and Marinette are overwhelming. Wonderful, but overwhelming and he’s constantly on edge. In the best of ways though.

“You have to call me hot stuff for now on when you ask me out on dates,” he smirks. “Like it’s now a requirement.”

She throws rolls her eyes and chuckles. “Haha, sure. I’ll be sure to ask you every other Friday, okay?”

“As long as I get to ask you out on those Fridays you’re not asking me out.”

Marinette places her other hand on top of his, her fingertips cool to his skin. “Let me check my calendar, but I think there’s an opening for you.”

Adrien sends her an appreciative smile and kisses her fingers. “I’ll take any day you’ll give me.”

Marinette grins and the still moment between them hits Adrien that it’s his turn to tell her something big .  

He takes a deep breath and composes himself before moving to sit beside of her. Marinette only shoots him a questioning look, but scoots over, twisting her body to face him. Their knees knock as he reaches for her hands again.  “Okay, so my turn for a big secret. Let’s see. It’s going to be less fun, but I promise you it’s quite drama filled and important for you to know. And I’m gonna chicken out if I don’t tell you now.”

“Oh...okay?” she says, her brow quirking. “Whatever it is, I’m all ears.”  

“So, you know how I didn’t have a mom? Kinda?”

She pets the back of his hand. “Yeah. I thought she passed away,” she says softly.

“Well, yeah. We thought so too,” he groans, trying to keep his voice even. “Like ‘went missing and never came home because she was dead’ kind of thing, you know. Like in a soap opera.”

“That does...like a soap opera plot line,” she concedes.

Adrien closes his eyes for a moment, trying to get gather the words he wants to say. His heart is beating his chest and he’s torn because he can still remember the way his mother’s hand would comb his hair, the way she would tuck him into bed at night. She was his best friend for so long until she was gone.

He lets out a dry laugh. “Yeah well, here’s the goddamn plot twist.”

“Oh no.”

“Oh yes,” he sighs. Twirling his finger he says, “Ding dong, my beloved mama is not actually dead and is alive and well and shows up to my dad’s funeral.”

Marinette blinks at him a moment, before her lips curl into an unpleasant frown.

“I’m sorry, what?”

“Yep,” he says bitterly with a tight smile. “Reveals her living self at my dad’s funeral,” he sneers. “Mourning him and looking like she hasn’t aged a damn day and I’m here crying, thinking I lost both my parents…” he trails, trying to reel in his burning feelings. “One to an “accident” and the other one because he was so heartbroken that he couldn't live without her.”

Marinette’s smiles solemnly for a moment before throwing her arms around him and kissing his cheek. “I’m so, so, so, sorry.”

Her breath tickles the crook of his neck and he feels better as he wraps his arms around her and holds her close too. She’s a good anchor point and keeps the bad thoughts from that day away.

He settles his cheek atop her head. “Of course you’re sorry. You’re a good person,” he says. He then sighs and plays with the edges of her hair. “I’m sorry for telling you this. I told you this wasn’t a fun secret, but I really need to tell you this since you’re my wife.”

He kisses her cheek too before pulling away slightly, and bluntly says. “Anyway, long story short is that my mom is alive and is not of sound mind? She will show up from time to time despite the fact that I have a restraining order against her. She claims she’s from a different timeline and she, my father, and I are supposed to be a happy family. Also , she swears that I should still be thirteen.”

“Wow, Adrien. What the actual fuck,” she awkwardly laughs.

He doesn’t blame her. It’s either laugh and cry and it’s easier to laugh how bizarre his mom is and the whole not being dead thing then cry about it.

(And he hates being angry about it. He hates it the most of all.)

“Yeah, but she’s pretty harmless, just not well. And I know that I should be more sympathetic towards her, but I can’t. She can’t even tell me where she was for all those years,” he says flatly. “I do give her money though, I just can’t be around her. And she will most likely pop up when we get home and—”

Marinette places a hand on Adrien’s face, stilling him. “Hey, it’s okay. I’m glad you told me. This is. Wow. A lot to take in, but thank you. I’m sorry your life is a soap opera. You know, missing moms who actually are alive and blind arranged marriages to people you actually know. Quite a tough life for a rich ex-model turned physics professor who happens to be the king of a fashion empire.”

Adrien smiles, and this time it’s real. “Well, the blind marriage part isn’t so bad. Nor is being a professor. That’s fun too.”

“Okay, professor, do you have some dancing shoes?” Marinette wonderfully says for a change of topic.

He chuckles and is ever thankful that she’s his wife.

“Ah, m’lady,” he says with a twinkle in his eye. “I possess the best dancing shoes.”

Marinette glances down at his feet, her eyes crinkling at the corners. “Yes, kind sir. I see your sneakers are quite the glass slippers this footwear season.”

“Pshh. As if these are sneakers. Laces do not sneakers make; these are casual dress shoes,” he defends. “See, it even has a little flare with three black stripes on the side against some nice grey suede. C’mon Marinette, you’re a designer.”

She rolls her eyes and shrugs. “Men’s fashion is okay. I will admit my shoe designs for men are more basic and extremely casual. Shoes are just their own animal.”

“Nah, I agree,” he nods. “But I’d love to see your designs! And you’re more than welcome to look at my father’s designs if you wanted, you know? He has thousands of them that we keep stored away.”

Marinette gapes at him, speechless. “Seriously? You’d let me see your father’s designs?”

Adrien smiles, wondering how she couldn’t have known that already. “Of course. You’re my wife, Marinette. And you’re also my friend.”

Marinette doesn’t say anything but leans forward, brushing her lips against Adrien’s in a soft and simple kiss. He feels like he’s been zapped. “You’re amazing, you know?” she whispers before kissing him once more. Before he can reply, she grabs his hand and pushes him out of the seat. “Dance with me!”

Marinette guides him to the dance floor, weaving in and out of people, and he feels like he’s stepped into a blessed dream. One where he’s safe and happy and warm and—

Adrien’s heart fills as the lights flash off Marinette’s skin. She looks like an ethereal spirit, grinning in the darkness as she loops her arms around his neck. He places his hands on the small of her back, his thumbs brushing her hip bones. She’s beautiful and for the millionth time, takes his breath away.

He leans down and kisses her, captures her mouth with his and Marinette closes the space between them. She tastes like good things and a bright future. Things are so natural and effortless with her, the way her mouth is warm against his and he feels so light. Like she’s always been by his side. He—

—well, he doesn’t know that for sure, but he feels like he could. Give him a week and he’s positive that Marinette will own every space in his heart.

From the stage, they hear Ebbi start to sing, enticing the crowd to dance and holler with them. The atmosphere is intoxicating, the beat syncing with their hearts as they drag their hands up and down the other’s body. Her fingers wind into his hair, her nails grazing the base of his skull and his knees feel weak. He holds her closer, pressing her to him as if he can’t breathe anymore. She holds him just as close, her breath filling his lungs.

He nips at her bottom lip and wickedly grins in the kiss when she moans at the way his hands hold the back of her neck. The world is perfect, the way he feels fire burning under his skin, joy blossoming in his chest, and desire rushing to his head.

Marinette pulls away breathless. “Wow.”

He kisses the tip of her nose.”Wow, indeed.”

She wrinkles his nose and looks fondly at him. Marinette brushes her lips against his for a moment for skipping out of his hold, laughing madly as she disappears into the crowd. Adrien blinks before laughing to himself, running his hands in his already mussed hair, never wanting this dream to end. She’s back minutes later holding some Jell-O shots and a wondrous, dangerous grin.  

Adrien balks, laughter at the edge of his voice. “Those are sneaky things and you know it.”

“Maybe I’m a sneaky thing,” she says with a wink.

His heart jumps at that, twisting with pleasure, breathlessly.

“Oh, I know that at least.”

They share more medium-sized secrets. Marinette didn’t have any friends until Alya. Adrien almost ran away from home when his mother disappeared, but he couldn’t leave his father alone. Marinette was almost engaged in her last relationship but said no because she found out the guy was cheating. Adrien started up a charity in his father’s name for children to go to art school.

Ebbi jumps down the from the stage a while later, happy and smiling and puts an arm around each of them. “Okay, I can drink now,” he wolfishly grins.

And drink they do. Long forgotten is the game, no more secrets, just smiles and laughs as they all drink, sing bad karaoke, and drink shot after shot.

It’s a blur, a wonderful and crazy blur as everyone dances and the booze tastes like Marinette’s kisses.Or Marinette’s kisses taste like booze. He’s not quite sure, but it doesn’t matter at the moment as they walk back to their hotel in the chilly, still night, stopping at every other lamppost or wall to kiss each other. On the mouth, on their necks, taste the other and keep warm in the below-freezing temperatures.

It’s like a hazy dream, not real, but too real to be fake. It’s wonderful as they try to tiptoe upstairs to their room, trying not wake everyone by their laughter. In the back of his mind, he knows that Plagg will be annoyed that he stumbled in at two in the morning, but hopefully the little god will understand that there is a beautiful woman who is demanding his attention at this hour and he’s married to her.

Marinette sheds her coat and he does the same, and he kisses her hard on the mouth and pushes her to lay on the bed. She follows his lead and giggles, her hands in his hair and bringing his mouth to hers. Her tongue traces his lips and he’s helpless at her touch.

She bites at his lower lip, kissing him fiercely before breaking them apart. Sighing happily, she rolls them to lay on their sides.“Hi,” she slurs, her eyes wide and bright.

Her mascara has smudged a little, her lipstick gone from her mouth, but Adrien has never seen someone more alluring.

Adrien feels lightheaded—happily drunk—as he giggles too. “Hi.”

“Did ya drink more than me?” she asks.

Adrien tries to count, he really does, but he just blurts. “15. I had 15.”

It seems like the right answer. How is he supposed to count anyway when there’s such a stunning woman in front of him? And she’s his wife? Counting is impossible. Just impossible.

“Aw man, you did drink more than me,” Marinette yawns before kisses his nose. “Okay, I have a big secret for you.”

He settles in on his side of the mattress, his hand resting in the dip of her waist. “Yeah?”

“Mmhmmm. Biggest best secret ever.”

“Tell ‘e,” he slurs,  because of both sleep and drink. Sh

She giggles again and gets up from the bed, swaying a little bit. “Okay,” she says to herself and tries to make a serious expression. “Just kidding! No big secret for you right now!”

Adrien pouts, drunk and sleepily. “What, really? We—I played your game.”

Marinette sits down on the bed, the light illuminating her like an angel. His angel. She gins and boops his nose. “And I won. Or you won,” she mumbles to herself. She looks back at him and smirks though, holding her chin in her hand. “But like I’d ever say spots on—” she scoffs.

Marinette’s eyes become enormous then, her words seeming to have sobered her up as she brings her hands to her face in horror.

“No, no, no! I take it back!”

Her hands fly to her ears, trying to take off her earrings when—     

In the distance, he only slightly hears a little scream before the room is bathed in pink before—

Ladybug stands before him, alert and beautiful and in his room and her face is twisted in terror.  Her costume hugs her womanly curves, her chest and thighs covered in all black in addition to her trademark red and black spots—she looks lethal with sharp blue eyes and her yo-yo modified to look more deadly at her hip.  

“Shit, shit, shit!” she says and he’s not sure if he’s ever heard his lady actually swear before, but—

“Ladybug?” he stupidly asks.

She winces, nervously chewing her lip. “You’re dreaming!” she blurts.

Adrien tries to sit up on the bed, shaking his head. “I, uh, I’m pretty sure I’m not dreaming.”

His brain is really foggy right now, the light the superhero look fuzzy. He wonders where Marinette is though he wants to ask if, well, if Ladybug is—

“...Marinette?”

Ladybug inhales a deep breath before steeling herself with a grim expression. She swallows hard, her fingers trembling at her sides for a moment, before she tightens her hands into fists.  

“I’m sorry, Adrien,” she whispers.

He doesn’t get to ask her why she’s sorry or why Marinette isn't here or why Marinette doesn’t just say that she's Ladybug. Can’t  when her right hand swinging towards the side of his head and—

(Nothing, you see, because it’s just as Ladybug said. He’s dreaming.)

(He has to be.)

NEXT

[thegrumpypenguin]

  Black tree monitor; possible names are Freckles, Jeckle, or Mr. Hyde

  ♫ Wake me up, when September ends.♫ 

                                                                        – Billie Joe Armstong (Green Day)

  Well, I wish I had posted that song yesterday, because I somehow missed that today was the first of the month… so this post is later than it should have been. Sorry, all!

  Kiki, Komodo dragon

Anyhow, onwards and upwards! At the left is the photo I had originally intended to use for this month, but at the very last minute, I decided to go another direction. I really like this shot of Kiki; I just felt that there wasn’t much to it at the end of the day, and that the one of the monitor just stood out more on the page. Had I known then, in mid-October of 2018, that Kiki would pass away less than a week after I finished creating the calendar, I would most likely have used her photo and saved the monitor for 2020. However, hindsight is… well, 20/20… and I do think I used the more interesting photo… but I now find I have not very much to say about black tree monitors. (In fact, they’re not even currently listed among the Australasian animals on the Zoo’s new website, even though I know I saw them there the last time I visited the pavilion.) I think I will talk about the Australasian pavilion in general, and I will continue first with more about Kiki.

  Magnificent tongue!

When I first began my training to be a Zoo Volunteer, I found I was visiting the Australasia Pavilion quite frequently after class was over. Part of the reason, I’m sure, was that it was a colder time of year; part was likely because it wasn’t an area I was very familiar with. Also, one of the very first Volunteer talks I attended was delivered by Brent, who was at that time a Keeper in Australasia and quite involved in the potential breeding of the Komodo dragons. Prior to the arrival of Kiki in June of 2011, the exhibit was shared by Kilat (who was born in Toronto in 2004) and Loca (spelling seems to be in question), who was potentially his mom and who, when she died at the Calgary Zoo in 2014, was the oldest Komodo dragon in captivity by a considerable margin. As there is a decent chance I will use a photo of Kilat in the future, I will refrain from writing any more about him here; however, there is a very interesting story about Kiki that bears repeating.

  Look at those claws! 

During that talk back in 2012, it was mentioned that the Zoo was having some trouble firmly establishing the sex of Kiki. She was considerably smaller than Kilat – alarmingly so – and it had been assumed that she would grow larger over time. If memory serves, she was even on a special diet to hopefully “bulk up,” but it never took. The few times she and Kilat were put together to breed she tried her best to avoid him, showing no interest whatsoever. Kilat would pursue her but nothing would really develop from it. When the Keepers drew blood from Kiki and sent it in to see if there were any issues keeping her that size, they received a startling surprise: the blood tests came back with the information that Kiki was a boy! Of course, they were not put back out together after that until the issue could be sorted out; when Kiki arrived in Toronto it had been pretty well-established over the six years of “her” life that she was female. So another test was ordered. This one came back “female,” again. But since Kiki clearly had no intention of breeding with Kilat, and was still quite small, they were kept apart from then on. It wasn’t until Kiki passed away on exhibit on October 23, 2018 and was sent for a necropsy that an even more stunning truth came out: Kiki was actually hermaphroditic; that is, she had sexual organs of both male and female types (but, in her case, neither was developed enough for breeding). This, of course, explained everything that had been so confusing over the previous seven years!

  Annie, the echidna

A favourite of mine (and many others) in that pavilion is the reclusive Annie, short-beaked echidna. Echidnas are one of only two types of monotremes in the world, with the other being the duck-billed platypus. Monotremes are egg-laying mammals; in the five class of vertebrates – mammals, birds, fish, reptiles, amphibians – not one of them is “perfect” in its classification rules; in other words, there are many exceptions. Annie used to live with Norman (I have always assumed that his full name must have been “Spiny Norman”) until he passed away a few years ago. Norman was easily distinguishable from Annie because he had a semi-permanent “shot bubble” hanging from the tip of his nose whenever anyone saw him. The echidnas spend most of the time the Zoo is open underground in tunnels, coming up for food around dusk each day which is pretty much the only time you might catch Annie. On the day I shot the above photo, I was in Australasia for the 34th (and final, as it turned out) birthday for Hamlet, who fell just four months short of being the longest-lived southern hairy-nosed wombat in history when he died later in 2016. While I was there I shot a video of Annie wandering around, which ends quite hilariously as I follow her into the area where Hamlet was and catch him lying on his back briefly:

    Here is a shot of Hamlet on that 34th birthday; I don’t want to delve too much into the wombats as I feel they will likely feature in a future calendar:

  34-year-old Hamlet, southern hairy-nosed wombat

  Walnut, the cockatoo

There have been some amazing birds in the Australasian Pavilion, too, but they seem to come and go a little more often (that’s probably just my impression). Here is Walnut, the red-tailed black cockatoo, who lived there with her parents for a while and then on her own, before she left for a breeding program. She was one of my favourites while she was here; she used to spend most of her time on the superstructure over the heads of visitors and would always respond happily to a quick whistle from a friend. She was also the central character in one of my favourite stories from the too-brief time I was a Program Leader at the Zoo.

  Walnut takes flight

During one of my classes in the spring of 2016, a young lad (Grade 5 or 6, I think) asked me if we had any cockatoos at the Zoo, as he had one at home. (I assume his pet was the standard white one, but I never did ask.) I said we did, in fact, have one – and I would try my best to let him see her but I could not guarantee it as Australasia wasn’t on my planned tour route. We did the other side of the Zoo in the morning, and the young man asked me again at lunch if we might get to see Walnut in the afternoon. Again, I said I would try on the way back if I could. We visited the Tundra and the Americas after lunch and we were pushing our luck time-wise as we headed along the path back to the buses, when I caught the young man, out of the corner of my eye, wistfully gazing at the Australasia Pavilion we were passing close to. I made a quick decision and stopped the group, asking if they would be willing to really hustle back to the main gates if we made a brief detour so their classmate could see the cockatoo. They were unanimous in their agreement, so we turned left and headed into the pavilion. I could see Walnut in her customary place in the rafters and walked over until I was directly underneath her. A couple of the young people had seen her as well, but I urged them not to say anything for the moment. I asked the cockatoo-lover if he could see Walnut, but he could not, so I whistled briefly for her (“Yoo-hoo,” it sounds like) and she squawked a very happy, very loud reply. He stared up at her as she made her way a little closer to all of us and gazed at her in wonder for a few moments until it was really time to go. As I marched the class quickly back out of the pavilion and toward the gate, I looked back over my shoulder to see that young lad with an enormous grin on his face, surrounded by congratulatory classmates who were almost as excited as he was. Now, that… was a good day.

I’m very carefully avoiding the animals I expect will be in upcoming editions and, if you happen to follow me on social media, I am sure you can work out what is the most likely of those to be in the 2020 calendar. So I will leave the stories of the Australasia Pavilion here, for now, and just add a small collage at the end of some of my other favourites. Next month: I need to own up to not one…not two… but three errors in the caption for the photo. Go big or go home, right? That will teach me for using the one photo that was shot on my old camera.

See you in November and thanks for reading!

  Blue-tongued skink

Bearded dragon

Bettong

Crimson rosella

Frilled lizard

Nokopo

Splendid parrot

Makepeaces

2019 “VISITING WITH ANIMALS” Calendar – October Story ♫ Wake me up, when September ends.♫                                                                          - Billie Joe Armstong (Green Day) Well, I wish I had posted that song 

[faithtales]

Life after university

Ever since I successfully managed to endure four years of university torture, I’ve had the very same question flung my way…

“Nde ukutanino?”

Honestly, this question annoys me. For so many reasons. I don’t mean the people who ask me are annoying per se, but the question annoys me because of personal reasons. I know they mean well. They probably have a “Congratulations!” dancing on their tongue, waiting for me to give them some kinda good news.

“I’m working for [Insert prestigious organisation here] and I’m a [Insert prestigious position here]. I get [Insert a great salary + job’s great benefits here] and I’m happy! Life is GREAT!” Maybe throw in, “I’m getting married in [Insert month here]!” for extra seasoning.

Nope!

I have, on a couple occasions, just laughed instead of answering the question. Recently, I stared blankly at the individual who asked me the unpopular question. My mind trailed off.

“I’m staying at home, doing chores and spending so many hours I’m ashamed of admitting on social media.  I sometimes take stupid quizzes like “design your house and we’ll tell you when you’ll die”. I am struggling with my health; I collapse sometimes, especially when I’m stressed, which is usually caused by overthinking and my very unhealthy habit of not eating and/or sleeping enough. Sometimes I find vacancies that I tell myself I will apply for, and lose interest in the job when I’m about to apply so they just end up as starred messages on my WhatsApp, or in my email draft folder. I have managed to break my habit of nail biting, but I subconsciously bite them when I’m deep in thought once in a while.”

Then I remembered that I had to use my brain to come up with an answer instead…

“Palibe. Ndikungogona kunyumba. Ndikupuma kaye,” I said quickly, then let out a laugh.

“Oh ok. Ayi zipumani,” they said.

I should have probably come up with a better reply. But oh well.

Honestly, I don’t know where my life is heading. I don’t know what I’ll be doing in a year, where I’ll be or who will be around me. I don’t even know about next week. Heck! I don’t even know about tomorrow. When you’re living in your parent’s home without much happening in your life, you remember that you are sapuni. You wake up with plans… well, not very important plans… maybe I’ll tidy my room. Or I’ll go collect ka jacket ndinapeza pa kaunjika kaja koma kokula mmikonomu kwa a tailor in town… or I’ll try to edit my CV this time and actually apply for that research assistant job… those type of plans, but plans all the same… Then mum wakes up and just says, “ndikufuna upite mtown: upite ku chigayo. Kenako ukagule anyezi, tomato, bread…” and before you know it, you have a list of things to do in town. This is when you realise that the driving lessons they paid for you were so they could easily send you in town, not necessarily that their daughter should have driving skills.

My mum’s sending-you-to-town trips interest me. Her list is usually short. But you can spend over 2 hours in this very small town of Zomba. When you’re in town, she will call you and tell you she forgot something else. Then she will call again when you’re almost done and you have to go back to square one. By the time you’re getting home, you feel tired and hungry. But at least you had a had the chance to check if the tailor adjusted your jacket yapa kaunjika yokula mmikono (no, he didn’t. he said I should go mawa. He will DEFINITELY have it ready then. He said the same dzana).

Another thing unemployment has done to me is it has made me care less (mind the gap) about my appearance. Back in college, I would never go on campus with unkempt hair, shabby clothes that don’t match. Now, I wear the first t-shirt I see and I’m okay with wearing masilipasi. This morning, mummy sent me to town. It was her usual short list. But she told me to hurry because “tomato akufunika lunch yomweyino”. This was somewhere around twenty to twelve. So I just wore what I could and rushed outside (yes, nnali nsanasambe. Nndadzuka mochedwa). As I was about to get into the car, she asked me, “Upita mmutumo muli choncho?” I had African threaded my hair the night before. The opportunity cost of unbraiding it for just about an hour’s time in town was too high. I was going kumsika anyway.

Lol. Guys. I would have been ashamed before. But I laughed. I laughed hard.

“Mum, it’s just Zomba Town. I’ll be back before you know it!”

Poor mum. She just looked at me, shook her head and probably muttered to herself, “Koma mwana uyu nde akhwatchitsatu.”

 Which brings me to the next question I get asked these days.

“Have you found ‘someone’ yet?”

Respectful people say, “Mukupephelela aBrother koma?”

“Munamaliza school’tu, nde mukudikila chani?”

Eeeeh. This topic.

You know, when you’re far, you look at a watch and admire its beauty. You look at those hands moving around in complete harmony and it’s just beautiful. But then when you open the back side of the watch, and you come close, you will see that there’s SO MUCH going on. It’s actually more complex than you initially thought.

Yes, that’s what marriage is like to me now. From afar, beautiful! We wrote “goals” under pictures of couples with matching clothes. Those beautiful photos of families looking happy made it all look rosy. I kept pushing the thought of marriage away, like, let me finish undergrad first. Now I’m close and I see how complex everything is. Marriage is WORK! Finding and being the right partner is also not that simple. It’s not just some pretty photo and great caption, or a big colourful wedding. It’s a lifetime commitment to someone you will have to stand for the rest of your lives. And honestly, it scares me! (It scares a lot of us, I’m just brave enough to admit it). Then someone comes along and adds the pressure by asking “tivina liti?”

Anyway, my life currently has been interesting, but I’m loving it. Despite all the uncertainties, I appreciate the fact that I am in my parents’ home and there isn’t too much pressure to move out or get a job. I want a job I am satisfied with. I want to do things I am actually happy with. I know a lot of people say you have to throw your CV everywhere. My reply is always the same: I do not like to have my CV all over town in the name of trying my luck. I know what a long shot it is, but I do not want to settle and work in a sector I have zero interest in and be stuck in some boring cycle. A friend gave me this piece of advice that has helped me so much. She said, “You are in your own time zone. Don’t you dare get tempted to look at what your friends are accomplishing and start to look down on yourself. It’s not a race.” That gave me so much peace. When a classmate asked me for advice on what to do because he got offered two jobs at once, I was tempted to look down on myself and say to him, “really? You call that a problem? Not knowing which job to pick? I can’t even get an interview!” But I stopped myself. I got happy for him. I helped him make a decision. That is all. Different time zones.

Finishing university was a great feeling. I loved it! My graduation was even more exciting. Chancellor college wasn’t easy, friends. And despite my unemployed state, I thank God and celebrate it every day. No one, and I mean no one, can ever take that away from me: I got a degree. I worked for it. And I am so darn proud of me, so should a lot of us unemployed graduates. There’s an achievement we should never forget or underrate. Yes, we can be more, and we will be, but let’s also count our blessings.

There are so many long term goals that I have, and most of them do not even involve working a 7-5 job. I have never lost sight of those goals. Sometimes I feel like just another dreamer, but I know I will get there. When it comes to marriage, I have learnt to lay all my burdens down at Jesus’ feet. He knows my tomorrow better than I do. He also knows what makes me anxious. I get comforted knowing the one who knows my tomorrow is the one who is guiding me. I also find comfort in knowing I am operating in my time zone-things will happen when it is the right time, that is all. I know we have all heard that same message before and it starts to sound corny, but believe me, you will look back at all this one day and agree with me- IT WILL HAPPEN AT THE APPOINTED TIME.

Yours truly,

An unemployed economics graduate

-The pain from every setback is just the feeling of your wings taking form.

- Now, Jesus said, in the Word. Jesus said, “If you ask the Father anything in My Name I’ll do it.” But sometimes, when God performs something and does something that we ask for, yet we don’t…It comes in an unexpected way, and sometimes in an unexpected place, and at an unexpected time. But God will answer in His Own way, if you’ll just believe it. See? See?  You must believe it, accept it, and then don’t take it back. Hold onto it. Lay hold of it, and say, “This is it. God said it. That settles it. If God said so, that’s finished, no matter how long.” There might not have been one molecule come into existence when He said, “Let there be” for a world. But, He, He is Eternal. And after while, become molecules and atoms. And it come up, because He said it to be that way. 

62-0120 -  The Unchangeable God Working In An Unexpectable Way      Rev. William Marrion Branham